#2. pulls his own hair to overcome the waves of pain??

[anguishmacgyver]

[chickensarentcheap]

Both please ❤️

What is their darkest childhood memory?

What bad habits are they struggling to overcom

Are they afraid to be alone?

Are they proud of who they are?

What, to them, is the worst way to die?

What odd habits or ticks do they have?

What is one thing they always carry with them? (physical or mental)

Who are they most afraid of becoming like

Thank you!!!!

Esme:

Not so much from her childhood, but her teenage years. Her father getting sick and wasting away and dying. From cancer. It was a quick but extremely painful death and she was seventeen at the time. He was the only one in that family that accepted her and loved her 'as is' and they were extremely close. So seeing him suffer and then pass away and be left with a nightmare of a home life definitely was traumatic. And still is.

2. She's trying to not be so cruel and judgmental when it comes to her own looks and her body. She doesn't feel pretty or sexy and claims to be a 'mess, and not a hot one'. She's had seven babies (two pregnancies resulting in twins) and she feels like she's so far from being who says was when her and Tyler met. And the thirsty women after him do not help matters. They say pretty awful things about her and how they don't understand what he sees in her and how he could do much better.

3. I don't think she's afraid of being alone, as she was able to so after her marriage to Mark fell apart and she had told herself she'd never trust a man again, never mind get into relationship or get married. She was ready to live up to those promises to herself. So I don't thinks she's necessarily afraid of it.

4. Maybe not proud of who she's become, but of how far she's come to becoming who she wants to be.

5. Slowly and painfully. She's rather go quickly. Either in an accident that kills her immediately, or in her sleep.

6. Twirling her hair and chewing on the insides of her cheeks. She's trying to stop both of those.

7. Esme has a little lucky piece of beach glass she keeps in her purse. In the shape of a heart. Millie found it after they moved back to Australia and Esme has kept it sense.

8. Her mother. She's an evil woman (as we've seen in the fics) and was a terrible parent.

Tyler

His mother passing away. He was nine years old and the last time he saw her was when the school bus was pulling away from the house and they were waving goodbye to each other. Her death led to a lot of trauma in his life at the hands of his father and others.

2. Tyler has a bad temper. He's been to anger management more than once and he's come a long way with it. But he tends to lash out when he's triggered or angry, and Esme is always on the receiving end. He's trying to get a handle on that and find a better way to deal with his emotions. Last thing he wants is to hurt her.

3. He isn't afraid to be alone specifically. But he is afraid of a life without her.

4. In some areas, he is. He once told Esme that his children have finally giving himself to be proud of it. Their existence proof that he has done something good.

5. Buried alive. He is incredibly claustrophobic.

6. When he's feeling anxious or deep in though, he plays with his wedding ring. Twirls it around his fingers or pulls up and pushes it back down, over and over again.

7. IDK if it's the same, but definitely his wedding ring. He tries to never take it off and it's incredibly beat up and in rough shape. If he ever has to take it off, he wears it on the cord around his neck. So it's always with him.

8. His father. He was an alcoholic and extremely abusive to Tyler's mother and then eventually Tyler himself.

[babyboibucky]

Undeserving (Deserve Better Part 2)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You confront Bucky about his decision to abandon you.

Word Count: 2,868

Warnings: More angst lmao I’m sorry for this

A/N: Honestly struggled with this because 1) I couldn’t decide on how to end it and 2) I was pressured from the feedback I got from Deserve Better. I’m not entirely happy with how this came out and initially, I planned on doing an epilogue for those who’d prefer a different ending but decided against it. Anyway, if you guys have more questions about this, send me an ask! I’d love to discuss more about this lol luv u all as always. Feedbacks are highly appreciated and I hope this was good enough for y’all who enjoyed Deserve Better xoxo

Deserve Better || Undeserving || Deserve The Best

MAIN MASTERLIST

-

You chose to stay.

Despite seeing the love of your life— whom you had waited for years— in the arms of another, you stayed at the gala. It was after all, to honor Steve’s legacy and you respected him enough not to walk away and miss out on the speeches given by people dearest to him, Bucky included of course.

You weren’t sure if he had seen you and the way your eyes brimmed with tears when everything finally made sense to you. He wasn’t far from you when you stopped in your tracks, mouth parting as a soft whimper escaped past your lips.

You had never imagined that heartbreak could be so physically painful. And it wasn’t the regular pain you’d feel after an intense workout or when you scraped your knee. The hurt was different, like your heart was being tightly squeezed into someone else’s palm. It was choking you, constricting you of oxygen as if you were drowning. No matter how much you tried to reach the surface, the pain just kept on pulling you down until there was nothing but darkness and well, pain.

Once the program was over and all the guests were left to mingle, you carefully slipped out of the crowd. Mindlessly, you walked and walked and walked until your feet began to hurt from the heels you were wearing. When the cold and crisp air of the evening embraced you, it was then that you realized that you reached the compound’s garden, just behind the main hall where the gala was happening.

The quiet gave you time to think and process everything that had happened. Bucky left to find himself and to become better, that he did. And you waited only to discover that he’d been back for quite a while now but chose to be with another.

As you looked out in front of you, your vision turned blurry as a new wave of tears escaped your eyes. Your grief had resurfaced after repressing it for so, so long. Grief from Bucky’s goodbye, from his absence and from waiting, grief from seeing him with someone else; no matter the cause, all in all it was grief nonetheless.

Bucky’s soft voice calling your name echoed in the evening air, it was so soft that you almost thought that you were hallucinating. But then he’d called you again, using the pet name that used to make your stomach flip and your heart to flutter. It still had the same effect now, you realized, only that it came along with an immense amount of pain that made your blood boil.

Hearing Bucky call you that, it almost felt like poison. It was quiet, gentle even but it left a bitter taste in your mouth as you felt its venom run through your veins until you could no longer feel anything but pain.

“Doll—“

“Don’t.” you seethed and turned around, pointing a shaky finger right at Bucky. “Don’t call me that when you’re with someone else, James.”

Bucky flinched at the way you had addressed him. You saw how his face faltered upon seeing you like this. His vibranium arm was restless against his side, as if he wanted to reach out to you but knew better than to do so.

“I waited for you!” you spat.

If he found somebody else to become better for, he could at least let you know. But he didn’t and you needed to know why he chose to abandon you. You needed it so badly, for your own peace of mind. For closure. You deserved that, at least.

“I’m sorry, I—“

“No, you don’t get to say your side until I’m done with mine!” you insisted. “I have every right to be selfish right now. I can choose to lash out on you or refuse to even listen to whatever your reason is for abandoning me no matter how valid it is. I fucking deserve that, Bucky.”

Bucky closed his mouth and nodded; you hated how he was staring at you as if he just lost his moonlight, as if he still loved you. If he did, you wouldn’t be confronting him like this and you wouldn’t have seen him with someone else.

“When Steve told me that you disappeared, when it felt like there was no way to bring everyone back, I waited. It didn’t feel right for me to move on from you just like that and deep inside I knew that you were going to return. Five years, Buck. I waited five years for nothing.” you said quietly, recalling how devastating those five years were.

You didn’t know what would happen then, nobody knew. Would they still come back? The chances were slim and yet you trusted your gut and decided to remain hopeful. It wasn’t easy to wait for something or someone that may never come back. But you still did and it never even crossed your mind that you may just be wasting your time.

You let out a breathy chuckle, “And then you came back and I felt alive again. But then you said goodbye.” you pursed your lips in an attempt to hold back your tears but to no avail.

It took you a while to collect yourself and Bucky let you, until you spoke again and told him how much it destroyed you when he walked away from you.

“Everyone else told me that I shouldn’t wait. Not again after those five years. But it felt easier this time around because you told me you wanted to get better. For me. And I was excited, Bucky.” you told him with a chuckle. “I was excited to see your return. I looked forward to how we’d spend our time together when you come back, if you’d cut your hair. If you’d wear the same cologne that I loved.”

A smile tugged at your lips as you recalled those times you daydreamed about Bucky’s return. The wait was agonizing but it gave you something to look forward to. At least you weren’t waiting for nothing anymore. Bucky was leaving but only temporarily, you were sure he’d come back. But the smile vanished as soon as it appeared and before you knew it, you were sobbing again.

“And now you’re back and so much better. But you aren’t mine anymore.”

At this point, your grief had consumed you both physically and mentally. You knees wobbled but you didn’t hit the ground, no. Instead, there was warmth against your skin followed by the smell of a certain cologne, enveloping the air around you. Bucky caught you in his arms and he held you tight as you cried into him.

“Shh, doll. I’m here now.” he whispered before pressing a kiss onto your crown.

As much as it felt right to be in Bucky’s embrace, it wasn’t enough to overcome the betrayal he did. You groaned in frustration and pushed him away, stepping back and hugging yourself instead.

“Why?” you asked quietly.

“I need to know why and how we came to this.” you asked, almost begged for Bucky to give you the closure you badly needed.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair as he paced before you, his cheeks stained with his own tears. “I came back for you.” he said.

You frowned, “When?”

“I couldn’t wait to see you again and as soon as I got back, I went straight to your office. But then you weren’t working there anymore, I found out that you finally landed your dream job at the law firm.” he said with a small smile. “I was so proud when I heard that. I was supposed to go to your apartment but something came up and I needed to meet with Sam first. Weekend came and I was on my way to your place when I saw you. And you were with someone else and you looked....happier, the happiest I’d seen you.”

Something clicked and you quickly shook your head, “Andy. No, he’s not...we were never together. This is a misunderstanding, Bucky. He and I were never—“

“I know.” Bucky admitted.

“What?” You asked, voice soft from utter confusion.

“You looked happy with him, not because of him. I know you weren’t in love with him because if you were, you would have looked at him the same way you’re looking at me now.” He explained sadly.

Hearing Bucky’s explanation made you angrier. If he knew that, then why did he still leave? What reason could be bigger than that to make Bucky wake up one day and decide that he no longer wants to come back to you?

If he knew you loved him so much to actually wait, why did he leave you like that?

Your brows creased, “If that’s not the reason, then what?”

Bucky shrugged, “I realized that you didn’t deserve me. I left to better myself for you, god I really did. But when I saw you and how you managed to be successful without me by your side, I figured that you were better off without me. I thought I got better, but seeing you again looking so beautiful, happy and just...maybe I’ll never be the right one for you.”

You bitterly chuckled at Bucky’s revelation, “This doesn’t make any sense to me, Bucky. You chose to abandon me because you thought I was happier without you?”

You felt offended that Bucky even thought of that. Did he not trust you when you told him you’d wait for him? He didn’t even show up to tell you that, to give you the chance to reassure him how much you love him. He just decided that it was better for him to leave you hanging?

“That’s bullshit, Bucky.” you spat. “You left me hanging because you thought you were weighing me down and the next time I see you, you’re with Sharon now. Who by the way, used to date your best friend. I don’t understand any of this.” you told him.

Bucky looked at the ground as he evened out his breathing. There were a few seconds of silence between the two of you. Only heavy breaths and the distant sound of the music from the gala lingered in the air. It was almost comforting. Almost.

“Sharon and I...it wasn’t easy for us when Steve left. It was something that we both had in common. We wanted to fix ourselves and in the process we just...it happened. I didn’t mean for it but it just happened.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

The pain was replaced with grief and then anger. A little sympathy was thrown in the mix too upon hearing Bucky’s reason but now you were back to square one. Pain.

“You worried for her when Steve left but didn’t worry about me when you chose to leave me hanging? You told me you needed to fix yourself alone because you didn’t want to hurt me in the process of doing so. Guess what, Bucky? You hurt me all the same. Even more so when you chose to stay for Sharon and when you allowed her to help you fix yourself.”

Bucky remained silent as he simply gazed at you and let you say your piece. You just couldn’t understand where he truly was coming from. You knew about his insecurities and you accepted each one of them. You’d wholeheartedly accepted Bucky from the moment you knew you loved him, that included his flaws and demons, even on days he hated himself.

“Don’t shut me out like that again, please?” You asked Bucky, when he finally let you inside his room after isolating himself for days.

He had those days, when he couldn’t bring himself to come out and just...live. He’d push people away and torture himself with negative thoughts. But you always stayed no matter what.

“‘m sorry doll, I just...sometimes...I love you so much but sometimes I feel like I don’t have enough of it to actually show you. And you don’t deserve that.” He explained.

You smiled and cupped his cheek, “That’s okay, Bucky. I love you and the amount of love I have for you is more than enough for both of us.”

Was your love not enough for him all along? For him not to consider how you would feel if he just decided not to come home to you anymore? You shouldn’t be blaming yourself for everything, you did your part. But you couldn’t help but wonder whether it was because of you that Bucky chose to walk away.

“I love you, I really do. And you deserve the best and I’m not...that. I chose to let you go so you can have that.”

“I don’t need the best version of you, Bucky!” You quickly cut him off. “I just need you.” You added.

When Bucky decided to leave to get better, you let him even though you hated to see him walk away. You’d be selfish not to, especially when Bucky was finally free to decide things for himself. It was for the best, but honestly speaking, you didn’t want a better version of him.

Whether it was the Winter Soldier or James Buchanan Barnes, whatever version of him he’d give to you, you love Bucky all the same.

You love Bucky so much that it was so painful for you to hear that he actually thought you’d be happier without him.

“You don’t deserve someone as damaged as me. Even if I got better, I’m still struggling and I don’t want to make things hard for you.” Bucky said.

“And you don’t get to decide what you think I deserve! You don’t get to abandon me like I was nothing, like we were nothing to you.” You seethed.

Bucky looked away, blinking his tears away as he tried to compose himself. His jaw tensed as he looked at you with an apologetic gaze.

“You shouldn’t have waited for me. You didn’t have to.” He said the same thing to you when he left, and it hurt just as much.

“I love you. I’ll wait, Bucky.” You murmured and tugged at his hand before he could even let you go.

Bucky smiled sadly at you, “You don’t have to, doll.”

You shook your head and brought Bucky’s hand to your lips as you cried, “I want to. And I will.”

“I know. But in all those years you were gone, I woke up each day and chose to wait for you. I always chose you, Bucky.” You said with a sad smile.

You stumbled a bit and lifted your dress enough to reveal your bleeding foot. You’d walked that long, for your feet to get wounded and ironically, you couldn’t feel anything but the pain of seeing Bucky again. He tried to approach you and help you out but you waved a hand and kept him at an arm’s length away from you. You removed your shoes and straightened up, looking at Bucky and his ocean blue eyes for one last time.

“I’m sorry if you felt like you weren’t enough. You’re more than enough for me, Bucky. I really thought that I could love and fight for the both of us, but I guess not.”

Bucky didn’t say anything else, and you hoped he would. It might have been pathetic of you to wish that he’d come back to you, but you really hoped he would say something to fight for you. He didn’t and that was enough for you to make a decision.

“Goodbye, Bucky.”

You bit your lower lip as you turned around, holding back your tears as you jogged back into the gala. You walked past everyone in the crowd in a hurry, wanting to head home as quickly as possible. And then you came face to face with someone you weren’t prepared to confront.

It’s as if time stopped when you saw her, Sharon. She must have found out about your presence. Did she know of Bucky’s decision to abandon you? You wondered how she helped Bucky better himself, why he let her stay as he fixed himself.

Why Bucky chose to be with her instead of coming home to you.

You could feel your chest constrict again, the pain continuing to consume you whole. If you stayed any longer, you were afraid you might break.

“Do you love him?” You asked her softly.

Without missing a beat, Sharon nodded her head. “I do.” She whispered.

“How much?” You asked again.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him.” Sharon responded and you could feel the sincerity in her statement.

The way she said it wasn’t meant to hurt you nor mock you. It was reassuring, in fact. Like she was making you a promise that she was going to take good care of Bucky the same way you did. Maybe even more. You swallowed as you nodded, forcing a small smile before looking away to wipe a tear that slipped.

“That’s good.” You simply said. “Because I’d do anything for him too.”

Anything. Even if that meant walking away and giving up on a battle that you’d already lost the moment Bucky decided to abandon you.

-

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[comfortbucky]

I asked for the doctor!bucky andd you don't have to write but I forgot to ask... He is like a really busy doctor and it surprises the female reader that he is going to do her stitches... Wanda is his assistant. He has to give you a pain numbing shot in your cut and he comforts you when you scream and writh in pain... Thanks xxx

𝗻𝘂𝗺𝗯 ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚ ⋆ ⋆｡˚

pairing: doctor!bucky x fem!reader

warnings: descriptions of bloody injuries, medical settings, stitches, needles

A/N: omg i’ve never written for doctor!bucky before so i’m excited hehe :) thank u for ur request! // i changed around who was administering the numbing agent and doing the stitches btw i hope u don't mind, just made more sense in my head for bucky to be able to comfort her if his hands are free!

hope u enjoy! <3 sorry if this isn't that good asjdfhaldf

Y/L/N = your last name

also let me just indulge myself and sprinkle some of my own experiences in this bc a couple months ago i literally slammed my head into a wall and cut my eyelid😃nothing bad enough to get stitches but i do have a scar💗

word count: 2k

my masterlist!

completed requests!

“Y/N! Come quick!”

Y/N was digging through her dresser for a sweater when her roommate, Darcy, called out for her. She lifted her head up and spun it without thinking, completely forgetting that her dresser was situated in the corner of her room, slamming her head into the wall.

Her ears started to ring and she bent over in laughter, her natural response to pain, as tears threatened to fall down her face.

“Y/N?” Darcy was met by silence, Y/N struggling to respond, her body overcome with laughter so hard she was inaudible. Concerned that Y/N had knocked herself out cold, Darcy peeked her head around the corner of Y/N’s doorway, to find her hurled over, a hand over her left eye, drops of crimson blood on the ground.

“Holy shit, are you okay?” Y/N lifted her head, calming down from her fit of laughter, and nodded.

“Yeah, of course, this would happen to me,” she replied chuckling, taking a tissue from Darcy to put pressure on her cut.

Carefully making her way to a mirror, Y/N grabbed her phone on the way. She stared at her reflection and slowly removed the tissue from her face to examine the extent of her injury. It was steadily bleeding, most likely a bad sign. Y/N placed her tissue back over her cut and reached for her phone and Facetimed her friend Matt, an EMT.

“Hello- What the fuck happened to you?”

“Hi Matt,” she replied, shooting him a grin through the screen. “Slammed my head against the wall, by accident.”

“I would hope so,” he sighed. “Let me guess, you’re wondering whether you should go to the ER or not?”

“You know me so well, Matty.”

“Has it stopped bleeding?” Y/N removed the tissue and felt a warm liquid trail down the side of her face.

“No.”

“Go to the ER, please.” She groaned.

If there was one place in the world she despised, it was a hospital. But Y/N knew she wouldn’t be able to convince either of her friends otherwise, and dragged her feet as she reluctantly followed Darcy to her car.

It was a normal night in the ER, which meant a fury of organized chaos. Bucky found himself needed in 6 places, all at the same time. But this was an environment that he had become accustomed to, almost finding comfort in the madness of it all. Although the ER was bustling with patients, there weren’t any injuries that were very severe, mostly just broken bones and lacerations. Simple enough to the point where Bucky felt like he was operating on autopilot mode. Going through the motions of whatever task he needed to do, but not anything more than that. He felt numb. For the last several years of his life, the hospital was all that he knew. Bucky kept himself busy with work, leaving him with only a small social circle and his cat, Alpine. It was enough for him, but he never really felt complete. Which is why he threw himself into his work, drowning out his inner thoughts about a missing piece he never thought he’d find.

“Dr. Barnes, paging Dr. Barnes to bed 25.”

Bucky took a quick sip of his coffee and sighed before heading off to see his next patient. Wanda appeared from around the corner and started walking with him.

“This one’s a simple laceration, just might need stitches.” Bucky nodded in response to her, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

She was one of the select few who he considered a friend. Which was a little odd considering he was an attending and she was only a resident. But she was a good student, a fast learner, and one of the only residents he was ever willing to work with. He took her under his wing, fostering a friendship by spending time together in his office, reviewing various medical cases and files.

“Alright, you up to do them?”

Wanda came to a halt, Bucky taking a couple steps before looking back at her, tilting his head, waiting for a response.

“Y-Yeah, yes!” She stammered. “T-thank you, Dr. Barnes.” He nodded his head and turned back around to continue walking, Wanda close behind.

Y/N was sat on the edge of the bed, one hand holding a blood-soaked tissue over her left eye. Her leg was bouncing, a nervous tic she had developed from a young age. The adrenaline had worn off, forcing her to feel a throbbing pain, her eyes brimming with tears. She avoided crying in front of people whenever possible, so as soon as Darcy left to grab some coffee and snacks from the cafeteria, she let the floodgates open. The sound of footsteps approaching made her freeze and she used her sleeves to sloppily wipe away the tears that were streaming down her face.

“Ms. Y/L/N?”

A firm, but somehow also gentle, voice called out to her before the curtain was pulled open to reveal a tall man with dark brown hair, a stubbly beard, and stunningly blue eyes standing next to a woman with blazing red hair and contrasting green eyes. Y/N’s gaze was immediately fixated on the man’s eyes, unable to look away for a moment, before she realized she was staring. She quickly looked down and cleared her throat.

“Y/N, you can just call me Y/N.”

The man nodded and set down his clipboard at the end of the bed before speaking.

“I’m Dr. Barnes and this is Dr. Maximoff.” The woman gave a slight wave as she began charting on a computer. “Can I take a look at your eye?”

Y/N nodded, feeling her anxiety rise as the doctor pulled some gloves on and approached her.

He pulled over a stool to sit on and carefully removed the tissue that Y/N had been holding in place to assess the injury. While Bucky looked at her cut, he stole a glance to study the rest of her face. He couldn't help but take note of the pained look on her face, her eyes still watery and her button nose red from crying. It was the first time in a long time that he felt a twinge of pain while looking at someone's injury, that he felt practically anything at all during a shift. She felt his warm breaths on her face for a moment before he pulled away and replaced her bloody tissue with some gauze.

“Do you mind if she takes a look as well?” Y/N nodded again. Bucky got up from the stool, allowing Wanda to take his spot and assess her eye.

“So it looks like you just need 2 or 3 stitches, very simple procedure.”

Y/N felt her entire body tense up at Wanda's conclusion. She could barely stand sitting in a hospital bed alone and now she was about to get poked and prodded with needles. Bucky noticed and attempted to ease her worries.

"We'll administer a numbing agent, so you won't feel any pain, just pressure at the site."

She looked up at Bucky, who had a kind, tired expression on his face. It looked like he was having a long night and she didn't want to make his job any more difficult than it probably already was. Y/N gave him a small nod and Wanda started to gather the necessary supplies.

She laid back in bed with Wanda and Bucky sitting next to each other on her left. Her hands were folded on her stomach, eyes shut.

"You're gonna feel a slight pinch, okay?" She nodded and bit her lip to try and distract herself.

Wanda proceeded to administer the numbing shot and Y/N squeezed her hands tight, whimpering in pain. Bucky observed the pained expression on her face and placed a hand on her forearm, reflexively rubbing his thumb in small circles. When Wanda pulled the needle out, Y/N slowly fluttered her eyes open and was greeted by Bucky's warm smile. A blush crept to her cheeks and she turned her attention to the ceiling. Immediately, Bucky realized how unprofessional his action was and removed his hand. He had no idea what had come over him, but he'd never felt so drawn to someone like this before.

"Now I'm going to do the stitches, okay? You should just feel a slight pressure." Just as before, Y/N shut her eyes after Wanda spoke and gripped her hands tight. She felt the pressure that Wanda was talking about and couldn't help but squirm at the feeling. Another wave of anxiety rushed over her and she felt herself start to hyperventilate.

Wanda removed the needle and quickly turned to Bucky, a panicked look on her face. He gave her a reassuring look before speaking softly.

"Y/N? Do you think you could hold still for just a little longer?" She opened her eyes, brimming with tears.

"Sorry, I just, I hate needles." Y/N fiddled with her hands as she kept her gaze up, trying to avoid the tears from escaping. Bucky felt his heart sink in his chest at the sight.

"What do you think would help you relax?"

Thoughts ran through her head as she tried to find a solution to relieve her anxiety. Y/N thought back to when she was young and chuckled, remembering a stuffed whale that she got at an aquarium, that went everywhere with her.

"This is stupid but, when I was a kid, I would carry around this stuffed animal around and it helped to hold it whenever I had to get shots."

Bucky thought for a moment and ran a hand through his hair, wondering if he was going to regret the words about to leave his mouth.

"You could hold my hand."

Y/N and Wanda both looked at him with surprised expressions, regret instantly hitting him.

"If you're comfortable with it," he quickly clarified. Y/N felt the corner of her mouth curve into a smile as she nodded.

She laid back down and Bucky took her hand in his. The instant transfer of heat soothed Y/N and she shut her eyes to allow Wanda to get to work.

When she felt the pressure on her eye again, her hand automatically gripped Bucky's tighter, and he squeezed it back to help calm her. Y/N focused on the callousness of his hands, how his hand seemed to fit into hers perfectly. Suddenly, she was thinking about his eyes again, those glimmering blue eyes. Blue was always a calming color for her, reminiscent of her trip to the aquarium where she got her beloved stuffed whale. As she felt Bucky's thumb gently rub the top of her hand, she realized that her whale could never provide as much comfort as he did.

Bucky felt a sense of pride as he watched the tension in Y/N's face disappear. Suddenly, he found his eyes wandering, looking at the loose strands of hair on the right side of her face, the rosiness of her cheeks, how she glowed. His heart started to palpate and Bucky realized a flame had kindled inside him. He was feeling again.

"All done!" Wanda chirped, stepping aside to let Bucky check her work. He smiled at her patted her on the back with his free hand.

"You did good." Wanda beamed and thanked him, walking away to complete her charting.

Y/N's eyes fluttered open, still feeling the warmth of Bucky's hand in hers. He greeted her with a tender smile and slowly helped her up, placing his other hand on the small of her back.

"See? Wasn't that bad after all," he grinned, releasing her hand. Y/N's smile faltered, missing his touch, and nodded.

"Thank you, Dr. Barnes."

"Bucky," he stated. She raised an eyebrow. "Call me Bucky."

The pair stared at each other in silence, enjoying each other's presence before the PA system snapped them both out of their trance.

"Dr. Barnes, paging Dr. Barnes to bed 16."

Bucky sighed, slowly getting up from his seat.

"Well, it was a pleasure meeting you, Y/N."

"You too, Bucky."

He turned around and was about to pull the curtain open when he paused, turning back around to face Y/N, scratching the back of his head. It took one look at her face and Bucky knew he didn't want to let her go just yet.

"Would you like to get coffee sometime?" She beamed up at him and Bucky felt his knees go weak.

"I would like that very much." He chuckled in disbelief and smiled.

Bucky had finally found his missing piece.

[xlonelysoulxx]

Being a Mermaid and Jacob’s Imprint Would Include... {2}

{gif isn’t mine}

xxxxx

You had disappeared for a whole month. You had only sent Leah a few messages after the incident, to give a sign of life and reassure the pack... which hadn’t helped matters when Jacob found out. "WHY didn't you tell me?!” “You acted like a f*cking jerk, why should I have?" The tension was so overwhelming, to the point where the other wolves must have come between them that day. Leah wanted to protect her friend, and Jacob wanted to get his imprint back. But he couldn't.

xxxxx

You hadn’t planned to come back, not so soon... this is what you had entrusted to the pretty wolf. You wanted to get some distance... away from Forks, from La Push... and from Jacob. You couldn't take it anymore. It was already hard that he treated you so coldly ‘cause he loved one another, but seeing him tear himself apart with his brothers... because of you? It was too much. It had gone way too far.

xxxxx

Grudge and worry kept growing among the wolves even when Jacob were gone, wandering god knows where near the Canadian border. Guilt and pain had kept twisting him from the inside ever since, and hearing the thoughts of his pack... especially when it came to you, had become torture. Even Jared, who had felt at fault at first, only felt annoyance now. Jacob was a ball of nerves ready to explode at any moment, while he was the one who had behaved badly in the first place. Fuck... he could have hurt you?! All because he had let himself be overcome by his emotions, emotions that he wasn’t yet ready to assume out loud.

xxxxx

The feeling of lack linked to the imprint was so strong that it sometimes prevented you from breathing, but that wasn't the worst. It was at that moment... that you realized how much you were in love with Jacob Black.

xxxxx

Even the pull of the bond wasn't as strong as the crack forged in your heart. A gash already wide open over the past few weeks (consciously or not) by the constant presence of Isabella Swan - hunted by Victoria - and now gaping as you left the Quileute... and Jacob, behind you. It was clear, the difference between these feelings - as if your heart and your guts were going in two distinct directions. How stupid you were... as if fate wasn't cruel enough like that.

xxxxx

You were quite surprised to see Alice and Jasper appear at your workplace one morning, a small neighborhood library near Port Angeles. It was brand new, no one knew about it. No one except Alice. Obviously... What were they doing there? You weren't particularly close to the Cullens, but you liked the lil’ brunette quite a bit. Did something happen? Did he... no, Leah would have warned you. Right..?

xxxxx

“He's stupidly stubborn, and guilty. But he's fine... for now.” You no longer understood anything, since when did Alice appreciate Jacob? She didn’t. But she couldn't control her visions. Time was running out. An army was approaching, Bella was once again the center of attention... and the future had darkened. The two clans who called themselves enemies had decided to unite reluctantly, to protect her - but what was your role in this story?

xxxxx

“Don't get me wrong, Alice... I don't wish Bella any harm.” You were boiling from the inside, but Bella wasn't the reason of your pain... Jacob was. You had no animosity towards the young girl, the shapeshifter was mature enough to make his own choices. It was between you and him, and yet. “But you came here for nothing.” You didn't look her in the eye anymore, busy sorting through the same books over and over in your hands. You couldn't believe she had come here just for this. She wanted you to come back to him, so he could come back to her... come back to Bella. To protect her.

xxxxx

Jasper hadn't moved from his place since their arrival, standing proudly straight behind his beloved. He could easily sense your anger, mixed with pain and incomprehension... and just like that, your eyes met his for a long second. “You should listen to her, Y/N.” You could feel a wave of appeasement sweep over you, immediately glaring at the vampire. "And you shouldn’t try to manipulate my emotions, Jasper."

xxxxx

“He won't survive it, Y/N... I saw it.” You could feel your blood running cold through your veins. What was she talking about?? Jacob was actually back in Forks, for more than a week now. But he was a freaking mess. He made sure to stay away from the pack, irritable... unpredictable, and more closed than ever. Quite the opposite of who he really was. You could feel your heart skipping a beat... Alice had glimpsed the impending confrontation, and the outcome had been fatal for the brown wolf.

xxxxx

No, no, no... it couldn't happen. It. Couldn't. The information was too much to handle as you began to hyperventilate like an idiot in the store, Jasper immediately moving to your side. You couldn't let him get killed all this because he was distracted by the whole "imprint thing”, no... you could never forgive yourself for it. You would leave your pride aside without any hesitation for him, everything for him... no matter the welcome you would receive in return.

xxxxx

The car ride was terribly quiet. The battle would take place in three days, so there was no time to waste. Your boss had been accommodating enough to give you your afternoon (he seemed to be pleased by your work, good for you) and this is where you were now... on the road back to Forks, sitting in the back of Alice's car. She had insisted on taking you there given your emotional state, and you were silently grateful for that. You could feel the anguish mounting as you approached the Quileute reserve, unconsciously wriggling in your seat.

xxxxx

“Stop the car.” The air was too thick to breathe, and you felt like you were drowning... there was only one way to fix it. You were close enough now, you could join the reserve on your own... but not right away. You quickly thanked the couple before slamming the door, taking the path to the forest under the worried gaze of the petite brunette. You ran, unable to stop before reaching the impressive cliff... not thinking twice before jumping.

xxxxx

You felt like you could finally breathe again as the icy water came in contact with your hot skin. You haven't been back to the ocean since the incident, and you had missed it - terribly. You could feel a pinch in your stomach as you rose to the surface, quickly looking up as your eyes instantly fell on the huge brown wolf that stood high on the rocks. Jacob. He was there... how?

xxxxx

You dived again after an endless exchange of glances, taking longer than necessary to reach the shore. A part of you feared your reunion, while the other was just relieved and excited to see him again. Jacob had reached the beach at an impressive speed, the shapeshifter dressed warmer than usual while a large jacket and boots complemented the usual shorts specific to all Quileutes. His heart was pounding as he observed the surface, impatiently waiting to see you reappear. Were you even going to do it..? He couldn't believe you were really there.

xxxxx

And you did. Your feet sank into the wet sand as you left the sweet comfort offered by the waves, your long hair sticking to your skin like a second skin. You were completely exposed as the cold wind whipped through your entire body, Jacob's eyes never leaving yours as he took off his jacket… wasting no time wrapping it around you. The distance between you was ridiculously thin now, the silence heavy and comfortable at the same time. There was no room for shyness here, it was Jacob. And despite everything that had happened you had full confidence in him.

xxxxx

None of you dared to speak first... almost like it's going to shatter the present moment, and bring bad memories to the surface. “I was afraid I had hurt you.” He finally confessed, almost shamefully. Start at the beginning, yeah... it was good. “I'm sorry I disappeared... I just panicked.” You answered briefly, but he cut you off almost immediately.“You don't have to feel sorry for anything, Y/N. I should. For everything.”  He really was. He wanted to tell you how sorry he was, how much he had missed you... and how much he loved you. But he didn't have the right. Not now, and maybe never. But repeating it to you, showing you how sorry he was and how much he regretted the way he had treated you... seemed like a good start. He wanted to be the best imprint for you... a friend, a protector. If you wanted him to be. He didn't want to be separated from you like that anymore. Never again.

xxxxx

You could hear the sincerity in his voice, the erratic changes in his breathing… and the heat radiating from his body which was enveloping you like a soft blanket. He meant every word. You were sure of it. And it was, indeed, a good start... yes. It was like a silent acceptance, like a secret language between the two of you... your throat tightening a bit before you wrapped your arms around him.

xxxxx

Jacob automatically tightens his embrace around you, selfishly accepting the gesture of affection you both needed so badly. He trapped your body against his, resting his chin against the top of your head as you stood on your tiptoes... inhaling his scent. There he was, alive and safe in your arms... and that was all that mattered right now. And you were going to make sure that it stays that way, no matter what.

xxxxx

But fate wasn't so lenient, you should have known that... it didn't rest only in your hands. Cruel reality exploded in your face that day, Jacob's scream echoing through the entire clearing at the same time as the sound of his ribs being broken by the newborn vampire. It all happened so fast. Leah had found herself trapped in the deadly embrace of one of them, Jacob had intervened... and now he was writhing in pain on the ground.

xxxxx

You had joined him in a few strides, stumbling alongside him as your heartbeat echoed through your ears. Carlisle stood by your side, examining the extent of the damage before the other members of the pack arrived in turn. His voice was twisted in pain as he tried to pronounce your name, squeezing your hand in his before the other wolves surrounded him to pick him up - Paul reluctantly pulling you away from your imprint. Tears filled your eyes, so much so that you hadn't even seen Bella arrive… the obvious horror on her face. How could this have happened? You thought you could change Alice's vision, you really believed you could... but you obviously failed. Literally.

[gisellelx]

Like a Raisin in the Sun

Saint Tropez, France

June 28, 2021

Despite all the trouble it caused them, all of their family liked the sun. Even Jasper, whose ruthlessly military affinity for the dark had taken decades to overcome, lay stretched out on a chaise, his eyes closed, with Alice curled up on his chest. Emmett and Rosalie were curled up on another set of chaises, Rosalie’s head on Emmett’s shoulder, his fingers stroking absently through her hair.

The estate they’d rented had a private beach, of course, and two large pools, and the main house itself was large enough that they couldn’t always hear from one side to the other. Small mercies after the beginning of the pandemic, when the nine of them had somehow managed to cram into their five bedroom cottage in Toulouse. Here at the coast, they all had plenty of room to be apart.

That turned out not to matter much, however. Except for a handful of times of day, when one couple or another would peel off into one of the suites so expansive they were large apartments unto themselves, they were together. Four pairs of chaise lounges feet from the water’s edge. Nine players around the Monopoly board Rosalie and Jasper had designed which was much more punishing and required a buy-in of two thousand euro from anyone who wanted to play to fund the “bank.” Seven in the audience around the Steinway, as Edward and Renesmee worked through the entirety of the four-handed Dolly Suite.

The water made an arrhythmic whoosh as it met sand over and over. Sometimes two waves came almost together, huge and frothy; other times it was the more gentle swish of a small, barely there swell of ocean. It was strange, beautiful, percussion-only symphony, and Edward could almost hear a melody over it, feeling his fingers begin to itch with the desire to compose.

Only one set of chaises sat empty, and as he gazed toward the horizon, he could see them: bright flashes of light between the two-foot swells. They were much farther out than would be safe for humans, having allowed the undertow to take them probably an eighth of a mile out to sea, to a sandbar where the waves crashed prematurely before building up again to come ashore. Between the waves, they stood only waist deep in water, the sun glinting off their shoulders and backs, sending shimmering rainbows across the dark sapphire of the waves.

Carlisle dove through a wave, emerging with hair dripping down his back. He ran a hand through it as he laughed and took a few strokes through the water to be closer to Esme, whose definitely-designed-to-scandalize-the-adult-children string bikini left more of her skin exposed than her husband's long swim trunks did his. Once together, a few steps further out took them both into deeper ocean where they treaded water, having a conversation Edward could not overhear.

So intent was he watching, he barely felt he hand on his shoulder as the chaise beside him became occupied, its regular owner having returned from retrieving a new book from the house. His wife settled in next to him, immediately following his gaze out to the distant sandbar. Together they listened to Esme’s giggling shriek as Carlisle picked her up and threw her full on into a large wave, followed immediately by Carlisle’s deep laughter as Esme recovered her footing and immediately picked him up and did the same. They slapped each other’s shoulders playfully, wiping water out of their eyes and shaking it out of their hair.

“They’re having so much fun out there,” Bella commented quietly.

Edward nodded, saying nothing. After several minutes more, his wife poked him in the side, making him chuckle.

“Sometimes I’d like to have your gift,” his wife said. “Know what you’re thinking.”

He laughed. “That makes two of us.”

It was their private joke, how Bella was his one silent mind. From time to time, she let him in, but it was difficult and she didn’t do it often. So he had scaled the uneasy cliff of learning to ask her to voice her thoughts, and to be more forthcoming about his own.

“I forget so often how young they are,” he answered, his voice quiet. “They should just be at the beach, splashing each other.”

“And then coming in and having mojitos,” Bella added.

Edward stared back out over the water.

“He would be just out of his M-1 year,” he muttered.

Bella laughed. “Carlisle? He’d be a rising M-3 at a minimum. You think he somehow didn’t finish college at least a year early?”

He laughed. “True.”

Bella leaned into him. “And she’d be the rising star architect at the boutique firm. Nobody can believe she has so little experience because her designs are so good.”

Edward slipped an arm over his wife’s bare shoulders. “How did they meet?”

“Mmmm.” Bella’s gaze returned to the ocean. “She designed the art museum and he went to a gala. He’d be looking at the Cezanne. And she would come up from behind him and start telling him about it.”

“Yeah and then he would compliment the architecture of the building and make her blush.”

Bella laughed. “A coincidence, or does he know who she is?”

“He knows who she is. He’s hitting on her.”

They both smiled.

“Does it work?”

Edward nodded. “She lets him buy her a glass of wine from the cash bar. And it’s generic and not very good so he offers to take her to a real wine bar after the event. And they sneak out of it a little early. He orders something way too fancy for his budget and he’s just going to put it on his credit card but—”

“—Esme sees straight through him and gets the check.”

Laughing again, Edward nodded. They both fell silent for a moment, the only sounds the breeze, the birds, and the gentle whoosh of the Mediterranean.

“How long do they wait to do it,” his wife asks mischievously.

Edward threw his hands over his eyes. “Bella!” When he opened them, he saw his wife, one eyebrow cocked, and when they spoke, it was as one:

“Third date.”

They dissolved into laughter.

“His place or hers?” This was Edward.

“His. It’s a mess. He wasn’t expecting to invite her home. His sheets aren’t clean, either.” Carlisle, for his master command of anywhere between two and ten people’s laundry, somehow almost always managed to forget the sheets even with an inhuman memory. Bella’s invocation of one of her father in-law’s few marital imperfections made Edward laugh.

“She doesn’t care,” he added.

Bella shook her head. “She’s kinda charmed, really.”

“They move in together very quickly.”

“But they don’t get married for a long time.”

Edward nodded. “Until he’s in residency.”

His wife smiled. Then she mischievously leaned into his side, putting her lips at his ear and whispered, “They pull the goalie before the wedding.”

This made Edward laugh, but it rang true. In this world of events his mother would be thirty, and worried. They would both want to get started as soon as they were sure of their commitment, and neither of them had ever been much for suffering other people’s opinions about what might be proper. He listened, smiling, as his wife went on.

“They find out the day before and everyone is gushing at the reception about how sappy in love they look. It’s not until she starts showing that they tell everyone why they were so gooey that day.”

Edward smiled shyly, sitting up, dragging his toe in the white sand.

“Boy or girl?”

“Girl,” Bella answered immediately. When he cocked his head and frowned, she smirked and added, “There is no alternate universe in which you are not Rose’s little brother.”

At this, Edward guffawed. But it was true, he knew. When he saw them, in their minds, the shadow-dream family his parents both had, he was always the youngest. Sometimes there were three children, the oldest a boy whom each of them imagined differently—Carlisle imagining caramel hair and brown eyes, and Esme imagining a softened version of Charles, usually, but sometimes a boy with Carlisle’s hair, and blue eyes the exact hue of which she didn’t know and Carlisle didn’t remember. He would have been twenty years younger than Edward, chronologically, yet somehow in all their imaginations he was the oldest—the lost child, the child she ran for, the only person in their family who had ever died.

It weighed so heavily on them. All they had lost, all the things they had won in their stead. They had been so weary a week ago in the morning, when they’d met the rest of the family on the tarmac in Castres. A pandemic year was taking its toll on them both.

The couple who splashed in the waves seemed too young to have experienced all the loss they had. They looked so unburdened, chasing the waves, laughing at each other, catching the sun. As they watched, Esme put Carlisle on her shoulders and he fought until they both fell backward and went under.

Bella squeezed his hand. “Which ones do you think are happier? The imaginary ones or the real ones?”

Edward pressed his lips together. He could see them, in his mind’s eye: the beautiful couple settling comfortably into middle age, the doctor coaching his daughter’s basketball team, the architect leading the pine car derby for her son’s scout troop.

But he could see this couple, too. The joy on their faces as they hugged each of their six children. The way their skin had glowed in the light of absolutely unnecessary birthday candles, a “1”, a “2”, and a “0” on a cake only Renesmee could eat, and in all likelihood wouldn’t. The night before, when they’d watched In the Heights, his daughter fighting sleep as she leaned on her grandfather’s shoulder. How contented Carlisle had looked as he nudged her awake, knowing she considered herself far too old to be carried to bed.

They were old and young. Happy and sad. Yin and yang, like the ancient forces: equal parts the hard amidst the easy, the pain amidst the joy.

“The real ones,” he said, and was rewarded with another squeeze of his hand as his wife smiled.

“I think so, too,” she said.

In the distance, they both watched as Carlisle and Esme disappeared again under the waves.

[lunar-wandering]

Eventide

bet yall thought i forgot about the Sunset Wukong AU didnt you

jokes on you, i didn’t.

welcome to Macaque’s intro, aka me kinda just rewriting episode 9-

Word Count: 1.5k

Read on Ao3

-

"You know, when I found out that I was going to be trained by Monkey King, the 'Great Sage, Equal to Heaven', I had no idea.... that I'd be stuck here, hammering walls 12 hours a day!" MK yelled, throwing the hammer off to the side, ignoring the loud crash it made as it hit the ground, turning to glare at Wukong. "Why am I doing this again?"

"First of all, it's only been 2 hours, not 12." Wukong said, casually leaning against a nearby pillar. "Secondly, it's so that I can make a neat little breakfast nook."

"But I'm meant to be the Monkie Kid, not Construction Boy, and besides, this barely counts as practice!" MK said, crossing his arms with an annoyed huff. "How am I meant to defeat demons if I don't know any of the fighting...stuff."

"Oh, so you want to learn the 'fighting stuff', huh?" Wukong said, pushing off the pillar and picking up the staff from where MK had left it laying on the ground. "You mean like....this?"

MK barely managed to duck down and dodge as the staff proceeded to go sailing over his head, hitting the wall hard enough to break it and leave a sizeable hole in it.

"Yes! Exactly like that-" MK paused mid-excited ramble as he registered the wince on Wukong's face, as well as how the Monkey King had placed one hand behind his back. MK sighed, the excited energy leaving almost as fast as it had came. "Monkey King, I've told you multiple times that we could move training to nighttime, after sunset."

"It's fine, it's fine, you need your rest." Wukong said, waving away MK's concern, at the same time revealing exactly what MK's had suspected, that the tips of Wukong's fingers had turned to stone. "Besides, you're not ready for that kind of stuff yet anyways."

"But I am ready! What's smacking a wall going to teach me anyways?"

"Look, I'm never going to teach you something you don't need to know, okay?" Wukong said, sighing. "Anyways, this wall isn't going to destroy itself. Remember, step into the strike-"

MK's phone rang.

-

MK climbed over the edge of the building, a whole rant already building in his mind.

"Monkey King, I swear, I know it's sunset, but we have told you so many times not to use your powers during the day-" MK cut himself off once he got a good look at the monkey standing before him. "...Oh. This is awkward. You're not... Monkey King."

"Heh, I get that a lot." The monkey said, giving a nervous laugh. "The names Macaque, Six Eared Macaque, although that's more of a nickname really.... nevermind that, you're the Monkie Kid, MK, right?"

"...How'd you know?" MK asked, suspicious. Macaque gave an airy chuckle.

"Not exactly everyone can wield that staff, kid." He said, turning and starting to walk away. "Anyways, I should go-"

"Can you teach me that cool move you did?!" MK blurted out, almost as shocked as Macaque himself was at the sudden question. He wasn't sure what had prompted him to ask, but as it was he wasn't getting any stronger right now, and this powerful monkey didn't have a curse that turned him to stone in the daylight, so... "Please?"

Macaque eyed the horizon for a moment before responding.

"Isn't Wukong teaching you?" He said, and when MK looked nervous, followed it up with, "But I suppose you can never have too many teachers, right? I'm sure Monkey King wouldn't mind...."

And so, Macaque wormed his way into MK's weekly schedule.

Oddly enough, Macaque, like Wukong, insisted on never training MK during the night, but MK was fine with that, as Macaque was actually teaching him, unlike Wukong, who continued to simply make MK slam a hammer against a wall, day after day. Going back and forth between both training sessions, and his job of delivering noodles was no easy task, but MK figured he was managing it pretty well.

...Okay, so maybe he felt a bit more tired, a bit more irritable than usual, but he could overcome that! He could get better at balancing his schedule.

He could do this.

...His rising anger over how Wukong continued to have him do nothing but smack a wall, repeatedly, over and over, every single day, wasn't doing him any favors though.

-

He is the weapon.

That sentence repeats like a mantra over and over in his head as he stares down the glowing eye of the smoke monster. Maybe he says it out loud- he can't be sure. All he's focused on is the sparks of energy flying around him, the resistance he feels keeping him from landing a hit as he pushes harder, summons as much energy as he can-

The air shifts, and MK barely has time to blink as the smoke monster smirks (and he hadn't even known that it could do that), shifting, twirling in on itself-

He thinks of looking back at Macaque for help.

But then the smoke clears away, and despite his confusion, he instantly knows the help would never come.

He finds himself face to face with Macaque, remnants of smoke and shadows slipping off of the other's form as he looks up and meets MK's gaze, revealing a scar over one eye, and really, MK should've seen this coming.

But it's not really Macaque's betrayal that surprises him.

No, that honor goes to the stone slowly creeping it's way up the side of Macaque's face.

And then Macaque's fist hits MK's chest, and MK gets the wind knocked out of him. He drops, hitting the ground, hard. Groaning, he starts trying to pull himself up.

He feels....weaker, somehow.

Like something isn't quite right.

"Y'know, you really are a good kid." MK barely registers Macaque's hand ruffling his hair, but he leans back as the other enters the shadows on the ground. "Super nice."

MK watches as the shadow clone (because that's what it must've been right? Heavens he was stupid, falling for a plot as simple as this) merges with it's creator- noting that the stone isn't just on Macaque's face, both the monkey's right leg, his left arm, and slowly spreading onto his chest.

It took a few moments more than it should've for MK to notice the gleaming ball of magic in Macaque's hand, but by the time he'd noticed it, Macaque was already closing his fist around it.

MK watched in fascination and mild horror as sparks of magic appeared all over Macaque's body, and the stone-

The stone faded away.

MK didn't get much of a chance to think about that, as the next second, the magical recoil sent MK flying, his back colliding with the face of the mountain behind him, the staff following after and landing sideways, like a bar pinning him to the rock. Tried as he might to move it, he couldn't.

He was trapped.

-

Monkey King, of course, came to save him, as always. MK could only thank his lucky stars that the whole situation had taken place in the night, instead of the day. He had no idea what they would do if Wukong turned fully to stone during an attack. (And based on some of the things Pigsy had told him, this had actually come close to happening, far more often than MK would like. They all knew that Wukong would still revert back to normal at sunset, even if he'd been turned all the way to stone. But they also knew that it hurt. And MK never, wanted anybody to be in that level of pain just because he couldn't handle things on his own.)

Still though, they'd really been cutting it close, with there having only been mere moments before sunrise. MK could still vividly see the expression on his mentors face as he looked back, eyeing the horizon, before locking eyes with MK.

Wukong hadn't strictly asked for help, instead saying that it was time for the "hero stuff", as MK had previously put it. But MK recognized worry when he saw it.

Part of him relifting the staff was fueled entirely by his determination to be the one to help his mentor for once. But he wasn't about to tell the Monkey King that. (He was fairly certain that Wukong might get offended over it, if his reluctance to let others help with his whole 'turning to stone' problem said anything).

MK sighed, feeling tired as he watched the sunrise. It belatedly occurred to him that he had stayed up all night.

It wouldn't be the first all-nighter he'd ever pulled, but after what he'd just been through? He just wanted to collapse into a mountain of pillows right this instant.

"...I should probably head home." MK lightly pulled himself out from under Wukong's arm, standing up. "I feel bone tired."

"I'm sure you do." Wukong also stood up, brushing dirt and debris off of his clothes, before looking down the cliff they'd been sitting on. "Just uh, could I ask you for a favor first?"

"Uh, I guess?" MK yawned, leaning against the staff for support as he slouched.

Wukong eyed the horizon. The sun had already risen.

"...You and Pigsy would probably yell at me if I summoned my cloud and turned my toes to stone so.....mind giving me a ride back?"

[asset35-maya]

RED DRESS

Part 2/2 of Nice Things

//

“Come on, we’re going to be late.”

“Five minutes, sweetheart. Please.”

Gavin rolled his eyes and sat down on the bed with a thump. The day had finally come when the human was more punctual than the android. He sniggered at the thought but refrained from saying it out loud. Nines looked far more serious than he ought to for a Friday night.

“Babe, it’s just the guys. And Tina.” 

Nines ignored him in favor of twirling a mascara wand through his lashes. 

“We’re literally going to Abick’s. That’s like the oldest, grungiest cop bar you can-”

“It’s not the place or the company, sweetheart.”

Gavin watched Nines finish off with eyeliner. Somehow even androids’ mouths hung open in concentration while doing that. 

He stood up from the little pouffe and shook his long hair out with a flourish. Taking that as his cue, Gavin got up and pressed himself up against his lover’s back. He curled his arms around Nines’ trim waist and rested his chin on his shoulder. 

Their eyes met in the mirror of the wooden dresser that Gavin had built for Nines.

“Whatchu so gorgeous for?”

Nines tried, but couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.

“Shut up and zip me up.”

It wasn’t like he couldn’t reach behind himself and do it on his own. The RK900 model was supremely dexterous, flexible to the point of double-jointedness. 

It was more of an implicit request for the human’s approval of the outfit. Nines didn’t need it, but he asked anyway… just like later that night, Gavin would ask him if it was okay to splurge on a bacon cheeseburger or order an extra shot in his whiskey coke… 

They were codependent like that.

Gavin left one hand on the android’s stomach and placed the other on the small of his back, just at the opening of the dress. His thumb grazed the zipper, but he didn’t demonstrate any further intent to pull it up. 

“You said we were going to be late.”

Gavin swept the dark curtain of hair aside and pressed his lips to the exposed skin at the nape of Nines’ neck. When he spoke it was a whisper.

“Why’s my babydoll looking like something out of a movie for my dumb little promotion party?” 

His hand slipped into the open flap of the dress. It was a simple knee-length a-line. Fairly modest, but something about it set Gavin’s heart racing. Perhaps the colour. A vibrant, lusty, sexy, show-stopping red in sharp contrast to the milky white synthskin.

Nines couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him at the touch. Sighing, he tipped his head back and let Gavin nuzzle his neck. 

“Hmm?”

“Now we’re really going to be late, sweetheart. Zip… hhhhh… zip… me up…”

“Come on, doll. I don’t want someone accidentally spilling beer or mustard on this pretty little thing you got on. It’s just gonna be a chill night out with our friends. They demanded a treat for my promotion, and Hank said he’d come too, so I picked a place he’d be more comfortable at, and I realise that’s not exactly your scene, but I’m glad you’re coming with me, but I really gotta say this dress-”

Nines turned around in Gavin’s grasp and silenced him with a kiss.

“It’s not the place or the company,” he repeated, putting his arms around the human’s neck. 

“It’s your promotion party. It’s about your achievements, your hard work, YOU. And in case you haven’t noticed, you’re the most important person in my life. My partner in more ways than one. My everything.

Your rise in stature means as much if not more to me than my own accomplishments. I’m not the RK900 with the impeccable solve rate. I’m Sergeant Reed’s better half. 

If I had it my way we’d be doing something much grander, but this is how you want to celebrate and that’s fine, but please don’t stop me from dressing for the occasion.”

They looked at each other for a long moment. Steel blue and storm green locked in stalemate. 

Then Gavin pulled Nines into a tight embrace. He released him abruptly and spun him around, zipping up the dress in a flash. Avoiding eye contact lest the tears pricking his eyes betray him, Gavin caught the android’s hand in his and marched out of the apartment.

//

Connor greeted them at the entrance of the bar and waved them over to where the motley crew sat, already well into their first round of drinks.

Hank raised his beer glass in greeting, wearing an orange striped shirt he apparently deemed worthy of festivities. Tina enveloped Gavin in a giant hug. For a good thirty seconds he could see nothing but flannel. Then Miller, Person and countless other officers took turns congratulating him and bringing up past cases or incidents they couldn’t believe hadn’t held Gavin’s career back. 

Nines extricated himself with an artful wave of long fingers and settled onto a bar stool beside his older brother Sixty and his husband Allen. Serious, snarky and clad in their usual black leather, these two were more Nines’ speed.

Ignoring Sixty’s irritated grumble, Nines took a sip of his thirium drink to see if he liked the taste and ordered one for himself. He was prepared to spend the rest of the night sitting still and not touching the many sticky, greasy surfaces in the bar. It wasn’t his idea of fun, but he was happy to let Gavin and his friends do their thing.

Gavin, however, didn’t seem to be in the mood. He humoured his friends (many of whom were now his direct reports) and played along with whatever they insisted on doing, but Nines felt his partner’s eyes on him the entire evening.

“You punishing him?”

“Hmm?”

Sixty was squinting at him shrewdly.

“For coming to this shithole to celebrate. That’s why you wore this? Poor bastard can’t keep his eyes off you.” 

Nines swatted his brother on the chest. 

“I don’t play games like you.”

“Who says I play games?”

Allen shook his head but didn’t look up from his phone.

“I have a fashion sense, Six, not an agenda. I’m not punishing him for anything.”

“Well, you’re certainly distracting him. Reminds me of the time Allen said something stupid while we were getting ready for a shift so I put on lingerie underneath my gear. He nearly fell off a roof that day.”

Allen buried his face in his hands while Nines laughed out loud. 

“Shiiit. Your guy looks fucking lovesick. In front of all his staff too. They’re gonna think he’s a total sap. A new authority figure like him has got to show some grit.”

“Six, your husband follows you around like a lost puppy but that hasn’t interfered with his ability to lead your unit. Gavin will be fine.”

Allen didn’t know whether to consider that an insult or a compliment and settled for sipping his drink in silence.

“So what are you gonna do?”

“To?”

“Make the torture worth his while.”

At that exact moment, Gavin gave Nines a look from across the bar that could have only one interpretation. Sixty noticed and barked a laugh. 

Nines self-consciously tucked his hair behind his ear and smoothed down his dress. If he were human he’d have blushed bright red. 

Back to idly scrolling through his phone, Allen spoke without looking up.

“Let him do whatever he wants.”

Nines’ eyes widened. Sixty nodded wisely.

“His imagination is probably running all over the place right now. All you have to do is let him act on it and you’ll make him the happiest man on earth. It’s his promotion. You should be the prize.”

Allen put down his phone and scooted closer to Sixty, wrapping his arms around the android. They both looked at Nines with identical expressions that were anything but innocent. 

“Yeah, Nines. Dress like a present, expect to be unwrapped.”

Raucous cheers erupted as Gavin lost yet another game of beer pong. The new sergeant barely noticed and took the shot glass thrust into hand by a very jubilant Connor. Nines raised his glass in a silent toast and the two downed their drinks together.

The rest of the evening was an exercise in painful self-restraint. Gavin entertained various playful requests and posed for photos and thanked each and every one of his colleagues for their strong support. Hank clapped him on the shoulder proudly, and Tina even teared up at one point, emotionally overcome with happiness for her oldest and closest friend. Nines watched it all quietly from his perch beside Sixty and Allen.

//

As soon as they slid into an autonomous taxi, Gavin’s lips were on his, smothering him in heated, demanding kisses. Intoxicated and utterly uninhibited, the human put his hands in Nines’ hair… all over his body… and up the pretty red dress. No words were exchanged the entire ride home. 

The fact that android skin could not be marked or bruised was the only thing that let them walk through their busy lobby and ride the elevator up with dignity intact.

As soon as the front door slammed shut, Gavin was all over Nines. He touched and groped and claimed and conquered. 

The dress zipper was pulled down as quickly as it had been pulled up before they left for the bar. Nines stepped out of the puddle of red fabric as delicately as he could and pulled Gavin’s shirt off too. It was only the high quality gyroscope of the RK900 model that kept them from crashing to the floor before making it to the bed. 

Nines allowed himself to be pushed onto the bed and parted his legs for Gavin to easily settle between them. From there, he expected things to go at lightning speed… for Gavin to plough into him and come with a loud roar after a couple minutes, finally sated after a night of frustration.

The exact opposite occurred. 

Even after all the tequila shots Connor and Tina made him do, Gavin was somehow still lucid enough to put his lover’s feelings over immediate physical needs. 

“Babe, I… am soooo… sorry…”

One hand wound up in his hair and the other gripped his hip. 

“Like.. you dressed the phck up… like you looked soooooo damn beautiful, baby… I’m gonna cry.”

For a moment, it honestly looked like that was a possibility until Nines reached up and stroked the human’s stubbled cheek.

“I know Abick’s is kinda crusty but you came anyway… looking like a million bucks but I didn’t spend a second with you… T and Con and the crew… they kinda took over…”

“It’s fine, sweetheart. It was our whole team’s night as much as yours. I’m glad they all had their fun.”

“I didn't. Have any fun.”

“Really? Not even when Chris did that Fowler impersonation?”

“Couldn’t stop… thinking of you… you’re so damn good to me… and I…”

“I was fine. You invited Six and Allen to keep me company and it was fiiiineee.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. Now come on, sarge. Show me who’s boss.”

Nines rolled his hips against Gavin’s and that was all the conversation there was to be had for the night. They were both still getting used to having nice things… but they were doing well.

//

Inspired by @marndraws

[acourtofsnakes]

Gaa’tayl - Rogue Chapter 4| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader

Summary: After making your decision, the race is on to try and save Mando’s life. But when things start to go south, a part of you breaks open that you hadn’t let yourself feel for a long time. How will it change you? And how will it shape whats to come?

Warnings: Injury detail/blood, first aid, little bit of swearing, hint of angst? some very faint fluff, pining thoughts because who wouldn’t, it’s Mando

Trigger warnings: beginnings of a panic attack, vicious thoughts, flashback to attempted suicide, personification of depression/negative thoughts using triggering - please be careful, my inbox is always open if you need to talk♥︎

Word count: 5394

AN: This chapters easter egg hint: Can you find the quote originally said by a purple grape with an affinity for shiny stones?👀

Also, gif isn’t necessarily relevant to the main plot of this chapter but... you’ll see why we have hands as a gif. 

As always, credit to whoever owns the gif. I usually find them on Google or Pinterest, so message me if it’s yours ♥︎

Rogue Taglist: @snipskixandbeskar   @weirdowithnobeardo 

Rogue Masterlist | Introduction| 1: Solus| 2: Arir | 3: Tor | 4: Gaa'tayl 

Mando’a Translation: Gaa'tayl  - Help

Blood.

There was blood everywhere. 

In your hair, over your clothes.

It was coating your neck and your face. You could taste it. Coppery, hot. 

~Screaming was still echoing around the street, heart-wrenching cries of those who had just seen their loved ones forced into the air and torn apart by the explosion. The smell of metal and smoke mixed with the stench of blood and burning flesh. 

Blood. 

You could taste it. 

Your parent’s blood, maybe your own. The taste of it was in your mouth.~

Your heart thundered in your chest as you stared down at the Mandalorian.

You’d been watching him, knowing you needed to decide and then he’d gasped. And just… went still. You felt his blood pulse out under your hands and then he was just quiet. 

You couldn’t hear his ragged breathing anymore. 

Was he…

~You pushed your hands against your mothers neck, desperate to feel for the pulse that you’d felt for the last 12 years of your life.

Nothing. There was nothing there. She was dead. Your mother. Your sweet, strong mother who sung you lullabies and taught you how to dance… was dead.~

He couldn’t be. 

You dared to risk lifting a hand from the jagged hole in his side and pressed your fingertips against his neck. You knew there was a small slither of skin here, you’d seen it yesterday as he leant forward to look at something. You pushed your fingers deeper into the rapidly cooling skin of his neck, waiting. Hoping. 

There was nothing. 

No, no, there had to be. There had to be something. 

You swallowed, calming yourself enough to concentrate. You ducked your head down, like it could help you focus on the skin beneath your fingers. 

There. 

Some kind of choked noise escaped your lips as you felt his pulse, weak and fluttering, but there. Undiluted fear ran through your veins. This was on you now. 

And so, the clock was reset.

You wasted no time, ripping off your cloak and using the length of it wrap around his waist. It was nowhere enough, not enough pressure for a tourniquet or anything even remotely close because of the armour lining his body. However, it would serve to try and soak up some of the blood. 

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling the Mandalorian to sit up. Then rose into a crouch and hauled him up so you were both standing. 

Only to immediately collapse as your knees buckled with the lightning bolts of agony that speared across your ribs. Fuck. Right. Broken ribs. Stars exploded across your vision but you sucked in a deep, painful breath. We’ve dealt with worse. This isn’t about you know. Get up.

You dragged your feet back under you, pulling the Mandalorian up again, holding his weight against your good side. 

Prey helping hunter. 

In, out. A shallow, slow breath that didn’t hurt quite so much, and then you began to walk, half dragging the Mandalorian along with you. You couldn’t manage any more than a slow walk, your own injuries and pull of his amour and dead weight threatening to drag you down again. 

No, no. Not dead. Unconscious. He’s unconscious. Get him to the ship, clean it, spray it with bacta-spray, cauterise it, bind it. That’s all you need to do. 

You repeated this like a mantra as you walked back through the street, through those puddles of light. 

Get him to the ship, clean it, spray it with bacta-spray, cauterise it, bind it.

You repeated it again and again, even when the skies opened and rain lashed down, loosening your grip on the shiny metal and dragging you both down. 

Get him to the ship. 

There it was, such a welcome sight you might have cried. You fumbled on the arm that you’d slung around your shoulder, pressing buttons on his vambrace until the ramp opened and soft light and warmth called you inside. 

Hunter and prey stumbled up the ramp, and you just got him inside, managed to lay him down in front of a big heavy crate. 

You took a moment, darkness threatening to overcome you and a ringing in your ears. You shook your head sharply, pushing it off and then dropped to your knees, looking over his body. The wound was on his side, in between where the front and back plates of his armour were attached. 

Thank the Maker. You didn’t know what you would have done if it was closer to his armour. You unsheathed your knife, frantically cleaning it on your damp tunic and then quickly cut away a patch of fabric that was over and around the wound, gritting your teeth when you had to coax the torn threads from the hole. 

Which had been acting like a dam. Scarlet blood immediately began to flood from the jagged flesh, soaking the floor below him, your hands. 

You blinked, unable to stop staring for a second. How did so much blood come out of someone?

Memories hounded at your shoulders, threatening to drag you under, toward a market square, a dusty floor. 

Clean it. 

You nodded to yourself, the order in your mind and then scrambled to your feet. A quick search revealed some clean rags and a half full canteen of water. You grabbed the cauteriser and the med-kit on your way back to him, resting it beside you like it was sacred and then you turned to the wound. You wiped your hands on your knees, then dipped the cloth in water, beginning to gently, but quickly dab away the blood. 

Bloody water pooled beneath the Mandalorian, so you hurriedly shoved your cloak under him to soak it up so he wouldn’t be lying in water. 

Spray it. 

Your hands shook as you turned to the little metal box beside you, so much so that it took you 3 attempts to open the latch. Despite the situation, you couldn’t help the exasperated sigh at the rubbish of scraps of bandage that were mere threads, empty wrappers, all littering the top. Really, Mando?

You pawed though the med-kit, turning out empty wrappers and.. nothing else. 

What? 

There was no bacta-spray. No bandages. Hell, there wasn’t even a needle and thread for you to stitch the damn skin together. All you had was a bunch of wadded up fabric from a rag and some water. Why didn’t this man have any medical supplies? He was a Mandalorian for Maker’s sake. He probably had an injury list to rival yours, yet he didn’t even have so much as a needle?

You groaned, lifting a shaking hand to your face for a moment, breathing shallowly through your nose as another wave of agony seared through your ribs and the old injury in your shoulder. 

Your shoulder.

The one that was clean. Bound. 

That’s where the last of the medical supplies had gone, used on your own injury when he brought you away from Sorgan. 

You looked up at his unconscious form, horror in your expression, in your heart. The wound was weeping still, deep, surely missing vital organs because he would have been dead instantly in that alleyway. 

You didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t risk getting a medic from the town, one because he didn’t have the time, and two because… well, they’d sell you out. Know who you were, the bounty. 

Your heart began to beat faster, it usual rhythmic thumps turning frantic, uneven. 

It was your fault that there was nothing to save him. 

You couldn’t breathe. 

Just like it was your fault he had been hurt in the first place. 

You couldn’t save him. 

Darkness swirled inside you, recognising what was happening to your body. 

He was going to die… because of you. 

Just like your parents. And everyone else after. 

With no warning, you chest constricted, steel bands wrapping around your lungs, crushing them from the inside out with a pain deeper than your cracked ribs. A roaring surged through your ears and suddenly the ship was spinning in circles. 

The beast, that poisonous beast that slumbered within you lifted its head, scenting your anxiety and fear and it purred with sick delight. Your spiralling was like a siren call and it crawled up, up, up and that seductive velvety voice that hounded you, began to whisper to you inside your head, “Hello, darling. It’s been a while.”

No. No not again. Not another dead body, not another tally against your name. 

“Murderer. Murderer. You killed your parents. You killed your friends. You killed everything even remotely good that’s ever been in your life.”

A sob began to build in your throat, an extra pressure that had you gasping for air, hunching over the floor-

“Look at you, crying. So weak. So pitiful. You deserve every single person that’s ever come after you, deserve every ounce of pain that you’ve been dealt. You call yourself a wolf, but you are a monster.”

It was right. That chasm of fear and darkness that always stayed with you was right. Of course it was. It had been right all those years ago, and the words it was whispering into you like silken poison were true. 

“Exactly, my darling. I am born of that savage beast in you, remember? You created me, you formed me from the truth and knowledge that everyone you touch dies. You have tried to deny this part of yourself for so long, darling, so, so long. But you will never escape it. This is your destiny. To kill those that come near you. ” 

You shook your head, tears flooding down your cheeks now as you wrapped your arms around your middle. The movement jolted your ribs, but it’s lick of fiery pain barely made it through the agony in your chest. I can run from it. I can escape it, you’re wrong, you’re wrong!! That’s not my destiny. I can make up for it, I can be good, I AM good-

A silken laugh and then a soft sigh, like it almost felt sorry for you, “Dread it. Run from it. Destiny arrives all the same. And now it's here. You have let the Mandalorian get hurt for you, and now he will die.”

No… no. No, not him. He can’t. He saved me, he’s good, I can see it. He has a son. I deserve the death sentence, but not him. Please, someone, anyone. Save him, please save him-

“No one is coming to help you, darling. You have finally done it. You have killed a father whilst his son sleeps just down the hallway.” It purred, caressing the inside of your head with claws, “Give in, darling. It’s time to give in. You eluded my call once before, but that won’t happen this time. Your pretty power won’t save you now, not now you pushed it away. Come to me.. escape the pain, finish what you should have gone through with years ago…”

An irresistible darkness reached out a hand, dropping the memory down onto you before you could stop it.

~~A glass vial, a shimmering poison you stole from the market. 

Rain, pounding down around you as you looked up at the moon. 

Water, crashing below the rocky outcrop you stood on.

Burning, a feeling like liquid fire inside you as that sweet, shimmering poison slipped down your throat.

I’m sorry. 

A final look at the moon, so big and beautiful as you turned around, your heels hanging off the end.

Goodbye.

Wind, rushing past your ears.

The icy crush of water as it devoured your body, pulling you into it’s shadowy depths. 

The fire turning molten, slipping through your blood, devouring you as the water has, coaxing you to close your eyes as your body melts from the inside out.

Quiet, a heady quiet as you succumbed to the beast in your chest that was purring with glee.

Nothing.”~~

And then… something echoed within you. Caught the attention of the beast. 

“No. Not again.” It’s snarl was predatory, dangerous. 

The flashback came easier this time, 

~~A hum began to fill the cottony silence in your head, waking you. 

This wasn’t right You weren’t supposed to wake up, you were supposed to be free from the pain and the destruction you caused. 

Easy, it seemed to whisper, relax. It is not your time yet, you still have much to experience. 

Protest flooded your body as you started to feel your limbs again. You didn’t want this, you didn’t want to come back. You didn’t deserve to. 

“Yes, you do.”, it whispered. “It will be tough, there will be more pain and running, I’m afraid, but it will start a fire within you, that will only grow to serve you. You will triumph over this fear, you will become the warrior that you have always been. There will come a time, when things will change. You will do something you wouldn’t normally do, you will save one that deserves to be saved. Rules will be broken, and something new will be forged. Two lives will be forever entwined. Awaken now, and begin again.”~~

Heat began to envelop you, coaxing your stiff limbs to relax, drawing focus in your mind and making you come back to yourself. The rain beating against the outside of the ship, the smell of blood, two pairs of floppy ears at your side as they looked up at you. 

You turned your head, blinking through your tears at the Mandalorian, who’s life was hanging by a single thread. 

Your body shuddered as you leant over his unconscious form. A tight feeling curled in your chest, whispering to you. 

Let me out. I can save him.

You shook your head, you couldn’t. You’d hidden it away for so long, such a long time. You didn’t even know what to do  

Let me out. Let me save him.

You sobbed, a soft noise of defeat, a noise of relief, and you moved your hands to on his side. You whispered out loud, “Save him.” and then… let go

A deep, primal surge took over your body, shaking it, making goosebumps rise to your skin, a feeling lance through your spine. It wasn’t a pain… more a like a release of tension as ever cell in your body thrummed.  

You shuddered from head to toe, feeling the cage that you had spent 20 years building shatter like nothing. Just like that. Not forcing its way out, no clawing to be let loose. 

It was gentle. It overrode the malignant beast of darkness and despair, smothering it in light. 

Powerful, of course, for being shut away for so long but… gentle. It was the energy that roamed through the galaxy, flowed in every single living thing, connected them all together. 

It slipped from the cage you had bound it in, humming in delight as it was allowed to join with you again. 

Free. 

It rolled out of you in waves, rattling the walls, the boxes on the floor. 

It made the lights flicker on and off as it bumped up against the walls and the floor. 

That power healed your ribs as it poured out of you, and then honed itself, as if knowing you didn’t possess the control that was needed. 

It swept down your arms, caressing you like a comforting sweep of a hand, soothing you. You felt it glide over your knuckles, slip along and over the Mandalorian’s body like silk and then…

His wound healed. The ragged flesh knitted back together and the blood seeped back into the Mandalorian’s body where it belonged. It replenished him, saved him, leaving only a red line behind, a scar. 

That power, now having done its job, slipped from your body and left you spent. Shattered. With its final act, it whispered a sweet song of sleep and safety to you. 

With a soft noise, your eyes fluttered shut and you collapsed forward over the Mandalorian’s now relaxed form.

~

A caress of your hair began to coax you from your slumber. 

Long fingers, pushing into your hair at the crown of your head, and trailing through slowly all the way over to the back of your neck. 

You hummed softly, shifting your head because the pillow beneath you was hard and cold. 

The hand stopped and the next drag of fingers through your hair was slower, hesitant in a way. When the fingers brushed over your neck, you melted, a sigh drawing from your lips. 

You didn’t want this to end, especially when those same fingers caressed your face, brushing the strands away and you felt them tug slightly, as if lifting a piece of your hair, memorising the colour and the softness of it. 

It was safe here. You could relax. It was warm and cosy, even if the pillow beneath you was hard. And smelt faintly of metal. Weird. Oh well. You nuzzled against the coolness, humming again. 

Somewhere above you, there was what sounded like a soft chuckle. A caress of your forehead that trailed down the bridge of your nose. It traced over the swoop of your lips and then along your jaw, like they were mapping your features. The touch was so tender, so sweet that it almost bought tears to your eyes. You had been alone for so long, so very long and almost every encounter you had was violent. 

People didn’t touch you to be kind. They touched you to kill you. 

A thudding impact of knuckles instead of a warm arm around your shoulders. 

The sting of a knife edge at your throat instead of soft lips trailing over your skin. 

Ropes and cuffs digging into your wrists instead of familiar fingers linking through your own. 

It wasn’t even a sexual or heated touch that you missed, it was anything. You craved it, the tender familiarity of someone using touch to tell you how much you meant to them, that they cared about you. 

And this… this phantom tracing of your features spoke of a touch that was almost a little unsure. A touch that was mapping something for the first time, drawing attention to the tiny little features you didn’t even know you had, but someone was admiring and drinking in. It was a little hesitant, a little shy but… achingly sweet.

Outside of this haze, something started to call to you, coaxing you to open your eyes. Your eyelids fluttered, your head clearing as you moved and the hand was then gone. 

No, you wanted to whisper. Don’t stop.

~

It might have been hours later, but you became aware of the noises of the Razor Crest. The familiar hum of engines and instruments.  You could distantly hear Grogu’s happy cooing as he played with Duru. Right beneath your head, you could hear steady breathing, muffled slightly by a helmet. 

By a helmet.

Your head snapped up, eyes widening as you stared down at the floor. 

Mando was breathing. Deep, even and steady intakes of air that lifted his chest, filtering through his lungs. 

You made a soft noise, looking down at his side. You picked up the blanket and peered at the ragged tear in his underclothes. 

Nothing. 

The stab wound in his side was gone. Healed. 

You’d done it… You saved him. 

You slumped back, rubbing your hands over your face with a soft sigh of relief. You were shaking all over though and you felt… unhinged in some way. Almost painfully exposed. You had broken something, something inside you that had taken years to build. 

The only way you were able to survive was by shutting away that part of you, that pure, natural power that you could still feel echoing in your bones. 

And the constant pain that you had was gone, no more tightly wound tension now that it had been freed. 

It had to go back in, had to be built into a cage that was stronger, more impenetrable. You didn’t know why it had taken a man who you don’t really know, bleeding out in front of you to rise from the ashes. 

A man who you killed for without second thought. You always through yourself into a fight with no hesitation, but last night, or earlier or whenever it was, you had fought differently.

That wasn’t a frantic dance of survival, where your life was the crescendo and Death was the orchestra. No, that had been precision. Cunning. 

You had shed the claws and snarl, grown fangs and poison. Wolf to Viper. 

The bounty had been your prey. You struck, and you killed. 

For a man you didn’t even really know. 

You swallowed, scratching at the itchiness of your face. Stop. Do not even go there. Don’t. At least not yet. 

Red flakes fell from your face, reminding you of the layer of grime and blood that was dried onto your skin. 

Right. You needed a shower. 

You checked back on Mando, satisfied that he was okay and then you went off for a shower and to potentially drown yourself. 

-

You returned a short while later, carrying a bowl of warm water, a small towel over your arm and a canteen of water tucked into the crook of your elbow. The dark creature in you was silent, oddly silent and you wondered if it would remain that way. 

Best not dwell on it and encourage it to wake back up. 

You picked your way across the floor around storage boxes and tubs of things to where you’d left Mando.

To find him sitting up, grunting a little at the apparent stiffness in his lips. His head snapped up when he heard you, his body relaxing, “You weren’t there when I woke up, I didn’t know if something had happened to you.” 

You couldn’t help the slight chuckle as you reached his side, sitting down next to him against the crate and setting out all the things you’d brought with you. “Easy… I had to have a shower, I couldn’t even recognise my own face with all the blood and dirt on it.” 

He leant back against the crate behind you, watching you, “I know.. I stirred a couple hours ago and nearly had a heart attack. I thought… You were passed out next to me and I couldn’t reach you to see if you were breathing, I was too stiff. I thought..” He seemed to swallow back his next words, his hands tightening into fists on the blanket now on his lap. 

Your heart stuttered in your chest, that raw honesty in his rasp. He’d thought you had died. 

Just like you thought he had. 

A certain atmosphere settled around you, getting tighter and feeling… different. You could feel the heat rolling off of him through your chilled bones, even with the layer of beskar over his body. 

You cleared your throat and held out the canteen. “Here. I bought you some water.”

Mando reached out to take the water from you, gloved fingers brushing yours and you noticed the blood that had soaked into them was dry now. “I never pegged you for the healing type.”

Honey, you have no idea. 

You laughed, shrugging, “You live a life like mine, you end up getting battered more times than you can remember. I’ve had to fix myself up so many times, you were a walk in the park.” You grinned, teasing him but your expression was strained. You could still taste his blood. 

You cleared your throat again and reached beside you for the bowl of water before placing it between you “I found some gloves upstairs when I was looking for a towel… I didn’t know if you’d want to change them.” You bit your lip, eyes flicking over the helmet, that tension still there, lingering. Then you remembered. “Oh, shit. Sorry.” You turned around, facing your back to him to give him privacy. 

There was nothing for a few moments, and then you heard the bowl drag closer to him. There was a soft tug of friction, leather sliding over skin and dropping to the floor. 

Your spine tightened slightly, knowing that his bare skin wasn’t far off. You could never turn around though, you wouldn’t do that to him. It didn’t stop your breathing from turning shallow, and you just prayed he couldn’t hear it. 

Water splashed, and suddenly, an unbidden image burst in your head. Mando’s bare hands, dipping into the warm water, rubbing the washcloth over his palms and knuckles. Beads of water sliding down his fingers and the bare, smooth skin of his wrist. Was his skin tan? Smooth or scarred? You wondered if he had any freckles on his hands. Perhaps not, if they were in gloves all the time. Did he take them off when he was truly aloe? Let the golden light of the sun kiss over his knuckles…

What. 

The fuck. 

Was that.

Your eyes widened as you looked into the corner of the room, heat flushing your neck and chest. Why, in all the stars had that popped into your head? This man had been on death’s door, you had saved him, turned yourself inside out and now you were mooning over the sound of him cleaning his hands? Get a grip, girl.

“Done. You can turn around..” His voice floated over to you, soft and you waited a few moments before you turned back to face him, praying the dimness of the cargo hold was enough to hide your flush. “Thank you.” 

You shook your head, taking the dirty gloves now that the other clean ones were on his hands. “Oh, no, you don’t need to thank me. They were just gloves.” You couldn’t look at him, instead laying the gloves down, resting them both on top of each other so that the fingers and thumbs matched up. 

Mando shook his head, “No… not for the gloves. I mean – yes, for the gloves too but… For saving me. You didn’t need to, but you did. You could have walked right past, but you fought that asshole, you killed him, for me. And then you saved me..” His voice was still rough, and that atmosphere flickered again, encouraging you to raise your eyes to him. 

He titled his head, a hand drifting to his side, “Speaking of which… How?”

You blinked, fought to keep your expression even, “How what?”

Mando’s head remained tilted, “How did you save me? I looked earlier when I woke up but… there was only a scar there. Like it was weeks old, not hours.”

You’d already thought this moment in the refresher, “Oh, that. Uh, I had some bacta-spray left over in my bag. I kept it for emergencies…” You kept your voice casual, pausing now and then as if thinking it over. Expect this part, you didn’t need to feign the quieter tone, “My mother taught me which leaves and flowers could be used for healing, to speed up healing times. My… father worked a rough job and sometimes he would come home with deep cuts and bruises and mumma would always fix them…” You cleared your throat, “I had some left over too.” Your skin felt hot, uncomfortable. You hadn’t intended to share past the point of, “to speed up healing times,” but something about his silence had felt encouraging. 

He was still watching you, and you had no idea if he believed you or not. However, his voice was softer as he simply said, “Thank you. I didn’t deserve it, for what I’ve done. I’m forever.”

“Ooh.. You would have done the same for me, I’m sure...” You laughed a little but it was uneasy, unsure where this was going, that tone in his voice and the intensity of his words. You remained focused on your task of playing with the gloves, that courage that sung through your blood everyday had vanished, leaving you unable to look at him, even if you could feel the visor of the helmet boring into you. 

He leant forward and seconds later, freshly gloved fingers tilted your chin up so you had to look at him, “Exactly. I would have. I did, that’s why he hurt me… so...” He reached behind him, for one of those many pockets and pouches on his body, fumbling for something. 

You frowned, tilting your head, “What are you doing? You’ll pull at your wound-“

Mando pulled something out from his back, holding them out to you and presenting them like a fucking prize. 

Your bounty puck. And the tracking fob. 

What the fuck was he doing?

You jerked back out of his touch, the wolf snarling in you as your eyes flicked up to him, “Seriously? You’re bringing that up? We just went through all of that, and you’re coming back to a fucking bounty puck? I knew I was just a bounty, but you could have waited until you could walk at least.” Your voice was a snarl, but benath that… a hurt. 

He made a soft noise, shaking his head as he once again read what you were thinking, that you had misunderstood. “No, no, I don’t mean that…” He took a breath, and then he gently pulled your hand so it was palm up. And placed the tracking fob and the puck in them. He closed your fingers over them, his voice so soft that the modulator almost didn’t filter it through “Destroy them.”

You jerked in surprise, your breathing catching in shock, anger fizzling out of your body as quick as it had crashed into you, “What? Mando, this… the money it would get you... I can’t.” You tried to push it back to him, to get him to take it. It meant a lot to you, of course it did but he was being ridiculous. “I’m just your bounty.” You hadn’t meant to repeat it, it just slipped out. It wasn’t like it was a lie though. You were. Even though you doubted he had ever had his bounty save his life before. 

You were surprised to hear a soft growl rumble in his throat, “Stop it.” He kept his gloved hand wrapped around yours, heat leeching through the leather and into your skin. “You were, in the beginning. But as soon as I heard that asshole talking like that about you…” He shook his head, swallowing his words yet again though they reminded honest, “You saved my life. That means something to me, especially in my culture. A lot of people would have left me there to die. But you didn’t… And I apologise for everything I’ve done. If you’ll forgive me and let me, I’d like to help you.”

Well. Fuck. That was the last thing you expected. He… wanted to help you? What did that mean? What could he do for you? You bit your lip, toying with the idea, staring down at the devices in your hand. 

You’d been alone for so long. Maybe… maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe you could… let him. But the way everyone seemed to die around you… you only had to look at tonight as proof enough. 

He shouldn’t do this, it was a mistake.

You looked up, lips parting to form the words that would push him away, make him realise you were saving him from making a mistake.

Only for him to read you like a damn book again. He plucked the bounty puck and tracking fob from your hand, grasping them in his fist and then with a soft grunt, slammed them into the solid floor beneath you both. They instantly cracked, sputtering a little almost like shock and then completely shattered when he slammed his fist down on them again. 

Mando made sure they were destroyed, then looked back at you and you could have sworn you could almost see the cocky eyebrow raise under the bucket on his head. 

You surveyed him, looked down at the remains on the floor. 

The symbol of hunter and prey destroyed. 

You took in a deep breath, lifting your chin and meeting the beskar gaze of the man ahead of you, your threads of your lives somehow more entwined. “Okay. I accept your apology… and your help.”

Would he be the first person that didn’t succumb to your curse? 

Previous chapter| Next chapter

[beyoncesdragon]

title: catch up now? 

× pairing: Idol!Jungkook x Interviewer!Reader, old friends from highschool kinda stuff, abandoned but maybe rediscovered love on both sides. 

× summary: Three years are a long time. In three years, many things can and will change. But three years hadn’t been quite enough to change how two people feel about each other. 

× warnings: a little teeny bit angsty but it’s nothing, really. Mainly fluff, some flustered, overly eager Gguk and old memories coming up. 

× wordcount: 2k

× a/n: Not gonna lie, this might be one of my favourite pieces I've ever written. I really hope you enjoy this too! it’s somehow inspired by ‘Love Maze’ (BTS) and also ‘50 Proof’ (eaJ). Will probably not have a pt.2

main masterlist | bts masterlist

When he had read the name of the interview host - or hostess more like - Jungkook had already felt the familiar tingle in the pit of his stomach that he had thought had disappeared over the course of time. Yet, he wasn’t surprised that it was still there.

He had however not dared to hope that it could actually be you, there sure were other people called (Y/N) (Y/L/N), who has pursued their dream of becoming an interviewer, media person, whatnot. He didn’t even know if you had actually graduated uni and made it in the job, hence he hadn’t seen any of you in about four years of him debuting now. He had occasionally checked out your Instagram or Twitter, yet he shied away from following you on any social media platform. You weren’t really public about your work or personal life on both, you mainly retweeted stuff (he found out about your love for Bingsu and Makgeolli ice cream like that) and posted a few selfies or landscapes. He hoped that you had been able to pursue your dream of traveling around for a bit, in South Korea and outside of it. Though again, he didn’t know.

Jimin was seated right in front of him and Jungkook couldn’t help but nervously play with his hyungs honey blond dyed hair. Jimin chuckled surprised yet amused about his open display of nervousness and turned around slowly.

“Everything okay, Jungkook-ah? You seem more nervous than usually.” He remarked, making Namjoon look over to the maknae in wonder. “He does, right? I thought so too. Did something happen?” Jungkook only shook his head.

Not yet, he thought to himself.

The cameras around them started to blink all at once, the light has been set up correctly and the camera and sound team had settled down around them in the dark. Manager and publicists stood somewhere in the back, swallowed up by the dark. The only person that was missing still, was you. Or the person called (Y/N) (Y/L/N), Jungkook tried to tell himself.

Suddenly there was a soft laugh from somewhere off the scenes and his heart tripped over its own beat and finally, finally, you stepped into the light.

You looked pretty as ever, grown into your features entirely, like a lotus flower finally in full bloom. Jungkook had to swallow dry. The light coral red of your lip balm complimented your skin and the subtle almost invisible make up you wore, accentuated your already beautiful features even more. You hadn’t changed your hair much, but it was a bit longer and looked so soft in the bright light. His eyes almost subconsciously darted to your fingers, searching for evidence of a possible relationship. He was almost ashamed how quickly he ended up thinking about this, his own boldness making him even more flustered. (There was no formal looking ring on your ringfinger though, to his relief.)

There was a warm smile on your lips as you bowed deeply to them all, greeting them respectfully. The boys returned your greeting immediately and a bunch of annyeong haseyo-s sounded through the studio. Jungkook felt Namjoon look over at him again, a piercing gaze Jungkook knew he wouldn’t be able to withstand if he met it. So he just kept looking at everything but Namjoon...not that this was hard to do when you were right in front of him.

“Thank you so much for being here with us.” You said with a smile, looking at everyone with the same look of respect and polite distance. Like you were supposed to, at work, as a professional. Like you didn't know them personally. Everyone, including Jungkook.

He felt his heart drop to his stomach. Could it be that you...forgot about him? It couldn’t really be, right? How would you actually be able to, you really...in this moment your eyes crossed again and something flickered in your eyes, a facade crumbled for a few seconds only. It was an amused twinkle, like a cheeky wink and a minimal curl of your lips. 

Acknowledgement.

And Jungkook’s heart did multiple flips, breath caught in his throat and eyes widened.

You had started with the questions, keeping the conversation light and flowing. The vibe in the room was comfortable and built up on mutual respect - yet Jungkook felt as if he was sitting on red-hot needles. He wanted to talk to you, ask about how you had been, what you were doing (if you had a boyfriend) if you were happy, if you got a cat, how your mother’s little business was going (he’d anonymously purchased countless items, to support your family), if your favourite colour still was cyan blue and your still religiously bought Pajeon and Makgeolli on rainy days, if you ever spent a second of your day thinking of him (because he did).

Him, your somewhat ex-best friend from highschool, him, the one you spent hours talking to in the ungodly hours of the morning, him who you had lost your first kiss to (though lost wasn’t the right word: you gave it to him more like). Him who you had poked fun of when the first girl approached him in his Rookie days and he’d been flustered to no end.

Him, who had promised to you that he wouldn’t abandon your friendship and yet the two of you drifted apart anyways.

Not for the lack of trying on either side though. Jungkook’s schedule had just become even fuller, his nights shorter, training longer and fans more obsessive. And you had seen each other less often, greetings were shorter and late night talks turned into good night wishes over text quicker.

You on your part weren’t mad, a little disappointed maybe. Sad for sure, but not mad. After all, you had expected it to turn out like that. So had the rest of your little circle, Haneul, Hwang, Kyong and Myunghee. Whilst the five of you had supported Jungkook on his journey with all you’ve got, you all tried to overcome the obvious pain of him drifting off.

Some (mainly Hwan and Kyong) with working harder in school for example. You did that too, but sometimes you also partied a little harder, were awake at three AM a little more often, missed him a lot more. It hurt letting someone you love go.

Jungkook and you had always been a bit...closer. Why you didn’t know, how you couldn’t possibly explain. But you were and him rising into the heights and new dimensions of being an idol destroyed this almost completely. This strange world of fame, those walls of flashing cameras, the flow of expensive goods and seas of screaming people, that was his world. He was a star, figuratively and somewhat literally. He shone more radiant, higher, longer, prettier and too bright for an innocent, young love to coexist.

So you stayed behind, soon having lost his number due to him having to change it, his contact information soon had less to say than what you could find on the internet.

His new hair colour? Well, you could google it. Height? Current weight? Several fan sights knew the answer. Achievements? The internet again.

 It was strange, ridiculous to some extent. And it hurt. But you couldn’t blame him, so you never did.

⋄

When you had heard that you would be interviewing BTS last week you could help but feel scared. You hadn’t seen him face to face for three or so years, three years with no FaceTime, texting, three years of not seeing his bunny smile, smiled just for you.

And when you had seen him again, laid eyes on him for the first time in thirty-five months, you realised that nothing you ever felt for him had faded away. It was all the same again, your heart still jumped in your chest and your stomach still fluttered whenever he did as much as breathing. The only thing that had changed was his height and him having had the biggest glow up you had witnessed in your life, yours included – though this Jungkook would disagree vehemently. 

This Jungkook who got pulled out of his thoughts and memories almost violently, as you directed a first question at him only.

“I…” he started, gulping hardly, having forgotten the question already halfway.

“Sorry I can’t – how have you been?” you stopped shortly, stunned and a tad confused at first. You hadn’t expected him to be so bold. Or clumsy, for that matter. Yet you couldn’t help but giggle, and all the unsaid words and ignored truths between the two of you disappeared into smoke, taking all tension with them. Just like that.

“I’ve been fine, Gukie. Busy. Long-time no see, hm. How about you?” somewhere behind the cameras someone dropped a pen and there were multiple gasps being heard. The rest of the bangtan boys didn’t look any better; Jimin had his mouth open, Taehyung was looking back and forth between the two of you, Yoongi just froze, Jin and Hoseok had clasped their hands in front of their mouths and Namjoon just looked like someone poured a bucket of ice water over his head.

But Jungkook? Jungkook was smiling widely, his bunny smile, smiled just for you. 

“Busy too. Yes, very long time no see.” He replied sheepishly, a small laugh escaping his lips as he looked around the dead silent studio. “Why…how do you know each other?” Yoongi finally asked, eyes snapping back and forth between the two of you.

“Well I guess we have to tell them now. We know each other from back in Highschool. We were pretty close friends back then.” You explained softly, giving him a small smile. Jungkook nodded quickly. “My apologies. I didn’t wanted to completely ruin the interview but…I haven’t seen you in three or so years. Sorry.” You waved it off. “It’s okay, Jungkook. We will catch up later, alright?” Jungkook nodded, making the mistake of looking over to Namjoon, who looked like he finally understood everything. “Is that why you were so…never mind.” He ended in a mumble and Jungkook was glad he did.

⋄

The second the interview was officially finished and all the cameras shut off, Jungkook was on his feet and approaching you. He didn’t even care about formalities anymore as he just wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a tight hug.

The first thing he noticed was that he couldn’t nestle his face in the crook of your neck as easy as he had been able to do in high-school. The second thing was that you had changed your perfume into something more flowery and fresh. The third thing he noticed was how much he liked having you in his arms again, especially because he could now rest his head on top of yours.

The first thing you noticed was how broad your Kookie had become. Broad and tall and firm everywhere. The second thing you noticed was how he smelled more expensive, faintly musky but still very much like Jungkook. A scent you could pick out from a thousand, unique and everything you loved. The third thing you noticed was how familiar and how looked after you felt in his arms, how protected from every harm. You had missed this feeling.

“Aigoo, Junkookie!” Jin yelled from behind, causing you to chuckle embarrassed and trying to break the hug. But Jungkook simply tightened his arms around you, having no intentions of letting you go any time soon.

“Just ignore them. They’ll leave, eventually.” His voice was muffled by the skin on your neck, since he had now buried his face there, taking deep breaths.

“And we?” you asked with a small laugh, not moving either. “We stay. We catch up. Got a lot of that to do.” Sounded good enough to you…just that you had expected them to make a bee-line for the exit after the cameras cut due to their busy schedule.

“Catch up now?” you asked after a few seconds of him still having his arms around you, unmoving. The young man shook his head.

“No…not right now.” He took a deep breath, hiding his face in the crook of your neck, mumbling against your skin and the fabric of your blouse. 

“In five minutes. Let me just hold you for a little while, you…you have no idea how much I missed you.” 

If he only knew.

— ✩ thank u for reading ✩ —

[pars-ley]

Your eyes tell

Pairing: Prince Jungkook x Female Reader

Summary: When your best friend’s a prince and inherits the throne, he needs to find a wife to rule alongside him as Queen, you’re more than happy to help him choose an eligible bachelorette. But what happens when you, who only wants to marry for love, are forced to be one of the participants?  

Rating: (SFW) 13+

Genre: Royal au / Arranged marriage au / Angst / Fluff / Unrequited love

Word Count: 6400

Warnings: Serious angst. It will make you sick.

Prompts: Everything makes sense when you’re by my side. + I didn’t believe in love, not until I met you.

A/N: This is for the Golden Closet Network’s ‘Jungkook Birthday Project’ I stepped out of my comfort zone for this one, so hopefully it paid off. It’s from their two different perspectives. Italic font is Jungkook, normal font is reader. A big shout and a hell of a lot of thanks to @wheresmymoniat​ for helping me endlessly, especially through some serious writers block with the ending. She’s a darling.

Banner: @yeojaa​ honestly, she’s a goddess who went above and beyond to help me with this when I was struggling and offered out of the kindness of her heart, she also made the break lines for me cause she’s the BEST💕😘! 

Beta reader: @papillonsgf​ 😘

Meet Prince Jungkook...

As you hear the announcement escape his mouth, like a 'breaking news' headline silently screaming at you from behind bold, black print, all you can do is stare. The calmness in his voice, unmatched to his words echoing around in your mind, bouncing off the emptiness that has overcome you.

Your eyes sweep over him, the dark circles hanging heavy under his eyes, the exhaustion etched in his handsome face and the anxiety that rolls off him in waves.

A pain in your chest pulls at your emotions, a direct line to your heart just for him. Your body flung itself at him before you had time to register the action.

His arms curl around your waist, squeezing you, keeping you locked in place. His fingers digging into your back, making your anxiety for him creep up into your throat. You try to swallow it down, wanting to be strong for him but your mouth is suddenly without moisture

Your best friend is going to be King of Kalinia, that much you knew and that’s what is expected of a Prince but not now, not yet. 

All you can do is stand there, unmoving while he relays the details of his father's illness and his decision to step down from the throne. Meaning, all of it falling onto Jungkook’s shoulders. 

How could he bear all that weight on his own? Any normal man would crumble.

However, he is not any normal man, he is strong, determined, loyal, generous and one of the kindest men you know. But seeing him now, a shadow of all you know he is, you want to take it all away and harbour the load yourself, just to give him his freedom a little bit longer. 

The studying and travelling he’s been doing, all that now comes to an immediate halt, just as he had started to live his own life, it all comes crashing down around him. 

It’s your job to pick up the pieces and you’re more than happy to assume that role but it also means that your plans for travelling would have to be put on hold too. 

Your arrangement had been to meet Jungkook in Italy and travel around Europe together over the course of 2 months before returning to continue studies, but the idea of visiting these places alone, without him by your side, now seems a lot less appealing.

His slightly painful grip on your back, fingernails desperately digging in to provide some kind of anchorage for him, pulls you back into the present.

"Hey," you lean away so you can cradle his face in your hands. "It's just me right now, you can be honest. You don't have to pretend with me."

His wide eyes seem to tremble as they meet yours. "I just wasn't expecting this so soon." His voice interrupts the silence, slicing through it like a knife straight into your gut at his words. “I don't feel...ready for this. I thought I’d have more time to prepare and now, I have to find a wife. A WIFE!” 

The sorrow and anguish that fill his eyes overwhelm you with a heaviness in your chest, your pumping organ sinking like a rock to the pit of your stomach. But your mind is frozen, stuck on those last words you hear them rattling, echoing around in your mind, crashing against any thoughts you had like giant waves against rock. Wife? WIFE!

The ascending King cannot rule without a Queen by his side. That is the law of your country and the way it’s always been. You knew this, so why do you feel this way? How exactly do you feel? Sick. Panicked. Sombre. All of the above maybe? You just feel for the hardships that your friend is facing, that’s all it is, you tell yourself.

“I know, I know this has come as a shock but let me tell you, you’re meant to be King and you’re ready, even if you don’t feel like it. I have complete faith in you, Kook and I’ll be here every step of the way. I’ll even help you choose the right...wife.” You hesitate slightly, the words tasting like ash in your mouth.

He pulls you to him again. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Well, after he’s married and King, he’ll have to do without you. There'll be someone new to take care of him and do all the things you do together; to comfort him like this, to spend evenings star gazing and staring at the moon, to pick flowers in the Queen’s garden and have secret picnics in the meadows off grounds.

All of these moments with him won’t exist anymore. 

You feel empty at the thought. Almost as if someone reached inside and stole the most vital parts of you and put them on display behind an inaccessible, glass cage to watch beating and working without you.

As you cling to him, fingers gripped in his hair, cheek resting atop of his head, cradling him like your most precious possession, a tear escapes.

Your friend is slipping through your fingers, down into the depths of a world you won’t be able to follow and there's nothing you can do to stop it. You will lose him, that much you are sure of.

You glance over, her expression a smooth and flawless mask, never giving anything away. But you know her well enough to know that something has changed. She has not been the same since you revealed the news of your new-to-be title three weeks ago. 

Her usual brilliant, almost blinding light had dimmed into a burnt out candle, flickering on the last threads of its wick. No matter what you say to her she just smiles and says ‘I’m fine’. You might be clueless but you are determined to discover what’s changed.

As you sit here, discussing who, out of the fourteen eligible bachelorettes in the Kingdom, is most suited for being your future wife and Queen, you can’t help but find yourself thinking of only one. 

The one you wish you could have, the one you’d give anything to spend the rest of your days with but is the one who would never see you in such a way. 

As she sits across from you, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, her delicate fingers tracing down her neck. God, how you longed for it to be you caressing her so tenderly, to be able to hold her and tell her what she means to you, to have her by your side instead of these paper faces staring up at you waiting for paper rings. All of them from good families, smart, pretty, the perfect persona for the outside world to see but completely and utterly tedious to you. There wasn’t a single thing written in this bleak print that held your interest even a fraction of the way y/n could. 

“Your majesty?” An indistinct voice snaps you out of your trance.

Her eyes flash up to meet yours and you look away quickly, hoping no one has noticed your forlorn stare at the true object of your affection.

“Yes?” You reply, trying to seem present in the room discussing your future as if you weren’t even here.

“Who are you choosing, your majesty?” An advisor asks nervously.

Her. Always her. A thousand times over. In this life and the next and any other after that may follow. 

“We need a final three, so we can move on to the next round of tests.”

Round? Tests? This was your life and here it is being discussed as if it were a gameshow. 

Your stomach twists, fear rises in your throat making it feel tight. You take a gulp of water, allowing the coolness to sooth you, and look at the sheets placed in front of you. The faces blurring along with the writing. 

“Y/n, what are your opinions?” You ask, genuinely curious who she’d pick for you. 

She’d choose someone who was strong enough to rule but also sensitive enough to be a decent match for you and that was all you could hope for at this point, a decent match. The three words everyone aspires to describe their life partner.

You wait with baited breath for her response, somewhere deep down in the pits of your heart where hope was long ago locked away and buried beneath years of friendly rubble, it makes an alarming surprise visit, breaking through the debris with ease. You cling to the book of secrets that’s been held captive there in a vault created from torment and in the dark corners you’re on your knees, praying to a god you don’t think will listen. Praying you hear her utter all the impossible things you know she never will. The desperation inside you, clawing to escape out of the refined, solid cage you built, you’re clenched fists under the table fighting to keep it down along with your breakfast.

Everything stills and slowly starts to wither away back to its original place, the place where it belongs, when she nonchalantly reads off three names...none of them hers.

"You've been ordered to participate y/n." The royal adviser informs you, his words ringing like high-pitched sirens in your ears. 

"I'm sorry, ordered by whom?" You frown, not understanding, the very idea of what he’s suggesting baffling your mind.

He sighs awkwardly, it’s obvious he did not want to be the one standing in front of you with your hot molten glare on him.

"Who gave the order?” You persist, when his silence is the only response you receive.  

He looks down, away from your blazing eyes. “Her majesty, the Queen.”

You freeze, the ground feeling as if it would break away under your feet. What!? Why would she force you to participate in this? She knows you do not want to be Jungkook’s wife and that he would not want you to be his? 

This makes no sense. You’ve always had such a lovely relationship with his parents. When you befriended Jungkook, they welcomed you in with open arms and loving smiles, encouraged your friendship and supported you with every decision along the way, so why do this? 

“I need to speak with her majesty.” You say through gritted teeth, not only from anger but your attempt at trying to keep down the bile you can feel burning your throat like lava.

He gives you a sharp nod and leads you to her quarters, not that you needed to be shown, you know this castle like the back of your hand, everything in it was both familiar and safe. 

As he announces you, you swallow, desperate to wet your dry throat pinching the air that passes with every breath. You hold back your cough in favour of clearing your throat, hoping to relieve the desert patch you feel, gravel grazing your insides down into the pit of your stomach.

When you enter she greets you with a broad, bright smile, a smile that contrasts so drastically to how you feel and, for once, you can’t bear to return it.

Her face drops slightly, but you see a twinkle of amusement in her eyes that makes your blood boil hot and irate in your veins. “Oh y/n, don’t pout, it doesn’t suit you.” She pats the seat next to her on her plush ornate sofa where she resides and places her book on the table in front.

You close the distance between you and sit rather woodenly at her side.

“The rules are the rules y/n, it’s nothing personal but I wouldn’t be doing my duty if I treated you differently. You know that.” Her eyes are so honest, a window right into her soul, lighting up and giving you a glimpse as to what it’s like to play her role. 

“But I can’t be his wife!” You exclaim. “He would never want me that way.” You urge, shaking your head at the sheer hilarity of the idea.

You’re met with a poker straight stare, unmoving, her skin still smooth after all these years, unreadable and hard as stone. Picture perfect, a royal portrait ready to be framed with gold. “If that’s the case, what are you worried about?”

You open your mouth to respond but the words are squeezed around your panic induced, contracting throat. Your words seem far away, as you grapple desperately for them.

She places a gentle hand on your knee, the touch calming you instantly. "Y/n listen to me, I know this whole situation has come as a shock to you and to Jungkook, believe me it's still processing for the King and I, but this is our life, however unfortunate, we have a duty. Now, you are not bound to this life by any means, but participating in this is your duty." 

She watches you for a moment, her intense gaze making you shift in your seat, as if she was seeing straight into you, everything you held laid bare for her own personal exhibit. "I know it’s hard, the idea that someone will take your place at his side, but he needs a wife and we know you don't want it to be you." Her piercing eyes driving a quick, sharp needle into yours, you look away unable to hold her intruding stare.

"Of course not." You retort with a snort.

She sits back on her sofa, her posture softening, relaxing against the cushioned back. She smiles staring at her hands placed in her lap, as if amused by an inside joke you're not privy to.

"You need to start listening to your heart more than your head, y/n, it will save you a lot of heartbreak in the future." 

Perplexed by this unexpected turn in conversation you find yourself frowning. "What do you mean?" 

Kindness stretching her mouth into a friendly curve. "My child, it seems I know you better than you know yourself. Your eyes tell."

"Tell what?" You shake your head trying to clear the mud in your mind, making her words impossible to understand.

"Everything." She sighs and stands. "I'm afraid I cannot get you out of this but as you said, you know he won't choose you, so there's no need to panic, is there?" 

She saunters gracefully out of the room leaving you with only your bewildered thoughts.

There's a double meaning in her last words but you struggle to determine what it could be.

And how would she know you better than you do? There's a hint of anxiety at what she saw in your eyes, at what you'd apparently given away to her. Your thoughts race, unable to connect her words to your reasoning and you leave the room feeling more frustrated and perplexed than when you entered.

You lean over the pages of the final women you have to choose from, head down eyes unwavering from the same spot you’ve been looking at for what feels like a lifetime. You’ve gone from three possible wives to four, the latter you’re sure if you take your eyes off the page it will disappear before you. 

Can this be real? Did she agree to this? Did she nominate herself to take part? Hope blossoms dangerously in your chest, flowering around your heart, encasing it in a prison of promise. A prison you’re creating, you know it but cannot stop. Your thoughts run away with you, visions of your dreams becoming reality within your grasp. 

You and her sneaking off grounds for picnics and play dates in the sun, trekking through the forest and taking the row boat out around the river bend, travelling to Paris and visiting the Notre Dame; somewhere she’s always wanted to go, the two of you snapping your own love lock on a branch of a tree with your initials entwined together and throwing away the keys in a nearby river. All the hopeless romantic things you’ve wanted to do, becoming a possibility, the excitement causing butterflies to fly rampantly in your stomach.

You push your chair out, finding your feet and rushing out of the room to find her. 

As you parade down the golden ornate halls, feeling as though you’re being carried by eagles wings, floating across the grounds being pulled in her direction. Her face; the only thing guiding your vision, maybe cupid’s arrow finally aimed in the direction you were hoping for, maybe god finally heard you. 

You find her by the fountains, her favourite place here, sitting staring at the water as if it holds the answers to all life’s problems. She hears your approach, her eyes snapping up to yours before quickly looking away to hide the tears you’ve already seen and brushing her face with her sleeve. 

You step down off the wings, coming crashing back down to earth, the butterflies turning to acid in your stomach and tasting it in your mouth as you rush to her side. Pulling her against you, wrapping her up in a cocoon of comfort and love. 

“Y/n, what’s wrong? Tell me.” You urge, panic tightening your gut, squeezing your insides in a vice. 

“I’m sure you’ve seen. I’ve been forced to participate in your bride-to-be pageant.” She spits bitter words aimed at you, hope clams up and collapses inside you. 

You realise how foolish you’d been to let yourself believe that she could want this like you crave, that she could see you anything like how you admire her, that she could feel for you the way you worship her. Your heart feels heavy, sinking in your chest and resting in the loveless hole gaping open, revealing your insides. The dullness overtakes you, seizing your limbs one by one, you’re unable to listen to the words she angrily ranting. A cloud of darkness swallowing you whole and you gladly take it by the hand, allowing it to draw you in. Maybe you’d forget if you stayed in there, in the dark. Maybe you’d forget about her if you just gave yourself the chance. 

She doesn’t want this, she doesn’t want you, that much is clear. So how can you choose her? Even if that is what you truly and honestly desire more than anything. You could not put her through that. She deserves to feel the way you do about someone, even if that person can’t be you, she deserves it, she deserves love. It was time to release her, to let her go. 

The thought had tears prick in your eyes, you quickly blink them away. 

“You don’t have to worry Y/n, it’s just a formal procedure. I won’t choose you, you’re off the hook.” The words leave you quickly, before you change your mind and sound like they belong to someone else. You would never say them, would you?

She pauses and looks up at you, her tear stained cheeks; you itched to reach out and wipe the shiny, salty trails away but you clench your hand into a fist to stop yourself. “You won’t?” She asks in disbelief.

“Of course not.” You try to give her a reassuring smile but it feels false, painted on like the many royal portraits you grew up staring at.

She stares back out at the fountain, back stiff against you. Your arms fall loosely away from her. “Oh, well, that’s a relief.” She sighs and yet, her reaction perplexes you. You thought she’d seem happier, instead she just seems blank. 

“Hey, chin up.” You nudge her jaw with your fist, a friendly gesture you had done many times. When she arches away from it, the action makes your insides twist, unable to understand. 

What have you done wrong? You couldn't win, nothing seemed like the right decision anymore.

Why did she seem to be slipping further and further away from you? Even though she sat right next to you, your arms lightly touching at the proximity, she had never felt further away from you. Just out of reach of your grasp.

He had spoken the words you hoped for and yet, you couldn't describe this overwhelming feeling that had draped over you almost instantly, like a blanket of despair. It has enveloped you more and more over the passing weeks.

As you watch him and her, his chosen bride, from your perch of loneliness you felt annoyance grow inside you. You're his friend, his best friend, you should be happy if he's happy. 

You watch him smile at her, occasionally he might take her hand in his or tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Things he used to do with you, but it seems different with her, more intimate. And yet it’s funny how you know neither of them have romantic feelings for one another, it's all a façade, it’s all forced. 

Why would anyone want to live like that? A loveless marriage. You couldn't wrap your head around the concept.

Was she so desperate to become queen? It's not like she has much of a choice though, those of you within certain households, certain names and certain social standing had a duty. It has been drummed into you since you can remember. That had only acted to make you more determined not to live like that.

You were free, he'd told you himself and yet you couldn't help but sit here; consumed by hopelessness.

Not for yourself surely, but for him. He now had to live the life you dread.

Maybe you should have said you'd marry him, put your selfishness aside and given him a friend in marriage instead of a stranger but it was too late now. Any hope of saving him was out of your reach, all you could do was watch as he made the biggest mistake of his life.

He should be with someone who knows when he's upset just by the look in his wide eyes, who knows each crease in his face when it crinkles when he smiles, who knows each line of his secret tattoos he always keeps hidden. He needs someone he can be himself with, someone who would do anything to see him happy, someone who would do everything to protect him and keep him safe. Someone he can have adventures with as well as make tough decisions with, someone who will bear him beautiful children and raise them to be just as loving and kind as him. He deserves all that and more. 

Miss what's-her-name will never be able to give him that. She'll never be good enough. She'll never know what he wants or needs, not like you would.

You know him better than anyone. You could make him happy. So why wouldn't he pick you?

If he's not choosing for love why wouldn't you be first choice, surely that's obvious. Then again, why should you want him to choose you? 

You were free to marry whoever you wanted. So, why now did the thought of Jungkook marrying her weigh you down with a rock in your gut, consuming you, making it impossible for you to move without thinking of anything other than her being with him. Touching him. Possibly loving him. Being his wife and her stomach being full with his children. 

Why did it burn you so much you could hardly breath? Clawing for air with ragged breaths, you had to uproot your feet from their planted spot and go. Go anywhere the sickening sight of them wasn't, the last image of them walking through the palace gardens hand in hand was enough to overflow the salty dam in your eyes, crumbling with your resolve to hold it in. Your realisation, as you turn away from him, hitting you like a ton of bricks. 

The blanket of night that had been covering you - concealing you from the light, from the truth, had finally been lifted. 

How could you not have seen it? 

How could you not have known?

The way he could make you smile through anything, or the way your stomach fluttered sometimes in his presence, or the way he knew you better than anyone and always seemed to know what you were thinking. 

He was your glowing, peaceful moon lighting up the dark sky.  The colourful morning sunrise, warming the chill of the night. The roots of your tree, keeping you grounded and yet the bright blossoms in the field bringing you comfort. 

After all these years...you finally understood.

You tuck a stray strand of hair behind Charlotte’s ear, the action almost mechanical, something you should do as opposed to something you want to. 

With y/n it was an excuse to feel her skin against your fingers, a chance to give her a caring caress and a subtle way to show her how you care. It fell on deaf ears or blind eyes, rather. All your efforts to show her your feelings, to attempt to get her to notice your heart, wide open and ready for the taking, went unnoticed. Maybe you should have uttered the words into her ear one day, laying in the meadow, basking under the sun.

But you didn’t. 

You’ve made your decision. It’s Charlotte. She is to be your wife and your queen. 

Perhaps, one day, you might feel something more deeply than the awkward discomfort making your toes curl. After all, tomorrow you will be standing in the palace with an audience and a live broadcast as you announce your bride and their queen to be. 

It's your duty, there's no escaping it, you know this. And yet, your chest is weighed down, tight with an anchor pulling you underwater as you fight and kick against the waves of emotions crashing against you. Clawing your way to the surface and fighting for breath as hopelessness fills your lungs. The box your heart was kept in for her, now feels like an empty cage. Hollow. She left, not physically but in spirit, and took your beating organ with her, the life slowly draining in her absence.

But here you are still standing, unable to give up and let go. 

You had to. You needed to move on and away from her, perhaps one day you'll be able to stop picturing her face, hearing her laugh or the smell of her skin.

Your agonising thoughts running rampant in your mind made you want to scream up at the sky. At a god you were rapidly losing faith in.

You needed to be alone and get yourself together. 

You made your excuses, apologising to your fiancé - an invisible noose around your neck pulling tight from the very thought of who she was to you and who she would be for the rest of your life - and left, albeit rather abruptly. 

Rushing to the stables and guiding your horse out of palace grounds, racing away from decision making and royal duty.

The wind against your face, cool air relentless as you speed across fields but cooling your burning skin, ablaze with frustration. The sound of hooves thundering against the ground seem to echo out around you in otherworldly quiet, giving away your position to everyone. 

They'll search for you soon, you know this but you just need to breathe. You need to feel your lungs expanding and shrinking on their own, moving how they should, without barbed wire squeezing around them, digging in with every draw in of air and stopping you short. 

You needed a last moment of freedom, before the tight noose of your responsibilities squeezed around your neck and choked you.

Your breathing came hard and harsh as you pushed your horse as fast as he could go, until the meadow came into view, your meadow and hers. You'd ended up here, again. This special place, holding so many memories.

You climb off your horse and sink down into the grass, each blade a page of remembrance tying the two of you together. A bond you thought indestructible and yet, here you are desperately clinging onto her in fistfuls of grass.

You understood, your life is on the cusp of changing forever, no going back, it's a life she cannot be a part of in the same way. Of course she'd want to move away from it all, if you could…it's irrelevant because you can't.

Duty to country before anything and everything else. Being a good ruler should be your main concern right now. And yet, you are plagued with the thought…'what if i had told her?' 

What if.

Would it have made any difference? Probably not.

Would your friendship have been ruined? Probably.

But at least, if you had been brave enough to utter the words, even once, then you wouldn't feel as incomplete as you do right now. On your knees, gripping onto the turf as if to hold you in place, head against the ground and eyes squeezed shut.

If there's one last thing you should say, even to unburden yourself after all these years and remove the heavy shawl of emotion that’s been draped across your shoulders, weighing you down, it should be your truth. Finally.

Not for any expectation of reciprocation but to know that you did everything you could. No regrets when you look back at the choice you've had to make.

Just the truth.

The horse was already moving as you had one foot in the rung of the saddle and the other straddling across it. 

"Jungkook's missing." The words from the royal advisor replay anxiously in your head, making your heart pound violently against your ribs, playing its own panicked score.

He left the palace hours ago on his horse and hasn't been seen since. The way your gut twists at the direction your thoughts take has your fists clenched painfully around the reigns.

You bolt out of the palace gates, hoping you know exactly where he'll be. 

Trees whip past you at alarming speed but you dare not slow down. You need him to be ok. You need him to hear what you have to say. You need him.

Scanning the distance frantically, looking for the break in the trees, revealing the meadow, your heart almost stops when your eyes finally land upon it. 

You spot his horse first, then see his hunched figure leaning over in the grass and fear takes your heart and locks it in a vice grip so painful tears fill your wild eyes.

You're already climbing off before the hooves have stilled.

"Jungkook!" You hear his name in a strangled scream and realise it's you the distraught voice has escaped from.

As you sprint in his direction, he sits straight up, surprised eyes shooting up to you and relief washes over you like rough waves crashing against the shore.

Your body collides heavily with his, a thump sounding out all around you into the usually calming silence. The air leaves his lungs in a hiss as he's flung backwards to the ground. 

You squeeze your arms around him, holding him so close and so tight, frightened he'll be carried off into the wind like the seeds from the dandelion puff balls surrounding you.

His arms hesitantly wrap around your waist as if worried you'll break. 

You pull yourself back to look at his beautiful face, to make sure he's ok and in one piece but the shock that widens his doe-like eyes momentarily distracts you.

"Y/n, what's wrong!?" He fusses, wiping softly at your tear trails with gentle thumbs. Cradling your face in his hands, worry lines wrinkling his forehead as if he has reason to worry about you.

Hot tears fall fervently from your eyes, unable to be stopped. You smile at him, tracing his smooth cheekbones and sharp jawline with your fingers. 

Seeing him and looking into his eyes in this moment, it's undeniable your heart belongs to him.

How you never realised is truly mind blowing, it's so obvious now, all your confusing thoughts and feelings towards this entire situation suddenly made clear. 

Overwhelmed to the point your chest is so full of him it feels ready to burst, sprinkling your special place with heart-shaped confetti etched with his name. 

"I have to tell you something, before it's too late." You say taking a deep breath and straightening your back with determination, as you sit almost on his lap.

His worrying eyes search yours, frantically going from one to the other, trying to read you, trying to find answers to unasked questions.

"Over the past few weeks, I've been trying to understand...all of the memories we've made, and the places we've spent time together, they're very special to me, I hope you know that? I hold them very dear. And I was afraid of you having this other person to share them with and that i would be pushed out —"

"Y/n, I would never do that." He insisted, cupping your face in his hand. He means it too, it's written all over his face, your own personal scripture of truth.

"I know." You say softly, smiling and interrupting him before you lose your nerve to continue. "My point is, I thought it was the idea of being replaced by her that was bothering me so much but I realised something…I've been an absolute idiot." You laugh to yourself, feeling freer than ever. 

He stares back at you with bewildered amusement.

"It's never been where we were or what we did that made everything so special...it was you. You are the centre of it all. You're the person who knows me better than anyone. You're the one who makes me endlessly and purely happy. You make me feel safe and protected. You are...home. Everything makes sense when you’re by my side. Wherever you are, I want to be. Whether that be as your wife, your queen or just your friend...if your decision is still to be with Charlotte, I will support you throughout —"

"Wait, I'm confused. At the fountain the other day,  you were distraught at the idea of marrying me, you were relieved when I told you I wouldn't choose you?"

You look down at your hands that are now in your lap, ashamed you didn't realise then in that moment what is so clear to you now. 

"I didn't understand then. But I wasn't relieved, my heart felt like it was caving in on itself. I didn't want to be in the running because I never thought you'd choose me. I told myself I didn't want you to, I didn't want to be a part of it, when the actual truth of it is I wanted to be your only choice, not the best out of a bad bunch but I couldn't face the idea that you might not choose me."

You feel your cheeks tinge crimson from your words, feeling sheepish for your naivety. 

You peek up at him shyly through your lashes. He's frozen and wide eyed, staring at you curiously.

"So what exactly are you saying y/n? So I can understand this correctly." His quiet, breathy voice makes your heart pound faster and harder than ever. Each thrum vibrating through you with the sound of his name to accompany its beat.

You gulp loudly, digging deep for your last ounce of courage, to utter the words. To say them out loud makes it real, equally as the possibility of affirmation or rejection. You take another breath, your eyes meeting his, those pools of ebony you could so easily get lost in. "I'm in love with you."

The silence that follows is almost deafening as you prepare yourself for a sweet, gentle refusal. But you're perplexed when you see his perfect lips upturn and stretch, beaming at you like a ray of sunshine. He moves forward to you quickly, you lean in anticipating his next words. But when his lips crush against yours instead, it doesn’t register for a moment or two, you stiffen before your body's primal response takes over and your hands find their way up into his hair, skating your fingers through his silky locks.

The feel of his soft mouth on yours was undeniably alluring, pulling you in deeper with each movement of his lips. Your heart pounds frantic in your chest as the feel of his hands around your waist, holding you flush against him, your bodies moulded tight almost as one was enough to enthral you entirely. When he abruptly pulls back, you feel cold and needy. Your heart, now an open wound, seared by his kiss, bleeding love uncontrollably. 

He holds your face in his hands, foreheads touching and breathing heavy. “How I have longed to hear you say those words.” He whispers.

Your eyes bulge at his admission but as you open your mouth to speak, he lifts a finger against your lips to silence you. 

“I didn’t believe in love, not until I met you. I could only ever imagine a life and a marriage destined to be only friendly and passionless. But I have loved you since that first summer we met and I have wished everyday since for you to feel even a fraction of the way I do for you.” 

He tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering gently on the skin of your neck. “Tell me again.” He pleads.

“I love you.” You lean forward and kiss him again. “I love you.” You utter the words between quick, desperate kisses causing him to groan against your mouth. His arm snakes around your waist and the ground leaves you, air breezing through your hair. You’re on your feet before you know it and your gaze is drawn downwards to him, in front of you, on one knee. 

He tightly grips your hand in both of his. “I have waited long enough for you. I saw a glimpse of a world without you by my side and it was monochrome and cold. I don’t want that. I want to see the colours when you look at me and smile so sweetly. I need to hear your laugh, my personal symphony. And if you would take my hand and walk the path into tomorrow and forever with me as my wife and my Queen, I will spend the rest of my life trying to make yours as colourful and joyous as mine will be. Marry me, please?”

You feel hot tears sting your eyes as happiness blooms deep in your chest. A bright orange tiger flower blossoming for him, a beacon of light and joy calling to you, showing you your rightful and chosen path. All these wasted years shall be no more and new ones accompanied by new memories await.

“Yes!”

[windmaedchen-fairytail]

Power Lust

It’s been a couple of weeks since Ivan’s experiment. Makarov hadn’t left him alone about this business, so in the end he had budged and admitted the use of the rare lacrima. What he failed to understand was the drama his father made out of it. Laxus was clearly fine and Ivan was there to help him adjust to the new found power. One could have thought that his efforts and time spend to nurture his son would be met with enthusiasm, however, in reality, Makarov was barely tolerating it.

Not that Ivan really expected anything else by now, as tolerating him was one of his father’s specialities. He shifted his weight and leaned against the frame of the open door. He was watching from afar as Laxus did some extra training, trying to conjure lightning and making it hit the dummy.

“KACHOW! KACHOW! Hahahahaha!”

Laxus shouted out loud above the noise of thunder every time his lightning struck. He danced when he hit his target and groaned when he did not. He wouldn’t sulk for long, however, as the joy of finally becoming a wizard like his Dad and Grandfather gave him the strength to continue.

The passion in Laxus’s movements and voice brought a smile to Ivan’s lips. His son had accepted the lacrima much better than he had anticipated and all he needed now was guidance to bring forth all that he is capable of.

When Ivan heard the faint steps behind him, his smile disappeared from his face. He turned around to see Makarov stand next to him, watching out into the garden. For a moment, there was silence between the two men but then the older Dreyar began the conversation he came to have.

“He is so motivated to learn and become stronger. He is doing that for you. Does that make you happy?”

“I am certainly pleased to see this, yes. The result is better than I had hoped for and Laxus might actually become a useful asset.”, replied Ivan calmly. When he heard Makarov grunt in disapproval, he looked over. Was that not what he had just asked for?

“That wasn’t quite what I was thinking of.”, sighed Makarov. “Result? Useful asset? Can’t you ever stop talking about people like they are tools and appreciate them for their souls?”

“At least I DO appreciate the fact that they ARE tools and I will utilize Laxus to the best of his potential. It will give him a real purpose beyond just being my son - or your grandson.”

“Tools and experiments, is that all you really care for? Did you not feel any love for Laxus the way he was? Was he not good enough?”

Now it was time for Ivan to grunt in disapproval. How could that weak boy be good enough? He was constantly sick, couldn’t do any magic yet and still needed a nanny nearly 24/7. Was this not exactly what he needed, to become stronger, more powerful and gain independence from all the guild’s mother hens around him?

Another thought crossed Ivan’s mind, as he turned to answer his father.

“If challenging your son and training him to become better and stronger than the Status Quo of yesterday is, in your eyes, a lack of love - I dare say I love my son as much as you did yours.”

“Ivan! What are you--”

Makarov stopped mid-sentence and turned to face his son. While Ivan returned the gaze, his eyes were clouded and shielded the view into his soul from Makarov’s penetrating stare.

Laxus’s voice drew their attention before the conversation could continue.

“Whoohoo! More! More! Kachow—OUCH!”

The blonde boy jumped in circles for a moment, shaking his arm frantically. The lacrima had been implanted into a host body much weaker than its inert magic level. This meant that while being used so clumsily, overflowing magic will escape in an uncontrolled manner, causing some harm to the encompassing tissues. A minor problem that will go away with training. In fact, Laxus himself seemed hardly fazed by it, as he started laughing during his little dance of pain.

“Laxus! Remember what I told you about visualizing your attack first. If you go too fast, you’ll loose control!”

Ivan reprimanded him from afar. His son lifted his arm to the sky as if to say “All good!” and then turned around to get payback on the training dummy.

Makarov pointed at Laxus and reproached Ivan with it.

“This is hurting him! You WILL stop this.”

Ivan ignored the warning and chuckled quietly do himself.

“Come now, we all have had our accidents as we were training. I don’t remember letting that hold you back from encouraging me to continue. Isn’t this exactly as you like it?

“This is different, Ivan. There is a line to everything and this-”, Makarov pointed at Laxus, “-is crossing it. You KNOW that to be the case. Implanting that lacrima into his weak body could have killed him in the spot if you had made even the slightest mistake. It STILL could kill him now, if you excerpt him too much.”

With a wave of the hand and a groan Ivan dismissed the issue.

“Yes, yes. Stop complaining. Life is a risk. Look at him! He is making the best out of himself, overcoming his weakness. He would never have had any of that strength without me.”

“LOOK! DAD! GRAMPS!”

Laxus pointed excitedly at a charcoaled area on the dummy that glimmered a bright red around some sharp edges of the wood. His lightning had burned it. His family responded in unison, one in approval, one in dismay.

This wasn’t what Makarov hoped for.

“I know very well that as a father you wish to see your offspring become strong and self-sufficient. It is our responsibility to support them in that endeavour, too. But this is a shortcut that will harm him, Ivan. Why don’t you see that?”

“Oh quit it, old man. You have not the faintest idea nor do you care about my work and all you have ever done is impose sanctions and recite love poems to me. It has, frankly, long been useless to lecture me.”

Ivan’s tone changed. Where he showed patience before he exchanged it now for bitterness. He was too old to be lectured on anything any more, especially as he thought the lecturer to be a hypocrite on that matter.

Makarov lowered his head and resigned in agreement. 

“Indeed. Forgive me for having let you down at a time when I still had the chance to reach you. Now, all I can do is prevent damage to others…”

“Tsk. Do you even have the guts-”

“Yes.” Makarov interrupted his son decidedly. “I watched you and your schemes for long enough and I should have done this much sooner. Listen well for I am saying this only once.”

Makarov underlined the weight of his words with an unwavering, direct look into his son’s dark eyes.

“Ivan, CEASE your training this instant. Do not take your responsibility for your son’s well-being lightly…  if this continues in any shape or form, you will have no place to return to. Neither guild nor family.”

It was Ivan who looked away, focusing his gaze on Laxus. He couldn’t imagine Makarov to pull through with his threat. His father’s love for him made him weak and he always skirted around serious punishment before. So why would he do it now?

============================================

Ivan had seen enough. Laxus was still not ready yet and there was no point in watching his son any longer for today. He got up from the tree trunk and sighed heavily.

“It’s been a couple of days and you still haven’t destroyed that dummy. When you said you had chipped it, I thought we’d see you perform the final blow today… looks like I was mistaken. Time for me to get back to work.”

With alarm Laxus’s eyes darted over to the moving figure. He had sweat pouring down his body and bend forwards a bit to rest his hands on his knees. The dummy in front of him had nothing but a few new scratches.

“No, Dad, wait!”, gasped the young boy desperately. “I just need… ONE more try… and then I can go with you.”

“Hmm? I really can’t waste any more time here, Laxus. You are still too weak.”

Ivan graced his son with a look of disapproval, then turned and walked away, ignoring Laxus’s further pleas. He heard moans from behind him and thought for a moment that Laxus had started to cry again, so he focused on his own mind to distract himself. He had imagined that the intense desire to be strong and at his side would accelerate Laxus’s development, particularly since they had to meet in secret like this. Instead, despite the initial incredible pace, Laxus slowed down again. Is it possible that the cap Makarov is trying to put on the boy dampered the effectiveness of their training? He should try and send Laxus along some jobs with the others to encourage him to--

“AAAAAAAAAAAHHH!”

Ivan’s thoughts were harshly interrupted by an intense scream coming from behind him. He turned around instantly and looked back to the small clearing where Laxus had been standing a moment ago. Now he was down on the floor, jerking in visible pain. The continuous groans of agony drew him back very quickly. What on earth had happened? Was a stray, uncontrolled discharge of the lacrima able to bring Laxus down like this?

Lightning still sparked forth from the writhering boy and forced Ivan to approach with caution. He noticed the red blood on Laxus’s face, hands and hair and searched his pockets for something to cover the wound with. As he found nothing, his hands untied the knot of his cravat and folded it down to a smaller, double layered cloth.

Ivan knelt down besides Laxus and reached out to touch him by the shoulder but he withdrew his hand instantly. “Argh!” An electric spark shot through his body as he made direct contact with Laxus’s bare skin. Ivan gritted his teeth and tried to push Laxus onto his back once more anyway. This time the magical electricity was tolerable. The boy’s groans turned into weak sobs and his body grew limb as the effects of the sudden discharge ebbed down.

Ivan now gently lifted the protective hand covering Laxus’s face. He held the cloth ready but the moment he saw what was underneath, Ivan knew this was going to be some permanent damage. And a certain someone would NOT like this.

“Damn.”

======================= END PART 2

[free-pancakes]

Don’t Worry, I’m Here

So I ended up writing a part 2 to this

And crossposted both chapters to AO3

sorry for all the recent angst, i blame the recent chapter lol

Summary: Alternate epilogue-like ending if SNK chapter 138 didn’t occur

(italicized portions reference chapter 1!)

Chapter 2

“It’s your turn,” Erwin said with a warm smile. “I’m thinking they all need you right now.”

“Maaaaan, this is a lot of work isn’t it? Why did he ask me to watch over everyone! I thought I’d finally get to take a goddamn break when I got here…”

“Stop joking around, Hange, we all know you’re happy to do it,” Mike said. “And at least he can’t smell you when you cross over—can’t believe you alone could stink up the whole afterlife,” he teased.

Hange playfully shoved Mike into Erwin as they burst into laughter. She smiled big at the both of them. “See you morons later!” she yelled back.

“Hange-san, don’t forget to check on Connie and Niccolo for me! Let me know how good Connie’s pranks have gotten, and if Niccolo has gotten any better at tolerating him,” Sasha added.

“Of course, dear,” Hange said with a smile. She waved back at the three as she opened the door to go see everyone back home.

— She breathed in the cool, summer morning air and walked down a cobblestone path in town, smelling the decadent aroma of bread lingering over the bakery just ahead. She peered through the window, seeing Connie poking holes through bread dough, making something that looked like a little mask for himself, squishing it onto his face. Niccolo turned around the corner holding a box of pastries and threw them straight into the air, croissants showering down from the ceilings. “Connie, stop startling me like this!” he whined as he looked at all the pastries now all over the place, a massacre of flaky crumbs on the floor. The sound of Connie’s laugh was music to Hange’s ears. She took another whiff of the sweet smell and laughed as she watched Connie sadly pick up the croissants while Niccolo lectured him—“They’re doing well, Sasha,” she whispered to herself.

As she continued on her stroll, she saw Onyankopon walking alongisde Pieck. After hurrying over to walk alongside the two, she waved hello at both of them—sometimes she forgot they couldn’t see her whenever she came to visit.

“That’s so sweet, Onyankopon,” Pieck said as he flipped through a small book in his hand. “Oh, it wasn’t just me—without Armin I would have never gotten this all to work out.” Hange’s eyes glimmered with happy tears—she was so proud of her successor. She wanted to see him, but unfortunately it would probably have to wait for her next trip down here.

“I’m sure Hange-san would have loved it, no way we couldn’t publish all her hard work on titan research. Something that generations can learn about—real truth in books for them to read, to understand why they all dedicated their hearts,” he said, balling his other hand into a fist, gently tapping his chest with it, right over his own heart. Hange placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

“And what do you have there?” he asked Pieck with a curious look in his eye. “Oh, just another record for Levi,” she said as she ran her hand over the smooth case. "I think he’d like this album.” Hange whispered a small thank you right by Pieck’s ear, happy that she continued to help Levi, and that their little record player was being put to good use.

Onyankopon patted Pieck on the back. “Well, please send the Captain my regards, and let him know that Hange’s texts should be published soon!” Pieck gave him a little smile and waved as she walked towards the forest path. Hange was about to follow her to see the little grump, but she stopped herself, sad to wait a little longer to see him. “Not yet, a few more I have to check on first,” she said to herself as she turned left, heading in the opposite direction from Pieck.

A familiar, warm voice echoed behind her, “Hi Pieck!”

Hange spun around to see Jean and Mikasa walking up from the forest path passing right by Pieck. "Just the people she was looking for!" Hange exclaimed, and smiled warmly watching her favorite little pair walk hand-in-hand.

“Date night I’m assuming?” Pieck asked. Jean blushed, scratched the back of his head, and responded with a nervous chuckle. Mikasa smiled back at him and left a little kiss on his cheek. “Yes we are, Pieck,” she said with a shy smile. “Are you visiting the Captain?”

“Yes, heading that way now. Are the kids with Levi?” Pieck asked excitedly.

“Absolutely, and Historia’s son as well!” Jean said.

Hange couldn’t help but feel overcome with emotion watching the scene. She was so happy to see them all happy, alive, and well. As the group parted ways, Hange followed Jean and Mikasa up a winding path, snaking up the green grassy hills just beyond the edge of the town.

“A graveyard?” Hange asked aloud, both hands instinctively gripping at both sides of her head. “That’s your date night?? Jean, what are you doing?? This is not what I taught you!” She tried grabbing at his shirt to turn them right around. “This isn’t even an Ackerman-related issue, this is just common sense, you idiot!” She ran around them in a frenzy, so distracted that she didn’t even realize who they were actually trying to visit.

“Thanks, Jean. Sorry to ask you for the detour. I know our reservations are—“

Jean quietly pushed a small bouquet of sunflowers into her hands, and stared into her eyes, his expression telling her that he wanted to be here too. Mikasa gave him a quick peck on the cheek and she placed the flowers down onto the grass as they sat down together, knees bent and elbows resting on them. He wrapped his arm around Mikasa as they stared at the headstone, Hange’s name etched neatly into the rock.

“These were her favorite, yknow?”

“I know.”

The wind whistled by their ears, leaving cool kisses on the tops of their heads, bringing them a moment of sweet relief from the heat as the sun began to rise higher into the sky.

“Sometimes, I feel like she never left,” Jean whispered.

Hange sat behind the two of them, arms encasing them in her embrace, and kissed the tops of their heads. She smiled at Jean’s words—“I never did,” she said softly into their ears. She tried to wipe the tears from Mikasa’s eyes with her sleeve. “So don’t be sad.”

Time was almost up, so Hange hurried her way down the path, and stole one last glance at the two. She smiled when she saw Jean lay his head on Mikasa’s shoulder. She couldn’t wait to do the same with the other Ackerman on her mind.

She stared at the little cabin, pangs of heartache clawing at her chest—her one and only regret. But the pain melted away as she heard the sound of children’s laughter escaping through the open window. She walked in to find a little boy and a little girl stumbling around, toddlers still getting used to their legs, their little minds still figuring out how fast they could go before falling over. Her heart melted as she watched the two.

She wondered where Levi was, but he didn’t keep her waiting—he never did. He walked through the doorway of the kitchen into the room where the two kids were running around, holding two mugs of tea. He then walked out onto the front porch and set one of the teas down next to him, steam rising from the cup, drawing Hange towards it with its familiar aroma. Just the way she liked it.

She turned to Levi, looking him up and down, drinking in every bit of his appearance, from every wrinkle in his white, button-up shirt to every strand of hair on his head. She laughed as she counted a few grey hairs peeking through the deep sea of black, and gently ran her hand through this hair. He looked rested, a rare sight for her to see, and nothing could make her happier. She left kisses on his cheek and wrapped her arms around him—she never wanted to let go.

Sunlight wrapped around Levi’s body like a hug, the cool breeze softly ruffled his hair and left cool kisses on his face—sweet relief in the summer heat. “Thanks, Hange,” he thought. He pressed his fingers up to his face, feeling the soft, smooth fabric of her eye patch covering his right eye and smiled.

“You’re welcome, shorty,” she whispered as she held onto him tightly.

As he went back inside, she followed him and sat down right next to him as he pulled out his little journal.

“My notes?”

She stared at Levi, his eyes filled with happiness as he read over every inside joke she scribbled into the margins—she was a little embarrassed about him reading all of that, but overall happy nonetheless.

The two toddlers suddenly jumped up onto his lap breaking him out of his trance. “Uncle Levi, can you please tell us a story??” they chimed together, staring at him with cute little puppy-dog eyes. He nodded.

“Yay!!!” They yelled in unison. They both sat on either side of him on the couch and stared up at him with eager eyes.

Hange sat right next to the three of them, ready to hear Levi’s story—she wondered what he’d come up with. She was ready to laugh at the inevitable constipated look on his face as he tried to conjure up a story for them.

“Once upon a time there were two best friends. They were the strongest heroes everyone knew. They climbed giant walls and looked at the vast lands in front of them from the top of it, knowing it’d all be theirs once they defeated the big, bad titans!”

Hange chuckled at the kids’ excitement.

“They jumped on their necks and cast a spell and they’d disappear!”

“Good call, Levi, I was scared you’d start saying we slashed them up or something,” she said with a small laugh.

They did this for many years until all of them were finally gone. The two best friends were happy and searched for more land to see and explore until they found the big blue ocean. Water that was salty and laid home to many creatures both friendly and dangerous. Now there were more bad guys on the other side of the ocean but they were a little different than titans, and they looked like you and me so it was much harder to defeat them. So the two best friends tried to find a way to win. They went on adventures together trying to figure out their secrets until they almost died trying to do that.”

Levi hesitated.

Hange’s eyes softened at seeing him like this, so she wrapped her arm around him, laying her head on his shoulder.

“And one day one of the best friends asked the other if they wanted to live in the forest together, and leave their younger, smart and powerful comrades to defeat the bad guys.”

He paused once more, and took a deep breath.

“It’s okay, Levi, keep going—the kids are waiting,” she whispered.

“And the other best friend said yes. Their comrades won the battle and the two best friends lived happily ever after in the forest. The end.”

He looked down at the two children, who nuzzled their heads into his lap and were now fast asleep. Jean’s kid snored loudly and drooled over his pants, and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. “Oh Hange, I wish you could be here too...” Levi said aloud. He felt tears well up behind his eyes but he blinked them away.

“Don’t worry, Levi. I’m here.” Hange tried to wipe away his tears with her sleeve before she began to wipe her own.

His mind went to the last page of his book of Hange’s notes:

“I hope Levi could live a long life and be happy for the rest of his days. Nothing brings me more joy than seeing him experience happiness behind his dumb scowl. And Levi if you come across this someday, remember that I love you and goddammit try to smile or something in front of someone other than me!”

Levi of course memorized these words, and repeated them in his head as he ran his fingers softly through the children’s hair as they slept.

She drank in the bittersweet moment—watching him smile through his pain. He was trying so hard for her, and it made her heart ache. She hoped that he was genuinely trying to find happiness through all of this. But she knew it was nothing he couldn’t handle. She was always watching him, after all.

Hange felt a pull at her shoulders—time was just about up for today. She peppered his face with kisses, hoping that he might feel them.

A gentle breeze blew through the open window, leaving sweet, cool kisses on his face. He swore he could hear her voice, whispering “Love you, Shorty,” in his ear.

“Love you, Shorty,” Hange whispered as she stood up to leave. She visited him every week, but it was still difficult for her to leave each time.

“Stupid four-eyes,” he thought. He breathed in memories of her and promised he’d try to live the rest of his days happily and smiling just as she wished for him.

“Til next time, Levi,” she said softly, as she closed the window behind her.

[princessmariaphiliper]

THE SLEEPOVER FIC | Part 6 The Sunshine

Summary: You and James have put yourselves into trouble, but you think maybe it’s hotter that way.

Notes: James Acaster, Original characters. Alcohol consumption, moderate language. Just a feel good time babs!

Pairing: James Acaster x Reader 

Genre: Fluff with eventual smut, Slow Burn fic

Words: 2,597

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 /  Part 9

James returned to his spot beside you, the sun shining down onto the metal table. Making it hot to the touch some time ago. He was sweating you noticed. Not in such a way that made it look as though he’d just finished a workout, but enough to add a light sheen to his face. You wondered if you looked much the same, having been sat in the same spot for hours. You could see that your uncovered arms had begun to burn, you imagined your nose had also as you felt a dull pain starting to form there.

The three of you sat in comfortable silence for a while taking blissful sips of your refreshing beverages. Occasionally you picked at your blueberry muffin, trying to think of something interesting to say.

“It’s a beautiful day isn’t it” Olivia asked no one in particular. She was right, the clouds had rolled away mid-morning. Leaving nothing but a clear sky for the sunshine to project through. You hummed in agreement.

“I’ve not seen Camden this busy in years.” James said, looking out at the collection of people lining the lock, you were somewhat grateful that you’d arrived early this morning. You might not have had a comfortable table otherwise.

“Is there a festival or something?”

“I don’t think so,”

“It’s just sunny and the British go mad for a beergarden.”

“True, true”

Another pause in conversation happened before James turned back around and faced you. As he twisted his body a waft of his cologne danced across your nostrils. He smelt of pear drops mixed with a light spice, pleasant but not overpowering by any means. Looking down at his hand you observed how his slender fingers engulfed his cup. You hadn’t noticed how large his hands were until now. Similarly as he’d always had them covered, only now could you see the veins of his arms. Peeping from under the skin. He was by no means muscular in the typical sense, but you could tell he wasn’t at all scrawny either. His arms too held a glaze of sweat across them. You took a sip, urgently needing a distraction from studying his body. You were hot enough as it was. As you pulled your drink away from your lips you looked over at Olivia. She was staring into your eyes in an intense sort of way. You furrowed your eyebrows at her, hoping to gain more of an insight upon her unreadable caricature. She turned towards James with a kind smile and began,

“Well James, it’s been lovely to meet you, but I best be heading home,” she pointed at the ring on her finger, “duty calls.” 

You shook your head in disbelief, Olivia was divorced. She had been (unofficially) for quite some time now. But kept the ring on her finger as a quick getaway on occasion with people she didn’t know too well. You clocked on to what she was doing now, leaving you alone with James to fulfill whatever insane dialogue she’d got into her head. You gave her a deadpan face as she drank up the last bit of her iced coffee. James flashed her a polite smile, holding his hand out to her once again to shake hers.

“Nice to meet you too, hope we’ll meet again sometime!”

“Yes, that would be lovely, I’m sure Y/n will have a dinner party soon. She always has one close to the end of summer, don’t you?” she stated, rising from her seat she gave you a wink and a wave goodbye.

“I do indeed.”

“Well, I expect to see James there Y/n. A bit of celebrity company is definitely what your missing!” You mentally rolled your eyes at her double entendre.

“I’d love to see you there.”

“Text me when you get home!” You called out as she dissolved with another wave into the crowd. You looked out for a moment before the realisation that you were now alone (fully alone) with James. No other people to perform for.

 “No goodbye kiss for Olive James?” You teased, relaxing into his solo company. He seemed a little startled by your question, turning to you with his lips parted.

“I-”

“I’m only kidding.”

“Well. If you must know, I don't go giving kisses out willy nilly.” His phrasing made you hold back a stupid grin; your sense of humour was embarrassingly immature. Noticing you try to hold back a laugh James quizzed you.

“What?”

“Kissing willy nilly,”

“You’re disgusting, childish,” James replied in a singsong, allowing your laugh to roll out of you now. He waited a moment, watching you with a smile, a chuckle causing his shoulders to bob up and down. His face fell comically flat, “I’m very disappointed in you.”

“I’m funny though,”

“If you say so Y/n” Lifting his hands defensively and tilting his head. You looked around the two of you, all the tables were full now and plenty of people waiting inside to order their beverages. You began to feel a little guilty for having been hoarding the table you were sat at. Noticing a couple on the hunt for a space to sit you turned to James again.

“Hey, do you want to have a walk around? Looks like it's getting busy and I’ve been here hours, legs need a stretch.” You rubbed at your thighs to exaggerate your meaning.

“Sure, where’d you like to go?”

“Not sure, where you headed earlier?”

“I was just walking really. Needed to get out of the flat.”

The two of you rose from the table, offering it gracefully to the couple who had now been standing awkwardly for quite some time. As the two of you headed toward the gate you heard the guy mumble to his partner a subtle ’Was that James Acaster?’

Watching James visibly cringe as he unclasped the handle with his vacant hand. You considered teasing but seeing the distaste across his face you decided it would be best not to. You expected it was an uncomfortable conversation to constantly fill.

“We could head into the market” you enthused, steering away from the conversation James had most definitely expected. He parted his lips, one side of his mouth curing into a grateful smile.

“Sure,”

 And so off you trotted into the cascade of hot bodies weaving through each other. Thankfully - as James was a lot taller than you, he had taken the liberty to lead the way. Parting through people and occasionally slowing behind those taking in the London scenery via their mobile phones. You crossed over the lock bridge. Turning your head right to look out onto the sights, James flocked his head back to check if you were making it through okay. You twisted back and caught him looking, giving you a warm feeling of care overcome you.

“You okay back there short-arse?”

“Yeah, keeping up long legs.”

You saw his chest and shoulders rise with a snort as a group of people either side of you begun to push past. Causing you to stumble forwards. Instinctively you grabbed onto what was in front of you for balance, not wanting to lose James in a bombardment of bodies.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m alright,”

James silently produced his hand behind his back for you to hold onto. You let go of his shirt and gently took his pinkie finger into your palm with hesitation. Your blood pumping a little faster. Sensing your wavering James curled the rest of his fingers around your hand, engulfing it with a little squeeze of reassurance. You took a step forward while you were stationary in an attempt to hide your PDA for anyone who might recognise him. You couldn’t be arsed with your face on some scandal website.

 “Do you want to eat?” James quizzed with a flash of eye contact as you made it towards the (thankfully not as crowded) food market.

“Yeah sure,” you agreed “What do you fancy?”

“Depends, are you feeling adventurous?” He led you round a few corners with visible excitement. Still holding firmly onto your hand. You decided however that you didn’t mind it all that much. It made you feel giddy in a way.

Casually he pulled the two of you round a final bend and stopped. Causing you to now be side by side with him. He let go of your hand, secretly making your heart sink into your shoes. Before regaining a hold of it. This time he invited you to interlock one another’s fingers, which you quickly accepted, his fingertips close to caressing you wrist.

“Why not?” You looked left, smiling up at him. His face lit up by the afternoon sun. The dusting of his auburn stubble upon his cheeks glinting in the light.

“Good. This place has the best South African food.”

“Sounds good to me,” You smiled back.

Excited by his own enthusiasm. You knew James was as much of a foodie as Ed, after all you’d chatted to them both the other night about their food podcast. James comically admitting that he didn’t think as many people would be still listening years after they had begun it. Trusting his insight, the two of you joined the queue for ‘Shaka Zulu’, allowing him to have this moment of pleasure as you had stolen him from a day to himself.

You looked around you, most of the people queuing being tourists or couples patiently waiting in the sunshine to be invited inside. A moment of panic washed over you as you started to wonder. To an outside eye could this be considered a date? Albeit an accidental scenario you and James were holding hands while waiting to go for a meal. Perhaps it could be translated as such.

Starting to feel nervous you decided you really needed a drink.

Pulling you out of your thoughts James ran his thumb idly over the back of your hand as you approached the front of the queue. Instantly making you feel calmer. He didn’t seem at all nervous. His posture tall and somewhat cocky. He used his free hand to pull on his collar, letting some air into his shirt, then running his fingers through the back of his hair.

“Have you been here before?”

“Never,” You admitted openly, “I don’t eat at restaurants often. Only for birthdays and so on, I don’t have the excuse really” You pondered the last time you’d gone for a proper meal out. Having been single there wasn’t a necessity to eat out as often. You wondered if maybe that was why this felt like such a date.

The waiter asked the two of you how many the table was for before guiding you towards one in the middle of the room. Inside of the restaurant was dimly lit in contrast to the outdoor sunshine, making your eyes go funny upon entry. As they began to adjust you noted the calved deep wood chairs and African themed setting, having you feeling slightly underdressed.

“Quite fancy for jeans and a t shirt,” You admitted to James as the waiter left you at your table to ponder the menu.

“How do you think my bare knees are feeling over here,”

“You suggested this place James,”

“Yeah well,” He sang stupidly, “Forgot who I was for a second Y/n.” Pausing shortly after blinking slowly and looking off to his left.

You were seated across from one another, both in extravagant looking chairs. James had his legs outstretched underneath the table; both his feet nestled beside your ankles. You noted his comfort around you, and his constant need to be close to you in any way possible. It was alluring to consider his touch may be purposeful. The two of you studied the menu for a while before you perked up another conversation.

 “Is it too early for a drink?” 

“It is the weekend,” He replied with his brows raised, lips pulled cheekily.

“Olive tells me off if I suggest anything before three.”

“And you pretend to be okay with that?” James stated playfully. You laughed at his comment, making his mouth curve into a proud smirk. Something stirring in your stomach subsequently.

“White wine is presumably more acceptable for day drinking,”

“I’d agree but why bother when you’re already committed.”

“Guess you’re right.”

“Obviously”

“I’ll get a mojito then.” Shaking your head at his cockiness for what felt like the hundredth time since you met him, he carried on.

“Good choice. I might join you. What do you want to eat?”

“What does the food connoisseur recommend?” You offered sarcastically, however genuinely curious for his input. You didn’t want to be brought to a place he’d bigged up and order a fucking salmon.

“Well, the Vegetable Potjie is great, I usually get the Beef Bobotie though.” You checked over his suggestion on the menu. Liking the sound of the vegetarian dish much more than the beef you decided to go with that.

“I’ll have the Potjie then!” You professed, closing the leather wallet with a gentle thud.

James leant back in his seat, resting his arms on each side of it. You couldn’t help but observe him now that there was nowhere else for your eyes to naturally fall. Accepting the circumstance, you drank him up. His posture comfortable, one of his arms falling in his lap away from your view. His hair curled upwards in a collection of flicks, some slightly stuck down from the heat outside. His jaw was well defined as he rested in an L shaped hand. Ring finger positioned just below his lips. You moved your eyes upwards only to meet his own, that had subsequently, also been studying you. You started to feel a little self-conscious and James looked at you with hunger in his eyes as the two of you held the contact.

You nibbled your lip nervously out of habit, unsure of what to say. Causing a knee jerk reaction from James, his foot turning to nudge your own. He swallowed awkwardly and cleared his throat, shifting in his seat, (thankfully) as the waiter returned for your orders.

“Hi what would the two of you like to eat this afternoon?”

James looked to you, silently quizzing if you would like to order first.

“You go,” You nodded “It's okay.”

“Erm, well could we get two mojitos please,”

“Sure, would you like plain, raspberry or kiwi?”

“I’ll have a raspberry please” You chipped in

“Just plain for me thanks”

“Yep, what else would you like?” She scribbled down some notes as James began speaking once more.

“Can I get the Beef Bobotie please,”

“Um hum,”

“And could I please have the Potjie” You asked politely, passing your menu over to James who was gathering his.

“Wonderful,” She scribbled again. “Is that everything?”

“That's it thanks.”

“Amazing, someone should be with you in a minute to bring your drinks over. If you have any questions just shout. Enjoy your meal guys!” She enthused, gathering your menus before starting to head off. Alas, before she had fully departed from your table James stated a genuine ‘Thanks! You too!’ His face twisting downwards in instant regret.

You forced yourself to hold back your laughter until the waiter had disappeared. James’s mouth wide open, blinking slowly in disgust at himself. You smiled at him, feeling both second-hand embarrassment and pure joy simultaneously. You raised your eyebrow inquisitively.

“You too?” You teased, James looked up shamefully, resting his chin in his palms.

“I wish I were dead.” He concluded. Twisting his face into a comical frown.

Hello all lovely people. I would just like to say I’m not fully in love this chapter, mostly because I know we’re getting into the nitty gritty but I wanna take things slow to build some more SexU0L teNsIOn~ I also think I’m trying too hard to be funny. But anyways, thank you for keeping up with the fic and all the support along with it. Love light and peace x 

- Princess Maria 

Taglist josies-polestar queensantiagoofthe99 rilannon laurabeech olithephangirl

If you want to be put on, or taken off my taglist, feel free to tell me!

[thusspoketrish]

Play Pretend (Part 1/5)

TRIGGER WARNING (PLEASE READ THE TAGS. PLEASE READ THE TAGS. PLEASE READ THE TAGS): Depression. Suicide Attempt. Suicidal Ideation. PTSD. Poor Coping Mechanism.

Harry Potter & Astoria Greengrass; Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter; Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy; Astoria Greengrass/Others; Draco Malfoy/Others; Harry Potter/Others

Content: Friendship. Forced Marriage Arrangement. Unrequited Love. Falling Out of Love. Falling in Love. Betrayal. Friendships. Breakups. Mental Health Issues. Apathy. Flatmates. Acceptance. Positive Thinking. Therapy.

SUMMARY: Fate boasts a strange sense of humour when a severely depressed Harry finds himself convincing a drunk Astoria Greengrass off the ledge of Waterloo Bridge at three in the morning. The events that follow after are an exercise in strength as Harry finds himself relearning how to cope, forgive, and love alongside the blossoming of new friendships.

Thank you to @starlitsilvereyes for the beta!

====================

At approximately 2:07 AM, Harry Potter shoves his arms through his black wool coat before wrapping his Gryffindor scarf tightly around his neck. He shoves on the misshapen scarlet mittens Hermione knitted for him several years ago, realising he could summon a better pair as she’s improved greatly since Hogwarts, but finding that these reminded him of a better time.

Finally, he shoves his wand up his sleeve before wrenching the door open and taking the steps down from Grimmauld two at a time, the door slamming shut behind him with a finality. As he breathes in and out sharply, white puffs curling outward from his chapped lips, Harry looks skyward. The moon is heavy and hangs low tonight, full and beautiful as swirls of snow begin to gently fall. It’s dark, and beautiful, and it hurts to look at.

Harry had spent the entire day cleaning Grimmauld from top to bottom. Not that this mattered as Harry has found that no matter how much he cleaned or remodelled the house, he was incapable of penetrating its doom-and-gloom atmosphere. But he had cleaned to the best of his ability, and had arranged all his necessary documents across his office table several hours ago. He carefully placed each note facing upward, the individual names of all his friends in his spidery scrawl. He had even left notes behind for the Dursley’s, though, not imparting a single kind word, as seen in his other letters. He had left the Gringotts keys of the Potter Vault behind in Ron and Hermione’s name and endowed a small trust to any future children they may have. He had left the deed and keys to Grimmauld and the Black vault to Teddy and Andromeda.

Harry doesn’t think he left any stone unturned.

He had been planning this for months. Had made the nearly 40-minute walk from Clerkenwell to Waterloo Bridge nearly every night for the last three weeks, simply staring out at the water, yearning. It would take nothing, he thought, to sit on the ledge, cast a simple spell to increase his weight, and fling himself over the edge. And at three in the morning, it wouldn’t be hard to do this uninterrupted.

A numb sort of blankness overcomes him as he rolls his shoulders and makes his way through the quiet roads, onto the high street where the slow crawl of busses and cars creep past. Harry’s vision is a tunnel of black and white images flickering in and out of focus as he sets himself on autopilot. He could do this route with his eyes closed.

It’s not that Harry thinks he deserves to die. He’s simply come to the conclusion that he wants to.

He’s tired, much too tired from the debilitating numbness that’s crippled his entire existence. He’s remained frozen in time since dying and coming back to life in the Forbidden Forest. The experience has left him immobile, like a statue, weathered by the storm called time but never feeling the effects of it no matter how long he holds his breath, patiently waiting for something to come along and happen. He was waiting for the spark of life to feed his blood as it had during the war, and nothing, no reason or rhyme, has been able to replace it. He had quit the Aurors, had isolated himself from the pitying expressions of friends and family, and had shrunken himself on the outside to reflect what he felt on the inside—absolutely nothing. He was nothing, a lingering afterthought in his own mind, something ugly and broken with a piece of its soul missing. He couldn’t stand to live with that knowledge any longer.

It was no one’s fault, not directly. Harry’s never been whole, not as a child curled up and forgotten in the cupboard under the stairs; not as a child, shaped into a sacrificial soldier, not as a twenty-three year old man, alone, shrouded in the dark cloak of night, ready to end his life.

The black and purple swirls of fog and clouds paint a pretty backdrop for the breathtaking view of the Thames, the London Eye, and Parliament from Harry’s position on the bridge. It’s the only time his vision shifts to full-colour, when he’s standing on the bridge, hands gripping the cold railing as he peers over, his glasses sliding slowly down his nose. He uses a mittened finger to push them back up, a hollow laugh escaping him as he reaches deep down inside of himself to search for a feeling, anything. He wishes for even a fissure of panic as he places both hands on the railing again, wondering if 100kg added to his feet would successfully prevent his ability to kick back up to the surface.

A harsh wind whips by, and with it carrying a whimper. Harry turns, his gaze sharpening, harping on an elongated figure further down the bridge perched on the railing.

He turns back to the water, staring out at the inky black waves. He shouldn’t care.

The whimper turns into full on sobbing.

He shouldn’t care. He doesn’t.

Then, there’s a horrible scream of anguish that pierces the quiet, the sound full of devastation. He blinks several times, pushing his glasses up again. He may not have the ability to care for his own well-being anymore but he still...he still seems to care about others.

With a sigh, Harry walks to the centre of the bridge, noticing a lone figure down the road walking towards them before abruptly stopping and turning away from them.

Harry ignores them, and instead approaches the person perched on the railing. He can see that the person is wearing a black, long-sleeved ballgown, tiny sparkling beads of emerald green, gold, red, and silver shimmering in the moonlight, taking the shape of exploding fireworks across her bodice along the back of the dress. It’s beautiful, and Harry gasps when the woman turns to face him.

He’s seen this woman before, has seen her pretty pale face at the Slytherin table at Hogwarts. Her long black hair whips across her flushed face, mascara-tinged tears sliding down her cheeks. Her red lipstick is smeared across her lips and down her chin, piercing blue eyes unfocussed as she sways side-to-side.

“What do you want?” the woman asks miserably, her voice slurring, intoxicated. Harry steps closer to her, as if she’s a wild animal ready to leap away from him. The woman’s lips turn down into a terrible wound of a frown, misshapen by the smeared lipstick. “Did he send you?” she cries.

“No,” Harry says, not knowing who she’s talking about as he slowly approaches her. “Why don’t you come down?” he asks, extending an opened hand.

The woman’s gaze twists from Harry back out to the dark depths of the Thames. Harry inches closer.

Another whimper escapes her. “He doesn’t love me,” she cries, her body shaking as she weeps.

“There are people out here who love you,” Harry says, wincing. How many times has Ron and Hermione said this very thing to him over the last year?

“But not him!” she shouts, her shoulders trembling, the harsh winds whip her hair. “I’ve tried everything. I’ve even given him all of me, all my love, all my hopes and my bloody dreams, and nothing. Nothing I do makes him look at me…at me...as if,” the woman breaks off, a trembling cry escaping her before she shouts, “Why...why not me?”

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Harry says, his voice carrying on the winds, tone firm. A small spark of indignation is felt in his chest. This woman, this woman is suffering, and it’s fuelling a knife-sharp sensation alongside his slow-beating heart. He wants to touch her, see if he can pull her grief into him, see if it’ll help him feel his own, for once.

The woman tilts her head back, a wail escaping her. “I don’t deserve him! I can’t help him, I can’t even bloody keep him. I’m useless.”

“Stop it, don’t put yourself down like this. He doesn’t deserve you...you’re stronger than this pain, this numbness you’re experiencing, and you know it. You know you can do so much better than him, that your life and your hopes and dreams outweighs whatever the fuck you think he sees when he looks at you. You don’t need anything from him, not when you’re this strong,” Harry says, shaking his head. He doesn’t know where these words are coming from, they feel foreign to his own ears. A part of him wonders if he wished someone would say this to him. “What’s your name?”

The woman draws in a shaky breath before she answers in a tiny, strained voice, “Astoria. Astoria Greengrass.”

Harry nods, now remembering her, remembering where he’s seen her name lately. “Come, Astoria. You have so much to offer the world. You’re strong, but sometimes even the strongest among us have bad days, but that doesn’t make us worthless,” Harry says, the feeling in his chest swelling, lighting him on fire from the inside. Harry gasps. “You’re worth fighting for, you’re...let me...let me fight for you, Astoria, until you can fight for yourself. Please...please, take my hand. You don’t have to do this...you don’t have to do this alone.” He’s now beside her.

A wicked wind whips past them again, the snow falling now coming down in thick, fluffy sheets. Astoria huffs out another sob before she turns around, her hand stretching out.

Harry clasps it, pulling her forward. She wraps her arms around his neck, digging her face into this layered scarf, clinging to him like a lifeline. They both sink to the ground as she weeps. The cold stings the trail of tears on Harry’s own cheeks.

She smells like the cold, along with lingering scent of bergamot orange and rosewood. He knows it's a combination of scents he'll never forget as he cradles her against his chest before quickly opening his coat to wrap around her shivering form.

All the while, feeling more alive than he has since the day he died.

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

Day 16: Just Another Day- Din Djarin

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Spoilers for season 2 episode 3. If you haven’t watched it please do because it’s amazing. Thank you for reading!

November Writing Challenge Masterlist 

Day 15: Just Walk Away - Ezra (Prospect) 

You stood looking out amongst the grey sky and the blue of the ocean water. Din stood at your side with the child in his pram. The wind blows cold and deep through your bones and you shiver. Din looks at you and says nothing, only pulling his cape gently to drape over your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side. His arm resting lightly around your waist. You shiver again, but not from the cold. The cape is warm and rough under your fingers as you drag it more over your shoulders. The child coos as he watches the waves move in a rough dance, each crashing over the other. 

“Stay close to me,” you hear Din whisper next to your ear, “I don’t like the way our ‘friend’ has been eyeing you since the Inn.” 

You look over his shoulder at the Quarren boatmen. None of them are really paying you any attention and you chalk it up to Din being paranoid. Still, you don’t move from his side. 

The Captain comes up on your left holding up some kind of long spear. “You ever see a mamacore eat? ...Quite a site, the child may take an interest.” Din looks down at you before turning his eyes toward the child who does look interested. “Come on over,” the Captain gestures. 

You wordlessly follow, still tucked close to Din’s side. “That’s close enough,” he says, keeping a close watch over the child. 

The quarren uses the spear to hover a net filled with fish over a large opening in the center of the ship. The metal grate creaks loudly as it moves away and you watch waiting for the creature to appear. The child leans over the side of the pram, eager to see. They press a button and the fish fall into the water, and float to the top. 

The water begins to bubble and you watch as tentacles begin to slowly appear up the sides. “She must be hungry, we usually feed her in the early morning. But, we were unable due to being in PORT!” The Captain shouts using the spear to push the pram into the water. 

You watch in horror as a huge monster with sharp teeth swallows the pram, “NO!” Din shouts pushing you backwards and jumping into the water. You are thrown into the waiting arms of one of the crew who holds you back. 

“Close it!! GO GO GO!” The Captain shouts, and you scream at him to stop. Your voice going hoarse from your cries. The crew members arms are tight around your own, as you thrash trying to get free. 

“NO! PLEASE! LET HIM GO!” you scream. 

“This beskar is ours! And this little bitch will catch us a high price.” the Captain lets out a chuckle peering down for a sign of the Mandalorian. 

Din surfaces and gasps for air against the metal grate hands holding tight to the bars, coughing furiously. You never stop fighting, kicking, punching doing everything you can to get free. 

“Drown him! Keep him down!” they shout, using their long spears to push your Mandalorian down into the water. He slips beneath the surface and they just watch, laughing.

“MANDO! NO!” You break free for a moment before a hand grabs your hair pulling you back making you scream in pain.

“Shut her up!” one of them shouts and a disgusting brown cloth is pushed into your mouth and tied tight as two more quarrens hold you down. Your eyesight is blurred from tears, your body sore from fighting, and your heart shattered watching your loved ones killed before you. 

The water breaks again as Mando resurfaces, coughing loudly and they shove their spears at him again. The sounds of metal hitting beskar and the thrashing of the water is drowned out as the blood pounds in your ear. You can feel the fabric tighten bruising around your wrists as you're restrained. 

“He didn’t sink!” 

“Finish him!” 

“Keep him down!” 

You never stop thrashing against your captors, screaming through the gag for Din and the child. 

Whoosh

Your eyes break from the water to look up as three mandalorians descend upon the ship. Dispatching with the quarrens quickly. The sounds of gunfire, grunts, and metal slicing through flesh. Your eyes are frantic as you crawl on your knees to the grate, screaming for Din. The sound of the grate slowly being pulled back has you leaning over the side precariously. Desperately searching for Din and the child. 

“Take my hand,” one of the others says and you watch with bated breath as Din is pulled from the water. You sob as he is gently lowered to a crate. 

He coughs, the water expelling from his lungs, “There's...a creature. It has the child!” 

“On it,” one shouts, diving back into the water. 

The third Mandalorian comes to your side using a large knife to cut through your bindings, you rip the gag from your mouth and stand on shaky legs, running over to Din. “The child,” he begs, “Help the child.” 

“Don’t worry brother, we’ve got this,” The mandalorian tells him, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

When he’s within reach you drop to your knees before him checking him over as best you can. His gloved hand comes to rest on your arm pulling you to his side silently. When you're satisfied he’s okay, you watch with bated breath for any sign of the Child. 

There is a flash of light beneath the water, and you hear the roar of the creature below. The Mandalorian breaks through the surface of the water holding a crushed pram in their hands. You gasp before they land gently placing the pram on the ground and ripping away the top. Handing the Child to Din carefully. 

You look down at the child held preciously in his left arm as he tightens his grip around you. Your clan of three reunited. His breath still comes out in pants as he tries to return his breathing to normal. “I have been searching for others of our kind,” he looks before the three mandalorians, “I’ve been quested to deliver this child...I was hoping that y- '' His voice cuts off as the three remove their helmets. 

His grip on you loosens as he places the child in your arms and pushes you both behind him. “Where did you get that armor?” his tone is threatening. 

“This armor has been in my family for three generations,” the woman asks confused. 

“You do not cover your face. You are not mandalorian.” 

The others look between each other before the man speaks up, “He’s one of them.” 

“Dank farrick,” she looks at him before going back to Din, “I am Bo-Katan of Clan Kryze. I was born on Mandalore and fought in the purge. I am the last of my line. And you...you are a child of the watch.” 

“The watch?” he whispers. 

“Children of the watch are a group of religious zealots who broke away from Mandalorian society. Their goal was to re-establish the ancient way.” She looks between you and the child, half hidden behind the broad shoulders of Din. 

Din takes a half a step closer and you hold your breath waiting for him to make a move, “There is only one way. The way of the Mandalore,” he turns toward you and reaches for you and the child, wrapping his cloak around you and picking you up bridal style, shooting off into the air. 

You land softly onto the dock and he doesn’t move to lower you. You snuggle closer to him and press your face into his neck breathing deeply. The faint explosion disturbs the peace and you look across the water to see the ship burst into flames. Three lines of smoke from the mandalorians leave the atmosphere. 

Din turns from the scene walking towards the crest. The shipyard is empty as you walk aboard. It doesn’t look any better than when you left it and Din sighs before gently lowering you to the ground. He takes the child from your arms and presses his helmet to his little green head, the child puts his hands gently on the helmet returning the embrace. Din slowly pulls him back and places him in the co-pilot's chair, pulling a small blanket over his body and he falls asleep almost instantly, exhausted from the ordeal. 

You struggle with what to say as the emotions from the day overcome you. You shake lightly before collapsing to the ground. Dins arms are quick to move around you holding you tightly to his beskar covered chest. “I...I could have lost you both today,” you sob, grabbing tightly to him. 

“But, you didn’t mesh’la we’re alright.” His touch grounds you and you hold him tightly, he lets out a small chuckle, “It was just another day…” 

“How can you say that? The child was eaten, you almost drowned! They were going to sell me…” 

“What?” his voice comes out low and deadly. 

“The quarren...they said they could get a fair price for me...they wanted to sell me Din,” you tell him quietly. 

His arm tightens around your waist before he is pulling away. You miss the warmth immediately and silent tears stream down your face. You watch as he carefully removes his gloves, each piece of armor joining him until he is left only in his undershirt and pants. His clothes are still dripping wet. 

“Din…you need to change clothes, you’ll catch a cold,” you mindlessly begin pulling on the fabric. 

“I’m alright…” he gently holds your wrist, “Come, we both could use some sleep.” 

You look around the cockpit and make your way to the passenger seat when the hand on your wrist tightens, you freeze. Your eyes slowly lift to meet the black visor, “Din…” 

“Lay with me,” his voice is quiet and low. You shiver at the sound before nodding wordlessly. Moving towards him as he lowers himself with a small grunt into the pilots chair. He pulls your hips to him and you straddle his waist, laying your head on his chest. He lowers the chair back as far as it will go and draws patterns across your back. You feel his heart pound in your ear. The warmth, his hands guiding over your back, and his heartbeat lures you off to sleep. 

Before the darkness overcomes you hear a whisper against your ear, almost so quiet you don’t hear, “rest well cyare, I’ll always protect you.”