#at least before he resorted to destroy the world

[empty-dream]

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Home Azriel x Reader

a/n: forewarning I'm a firm believer in things getting worse before they get better. I hope you enjoy!:)))

synopsis: azriel has to resort to desperate measures in order to ensure your safety

Warnings: SA, depictions of RAPE, angst, violence, minor fluff

5.3k words

pt.1 | pt.2

The feeling was unshakable, those hands grabbing you, forcing you into the darkness. The freezing cold void of absolutely nothing and everything all at once. 

It’d been a day since the incident, the bruises and scratches on your body were already healing, getting better by the second. 

You hadn’t felt anything since then, no presence in the corner of your mind, no eyes on you, just silence. 

You didn’t know why its absence brought you no comfort. Why it made you feel worse. Like your body was trying to warn you about something your mind hadn’t caught up with yet. 

However, that was the last thing you wanted to think about as you lay beside Azriel’s form. Listening to his soft heartbeat. Letting the rhythm soothe you into a state of calm. 

You were so tired, you just needed a little bit of sleep, to rejuvenate your brain.  And if you had any hope of avoiding that nightmare you had to keep it far out of your thoughts. Distract your mind with other things. Conjure a nice dream for yourself. A dream about you and the shadowsinger. 

A dream where the two of you could just exist together. With no worries, no foreboding feelings in your hearts, just you and him, and your family, and happiness. 

Slowly that disturbed twisting feeling of unease faded away, and you closed your eyes. Ready for sleep to take you away.

Then it rushed you. 

Darting out from whatever crevice it had been lurking in. Invading your mind, taking hold of your senses. 

It tore apart your dream, cracked open your fabrication, and sent a shockwave through your system. It felt like the magic under your skin flinched. 

You gasp, eyes snapping open as you sit up. 

You feel Azriel’s hands on your shoulders, then you see his face in front of yours. Hazel eyes darkened with worry. 

It had been hiding from you, waiting for you to let your guard down. Waiting for the perfect opportunity to grab you and pull you into its never-ending darkness. 

It snapped your dream world in half. 

You shiver. 

“I don’t know what to do.” You confess to him. “It’s like it has a mind of its own.” 

Azriel’s hands grip you tighter and pull you into his chest. His wings cocooning you. “We’ll go see the sisters first thing in the morning. You can give it back to Elaine. Let her deal with it.” 

You swallow. Knowing that wasn’t an option. It would destroy her. And in turn, destroy Feyre. 

He reads your face. “You think you need to keep it? That because of your abilities you have some obligation to? You don’t. What if your abilities make it worse? At least, with Elaine it can’t take form.” 

You don’t voice your thoughts, you can’t fight with him. 

You don’t say that it would eat the newly turned Fae alive in her fragile state. Pick away at her mind until there was nothing left. That you at least had a fighting chance against it, even if you hadn’t quite figured that part out yet.

But you don’t need to say anything, not when he could see it all in your eyes. The shadowsinger sighed, so frustrated, so powerless, he wanted to do so much more, wanted to ease your stress, but he didn’t know how other than by being with you. Offering you his support.

It didn’t feel like nearly enough. 

He held you the rest of the night. 

*****

You’d abandoned sleep. Until you could find a way to counter this thing, to keep it caged, you would stay awake. 

You were very experienced in nightmares, probably the most experienced. You could manifest the perfect nightmare for any person, reduce the finest warrior into a sniveling coward at your feet. But you’d never taken somebody's nightmare before. Never had to hide from someone else’s fears.  

Even if you wanted to give it back to Elaine, you wouldn’t know the first thing to do. It was very different than twisting someone’s fears. 

So for the past week, you’d been doing research. Re-reading those books from Helion, scouring the library for anything else that mentioned dreams, nightmares, or the subconscious. When your brain needed a break from words you trained your body. Joining Cassian from time to time. 

The training backfired miserably, making you more tired, body aching with fatigue every hour, minute, and second of the day. 

But you couldn’t sleep, couldn’t go in that cauldron again. Not when it could hold you there. Keep you from waking. And even though Rhys had started sleeping at the House of Wind to ensure that you wouldn’t be trapped, you couldn’t risk it. 

You didn’t know if it would continue to attack you, like normal nightmares did, you had no way of knowing what its next move would be. It didn’t act like anything you’d encountered before. 

It could attack someone else next time, attack Azriel. 

That thought alone was enough to keep you awake for the past week. 

But with each passing day, keeping your eyes open got harder and harder. 

“You can’t let this continue.” 

Azriel hadn’t even noticed his brother’s presence. You’d taken all of his focus, diminished the spymaster to a man who couldn’t even hear Cassian’s footsteps. Which were not at all quiet.

The two Illyrians watch you from the library doorway. You sat with a multitude of books scattered around you, the one you were currently reading almost wider than the length of your hand and you were already halfway through. They watch your eyelids slowly fall, watch you try to fight it by blinking rapidly and shaking your head. 

Azriel was in full agreement with Cassian. This couldn’t go on.

Azriel feels hopeful when your eyes finally close, you’re head falling back against the sofa cushion. He holds his breath as he waits for you to sink deeper into sleep, not daring to make a sound in fear of startling you awake. But you shoot up a moment later.

Eyes flying open as you grab the couch like you had to catch yourself from falling. Head snapping to and fro as you frantically search for something that isn’t there. Harshly rubbing the sleep from your eyes over and over, but it only makes your eyes burn with a fire that could only be sated by letting them shut. 

In a moment of desperation, you grip your wrist, letting the sharp claws dig into your arm. Repressing the sleep in your system with pain.

Your hand is snatched away.

“Stop!” Azriel yells panicked. Watching as blood began to drip down your arm. “Fuck. Cassian can you-“ 

His brother was already handing him a first aid kit.

The sounds of shaky breaths and ruffling bandages fill the room. You don’t look at him as he wraps your arm, so mortified, so embarrassed he had to see you this way. That anyone could see you this way. So weak.

He grabs your jaw, forcing you to look him in the eyes. He’s not rough, but he’s not gentle either. So much emotion filled his face. 

So much worry, and love, and sadness. 

Then his eyes harden. “You need to sleep.” You try to shake your head but can't with his grip on you. “It’s not a suggestion.” 

Tears fill your eyes. No. You can’t. Not when you knew it was salivating at the thought. If it managed to kill you in your sleep, only the Gods knew what could happen. If that horror would be unleashed on the world. 

You couldn’t risk it. You wouldn’t. 

At first, the shadowsinger was torn on what to do. He couldn’t bear the thought of ordering you to suffer. Still can’t. But you were suffering anyway. He couldn’t watch you deteriorate anymore. 

He would sacrifice your trust in him if it meant you were healthy.

 

*****

Dinner was quiet, Rhys and Amren were busy. So that left you, Azriel, Mor, and Cassian. The Acheron sisters ate in their rooms and kept to themselves, though you had seen the older sister a few times. She joined you in the library every once in a while. She never spoke, never looked your way, but she stayed.

“You look like shit.” Mor had said when she saw you, slapping a hand over her mouth as if realizing she spoke aloud. Leave it to Mor to speak the truth.

“Gee, thanks.” You replied, wanting to send her a smile to let her know you didn’t take it to heart but could only find the energy to slide ungracefully into the chair next to her. 

Mor turns to you, forgetting her full plate of food. “Gods, look at you!” You tense as she reaches for your face, fingers brushing the bags under her eyes. Her touch made sleep slowly enter your system again. “Why are you doing this to yourself?” She asks as if she didn’t know the answer to that question. Which she most certainly did. 

You don’t have it in you to say anything so instead you start shoveling the tasteless food in your mouth. Forcing yourself to swallow it even though it felt like you were chewing chalk. 

“You know we’re here for you, don’t you?” She continued, and the food became increasingly hard to swallow with every word she spoke. “You don’t have to fight this alone, it wasn’t even your battle to begin with.” 

Your heart drops at her words. Not your battle? 

That’s right, this all started with your selfish need to feel useful. So you wouldn’t have to lay around like a weakling. All you did was make everything worse. Of course, you did.  

You reach for your water when you feel the food start to rise back up. The water doesn’t help. Your whole body starts to feel clammy, and your head starts to spin. 

So you pause leaning back to take a few slow deep breaths through your nose, swallowing the spit that didn’t stop gathering in your mouth.

“Feyre would hate to see you like this.” 

Those words were the final blow.

You jump from your seat, hand on your mouth as you dash out of the dining room. Running for the nearest bin, the house seemed to hear your inner pleas because a bucket was waiting for you in the hallway. You fell to your knees in front of it. Too busy hurling up all the food you just ate to cry out at the pain of your kneecaps slamming into the stone floor.

You feel his warm gentle hands on you. Softly rubbing your back, and pulling away your hair. Waiting patiently for you to finish heaving. 

When you could breathe without gagging you leaned into him, letting him wipe your face with his sleeve. Ruining the fine shirt he wore. “Can you call Madja? Tell her I need another tonic?” 

The little shots of energy that’d kept you standing the last two days, were all you could think of. You needed them before it was too late. Before a week's worth of sleep could catch up on you. 

Before that thing was free to roam.

Azriel looks to Cassian, expression grim, and he nods. The general was rushing off the next second. You hope he’s getting Madja.

A moment later Cassian was running back over and crouching beside you, pushing a glass of water in your hands.  You wanted to protest, remembering how the water hadn’t helped just moments before, but Azriel takes the cup and puts it to your lips. 

“Drink.” You comply. He tilts the cup up and up and up until you drink the final drop. “There you go.” He whispers, setting the cup aside so both of his hands are free to soothe over your body. “That’s it.” 

The effect was swift. 

That magic that was always writhing under your skin begins to slow.  It’s vibrating energy dying out. Until it wasn't even a tingle.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, and your heart dropped. What did he do?

Your head becomes foggy, and your body is no longer your own. You can’t fight it as you slump back, can’t do a single thing when your eyes fall shut, can’t even think as your brain powers off. 

All you could do was sleep.

Azriel holds you close to him, lip curling at the smell of your fear permeating through the air. “I’m sorry.” He whispered again, though he knew you couldn’t hear him now. 

“It will work,” Mor said from where she leaned against the wall, watching you with a solemn look on her face. She, along with everyone else in the inner circle, was on board with the idea the moment Madja brought it up earlier in the week.

“It better.” He was reluctant until today, until he watched you hurt yourself. The fact that you couldn’t keep your food down was the cherry topper.

Azriel just hoped the Faebane in your system would last longer than the sleeping tonic.

The drug succeeded in quelling your magic, succeeded in its purpose of ridding your mind of that awful thing. But it also succeeded in other things. 

Without your magic, you were unable to conjure a happy dream for yourself. 

Leaving you trapped in your very own nightmare. 

*****

Your mother smiled with pride as she adjusted your hair. “Every male will want you.” Your whole life had led up to this moment, everything you had been taught was for this night. The night a male would choose you. 

The night you would submit. 

 So why weren’t you excited? 

“Stop that frowning. It’s unsightly.” Your mother leads you to a mirror. A pressure settles on your chest when you look at yourself. 

The sheer white gown did nothing to hide your body. Giving anyone who looked a full view of what was underneath. Your face was painted, your skin shaved and silky—glowing from whatever substance she’d lathered on you—and your wings were spread wide, fluttering at a pace that made every intricate design viewable. 

Your mother looked the happiest you’d ever seen her. The expression uncanny on her. “They won’t be able to keep their hands off you.” 

You felt something inside you twist at the thought. 

“Mother?” You say before you can think better of it. She meets your eyes through the mirror. She looked at you like you were a trophy, an object to be displayed not loved. Not that you ever knew the difference.

I don’t want to do this. 

The words were right there. At the forefront of your mind. All you had to do was give them a voice. 

But it was like your lips were wired shut. Your mouth doesn’t move, your voice doesn’t work. You say nothing. 

It wouldn’t have mattered if you had anyway. You didn’t have a choice, you never did.  “Don’t worry, child, none of the others can compare with your beauty. You will not be left unpicked.” 

Her words brought you no solace. 

You hold your chin high, as she leads you out of the hut and toward the growing horde. You make sure you stand straight, shoulders squared like you had been taught. Make sure your hips swayed just slightly, just enough to keep their attention like your mother had shown you. 

Make sure your teeth don’t grit, and your legs don’t shake. Make sure your wings don’t twitch, and your smile doesn’t fall.

Your mother parades you around for every male to see. Laughing at some of the comments they made, insinuating banter between the rowdy ones, reveling in the way they fought over you. 

With each laugh, each yell, each claim made upon you that pressure in your chest grew. Except it wasn’t just in your chest now, it was in your stomach, and in your head, and under your skin.

Your wings folded subconsciously, making your mother sink her sharp claws into your wrist. Not enough to bleed, she wouldn’t ruin all her work, but enough to hurt. Enough to make your wings snap back open. 

Is this really it?

The feeling gets worse when she leads you toward the other women, and then it doubles when she leaves to sit with the onlookers. Not so much as a goodbye, or even a second glance as she walks away. 

Your heart pounds as you blend yourself in with the sea of white. 

Maneuvering through the women was easy, each and every one of them was silent, tense, and scared. You try not to look at their faces for too long, didn’t want to be able to notice which ones were missing once everything was over. 

It wasn’t uncommon for males to lose themselves to the night, last year seven woman were found dead. Brutalized.

You swallow, heart beating so loud, so fast, it’s all you can hear. It drowns everything out. 

I don’t want to do this. 

You don’t hear the horn blow. You only know it did when everyone around you began heading through the woodline. You almost trip over yourself as you dash forward. You had to run. You had to hide before the second horn blew. You had to make it till dawn. 

Your bare feet don’t feel the sharp rocks and sticks that stab into them. Adrenaline fills your body, pumping through your blood, and muscles. Blocking out the pain.

The shimmering barrier is what makes you come to a stop. You’d never seen them before, the wards that kept your community safe, but there was no denying it. That wall of energy was where your colony ended. ��

Beyond it, death was inevitable. 

There was no hope in flying, male wings are much different from females. Stiffer, sharper, stronger, the males would always be superior in the sky. 

So you stay on the ground hiding in a nearby thicket just on the edge of the wards. Arms hugging your knees to your panting chest, making yourself as small as possible. 

 You hoped nobody would search this far. But you knew the males in your community. They stop at nothing and do anything to get what they want.  

When a distant scream echoed through the woods you knew you’d missed the second horn. The males were already hunting. 

You hold yourself tighter, trying to force slow breaths in your nose and out of your mouth. Frantically trying to slow down your palpitating heart. But it felt like you weren’t getting air. Your whole body was shivering from the adrenaline, that pressure still building. 

You would get found by the sound of your breathing if you kept it up.  

“No! Ple-!” Your head snaps in the direction of the scream, much closer than the other one. You try not to think about how it cut off so suddenly, about what could’ve happened to her. What could’ve made her object to a male.

You just need to make it till dawn. Just need to keep hiding. For six more hours. 

It was hopeless, there wasn’t nearly enough ground to give the women a fighting chance. The men greatly outnumber the women, making the former even more desperate, even more competitive.

Where was the fun if everyone had a chance at winning?

No, they had to yearn for it. It was what made the Ritual work. 

Your head falls to your knees. 

You don’t want to end up like your mother.

Three years ago your father had grown tired of her, he participated in that year’s Flowering and never spoke to either of you again. As your mother is far from pure, she can not be used in the ceremonies. Instead, she was made a community whore. 

A female for the pent up males who had no luck on Flowering to fuck as they please. 

Your mother always said it was necessary. That all the things your people did, there were reasons for.  

That Flowering Night was a gift, it provided the magic that grew our blooms. The blooms that supplied our only food source. Nectar. 

Of course, you believed her, you’d never known any reason not to. The Middle wasn’t a resourceful place. It was too dangerous to send hunters beyond the wards, and there weren’t even any animals to hunt. Only other monsters. And even they weren’t worth hunting. Bodies usually emaciated with no meat on their bones if any at all. 

It was necessary, but that didn’t mean you wanted to do it. 

You wouldn’t know until much later that your people were just addicts. That hunting wasn’t an impossible thing, not when they had wings. That they could’ve flown to the Day Court to hunt, or even the Winter Court, but they chose not to. Because nothing could ever compare to their precious Nectar. 

Snap. 

Your blood runs cold as an older male sniffs around. Fifteen feet from you. His hard wings make a low buzz as they vibrate against each other with frustration.

The male was a brute, muscle stacked upon bulging muscle. 

You hold your breath as he slowly gets closer, the buzz becoming louder. If he caught your scent, no amount of shrubbery could keep him from finding you. 

He gets closer, and your heart pounds faster. That pressure you feel under your skin now throbbing. Pulsating.

He’s almost ten feet away, if he got any closer he’d undoubtedly smell the fear that left your body in waves.

White dots started filling your vision. You fight with your body to hold it. 

A blessing came in the form of a scream, this one even closer than the last. Your throat constricts trying to force air into your system. Your teeth ache from how tightly you clench your jaw.

The male started in that direction. Your throat burned, your head pounding. 

Just a second more.

But you couldn’t stop yourself from gasping for air. 

The male stops. Then he looks right at you.

You’d never known terror till that moment. 

*****WARNING: until the next scene change dark themes will be depicted such as rape and violence, if you do not wish to read proceed to the next “*****”

He pounced, dragging you out of the bushes by the base of your wings. Even though you don’t struggle.

He throws you to the ground, not wasting a second before straddling your thighs. Pinning down your legs. His hands grip the fabric of your gown, tearing it off your shoulder. You want to cover your body, but instead you lay still. Let him run his filthy hands over your breasts, let them squirm their way between your legs. 

You let him cause it’s all you’ve ever known. 

Even though your mind was screaming.

He is anything but gentle, forcing his way inside, digging around. You can’t stop the cry of pain that leaves you, the tears that fill your eyes, and he moans. Touch becoming rougher, harsher, trying to force another cry from you. 

The pain becomes worse when he adds more fingers, shoving his way though. 

Like he was trying to rip you open.

 His head buries into your shoulder. Sniffing and groaning in your ear. Rutting against you like a wild animal.

Then he bites down, and you scream. 

Your hands find his head and that pressure, that jerking energy under your skin devours him. 

The male collapses, body twitching on top of you. Teeth still embedded in your shoulder. You're stunned for a moment, but that's quickly replaced with revulsion.

Your arms shake with the effort it takes to roll him off of you. Whimpering when his teeth slowly leave your shoulder. 

His hands don't leave you, even though he was now out of reaching distance you could still feel them. Touching, grabbing, digging.

You feel nothing but disgust as you look at the male, watching him mumble, whine, and mewl in his unconscious state. You don’t even get the time to question it, to think about what happened. The heavy footsteps that head your way get closer by the second. 

I don’t want to do this. 

So you don’t. 

For once in your life you disregard all of your teachings. Every rule beaten into you. Each false instinct that’d burrowed into your body. And you run.  

Right past the wards. 

Because you’d rather die than end up like your mother.

You run and you keep running until your lungs are stabbed with pain, until your legs give out from beneath you, and you crash to the ground.  

Your nails dig into the soil as you lay there. To breathe. To think. To cry. 

Maybe you could just wait here till dawn. Maybe then you could go back. Nobody would have to know you even left. 

But the chill of the crooked woods laugh at you. You hear the sound of old trees creaking in the wind, calling you foolish. 

You couldn’t go back, you’d attacked a male. There was nowhere for you now, just death.

Still, there was a senseless part of your brain that hoped this was all a wretched night terror. That any minute now you would wake up to your mom’s voice. And you would be in bed. And Flowering will have already passed. And you wouldn’t have went because your mom knew you didn’t want to. And she wouldn’t have wanted you to go through it either, because of how ruthless the males were. And your life would go on until the next year came around. And maybe then you would be ready. Maybe then you would have accepted it.

The other part of your brain was ready to be done with it all.

“[name]?” 

Your breath catches, unsteadily lifting yourself from the ground. You look around, searching for that familiar voice. 

 “Mother?” 

“[name], my child…” You see her. She was completely bare, something you were used to, her beauty a stark contrast to the spindly trees around her. She walks toward you crouching before you, you sob when she rests a soft hand on your cheek. So, so different from how she usually held you. Then she spoke in such a soft voice, a tone you’d never heard leave her mouth. “You looked so beautiful when you were screaming.” 

The next moment it felt like you were punched in the shoulder, a heat unlike any other burned your skin. You look down to see a blade sticking out of your chest, a shriveled-up hand attached. Not the smooth skin of your mother.

When you look back into your mother's eyes they were no longer hers. Replaced with a milky white that gleamed in the moonlight. The face no longer female or beautiful. It’s skin was stretched taught over its thin bones.

Then as it spoke again with a smile so wide, teeth so rotted, and breath so pungent you knew what it was. 

“Cry for me, child.” It said, sounding like a million different voices at once. 

A creature that preyed on the weak, found pleasure in the act of killing. It cannot be reasoned with, its only joy is to watch the life leave someone’s eyes. To watch people die a sad miserable death in the form of the ones they loved the most.

The Mymic.  

You scream, and it laughs. You scream louder as it twists the blade inside you and then drags. Ripping each nerve, muscle, and vein as slowly as possible. So you could feel each and every tear.

The creature howled in ecstasy as it tore into you, cutting you open endlessly. 

No one would save you, not this time. 

Nightmares don’t have happy endings. 

“So beautiful…” It sighed pulling the blade out of your chest only to play with the blood that pooled out, finger-painting your white gown red. 

*****

He couldn’t stand it, you were so still that Azriel had to keep making sure you were breathing. He holds you against him, unable to keep his hands from wandering, soothing you. Shadows doing the same. 

You’d been sleeping for two days straight. Madja kept assuring him and everyone else that you were okay. That it was a good thing, that your body was responding well to the tonic and catching up on the sleep it needed. 

The Faebane had cleaned out of your system after the first twenty-four hours. But no Hybern soldiers made any appearance, no evil king, not even a flicker in the fae lights.

His head leans against yours, watching your chest lift up and down. He moves a hand to rest there, watching it rise and fall. Finding comfort in the repetitive motion.

Maybe you weren’t made for him. Maybe the cauldron didn’t deem you mates. Maybe he didn’t care.

Azriel was content to just share something so real with you, so raw. 

A bond didn’t make what the two of you had any less intense. He didn’t need to be tethered to you to know what you were feeling. Didn’t need fate to tell him you were the love of his life. 

He’d always pick you.  

A small sound reaches his ears, he was so worried about you that he’d started having audio hallucinations. But then he heard it again, louder this time, and he knew it wasn’t a figment of his imagination.

Your breathing becomes irregular, another little noise leaving your parted lips. Azriel’s hands rub you soothingly. Waiting patiently for the sleep to fade from your body. Whispering when he could tell you were conscious enough to hear him. “Hey.” He drawls, making sure he's quiet. When you open your gorgeous eyes and look at him his heart stops. “There you are.” 

You blink at him. “You drugged me.” 

Azriel flinches at the words. Actually flinches. Then he nods. 

“My magic… I can feel it now but it was…” 

His hand reaches for yours, feeling relief when you let him take it. He runs his thumb over the smooth skin. “Faebane. We got some when Rhys was captured.” 

You look down at your free hand, willing a small moth to appear there. Checking that everything was working correctly. The moth flies up toward Azriel but it dissipates before it can get far.

You weren’t mad. Quite the opposite. You’d woken up and found yourself relieved. Relieved to see him there next to you. Relieved to be home. 

You weren’t angry because you knew he did it to help not to hurt. Sure, he could’ve gone about it in a different way, maybe presented the idea to you instead of just slipping the drug in your water. But you couldn’t fault him for that either, Azriel was a man of action and few words. 

Still that didn’t stop you from asking. “Why didn’t you just tell me?” 

“I didn’t even want to agree to it at first. So little is known about your kind, your magic, there was no telling if the Faebane would even effect you. I didn’t want to risk you getting stuck in that nightmare without the ability to heal.” 

Your eyes widen at the information. If he’d told you that, nothing would’ve gotten you to agree. But he took that chance? Azriel wasn’t a gambler. 

Your face must’ve shown what you were thinking because he continued. 

“Then you hurt yourself and I couldn’t take it anymore, [name]. You needed to get better.” He squeezes your hand. “If I have to fight off a living nightmare so you can get a night's sleep, I will.”

“Did you?” You ask, wondering if the male had made an appearance or the Mymic. 

Azriel shakes his head. You sigh in relief. Ignoring the way your stomach grumbled with hunger, in no hurry to force down tasteless food. No hurry to leave your male. You lay your head on his chest.

“I’m sorry.” You say, and he shakes his head at you in confused questioning. “For letting it get that far.” For not being strong enough to get a grip. 

The shadowsinger holds your head to his chest. “I’m sorry.” He presses his lips against your head, saying the words into your hair. “I wish I knew other ways to help.” 

Your hands grip him. Nails clinging to his bare skin. “I missed you.” The worst part about reliving that Nightmare, was that you hadn’t known he existed. That someone so amazing was out there, and capable of loving you. 

“I never left.” 

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[mari-lair]

Akane is not an enemy or an antagonist in this arc.

He has the key, he have power, and that is important, but his power is framed as a hope for Nene and Teru not an opposite force.

Akane doesn't hide anything about the situation, he is never antagonistic, or shows signs of wanting to trap them in the world: They are on the same side here. Kako was the one who changed the past, changed the timeline.

He is the one who called Nene and Teru to the student council. He planned to explain what is happening from the start.

Just compare him to Hanako, who was the antagonist in picture perfect: Hanako acts like he is right for trapping Nene, Akane is so unsure if he did the right thing he tries to reassure himself this future is better for everyone, regretting his decision when he learn no one is happy and not hesitating to put the key on the table when Teru asks why he went along with Kako plan. Hanako had broken the helpful brush the second it tried to say how to escape Mei's world. Akane said right away they have three days before their memories are overwriten, Hanako play the role of Amane, he wanted Kou and Nene to stay in the painting forever without even noticing they forgot their real lives.

Akane also genuinely doesn't know how to get back to the right time to move then back to the old timeline. Not for sure. He could just make things worse if he act reckless.

So as far as Nene and Teru are concerned, Akane is an asshole who didn't warn them about his very major duty, but who is still an ally, a ticket to get home.

But I'm sure you want to talk about the internal monologue that show he is reluctant to go to the original timeline despite all the issues in this one, which is likely the reason he wanted to convince himself and the crew that this is a better present in the first place.

And to this, I say: Anon he is right for being wary, he is not betraying anyone here, he is most likely saving their lives.

Yes, he wants to go back to his old world too, yes he doesn't like this new timeline and hates hurting his friends, but he is being logical. He is smart. If Teru and Nene or himself can't find a way to deal with the 'interference', this new and alien present will be better than their old present. Way better.

Do you remember why Kako resorted to such drastic measures in the first place?

Students are in serious danger, Nene will die in less than 1 year, Mitsuba was poisoned, the clock is broken, and MOST IMPORTANT the Yorishiros are being destroyed.

The Yorishiros are a big deal, their destruction literally means the world is unbalanced and at risk of collapsing into a mess where death and life no longer exist.

So if Akane joins the "let's dismiss the clock keepers and go back to EXACTLY how things were" train EVEN IF HE COULD, they would go to a timeline destined for destruction, which I would say is way worse than this new one. His search for Tsukasa is likely for two reasons: Make sure this new one also doesn't fall into chaos and hopefully find answers to help save their old timeline, if he can't save the old timeline at all, at least this one will have the treat eliminated.

I am confident if Nene and Teru find a way to fix their current timeline, you bet Akane will not get in the way, he'll go "how can i help?" as fast as he can.

He understands how dire the situation is, but he wants to help. He is clearly not on the keeper's side. I can kind of see him being placed in an antagonistic role depending on where the story goes with this setup, but he definitively isn't an enemy.

And it is indeed heavily implied if the 3 days deadline pass Akane will be the only one with memories. He'll be lonely. He'll have the worse fate of the group. But he has always been a self-sacrificial guy, so i am not surprised. I do still want to strangle him though.

[averageallogene]

After the battle against Osial and urged on by Paimon, Lumine tracks Xiao down to confess her feelings, only to find him on a family outing with you, his wife and your son.

Xiao ♡⊹˚  Couldn’t have known [SFW]

fem. reader (3rd person) ; don't know whether to tag this as angst, or fluff, or both??? It just depends on the perspective I suppose. Xiao and reader are married. Cw. for unrequited feelings of a third party.

5k words.

notes. Poor Lulu, it's okay babygirl I'll try to do you justice on another drabble in the future <\3. But at the same time I got to give Xiao some semblance of peace with wholesome family time so I suppose I can take the heartbreak. Hope you enjoy ✧˖°.

The wounds within the nation were still fresh. The Harbor was on edge, its people doing the best they could to return to everyday life as part of the destroyed homes had already begun reconstruction. If before the battle with Osial the fatui were at the very least viewed as neutral, they were now deeply hated by every Liyue citizen, the organization being completely shut off from the outside as some people even resorted to physical violence as a response for their involvement with the tragedy. 

Suffice to say, Liyue was still shaky. Their God was gone as far as most knew, and the Qixing was the top of the food chain now. And despite having averted the crisis fairly well, most couldn't help but wonder, would they be able to protect them as well as Rex Lapis had? Some were hesitant, whilst others clung with the hope that it would be smooth sailing from there. After all, even if their God was gone, his adepti still remained, as well as the now hailed Hero of Liyue. They would be safe. 

Lumine hadn't quite gotten used to the flair of being hailed a hero still - after all, her primary reason for being there was to look for her brother, simply having stumbled upon more chaos that she was shoved into without her being fully aware. Even still, she knew better than to have turned her back on an entire nation on the verge of crisis, and so she had stayed and stuck around far longer than what she would've initially liked. It wasn't all for naught, though - she met new wonderful people, got to know more of the world of Teyvat and its customs and cultures. She got to hone her skills and become stronger, as well as, as her gut told her, take a step forward towards the truth. 

Among the many she had met, one had seemingly stuck around in her mind - Xiao, the lonesome Conqueror of Demons that would mostly stick around Wangshu Inn. Admittedly he'd been rather curt at first, yet it soon became obvious he carried more on his shoulders than what he would admit. And on that, as well as other things, Lumine found herself relating to him. It was slow progress, but Xiao had begun to open up as well, leaving her small cracks from which she could peek into. It was as though he was testing the waters, seeing if she would find him repulsive or unapproachable. He wasn't, not to her. 

He had been there for her, during the confrontation with Osial. It had been perhaps one of the only times thus far on her journey where Lumine had truly felt like she wouldn't make it, were it not for the aid of her allies. It had been a day filled with raw emotions, amplifying them beneath the surface and under the obvious threat from which they had lived through. And it was only after the fact, when she had taken some time to rest and ponder, that the emotions began to set, carving themselves into stone.

"I think it's quite obvious what needs to be done." Paimon had placed her hands on her hips, hovering close to her face as she gazed upon her with narrowed eyes.

"Oh? What are you talking about, Paimon?" Lumine feigned ignorance, an eyebrow being raised as she made a last ditch effort to avoid the topic.

"Don't play dumb with me, missy! I know you very well, you know?" The fair haired fairy pointed her finger to her, before shaking her head. "It's obvious you're head over heels over the lonesome adeptus Xiao. And the last thing I wanna see, is my companion regret not confessing her true feelings."

Well, she had to give it to Paimon. She could be simply and only driven by food, sure, but she had a more keen eye than what Lumine had really thought. 

The traveler huffed with a weak laugh, her head shaking. "No no, I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?!" She seemed utterly flabbergasted. "Wait, you're not even denying it-"

"What if I make him uncomfortable?" She thought aloud, eyebrows furrowing. "Or, let's say that I do manage to confess. What then? I can't expect him to leave Liyue behind."

"No one has to leave anything behind. We can always periodically return to Liyue Harbor while we travel!" Her flying companion suggested, her head nodding at her own proposal. 

She watched as Lumine seemed to consider that idea, a small sigh leaving her lips as she pondered over her options. As a seasoned adventurer, she had to, along her journey, learn to always consider the less favored outcomes an option. Were she to be rejected, she and Paimon would simply have to haste their move to their next nation… Yet, the idea of it not ending like that… It alone seemed to be enchanting enough for her to, in the end, decide to go forward with Paimon’s proposal.  

“It’ll go well, trust Paimon on this one!” She kicked her smaller feet in the air, her eyes sparkling with great hope for her companion. She helped Lumine pack before they were to head off to Wangshu Inn, the hailed Hero of Liyue feeling nervous for the first time in a little while. “There’s no way it won’t end well, Lumine! After all, you’re downright perfect!”

She couldn’t have known. Paimon couldn’t have known, either. It honestly was something even most adepti didn’t know of - it was something Xiao kept close to his chest, only a select few knowing about that side of him. He cared naught for finding a partner, never had in the eons he’d existed for. He saw no need. 

That was, until he had met [F/N]. A mere mortal, yet one he loved with his whole being.

It had been rough to come to terms with his emotions. It had been rocky, a steep climb for  [F/N] to be allowed in; yet somehow, she had managed to reach the peak, finding at the end of her journey a side Xiao would only reveal to her - it was always present, in the way he gazed upon her, his golden eyes reflecting the warm sunset that would bathe them each dusk that she visited him in Wangshu Inn. It was always present, in the way his gloved hand would hold her own, delicately, almost afraid to break her as if she were made of porcelain. He wasn’t one to outwardly express his emotions, yet the silence with him had felt comforting. It felt like a safe haven, Xiao finally finding a semblance of peace each time [F/N] would bless him with her presence. 

He was very well aware of the fleeting existence mortals led. It broke him each time he thought about it, yet, as [F/N] had asked him of, he’d always tried to think instead of the present. Even still, it was always something that had been at the back of his mind, ever since he’d finally accepted his emotions, and allowed her into his life. It gave him all the more reason to ensure she was safe, that only those who he could truly trust knew of her existence - for, when he couldn’t be there, they would ensure she wasn’t in danger. 

And this worry only doubled when [F/N] had confided in him that she, indeed, was carrying his child. Well, it had certainly been a surprise, and Xiao… He at first panicked. He had never thought about ever loving someone, let alone creating a little one alongside another. It took a lot of talking, a lot of gentle touches and hugging. But in the end, like everything else with his [F/N], Xiao knew it would be okay. 

On that lovely day, [F/N] and their youngling had waited for him by the Inn, their usual room ready and waiting for them. By that point, the boy was only two, yet he already showed so much life and personality that it never failed to knock the wind out of his father. As per usual, Smiley Yanxiao would, exclusively, allow [F/N] access to his kitchen so she could cook food for her little boy, as well as her husband who would be arriving later as he’d promised - why? Her almond tofu was simply the best, and whenever Xiao could, he’d rather eat hers than any other chef’s. And who was she to deny her diligent beloved, who worked tirelessly to defend their land? When compared to all the terrifying work and responsibilities Xiao held, a simple dish felt like child’s play. Yet he always, always cherished such an act so deeply, it felt like it was the other way around.  

[F/N] had already fed their son before Xiao had arrived, gently holding him in her arms as they walked calmly across the Inn’s upper balcony. Patting his back with rhythm, her eyes peered out into the distance, the wind blowing ever so gently across her face, eyes shimmering with the light of the sun as all was peaceful. She hadn’t even heard Xiao arrive, his figure simply appearing on the wooden rails near her, his body perfectly balanced on the small surface as his mask dissipated before either of them could see him. His face, previously scowling with the horrors he regularly faced, immediately softened upon landing on the two people he loved the most, spear neatly placed away as his feet finally touched the balcony.

“Qingxin…” He called out his beloved, watching as she turned around with the same amount of love and excitement she would always display whenever he arrived. It never failed to melt his heart.

“Xiao, you’re back!” [F/N] sighed in relief, eyes softening as she hastily made her way to him. Meeting halfway, he carefully embraced her, foreheads touching as he felt his weary body finally relax. “Welcome home, my love.”

“...Thank you.” He murmured, his lips brushing against the top of her head as his hand rested on her lower back. His words felt heavier than a simple sign of gratitude, one that ran deeper and meant far more. One that [F/N] understood far too well, but didn’t dwell on. Instead, she smiled his way, her arms still carrying their bundle of joy with care. 

“Papa!” Their young boy chirped out, his attention clearly gravitating towards his father. His little arms were already stretching out, yearning for Xiao to hold him after being apart for a long while. And while Xiao always showed hesitancy to, he never found the strength to deny his little son.

Carefully the adeptus picked his son up, the softest smile making its way to his pale face as his golden eyes gazed at his son’s. [F/N] had always stated how his son was a mirroring image of himself, and with each passing day, Xiao could deny that reality less and less. His hair color was the same deep dark green, streaks of a lighter tone along his tiny locks. His cheeks, chubby, hid away the smallest little pointed teeth that resembled his own. His eyebrows, never furrowed like his father’s, displayed the same shape and sharpness. The only thing he seemed to have picked from his mother had been the color of his eyes, the same beautiful shade Xiao could drown himself in - and even still, the eye shape had been taken from him, the same little diamond pupils staring back at him with the wonder and adoration of a pure child. His child. He still could hardly believe it. 

“It’s okay, love. Here, just like this…” [F/N] gently coaxed him, noticing how his arms trembled the slightest - mostly due to exhaustion, but always partially to anxiety. After all, what if he tainted his little boy? What of his karmic debt? Everyday he prayed such a thing would never happen, hoping he would develop some kind of resistance due to his bloodline; yet even still, it was always a possibility.

His little arms flailed around, practically leaping for Xiao’s embrace as he hugged his neck. Xiao couldn’t help but let out the quietest of laughs, holding him with more confidence under his wife’s guidance. His eyes landed on the vajra necklace he would always have around his neck, one of the many religious items he’d given the two of them in order to ward off evil when he himself wasn’t around. In truth, [F/N] did it more to ease her husband’s mind than anything, but that was something she’d take to the grave - she knew she was safe even when he didn’t stand next to them, but then again, she would never be one to go against his wishes; they were never many, anyway. 

“You must be tired. Here, come sit. I made you your favorite.” [F/N] smiled his way, signaling for him to sit at the table they would usually take. Without hesitation he followed suit, his eyes following his wife’s movements as she presented him his dish. 

“Thank you, qingxin.” Xiao murmured, his eyes softening at the sight as he could finally feel his heavy soul at ease. He took his seat, carefully shifting his son to sit on his lap whilst securing him with one arm around him - more of a precaution than anything, for the simple fact his little one did behave wonderfully most of the time.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to hold him while you eat?” [F/N] smiled, humored by the absolutely endearing sight of her husband holding their little one. The way his cheeks gained the faintest hint of color didn’t escape her gaze, yet she knew better than to embarrass her poor little adeptus. 

“No need, I can eat like this just fine.” He responded.

Or in other words, No thank you, I really want to hold our little boy like this. [F/N] already knew her lover very well despite his attempts at keeping himself at arms length for the longest time, so reading in between the lines wasn’t difficult. All she could do was nod her head, a delightful smile across her lips as she sat with them, pleasant conversation filling the air. How had their day been, where they had gone, who they’d been with… Xiao listened to it all, his leg bouncing gently, up and down, up and down, his child content with the rhythmic movement as his tiny hands rested against his arm. 

The sky was still painted in the loveliest strokes of oranges and blues upon the pair arriving at their final destination. The journey had been otherwise uneventful, only further filling Lumine with the slightest creeping anxiety as the tall Inn was seen in the distance. Surely, she had figured, Xiao would be there. It was the only place she knew he’d have any sort of roots in, and given the fact she dared not abuse her permission for calling upon him, she figured paying a visit was the next best option. 

“Come on, that’s the Wangshu Inn in the distance!” Paimon pointed, her smaller body flying across the air as her friend picked up the pace as well. Her stomach already rumbled after their trip, and truth be told, the little fairy already planned to grab herself a few plates whilst watching from the distance the scene unfold. 

“Hey, wait up Paimon!” The young woman sighed, her scarf blowing against the wind as they hastily came closer and closer to the structure. 

There were very few guests aside from the regulars, of which the owners could count with their fingers. Verr Goldet was finishing up taking care of a few details at the front desk before she heard a set of steps rushing up her stairs, her eyes gluing to the entrance of their Inn before she finally spotted a familiar figure. 

“Ah, Lumine, Paimon! What a surprise to see you once more.” She smiled kindly, her hands resting in front of her figure as the blonde woman caught her breath. “And what brings you to the Wangshu Inn tonight? Seeking to book a room?”

“Hi miss Verr-” Lumine smiled amidst the heavy breathing, both her and Verr being cut off with Paimon who happily interjected.

“Hi boss lady! Is Xiao back yet?”

“For the last time, I am not ‘boss lady’.” Verr shot her a look, to which Paimon silently apologized for. “And… May I inquire as to why you’d like to see him at such a time?”

Usually, Verr Goldet wouldn’t be one to deny them the knowledge of the Conqueror of Demons’ whereabouts; after all, they were friends and allies. However, given the company he currently had, the woman couldn’t help but wish to avert any unwanted visitors to their family time. Not to mention, she herself, as well as her husband, had gotten quite protective of [F/N] and their little one - as if, by some strange mortal bond Xiao couldn’t quite understand, they had considered them their extended family. 

“Oh… Are we intruding on something?” Paimon asked, her voice growing softer.

“Well, it’s just that, as you know, the Conqueror of Demons is a very busy adeptus.” That much wasn’t a lie. “He’s expressed his wish for visits to be limited for the time being, lest something be really urgent.” …That however, was something he himself hadn’t requested of her. 

“Oh, if that’s the case-” Lumine, being understanding as she was, attempted to avert the situation. After all, they could always ask for some of his time the following day.

“It kind of is.” Paimon however, once more, chimed in. “After all, we came all the way from Liyue Harbor for this!” She was now planting her hands on her hips once more. “Besides, we won’t take long.”

Verr Goldet’s expression didn’t falter, though she was rather ticked over how they seemed to not catch the hint. “Well, even still-”

“He’s probably upstairs, isn’t he? If not we can always call on his name. Come on Lumine, up we go!”

“Hey, I’m talking to you!” The owner was practically left to speak to the wall as they were already up the flight of stairs, her eyes widened as she sighed in frustration. Hopefully, she prayed, it wouldn’t be a big ruckus; not that [F/N] would mind, ever. More so from Xiao’s end. 

Being practically dragged up to the balcony by the suddenly overtly strong Paimon, Lumine nearly trampled on her own feet as she could feel her heart palpitate stronger and louder. The heat that rose to her face couldn’t be hidden for any longer, and all she could hope was that Xiao was there, and that all would go well. Why was she so… Nervous? She’d fought against many monsters, defeated abyss mages, aided in the saving of Dvalin and the defeat of Osial, yet how was a simple opening of her own heart causing such a ruckus within her?

The husky voice of Xiao was unmistakable as they finally reached the balcony, her head turning to her right as she took a deep breath. He seemed… To be calmer, at peace. His voice softer while still speaking in the usual tone she had grown used to. Paimon let go of her hand as she flew ahead, silent for long enough until the adventurer was able to pick up another voice - an unknown one, being a soft and female giggle. 

“Xiao! Xiao, you in here?” Paimon called out, rounding up the balcony in search of the adeptus.

In the table in which they stood, the Conqueror of Demons seemingly froze, his eyebrows immediately lowering as a smallest scowl reappeared on his face. He held his child a little tighter, his head turning to gaze to where the known voice had come from. [F/N] followed suit, her head turning before landing on her husband once more, curious over anything else whilst silently inquiring him who it could be - after all, he seemed to know who the voice belonged to. And in most other circumstances, he wouldn’t exactly mind to hear the talkative pixie nor her friend, yet when it came to such sacred time with his family… He couldn’t help but feel his mood grow sour. 

“Oh, there you are-!” Paimon chirped whilst Lumine came right behind her. However, she stopped in place, no longer approaching him. The voice died on her throat before she gazed around, her colorful eyes skipping through the two unknown people.

“...You two.” Xiao called out, his body having already turned in his chair while remaining sat still. His hands were holding his son in his lap, who too eyed them still, though his carefree expression deeply differed from the seemingly annoyance Xiao displayed. “What’s the matter? Is everything alright?”

“Ah, you’re… Accompanied…” The white haired guide seemed to have suddenly grown embarrassed, her eyebrows furrowing softly as she felt even smaller under the intense gaze the Conqueror of Demons sent their way. “...S-Sorry, we didn’t know-”

“Didn’t Verr Goldet tell you?” Xiao had let out without thinking much, his wife to his side softly muttering his name he cleared his throat. It was only then his face seemingly relaxed, gazing back at her for a mere moment.

“Are they your friends?” [F/N] smiled kindly, her hands extending briefly before taking their little boy into her arms once more. 

“...Yes.” Xiao nodded his head. The way his beloved’s face lit up was enough to melt him away, finding it outright adorable how she seemed to always… Be happy, whenever he spoke of others he held in high regard. To him it was strange, how she apparently thought it was such a big deal. 

“It’s alright, go and talk to them! We have the whole night ahead of us,” [F/N] warmly reassured him, while Xiao attempted to keep the pout from forming on his face. The last thing he wanted to do during his family time was have guests over, but since they probably had gone out of their way to get there… He didn’t want to cause a bad impression to [F/N], anyway. “We’ll stay here, since we don’t know if it’s something private. If not, just look our way and we’ll join you straight away!”

His boy seemed to agree with his mother’s statement, babbling on as they both watched Xiao hesitantly get up from his seat. The Adeptus calmly walked their way, his gaze somewhat sharper than what Lumine would’ve liked. Unlike Paimon, who was still somewhat oblivious, she had already begun to piece the puzzle together - the way he had glanced at that young woman, the way they had been sitting together, the way the little child looked so similar to him… It was difficult to think of any other possibilities. 

It was difficult to keep oneself from breaking down at the realization. 

“...Yes, Paimon, Lumine?” The traveler had been shaken out of her thoughts as his eyes bore into hers, patiently waiting for them to speak up.

“Hi Xiao,” Paimon took the lead upon Lumine taking longer to talk than what she would’ve guessed. “We didn’t know you had company, haha… So… Who are they?”

“...” It wasn’t as though Xiao himself was exactly bothered with Paimon’s general nosiness, more so he was annoyed they had been interrupted for seemingly meaningless banter. Here he was, thinking there was something wrong and his assistance was needed, actually getting up from the table where his family stood to greet them for nothing happening after the fact. 

His head turned around to gaze back at his wife, who bounced her leg up and down slightly to amuse their son as he would usually like. Their eyes met, and with the softening way in which he looked at her, [F/N] understood everything was alright. It relieved her to know so, taking the moment to get up and hold their son before approaching them with a kind and sunny smile. Paimon and Lumine watched as they approached, the little youngling’s eyes scanning them before landing on the adeptus once more, refusing to look anywhere else after the fact. Up close, it was even more undeniable who exactly the little boy was, his hair color and shape exactly the same as Xiao’s, as well as his little brows who sported a much more relaxed expression. 

“Hi! I’m [F/N]. Pleased to meet any friends of Xiao.” [F/N] spoke softly, introducing herself to the pair before her baby was wriggling in a vain attempt to jump out of her arms.

“Papa…” He shyly mumbled, his arms stretching in his direction as he seemingly didn’t give up in his pursuit of remaining in daddy’s arms. 

Lumine couldn’t help but smile weakly, even as her heart wilted. The image before her was… Adorable, she couldn’t deny that. The way Xiao’s face gained color, embarrassed by the display of affection to a crowd as his significant other attempted hushing their son from interrupting them. And despite the utter shock she felt from not only realizing Xiao had a lover but also had already formed a family, she couldn’t help but glance at them still.

“It’s alright love.” Xiao murmured, the last word barely above a whisper as his cheeks were by that point the same shade of the jueyun chili. “Here, let me hold him.”

“Ah… Sorry. He really wants daddy time, huh.” [F/N] laughed softly, carefully letting go of the boy before his arms were wrapped tightly around his father’s neck, his face nuzzling against him as he hid his gaze from the strangers. The young woman turned to the pair, who remained quiet, an apologetic smile on her face. “I apologize, he can get quite shy around new people.”

“No, don’t worry about it…” Paimon let out in struggle, the cogs inside her head nearly visible as she was rather late to the party when it came to figuring out what exactly the relation was here. 

“So,” Xiao broke the chit chat short, clearing his throat before attempting to be… More courteous. Not for himself, but for his wife. “Is there anything I can help you with? After all, you did call out my name.”

“Ah,” Suddenly Paimon remembered what the exact initial plan was, panicking inwardly as she floated rather awkwardly around Lumine. The adventurer, on the other hand, seemed outwardly calm, the forced smile on her face remaining. “Well, about that-”

“We just thought of passing by to bid our goodbyes,” Lumine finished it for her, leaving her companion quiet and Xiao somewhat surprised. “Since Liyue is stable now, we’re thinking of continuing our journey towards Inazuma.”

“...Oh, I see.” Xiao responded, tone quiet as he nodded his head gently. “Are you sure you’re ready to leave?”

“Yeah, it was… About time, anyway.” Lumine awkwardly laughed, her hand rubbing the back of her neck as she averted her gaze for a solid second. “We still have a lot of questions that need answering.”

[F/N]’s expression shifted to worry and sorrow, somewhat bummed that they wouldn’t join them for a little longer, or she wouldn’t exactly get to know personally those friends of her husband’s. More so, the concern on her face also extended further to Lumine, something in her gut telling her the young woman before her was hurting deeper than what appeared to be. Call it a woman's intuition. 

“I see. Inazuma… You’ll be far away.” Xiao thought aloud, his arms shifting gently to ensure the comfort of his son as he seemed to calm down in his embrace, lulled to sleep by his husky voice. “Still, if you ever return and need any help, you know how to seek me out.”

“Please be safe out there.” [F/N] added, a soft smile ever present on her face before her gaze jumped between them. “Still, it’s getting late for you to begin your journey back… Won’t it be best to stay the night and leave in the morning?”

“No, we’ll be fine.” Lumine shook her head, the bitterness in her tongue being swallowed as she smiled [F/N]’s way. She couldn’t hold anything against the woman in front of her - she was being nothing but kind to them. “If we get to the Harbor by dawn, all the better.”

“Ah… Alright…” [F/N] understood, still thinking of ways to help them however she could. “Would you like for me to pack you some food, though? It’s a long way back.”

Xiao couldn’t help but glance his wife’s way, his gaze softening as the smallest smile rose on his lips. He simply couldn’t have enough of her, not ever, especially when she displayed the same caring nature that had broken down his walls in the first place.

Lumine however, only wanted to leave as soon as possible. “No, it’s alright thank you. We’ll be going now, yes Paimon? Goodbye Xiao, [F/N]. Stay safe.”

And before the floating pixie could even have a word on the matter, they were already descending the stairs, the young woman’s legs sending her flying as her mind blurred to a shapeless stain. Before she even realized they were already far from the Inn, Paimon’s soft tone of voice attempting to call her back as she nervously tried to apologize, try to cheer her up, try to distract her…

It wasn’t Paimon’s fault. Neither of them could’ve known, really. She’d suggested their visit in high hopes after all, it was alright. She would be alright. After all… 

The way Xiao smiled so softly. The way he glanced at [F/N] in such a matter, the way he held the young boy with such care. He looked happy. He was happy. And even if it wasn’t with her… Lumine was sure one day, the sorrow would subside and substitute itself with happiness for him. 

He deserved it all and more.

[nocturnesmoon]

I have thoughts spurring around in my head like feral cats chasing a bouncy ball, and I'm making it everyone's problem.

What if we take the world of star wars, and smash you and the 141 into it.

There are so many different combinations and turns this could take, but what I'm thinking about is the 141, ex-military turned smugglers, and you a Jedi in hiding after order 66.

The clone wars have finally come to its brutal end, and the empire has taken over the known galaxy. The Jedi have been portrayed as traitors and have been promptly executed, and the rest forced into hiding.

It looks bleak for anyone still holding onto the hope of the republic, anyone not willing to adapt to the new world gets destroyed right along with the old.

The 141 being forcefully retired, not that they minded at this point they knew it was a losing fight. With their options limited, and not keen to do the empire's bidding, or anyone's bidding ever again, they chose the obvious choice, to run.

It wasn't the ideal outcome, but with a timer on their lives, and conflicted opinions, Price took charge of the group. He knew that right now survival was the only thing that mattered, that his men would still live to see another day.

The year of acclimating to their new life was rough, they were used to sticking together but they also normally had more direction than this. Being wanted in any area governed by the empire limited a lot of work options for them.

It quite honestly didn't take long before Price resorted to less moral means, it was how their career as smugglers started.

With Gaz's excellent piloting skills, Soap's weaponry and science knowledge, Ghost's brute strength and intimating demeanor, and Price's own smooth tongue and connections, it was the most optimal choice.

And much to the their own surprise, they're pretty damn good at it.

They make good money smuggling a lot of different things across the galaxy, food, weapons, illegal goods. They take almost any job they can get in the start; they don't have time to be picky just yet, they need the credits more than good morals.

Their wanted status is likely to never get alleviated, but they combat it by never settling in one place too long. They prioritize the credits they have and get a ship big enough for both their job and to house the four of them. They're already used to being close, while this is a step further it's nothing any one of them has anything against.

They all agreed that they would stay together, they started this together and they'll end it together.

A few years in they have gotten quite the reputation for themselves, at least among other known smugglers and wanted criminals. They get bigger job opportunities, higher pay, more risk.

The bond they forge between each other is something none of them could explain, but they embrace its qualities, it's comfort and pleasure.

Some things are better to just leave unexplained and enjoy while they last. The only thing they have is each other, and they've grown quite content with that.

That was until something unexpected crash landed into their lives.

Docked at some lesser-known planet in system of farmers, they had originally planned to stop there for a few days to stock up on supplies and look for less likely work opportunities. Farmers sometimes had some strange inquiries they were quite content spending massive amounts of the little credits they have.

It was a peaceful little community, none the wiser to the person hiding amongst them. You, a Jedi who somehow survived the purge of order 66, posing as mechanic. Outside of your Jedi teachings, you had clear proficiency in anything creating and fixing.

It had been the perfect cover during the last year, who would suspect that the innocent mechanic trying to get by would harbor such a grave secret. That the kind person living in the rundown house, would be so full of survivors’ guilt that it was nothing short of a miracle they were still going.

It had roughly been 2 years since order 66, 2 years since you had survived and fled, 2 years on the run from the empire and the usual calm feeling of the force now gone.

Images still fresh on your brain despite the time, of your master, of your friends, those you'd considered your family dying from blasters that once aided them.

Every time you reached out through the force it was now hollow, the echo going into your brain and body, reminding you of the terrifying fact that you were truly alone.

You had no idea why you survived out of everyone, not even a fully trained Jedi, a mere Padawan with few accomplishments to their name. You shouldn't have survived that, someone better should be here in your place, yet no matter how much you think those thoughts, you can't change the reality.

The small farmer planet had been a good hiding spot for quite a while, you even dared to make a few friends during your stay. Despite it being less of a good idea you still kept your blade, the kyber crystal within being the only thing giving you comfort in your grief. Though you hadn't expected to ever need it again, especially not this soon.

Never had you expected that the empire would set their sights here, nor had you expected your methods of hiding had actually been that horrible. It didn't take them longer than a few days ‘til the people you thought friends practically turned you in.

You couldn't find it in your heart to blame them, the empire had very convincing methods, yet it still meant you were forced into a run for your life.

When the 141 had set their sights on this planet they hadn't expected the empire to already be here when they arrived. Price had insisted that the planet was still free, and he was right, a week ago.

They remained inconspicuous, did their shopping, and didn't snoop around too long. There was no need to get the empire hot on their tails once again.

When Ghost and Gaz went into the market, they intended on staying out of trouble, and technically they weren't the ones roped into it.

When they first spotted you, running from a few storm troopers, lightsaber blade raised, they nearly didn't believe their own eyes. All the Jedi were supposed to be dead, yet here you were, a sight to behold.

Nothing about their next actions were ruled by logic, if you ask them later about what they were thinking they couldn't tell you, because the only thing that was a priority now was to help you.

Perhaps it was some sort of obligation, maybe a sliver of hope for something better, or maybe it was just something about you that tugged at them, making them want to protect and help you.

Backed into a cornered alley, almost having lost your pursuers you felt the new threat loom behind you. A technique that was familiar in ways you couldn't explain, and too fast for you to register and counter. You were knocked out cold, and the next time you woke you were on a spaceship in space.

To say that Price was furious with the two was an understatement, they had more or less kidnapped someone unprompted. While Soap found the situation hilarious, he also had a feeling there was way more to this, and a possible danger they could've avoided.

When you wake it's Price that greets you, making sure to establish himself to not be a threat to you, so you didn't do anything drastic. You were on edge, understandably so, but he managed to explain the situation while also avoiding the main topic at hand.

You knew it would come up, he was toying with your lightsaber in his hands while you talked, and no matter how much you stared it down you didn't dare lunge for it yet. The dreaded question, and the answer that people had such varying reactions to.

"You're Jedi?"

You had expected something else when you confirmed to him what you were, what you've been since you could remember. A part of you had expected them to be bounty hunters, ready to turn you over to the empire at a moment’s notice. The reward on your head would be great, you imagine, yet that's not what he does.

He reminisces instead, telling you of a Jedi he once knew, of how he and his men had fought alongside a few of them on special occasions. Never had you imagine that this is where you would end up, in the metaphorical arms of people who could care maybe just a little.

He gave you an offer, they could drop you off at whatever location you requested, or they could work a sort of partnership.

You don't know what to make of it at first. They seem genuine, but people have ratted you out for less. You don't have a lot of options, going somewhere else and trying to find another inconspicuous farming planet wasn't the most viable choice, but neither was bunking with them. Who knew what kind of people they were.

Your chances were not the best, and unfortunately you had a sneaking suspicion they knew that. Whether their intentions were noble or just pity, you decided to take the risk and stay. If it all came crashing down, you'd still have your training, it had gotten you this far, it could get you further.

The first few days you stayed with them was tense, they were all in agreement on keeping you, there was nothing hostile about it, but it was still tense. It was partially your own doing, you walked on eggshells around them, never letting any of them behind you, etc. etc.

They understood to an extent, the way they met you wasn't exactly on the best of terms, it was natural for you to be cautious. So, they let you have your space, they don't pressure you into anything but do try to coax you into a more comfortable environment with them.

The crack starts to form when you see them all gathered in the main area of the ship, laughing, talking, playing a game you're unfamiliar with. Soap is the first to notice you staring, with a big grin on his face he invites you to join them. Hesitant but interested you approach.

Price explains the rules to you, and you get to watch for a round or two before you join in on your own. They go easy on you but you're a quick learner, and it doesn't take long before you become quite vicious in your play.

It becomes a common thing, almost nightly that they all gather to spend time together. The bond between each other grows fast, and it's not long before you start feeling like this is exactly where you're meant to be.

Settling in with them becomes easier and easier, as if they had always waited for another person to welcome in with them. To fill a missing part, they didn't know they needed.

While keeping the secret of what you are is the topmost priority, you end up helping them out on jobs. Due to your training you're very adaptable, able to fill any position where something was missing.

You were an excellent mechanic when the ship was down, and with Gaz's magic touch it halved the time it usually took to repair.

Soap had a really fun time explaining a bunch of different things about weaponry and the science behind it. There had been a lot of different questions you had in the clone wars that was left unanswered, you could finally have someone enthusiastic that could explain them to you.

A lot of long rides were spent like that, of you asking him questions and then more questions because the math he talked about in the first question was confusing.

Even though you were just a Padawan back then, you still had made your fair share of connections during the clone wars. People that you and your old master had come across, and old friends outside of the Jedi order.

Price found it very useful, and though most of the connections you had were friendship and not business, it could still be used as such. A few of them he even helped rekindle, you've been grateful for that ever since.

Though the Jedi order is no more you still try to keep up with your training. You have no guidance any longer, nothing new to look at, but you can maintain what you know.

The others are happy to help you with it as well, they know it's important to you and a part of them have always found it fascinating how you train.

Occasionally you'd have them all surround you in a circle, setting their blasters to stun and randomly shooting at you. It helped sharpening your senses, helped you rely on the force to guide your hand, and to deflect more accurately.

You'd do a lot of training with Ghost that wasn't necessarily Jedi training. While you did a lot of mental training on your own, the physical part was something Ghost had a lot of enjoyment in helping you with.

Sparring, running, lifting, anything he could think of that would help you, he did, and it quickly became thing for you two to train together.

It wasn't anything you had expected with them, not in a million years would you have imagined ending up here. It was a thing you couldn't predict, but neither was order 66.

Nobody you knew had been able to foresee the collapse of the Jedi order. Some things were just left up to chance, and currently here with the 141, you liked your odds.

I just finished reading the book project hail mary, and not too long ago i reread the Ahsoka book. So safe to say i've been in a bit of a space mood, still am.

And what better way to utilize that, than combine my hyperfixation on the 141 and my special interest star wars hehe.

[lappel-du-vide83]

Heavy headcannon time with a bunch of songs because I realised that a lot of songs from marina work very well for both og cale and our cale WAIT LET ME COOK

the gremlin in my brain craves angst as sustenance so no happy songs :(

OK Are you Satisfied? For og!Cale like the beginning itself "am I supposed to be happy that my life was just about to change?" LIKE THE DEAL WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO JUST BANK ON SOME RANDOM GUY TO MAYBE SAVE THE WORLD MIGHT HIGHKEY DESTROY IT OR RUIN YOUR REPUTATION LIKE THAT DEAL WAS THE LAST POSSIBLE RESORT and the rest of song is just sad but like I said headcannon ANGST

a close parallel for our cale is Oh No! Cause it really highlights how I think of him? Like slacking or protecting his family comes first, his "success" and nothing else and like people calling him emotionless ( I was ready to throw HANDS at them btw) and the song vibes also kinda fit

SEVENTEEN for both but more og cale cause like the switch happened when he was around 18 right practically 17 (do you see the delusion) BUT my main thing here is "the rise of a king and the fall of a queen" BUCKLE UP IM INSERTING FEELINGS THAT WERE NEVER MENTIONED I think that og cale would be really happy for our cale like at least one person got a better life but I don't really think he enjoys his current life as much? AND WAIT BEFORE YOU KILL ME I don't think he's gonna live for a long time (constant danger, self sacrificial and the already numerous scars) he only has his niece which is a reincarnation of his mother but he can't tell her that?? And the teammates might be close but they all seem not as close as our og cale's family ( AND THERE ARE VERY COOL OG CALE TEAMMATES FICS OUT THERE THAT SHOW IT VERY DIFFERENTLY AND I LOVE THEM AND THE AUTHORS but ANGST) so there might just be teeniest bit of hopelessness because the whole reason he was fighting for is like gone and he knows his dimension is being taken care of so maybe he feels like living just to protect his teammates and pay back our cale. BUT I DIGRESS, it was the rise of our cale but the fall of og cale (have you seen that one tiktok of like no one cared about cale until it was krs! Cale it got me kicking screaming crying-) SO YES JUST THE GENERAL FEELING OF IM HAPPY ONE OF US IS GOING TO LIVE LONG WITH OUR FAMILY BECAUSE OUR CALE ALSO GETS REUNITED WITH CJS AND LSH (so happy for him tho) and I can do a whole spiel on like the very happy apathy I think I see in the side chapters that support this but this is too long so thanks for reading and feel free to suggest more songs or your own takes :)

[desert-fern]

This Love is Fireproof - Robert Floyd X Reader

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd X Fem!Reader

Summary: With an out of control wildfire looming close to your home, you and your fiancé, Bob, do everything you can to keep it together in order to pack up your lives. But it all crashes down around you when you begin to think of what you could lose, but Bob is there, reminding you that your love burns brighter than any fire.

Warnings: angst, fire, loss of homes, evacuation, fear, hurt/comfort, open/ambiguous ending

A/N: So, this one hit hard. As of the day that I am writing this, part of my hometown and a few neighbouring ones are being evacuated due to fires in the area. I haven’t been evacuated, but my family and I had/have had to go through trying to pack up our lives and the fear of losing our house.

===

The waiting. That was always the worst part. Every second that ticked by felt like hours and you could hardly bear it much longer. You kept your eyes peeled out the kitchen window, just waiting for Robby’s truck to pull up. He’d gone down to the grocery for essentials; water bottles, batteries, flashlights, masks, plus a whole assortment of non perishables that would last you both long into this evacuation.

Evacuation.

One word. Five syllables that shot fear through your heart faster and deeper than anything you had experienced before. Hell, even a deployment couldn’t compare to this, because at least you had a home to live in, to miss your fiancé in, to hope that his pilot brought him home to you. But this was something new all together.

The wildfires raged on only a few short miles from your neighborhood, sending up thick plumes of acrid smoke that turned the sky a noxious orange-sepia colour and the sun a scarlet red. Anything caught outside seemed to choke on it, people’s eyes watering like the bursts being used to fight the ever-encroaching flames and headaches that pounded like thunder. Ash fell from the sky like morbid snowflakes, settling in the long dry gutters and river beds, suffocating the world in a cloud of white, grey, the only remnants of long-destroyed brush.

And it was hot. God, it was so hot.

California in the summer was always unbearably hot, but weeks straight with no rain in sight had created a landscape that was a tinderbox just waiting to go up in flames. Hell, you had heard stories of fires starting from dry grass just touching a hot tail pipe on a truck that had pulled over. All this to say, it took next to nothing for a spark to take off, burning a forest down in days.

The Douglas River fire had sparked not three days earlier, the cause unknown, and had ballooned in size so rapidly it surprised you how much damage had been done in only a few days. Campsites, a lakeside resort, cabins, and hundreds - if not thousands - of homes were gone. As far as you knew, the casualties continued to rise as fire swept through the region hell-bent on destroying anything in its path. Thousands had already been ordered to evacuate, leaving their homes with nothing more than a few memories packed up in the backseats of their cars and trucks. For some, they left their whole lives behind, scarcely able to grab a single memento of the years they had spent on this Earth.

You wouldn’t let that happen. You couldn’t.

That was why the second you heard of a spot fire, a loose ember latching onto the dry terrain, erupting some 20 miles away, you started packing. Even as you received the evacuation alert, you threw every precious memory you had with your fiancé in boxes and bags, stashing them near the door. You had to be ready at a moment’s notice and you refused to leave anything behind to be devoured.

The crunching of gravel broke you from your thoughts as you watched Bob’s black truck pull into the driveway, the front door swinging open and letting in the smell of burning that clogged your nostrils along with Bob. “Sunshine?” He called out to you, coughing as he pulled his mask off. His normally crystal-clear blue eyes were red and teary behind his glasses, suffering from the effects of the smoke since it had blown in days ago. Now, he was begging silently for it all to stop, for rain to fall, for something, anything to stop this blaze in its tracks, just so he didn’t have to leave the home the two of you had built.

He would personally fight every single ember that crossed your property line if it meant you both could stay. But you couldn’t. The State of California had declared a state of emergency not two hours before and with resources stretched so thin before Douglas River had ignited, things were looking bleak.

“In the kitchen!” You called back, blinking back the sudden wave of emotion that threatened to overcome you. You were staring at the fridge, catching sight of the pictures that you had missed in your initial flurry of packing.

Footsteps sounded on the wooden floors before a ‘thud’ startled you and you whipped around to see your Robby standing there, his eyes red from smoke exposure. “I got most of what we needed. The only thing they were out of was that one jam you like, so I had to grab a different one,” he told you, placing the shopping bag on the table next to the flat of water he’d dropped.

You nodded, chewing on your lip. “Okay, can you put those things in the cooler? I’ve just started moving boxes into my car, we still have to pack the truck, get the sprinklers going, are we going to attach it to the roof? It shouldn’t matter, as long as the ground and bushes are wet and fuck! I forgot ab-”.

You were abruptly cut off by Bob hugging you from behind. His arms wrapped around your waist, tugging you closer to him. You drew in a sharp breath, wincing as your throat tightened and tears started sprouting in your eyes. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “This is a shitty time to have a breakdown…”

Behind you, Bob shook his head, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’re scared. Tha’s normal. If you weren’t, Sunshine, I’d be scared if you were standing here completely fine. This is fucking terrifying.” His tone was gentle, muffled behind the N95 he had yet to remove.

You swallowed hard, staring around at the nearly empty kitchen, willing your tears away. There was still so much to do, so much to try and save before the evacuation alert became an order. Before you both were forced to flee. “Yeah..” your voice was quiet, even to your ears. “It’s just…”

“I know.”

The two of you stood there in silence, Bob’s strong arms around your middle, grounding you in this moment. He was there, and no matter what, you two would face this together. “How are Nat and her partner? I heard that their area was under alert earlier.” His squad had become your family too and you were worried for them all, especially for Phoenix, Javy, and Bradley, all of whom you had grown close to.

Bob moved away from you to start packing the cooler and you immediately missed his warmth. “She’s okay. They are at Jake’s right now, Sunshine.” He gave you a soft smile before you heard the ‘clunk’ of drinks landing in the cooler.

“Robby… are you just tossing them in there?” You asked, a smile passing fleetingly across your lips. “You know that we still have to fit the rest of the stuff I bought yesterday in there.”

“Sunshine… would I jus’ throw shit in a bag and call it quits?” The faint drawl in his tone surprised you, given that it usually popped out when Bob was teasing.

You turned to face him, your grandma’s cookbook in your hands. “I don’t know mister. Would you?”

He chuckled, caught red-handed as you peered into the cooler and swatted his arm as you walked by, book in hand. “I’ll fix it, Sugar. Don’t worry about it.”

Shaking your head at his antics, you went to place the book in the last box that hadn’t yet been closed up, but found that you couldn’t find any room. The brief moment of optimism rushed out of you in a heartbeat, your mind flooding with ‘what ifs’ that stole your breath.

You wanted to take everything, but there was only so much that could fit in your car and his truck. Your closet was nearly full, having told yourself that clothes were replaceable and only taking essentials in addition to a few special pieces. The green dress you had worn on your second date with Bob, his favourite on you, had been packed, as well as a few other pieces. But the mere thought of losing it all had tears welling in your eyes again.

There would be pictures left behind. Holiday decorations, some of which had belonged to family members that were long gone, books, blankets, jewelry, that you couldn’t take with you. You had to try your best to pack up your life as you knew it and try and take it with you, cutting out pieces of yourself and memories that were imbued in everything you had in this little house.

You had hidden a few stuffed animals away in the bottom of a box, precious childhood keepsakes that you had never and would never be able to part with. But like everything else in this shitty situation, in this moment, some would be left behind. The child you were was screaming at you, begging and pleading to not leave Mr. Panda and Brownie the Bear behind, but you had to. Your house was full of memories and try as you might, it simply wasn’t possible to take it all with you.

The fear of losing them was enough to have you crumpling to the floor, choking on your tears. This house would still be full when you left. Full of inanimate things that each carried parts of your life and Bob’s, things that held pieces of your both. You couldn’t take the calming blue paint of your bedroom, nor the corner of your living room where Bob had proposed on Christmas Eve.

This was the stuff you wanted to take. To box up and carry far, far away from this place, away from the blaze that bore down on you like a storm ready to snuff out your corner of the world, your safe place.

And you were scared. So fucking terrified that it was a miracle you could even breath with the tightness in your chest. Your home was in danger. Bob was in danger.

But he was there.

Bob was right there the second he heard your knees hit the floor. He ran towards you as you buried your head in your hands and sobbed, your cries indecipherable but so visceral that he knew that they were full of fear and pain without hearing the words. You were pulled into his arms and you turned to sob into his shirt, wetting the fabric with the tears you had held back for too long. He had since discarded the N95 and buried his face in your neck, letting his own tears fall as he mourned almost preemptively.

He hadn’t vocalized his fears to you, not wanting to add to your stress, but having heard that Nat had had to evacuate earlier in the day had shattered the wall he’d built to keep his feelings out. He was scared shitless. Everything you had built together was at risk and it was all so overwhelming that the realization had sent him running from your bed the night before. Ever since the alert went out, you both had gone dancing over the eggshells of your own fears, both not wanting to burden the other.

It had been a mistake to do so. Now the two of you had bottled everything up so tightly, that it exploded out of you in premature grief at the mere possibility of losing it all. “I’m here, Sunshine. It can’t take you from me…” Bob murmured into your skin, sniffling a little. “It won’t. I’m not leavin’.”

You closed your eyes, blocking out the sound of the air purifier, the smoke that hung in the air, the dim sunlight that cast the world in a frightening gold glow, trying to focus on your fiancé. Willing yourself to push past this block, this fear, so you could continue packing, but it was like wading through glue. You were caught in the depths of this panic that it was suffocating you, sapping your will to fight back. Distantly, you felt Bob’s tears on your shoulder, alerting you to the fact that he was suffering too.

He was mourning a life that you two had only begun to share.

A shaky breath left you as you lifted a hand to card through Bob’s sweaty hair, your nails gently scraping his scalp in the way you knew always calmed him. You were trying to comfort him, just as he was trying to do the same to you.

You opened your mouth to say something through your tears when your phones went off, the emergency alert messages blasting through the speakers. Your heart sank. This would be the evacuation order. It had to be.

“No. No, no, no, no!” You cried, tears racing down your face. You felt Bob sigh, unfolding himself to grab his phone, but he held out his hand to you, helping you up. “Robby… please tell me that we have more time.”

From where he stood by the kitchen table, you saw sadness fill his blue eyes, defeat sink into his bones as he answered you. “We don’t. We have to go, Sunshine.” His voice was quiet, barely audible over the blood rushing in your ears.

You were frozen, hardly able to comprehend what was happening. “But I haven’t… the photos. Robby…”

“Grab them. We can find room, but we have to get this stuff in the truck, okay?” When had Bob moved to cup your face in his hands? When did your world come crashing down around you? “Sunshine, I’m sorry, but we have to go.”

You nodded, shaking yourself and grabbed a box, following Bob out to the truck and loading it up. Your neighbours were doing the same, all filled with the same numbing urgency that had seeped into your bones as they packed up as quickly as they could.

A baby wailed a few doors down. Car doors slammed. Shouts echoed as you watched the grey smoke billow in the distance, but it was all at the back of your mind as you packed up both cars, the photo albums tossed haphazardly on the passenger seat.

The furnace was shut off, the propane tank from the barbecue placed in the back seat of Bob’s truck. Everything was disconnected, shut off, or locked away. Cars had begun to leave the neighborhood, driving away to the tune of scared, wailing children, distant sirens, and a primal fear that had settled into the block like the ash falling from the sky.

As you got in your car, watching Bob lock the front door behind him, the finality of this hit you hard. But there was no time to dwell on it. You had to leave and so you did, driving out past the barricade the police had set up, watching as a few cars pulled up and were turned away, wincing as you heard the cries of a child learning that their stuffed animals would have to stay behind.

You felt the same way. You wanted to cry, scream, beg for a reprieve from the smoke and the fear that ricocheted around your body like a deranged pinball machine, but it would be no use. Bob had called your phone the minute you pulled out of the driveway, making sure that the two of you could be connected as you drove.

Out of the neighborhood.

Out of the postal code.

You drove as far as you could go but remained close enough to receive updates on whether or not your home still stood. The both of you had wanted to be close enough to the other Daggers and their families in case they needed help in any way. Javy and his wife were close by, sitting on their hands and waiting for the alert to become an order, but they were safe for the moment. Bob had made sure of that, calling them the minute your neighborhood had fallen under evacuation alert.

They were okay, having started their own packing when you had.

You just wanted everyone to be okay. No more homes turned to burned fragments, no more casualties. Your fiancé had been doing his best to try and distract you, and he had, but your mind was the type to fixate on something for so long that it almost became a part of you.

“…shine? Baby, you there?” Bob’s voice crackled through your car’s Bluetooth. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, forgetting that he wasn’t able to see you. “Yeah,” your voice cracked on the word, making you cringe. “I will be. What were you saying, Robby?”

Bob’s face softened and his heart hurt for you. You were trying so hard to keep it together, the unshed tears making your voice thick in a way he hated to hear. “Just wanted to make sure you knew that the turn for the motel is coming up.”

An ambulance went screaming past in the opposite direction and you flinched. “Okay, yeah. Thanks babe.”

“Hey Sunshine?”

“Robby?”

“Tell me what you first thought about me. Just talk okay?” Bob knew that he had to distract you in some way and you had always refused to entertain his self-doubt that you could have chosen someone better.

You blinked, caught off guard by the randomness of the question. “Well, Mickey introduced us after I refused Jake’s advances and I remember being so afraid to talk to you. You were the reason I kept coming to the bar as often as I did and I thought you were just the prettiest man I’d ever seen.” There was a wide smile on your face as you recalled that one night that had changed both of your lives. “I don’t know what it was about you, maybe just how you seemed to approach every conversation with a level of strategy that didn’t make sense. Or the way that your face went bright red when I came over.”

Bob chuckled at your words. How he’d been so lucky to keep you in his life, he had no idea. You were such a vibrant person, the warmth of your personality coming out when you were around those who you cared for deeply. He’d been half in love with you when you had challenged his opinion on Marvel, playfully debating with him for hours. You had brought light and warmth into his life that he hadn’t known he was missing, and that was the real reason you were his Sunshine.

“… and then you just came alive. I thought you were pretty before, Robby, but after you seemed genuinely interested in my life, in my job, you became so much more than what I had initially thought of you,” you finished your speech in a rush of breath that had Bob laugh on the other end of the call. “It’s hard for me to separate what I feel for you now and what I felt then because I don’t know when they changed.”

Your admission was hushed, like it was a secret that you loved your fiancé long before you had even discussed your future together. Bob grinned, happy that his attempt to distract you had worked. “What about me? You told me once that you didn’t know when I had caught your eye, only that I did.” A pause, before you added semi-playfully, “You distracted me, now it’s my turn.”

He shook his head at your teasing tone. “Sunshine…”

You retaliated, cooing his name over the phone “Robby…”

A beat then you two both started laughing. It felt odd, especially given all the emotions that had flowed out of you not 30 minutes earlier, but you both knew that the other was fraught with a myriad of emotions and hell, laughing was better than crying.

“Okay, okay. I’ll tell ya when we unpack a little at the motel.” You watched Bob’s truck turn onto a side street and you copied the movement, pulling your little red car next to his truck. “Love you baby.”

You shook your head, watching Bob get out of the truck and give you a grin that had you returning the expression. “Love you too!” You had rolled your window down to yell it at him, watching him burst into laughter.

“Come on, let’s go get a room.”

===

An hour later, you were curled up in Bob’s arms as he played with the ends of your hair. “Sunshine?”

“Hmm?”

“It was your laugh.”

You looked up at him in confusion. “What was my laugh?”

“The reason I knew you were my forever. It was real, not fake like I always saw happen to Jake or Bradley. You meant it and I knew that I really couldn’t fuck this up.” Bob’s voice was soft, seemingly afraid to vocalize the words. “When you laughed at my terrible joke, I knew you were genuinely a good person.

“Robby…” You surged up, capturing his lips in a kiss that stole both your breath and his. “I… you are too good to me.”

He shook his head. “I told you when I proposed that I would spend forever trying to earn the love you had given me and if that means showering you in compliments for as long as I have you, then I will.” The sincerity in those blue eyes was almost too much. “And don’t you dare say that I don’t have too. Because you saw me. Quiet, shy, nerdy me.”

“You were never shy, Robby,” you told him, a grin playing on your lips. “I distinctly remember our second anniversary as a couple and nothing about you was shy then.” He rolled his eyes and kissed you again before you continued. “And how could I not see you? The only man I wanted in that bar was you.”

Bob’s head bumped yours and he blew out a sigh. “What did I do to deserve you?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe the same thing I did to deserve you?”

A soft huff of laughter left Bob’s lips. Here, in a motel miles away from your home, wrapped up in the arms of your fiancé, you were safe. Whatever befell your house, if the blaze took it, it was a small conciliation to know that you had Bob with you and that you both were okay.

The fire raged on, yet, you both knew that your love would outlast the blaze, even if all was lost. A wildfire couldn’t take his love of you, nor yours of him. It would glow through the smoke and the haze and be your beacon of hope in this time of uncertainty.

===

A/N: This is a very personal fic; probably the only one like it that I will ever write because of how afraid I am during this time. All the love to @startrekfangirl2233 who slapped me out of the imposter syndrome that hit hard on this one, and yeah. If anyone you know or love is experiencing a wildfire or natural disaster threat, check in with them. It’s such a simple act, but it means so much.

Thank you for reading!

Tagging: @startrekfangirl2233 @thedroneranger @roosterforme @sarahsmi13s @writingshae @bobby-r2d2-floyd @dakotakazansky @beccaanne814 @cherrycola27 @bradleybeachbabe

[gumy-shark]

ok gumy, i actually would like some more elaboration in this moon big season such as:

The cults, what the fuck is up with that?

something, something bdubs’ last stand as the moon crash down on him (bc almost every king tag in the last 101 mentioned that and my ears are perked up)

the graphic of the moon crashing into world looks so pretty where we’re you when this happened 🎤 ?

hehehe you’ve fallen into my trap >:D

THE CULTS:

there were at least two cults formed in response to the moon big: the Mooners and the Order of Octa.

the Mooners cult was formed by mumbo jumbo at the end of november. mumbo believed that the moon was angry because hermits kept sleeping to skip through the night, so he gathered the other members of boatem village (impulse, pearl, scar, and grian), and they and cubfan135 all decided to stop sleeping in hopes of appeasing the moon.

as they went longer and longer without sleeping, the mooners got a little. silly. and by silly i do mean insane. their skins got more disheveled, eventually turning out to look like this

(in order: grian, mumbo, scar, impulse, cub, and pearl. i know you aren’t v familiar with these guys and what they normally look like, but i think you can get the picture)

the mooners even resorted to human sacrifice to try and appease the moon, but nothing worked. eventually they gave up, tried (and failed) to blow up the moon with a missile, and started sleeping again.

the other cult i don’t remember as much about. the Order of Octa, comprised of rendog and docm77, had been doing an ARG all season, which culminated in them getting a little bit possessed, shaving their heads into monk tonsures, and going around beheading people while chanting their names. for their finale, they gathered all the heads together and input a code? i think? that opened up a portal out of the simulation that was season 8 (note: the season being a simulation is only canon in ren and doc’s storyline)

BDUBS’ STORY:

okay yeah this one’s pretty tragic. for bdubs’ finale, he rides his horse around the server, collects the profits from his shops, business as usual. except the moon is giant, the ground is basically disintegrating underneath him, and for the large majority of his episode there’s just nobody there. he doesn’t seem afraid of the moon or the chaos at all, instead spending the whole time talking about how everyone’s leaving, so that means that really, all this stuff is his now! how fortunate for him!

all his friends are already gone. his only companions at this point are his horse and his pet parrot. he does his usual outro, saying goodbye to his audience and telling us he’ll see us in the next episode! and then he turns around, and the animation of the moon crashing into the server plays- it is clear from the animation that he could not have survived the impact.

that on its own is sad, but what kicks it into high gear is tango’s finale. in tango’s final episode of season 8, he’s on the moon trying to figure out a way to knock it back into its usual orbit, and he receives a transmission from bdubs. this message shows bdubs a couple days pre-impact, and he is panicked, yelling about how everything’s going to shit (static cuts off the “shit” part bc this is a pg server) and everything they’ve built is about to be destroyed. as he finishes the message, he urges tango to stay in space, because things are so bad on the ground, and talks about trying to find a way to escape.

in this context, the general consensus/implication of bdubs episode is that he tried to find a way to escape the falling moon, failed, and decided to live out the rest of his hours in total denial before dying in a massive fucking explosion. which is significantly more tragic.

WHERE WAS I WHEN THIS HAPPENED?

in the kitchen. i remember being super excited for new episodes, and then got gut-punched by nearly every hermit i watched uploading their finale at the same time.

[soapskies]

general yandere hcs for arkham knight scarecrow? :3

GENERAL YANDERE AK SCARECROW HCS

MALE READER. TW FOR TYPICAL YANDERE STUFF, ABUSE AND SUCH.

He felt his obsession start when he witnessed your reaction to his fear toxin one day. Maybe you were on your way to your job, treating it like any other day, or got caught in the action when Batman showed up on the scene.

An ordinary man in an otherwise unpredictable city. Until you inhaled Scarecrow’s fear gas in the midst of confusion, and was brought to your knees.

Oh how he loves groveling in your fear. When he watches you tremble so pathetically it’s intoxicating, like he can’t drag his eyes away from the sight.

He wants so badly to keep you all for himself, just so he can hear you scream and cry and beg him to comfort you

He is an insanely possessive, but calculated yandere. He rarely lets his emotions get the better of him and thus he is very difficult to escape from, or trick

Scarecrow isn’t bound to get extremely physically or verbally violent towards you, at least not directly, but he certainly has other ways of forcing your hand

His goal is to get you dependent on him so he doesn’t have to resort to extreme methods

Bonus points if you’re already feeling insecure about your identity, or the way others treat you.

He’ll constantly sow seeds of doubt into your mind about your loved ones and your own choices, while acting as if he’s only looking out for you

He isolates you from your friends and family so you’re easier to pressure, mostly through destroying your relationships

He doesn’t want anyone touching you, or looking at you. If anyone even dares to come near you, they’ll be gone before you know it…

Must be frightening, to have everyone you meet get seriously hurt, or turn you away, isn’t it?

Oh, struggling to make ends meet? Upset because your family and friends don’t want to be around you anymore (courtesy of his sabotaging)? Well, out of the kindness of his heart, The Scarecrow will allow you to stay with him…

He’ll guilt trip you for not being appreciative enough, for pushing him away

Look at him, so generous and loving, you almost don’t deserve him…

He’s excellent at playing mind games and cracking into your sensitive psyche

If he pulls it off effectively, then you’ll start to think Jonathan is your only chance for connection, the only one who was there for you through it all and loved you unconditionally.

If you’re that gullible, your love for him will only feel natural

But if you’re a more stubborn person, who realizes Scarecrow’s manipulation for what it is, he’ll have to amplify the pressure…

If you refuse to move in with him despite losing everything, he’ll just kidnap you.

Strap you down to one of his exam tables under a dim flickering light, mysterious stains ingrained into it from previous experiments…

Perhaps you want a little taste of his toxin, with his gauntlet grazing your neck, just to remind you how terrifying the world is without him to guide you.

He’ll use your fears against you, not enough to severely traumatize you, unless you insist on rejecting his advances… but enough to make you distrusting of others. And trust me, he knows all of yours.

Every little thing that makes you tick, every trauma you’ve gone through… finding out everything about you has its perks.

“Don’t struggle, my dear, it will only make it worse.”

Kick and scream all you want. When you’re done having your temper tantrum, he’ll be there for you with open arms…

[6marzipanology6]

STOP SCROLLING: SO MANY PEOPLE IN GAZA ARE IN NEED OF SUPPORT. ITS IMPORTANT TO KEEP TALKING ABOUT THE GENOCIDE HAPPENING IN PALESTINE AND TO SPREAD AROUND LINKS TO RESOURCES TO HELP THESE PEOPLE. BELOW I COPY/PASTED THE DESCRIPTION OF A FAMILIES GOFUNDME, WHO IS STRUGGLING IN GAZA CURRENTLY, THAT NEEDS DONATIONS/HELP IN GETTING OUT OF GAZA.

PLEASE TAKE A LOOK AT THIS, IF YOU CANT DONATE AT LEAST REBLOG THIS OR SHARE IT ON OTHER PLATFORMS.

Hello, I am Nabila Salim from a very simple Palestinian family consisting of three sons, a girl, my daughter-in-law, and my little granddaughter, Salma. I do not regret my decision to live outside the country to save my family and live like the rest of the world in security and peace, after the war destroyed our house, burned our property, and deprived my granddaughter Salma of wearing her device, as she was less than three months old when the war came. I am very sad for her, and I do not want her to live with sadness like me either.

My husband and son lost their source of livelihood, and I also used to occupy a wonderful place in my homeland. I have become without a goal, life, or dreams. My home is not suitable for living in with my family, my daughter. She is the only one in high school and cannot complete her studies. My son graduated from college a few days before the war, and my daughter-in-law has a semester left in college, graduates, and begins a new professional life. Now I am trying hard to get out of the country To meet my son who is an expatriate abroad so that he will not be upset with us and lose one of us one day. The reality is very difficult for me to stay home and work, which forces us to search for a safe and clean country in which we feel safe, calm and stable. My husband cannot pay the costs of coordinating travel abroad. I did not want to resort to this application, but the purpose is stronger than the reality that I live it hoping that the life I love will return one day

Here is the gofundme link :

https://gofund.me/95134732

Even a small donation could help Nabila elsayed saleem reach their fundraising goal. And again, if you can't make a donation, it would be great if you could share the fundraiser to help spread the word.

Thank you!!!

[justagalwhowrites]

Beskar Doll - Ch. 46: Naboo

You and Din seek help from your oldest friends. A continuation of Beskar Doll Ch. 1-45 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: the Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Female Reader

Warnings: None really this time besides like... angst but that's a given. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only

Length: 3.1k

You’d never been happier that Tatooine was so close to Naboo. The trip only took a few hours and you spent the time trying to connect with Grogu again, but it wasn’t working. You gave up after a bit, resorting to pacing to pass the time instead. Naboo was close enough that rerouting power wouldn’t really buy you any time so at least you could pace the hold this time. 

“Doll,” Din was leaning against a nearby wall. “You should rest.” 

“You think I can rest right now?” You asked, brows raised. 

“You should try.” 

“I should change,” you said, sighing deeply. You were in clothes from Naboo, things that might make you recognizable there. You couldn’t risk it. 

You found something more nondescript and let your hair down, so you wouldn’t look like you were from Naboo, and found Din again. He was cleaning a blaster in the galley, focused on it intently. You came and wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your head on top of his helmet. His hand came up to hold your arm, giving you a squeeze. 

“I hate this,” you said quietly. 

“I know.” 

He reassembled the blaster and set it on the table before he reached for you, tugging you gently onto his lap. Once you were settled, he removed his helmet and closed his eyes, putting his forehead to your own, a hand on your hip. 

“Cyare,” he said gently, opening his eyes and looking into your own. “You should consider staying on Naboo…” 

“No,” you said sharply. “Absolutely not.” 

“If you are carrying…” he began, but you cut him off. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you shook your head. “If I don’t have you and him it doesn’t matter. I’m going.” 

He reached up and threaded his fingers through your hair, cradling your head in his large hand, pulling your face to his, kissing you softly. 

The Crest chimed and you pulled back, frowning. 

“We’re coming up on Naboo,” he said, setting you on your feet and putting the helmet back on before heading for the cockpit. You followed at his heels, buckling into the copilot’s seat and holding your breath as you heard the hyperdrive slow. 

When you’d jumped here just days before, on your way to surrender to Gideon to try to keep something like this from ever happening, you’d barely even looked at the view outside your ship. Now, you took it in, the tense chill of dread thrumming through your entire body. You unbuckled yourself from your seat and got up, walking to the front of the cockpit, as close to the viewer as you could possibly be. 

It wasn’t what you thought returning to your home world would be. You’d hoped you’d be able to return one day - probably when you were much older and there was no risk of anyone recognizing you. You wanted to come back and be able to experience this world again, not be desperate for help - desperate enough to put your friends at risk. 

“Where should I land?” Din asked. 

“Theed Spaceport,” you said. 

“We’ll be on records…” he began but you cut him off. 

“Good,” you said, looking back at him. “Let Gideon come to us. Let him try to get to me here, in my home, on my world. If he finds us now, that just puts us closer to what we want. If he’s stupid enough to try to fight me on my terms, I might just give him a quick death.” 

Din looked at you for a moment before giving you a single nod, bringing the ship into the port. 

You took limited weapons off the ship and started off, leading Din through the city toward the palace. 

It was strange being back. The last time you saw Theed, it was all but rubble. Cinder had decimated it, destroying so much of the place you’d called home your entire life. Now, it looked almost how it did before except all the buildings had the shine of newness to them. Replicas of what had stood before, things that had been there for centuries before the Empire tried to reduce your people to ash. 

“Where are we going?” Din asked, keeping a hand on your back as you moved through the city. 

“Back side of the palace,” you said, looking up at him. “Sosha and I had a plan, just in case I was ever in a spot like this one, where I desperately needed help… I just need to get there.” 

It was strange, moving through the center of the city as a normal person. Even with people giving Din a relatively wide berth, you’d gotten used to moving as part of the queen’s entourage - and sometimes as the queen herself, when Sosha needed a stand in. It wasn’t like you needed to wind your way through crowds on market day. But your husband kept a hand on you the whole time, making sure nothing came between you, and you made it to the edge of the palace grounds quickly. 

“This is where it’s going to get a little tricky,” you said cautiously, looking around the side of the structure. You saw the backs of guards and you waited for them to turn. “Move, we have to be quick.” 

You grabbed Din’s hand and ran down the side of the palace to an area that was walled off. 

“We need to go up and over,” you said. “I can climb it but…” 

He wordlessly lifted you into his arms and ignited the jetpack, setting you down inside the wall. You grabbed his hand and yanked him into bushes lining the inside of the wall, peering through a gap in the branches as guards on patrol came through. You’d gotten somewhat lucky. The patrol schedule hadn’t changed since you were a handmaid, you knew when to expect an interruption. The guards made their perimeter walk quickly and were out of sight again. You took Din’s hand and pulled him back out of the bushes, running full tilt toward a river that ran through the city, below the palace walls in a spot that was reinforced by forcefield, and down to a waterfall and the edge of a cliff. 

“We’re going for the falls,” you said quickly. “Can your jetpack get us through the water or do we need to climb it?” 

“Water won’t hurt it,” he said and you pulled him into another bush just seconds before another patrol came through. The guards swept quickly and moved on. As soon as they were gone, you took his hand and ran again, making it to the cliff’s edge this time. 

“We need to go about 30 feet down, through the falls. You have to stay as close as you can to the rock face,” you said as he lifted you into his arms as yours went around his neck. “It’s forcefield protected a few feet out from the cliffs so you can’t access it from outside.”

He nodded once, dropping over the edge of the cliffs, staying close enough to the rock that it snagged on your hair. He dropped down the 30 feet and brought you through the falls, the heavy blanket of cold water soaking you to the bone almost instantly. But through the falls was what you were looking for - an intricate tunnel system leading off one man-made cavern. Din landed and set you down, adjusting something on his helmet. 

“What is this place?” He asked, looking around. 

“Emergency access tunnels,” you said. “They go to a few places, all through the city. The palace, of course, the major government buildings… the thing we’re interested in, though, are the residences of former monarchs and current senators.” 

You went to the third tunnel in from the left and pressed the code you’d memorized years ago into the panel there. The shimmering forcefield covering the tunnel dissipated. 

“Let’s go,” you said, starting down the tunnel and a run. 

About a click in, you found the tunnel that led to Sosha’s and you entered a different code. The forcefield dropped and you took the stairs two at a time until you came to another panel, entering the last code. It exposed a large door - one you needed to actually push on to open - and you cautiously went into Sosha’s home. 

The tunnel had dumped you into what looked to be her sitting room, the door you’d come through a section of wall that completely blended in when it was closed. You tried to stick to the marble and off the rugs as you dripped onto her floors, looking for some kind of panel to see if she was home. 

You found one relatively quickly, pulling up Sosha’s data for the day. 

“Sosha’s out at the moment,” you said, looking through things. “But she should be back soon, judging from what’s here…” 

You looked around the room for a moment, trying to breathe. It was surreal, being back on Naboo, surreal to be surrounded by luxurious and beautiful things. Everything here was plush or shining. The floors and table tops glistened, the ceilings soared at least 20 feet over your head. The seats looked like they’d feel like a cloud if you were to actually sit on them. 

A table by the window that overlooked the water caught your eye and you approached it slowly. There were a dozen pictures displayed on holocubes. You picked one up slowly, reverently. 

It was of you and Sosha when you were girls, just starting at school together. You were hugging each other. You were both 11 and you were missing one of your teeth. You remembered losing it just two days before you were set to leave for school and worrying to your mother that it would make you seem like a little kid, showing up without one of your teeth. 

“I’m sure there will be other children there who have lost a tooth,” she said, brushing your hair back. “As soon as you start speaking, no one is going to think you’re a little kid.” 

Looking at the photo now, you recognized that you were a little kid. Your teeth were still a bit too big for your face when they first taught you how to kill someone to defend your queen.

Din came and stood at your shoulder, looking down at the image in your hands. 

“That’s me,” you pointed to the smaller version of yourself on the left. “That’s Sosha.” 

He put his hand at your waist and tugged you against his side and you put the photo down. You picked up another one, a formal portrait of Sosha with all her handmaids. You were seated immediately to her right, your body tilted toward hers, you just one more than half a dozen others, all identical, faces the same mask of cool detachment. You remembered being so nervous that it made your stomach turn but the image didn’t show it. 

“This is from her first coronation,” you said, looking up at Din. 

“You look young,” he said. 

“I was young,” you laughed a little. 

“I know,” he said gently. “I just… didn’t expect you to look that young.” 

You nodded slowly. You understood that. You set the photo down and Din picked up another one. It was toward the back of the table, one of the few set out that wasn’t posed. Another handmaid had probably taken it when you were all in the royal residence, no one else really around so you didn’t need to be on guard. You were there with Sosha, laughing next to her. You were both in handmaid gowns - someone else had been standing in for her that day, apparently - and Dagres was standing next to you, looking at you with a charmed smile on his face. You swallowed past the lump in your throat. 

“That’s Dagres,” you said, looking up at Din. It was strange, seeing them both like this - not that Dagres was really there to see. You’d loved him so much then. Part of you still did, but it was a different kind of love now. Something soft and quiet and friendly. It had seemed so vital and consuming then but it paled in comparison to what you felt for Din. 

“He protected you,” he asked without asking. 

“Yeah,” you said quietly. He just nodded, looking at the image for a moment longer. 

“I feel like I owe him a debt,” he said. 

You leaned your head on his shoulder and sighed. 

“Me too.” 

You’d been so absorbed by the images of your past you didn’t hear people arrive until it was all but too late. 

“Well if we can reschedule with the ambassador…” 

You recognized Sosha’s voice immediately and were about to drop into a curtsy when she came into the room. Her security was faster. 

“Highness!” The uniformed man yelled, jumping in front of Sosha and pulling his blaster, firing. Din threw you behind him, the blaster bolt pinging off his beskar as he ripped his own blaster free from its holster.

“Din!” You yelled, leaping around him, putting yourself between his gun and Sosha - the place you’d trained to be for half of your life. 

“Captain Pell!” Sosha threw her arm in front of him, forcing his blaster down before stepping forward. “I can assure you, this is the last person you need to protect me from. My dearest sister could never mean me harm.” 

***

Din kept his blaster out, not ready to trust anyone here enough to not hurt you.  

“Your Highness,” you dropped into a curtsy. Din kept his eyes on the guard. 

“You have never needed to curtsy to me,” the woman - Sosha - smiled before running forward and pulling you against her. You flung your arms around her neck, clutching onto her. 

“Seemed like the right thing to do,” your voice was wet. Sosha laughed. 

“It’s so good to see you again,” she said quietly. “I didn’t know if I ever would…” 

“I know,” you said. “I know….” 

The two of you separated and looked at each other for a moment. Din could easily see how you’d been tapped to be her body double. The two of you were the same height, similar build and coloring, even your facial structures looked similar. He was certain that - in the ceremonial makeup - the two of you would be nearly identical. 

But, like you knew him without the helmet, he was certain he’d know you then. He’d know. 

Another woman who looked almost shockingly like you came into the room, datapad in hand. 

“I think I’ve found…” she began but then she looked up, her eyes going wide. 

“Hi Donné,” you said softly. 

She didn’t say anything, just launched herself across the room to throw her arms around you, crying as she did. 

“We didn’t know if you were even still alive,” she choked. “We hoped but…” 

“I know,” you said, giving her a squeeze before she pulled away from you. “I’m sorry I got you both all wet…” 

Neither woman seemed to care about the fact that you’d inadvertently soaked their fine dresses. 

It was so strange, seeing you in this environment. You moved so seamlessly through his world - through dealings with criminals and other bounty hunters - it was easy for him to forget that you weren’t like him. You came from a place like this, raised amidst the trappings of high society. 

“It would appear that I owe you an apology, My Lady,” the guard said, holstering his weapon but still keeping an eye on Din. He bowed his head to you before nodding toward Din. He frowned behind his helmet. You were titled - you’d never told him that. He knew about your history with the monarchy on Naboo, of course, but he didn’t know that you were nobility yourself. There was an odd twinge in him, a sense that he was in a place he didn’t belong. You were made for this place, not him. The sickening feeling that you didn’t belong with him, not really. “You found a Mandalorian for security?” 

“Not quite,” you looked up at Din, stepping back toward him and slipping your hand into his. “This is my husband…”

“You’re married?” Sosha smiled, her hands going to her heart. You nodded. “Oh Solmé, I’m so happy for you… And to a Mandalorian, no less. Of course you would marry a warrior…” 

“I’m afraid we’re here for less than happy reasons,” you said, your grip on his hand getting tighter as Sosha’s face fell. “I’m here because I need your help. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important, I wouldn’t risk coming here if it wasn’t important…” 

“I owe you so much,” Sosha reached for your shoulder, pulling your forehead to her own. “I will do anything you ask of me.” 

You took a deep and shaky breath as she stepped back from you again. 

“An Imperial remnant has taken our son,” you said, your voice cracking. “And I need help to get him back. I need access to information about Imperial bases so I can try to find him and if there is anyone you can spare…” 

“You have a son?” Sosha asked, covering her mouth for a moment.

You nodded. 

“He’s a foundling,” you said. “His name is Grogu and the Empire wants him for research. Please, Sosha, we have to get him back. I’ll do anything…” 

“Is the Empire still afraid of you?” She asked. “Of what you did to them?” 

“They still want her,” Din said. Sosha looked up at him and he stepped closer to you, even though he knew you didn’t need protection here. He wanted to be ready. To make sure no one took you from him again. 

“Good,” Sosha said, taking your hands in hers. “We will find all the files on Imperial bases and we will go there, together.” 

“Sosha…” you began, but she cut you off. 

“If the Empire is afraid of what one of you could do to them, imagine how terrified they’ll be of five of you,” she smiled a little before looking over her shoulder at her guard. “Besides, anywhere I go that could be dangerous, Pell and his contingent of men also go. Right?” 

He sighed. 

“Yes, your highness.” 

She smiled and looked back at you. 

“I will get the other handmaids,” she said. “And we will go, together, to get your son.” 

“Thank you,” you all but collapsed against her. She put her arms around you. “Thank you, I can’t…” 

“This is what sisters do,” she said quietly. “We’ll get him back. If it’s the last thing I do, we will bring your son home.”

[flowerwrites06]

lion and the fox vii — jjk

Plot: In a turbulent world of crime and intrigue, a fiery journalist makes an unlikely alliance with one of the country’s most notorious bosses. Pairing(s): Mafia Boss!Jungkook x Journalist!OC (Name: Belle) Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+ Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series Word Count: Genre: Mafia AU | Vintage (1940′s vibes) AU Tags & Warnings: crime, violence, explicit sexual content, forced prostitution, mentions of racist/xenophobic implications and culture, mild scenes of harassment, some misogynistic behaviour, mentions of war, heavy mentions of drug use, infidelity. Authors Note: sorry for the wait, june honestly rushed by so quickly I didn’t even notice that it was already a month since the last update even though I tried to make sure the gaps weren’t so long anymore hahaha. I hope you enjoy!  Disclaimer: Please note that while some historical research has been done for this story, the MAJORITY of it has been altered in some way with creative liberties to match the themes and motifs of the plot.

Belle woke up in the estate, on Jungkook’s soft bed where the sunlight bled gold the right way. When the events of yesterday flurried through her mind, her head both squeezed and thrummed with excitement. She sat up on the bed as her hair flailed in disarray in all directions. Fingers gripped at the sheets.

She’d done it. The very thing she spent months desperately trying to avoid, keeping these feelings dangling on a thread with no foundation. Belle now had only solidified it, becoming so vulnerable with Jungkook that she may as well have given him the knife to stab her with.

Belle got off the bed, her core still sore but warm and comforted. She stopped to see a crème polka dot dress ready for her to wear. Letting out a sigh, she grabbed the dress and wore it. Her yellow dress already needed a washing anyway. At least that was the excuse she gave herself.

Making her trek down to the courtyard, she saw Jungkook already eating his breakfast. Chicken porridge and black coffee. Jungkook’s eyes lit up with a smile as he noticed her standing at the corridor. He gestured to the empty seat at the table.

Belle hesitated, the sun blinding her eyes for a moment before walking to the table. It was wise to go back to work and forget this ever happened. Yet she was here, sitting at the breakfast table just as Gaia did and sharing breakfast with the man she had sworn to destroy.

“Did you sleep well?” Jungkook asked.

“I did. And it seems you went out shopping.” Belle gestured to her dress. Servants brought a fresh bowl of steaming chicken porridge for her, providing her with milk and sugar for her coffee.

“That’s one of the many.”

Belle stopped mid-way her first bite, hazel eyes widened. “Many?”

Jungkook smirked, the dark strand of his hair hovered over his right eye. “If you’re going to be coming with me to Namjoon, you’ll need to get the appropriate dress.”

“Are you saying I don’t look presentable?” Belle narrowed her gaze before finally taking a warm bite of the porridge. Her stomach groaned at the touch of a warming comfort food so early in the morning. Normally, her and Hoseok would just grab coffee and get lunch hours later. She hoped her stomach wouldn’t get used to this rare luxury.

“On the contrary, if things should go awry, I want them to know you’re important and not someone they can kill without a second thought.” Jungkook’s voice turned soft as if it was just the two of them in the courtyard and not four servants waiting for any order that may sound out.

The risk in being invited to this gang meeting was just as great as the privilege. Belle knew who Namjoon was and that he wouldn’t resort to senseless violence but Jungkook wasn’t a friend. He was a Korean boss who got into cohorts with the Japanese to survive. Something people like Namjoon despised. This could end with just as much blood as it could success.

After breakfast with Belle’s stomach satisfied and heavy, Jungkook escorted her to the living room. An array of dresses and jewellery splayed out ranging in vibrance against the dark wood of the walls and floors. Some of these fabrics were so lush and experience for post-war that she felt ashamed just being around it.

“You got silk dresses?” Belle asked. Silk was one of the hardest materials to find in regular stores nowadays. Her grandmother apparently used to own two silk dresses for nightly occasions but donated them for the war.

Jungkook placed his hand on the rack with the nonchalance of someone who could burn all these dresses and happily buy more. “Figured you might want to try them at least.”

Silk dresses were for wives. Distinguished Queens of the gang. Not. . .whatever Belle was. It was odd. No, terrible. This. . .being taken care of, tended to and cared for. Belle indulged in it like a fool, took a step forward and brushed her fingers across the fabrics. The silks she’d barely touched before. How they felt like water brushing across her hands. Then her hand stopped on the deep blue velvet.

Her mother and grandmother had a tattered velvet dress similar to it. They shared it for years but sold it to make ends meet when Belle was still struggling in her career.

Heart aching, Belle took the blue velvet dress out of the rack. She placed it over her body. It may still fit her mother if she wished to wear something new. “This one.”

Jungkook smiled, walking over to one of the glass coffee tables. His hand hovered over a small velvet box. When he opened it, there was a string of small pearls glistening like the surface of the ocean. Unlike the rack, he held onto this gently, the beads brushing over his reddened knuckles. “You could try on the dress with this.”

“I’ve only just showered, you’re already stripping me back down?” Belle grinned.

Jungkook smirked. “Leave us.”

The two servants who stood like ghosts at the doors, quickly pulled them shut. The creaking wood echoed through the walls.

Belle chuckled, watching Jungkook sit on the brown couch with the pearls dangling on his fingers. Placing the velvet blue dress back onto the front of the rack, she began to unbutton her new polka dotted dress. A cotton white slip revealed as the dress slid down her legs.

Jungkook’s eyes glazed over her body, eyes dark with hunger.

She should’ve been frustrated or angry. Belle was a doll for him gawk at, everything about this should’ve angered her beyond measure. If it was any other man, she’d scratch their eyes out but his gaze was different. He didn’t demand for her. He was waiting for her to come to him, until she wanted to come to him. And she did so badly.

Belle slipped on the velvet dress, the softest luxurious thing she had on so far. Unlike the glimmering dress from their mission, she felt more comfortable. A little too comfortable in fancy clothes. She buttoned up the dress and walked over to him. “Good?”

“I liked that outfit in the middle,” he smirked.

Belle chuckled and climbed onto his lap, straddling him. “Focus. The necklace.” She lifted her hair to expose her neck.

Jungkook abided by her words, making sure to brush his knuckles against her skin. Goosebumps forming on her arms as he clasped the necklace. As soon as it was fixed, Jungkook stole the chance for a kiss on the length of Belle’s neck. He sucked on the sensitive parts of her skin until it ached. Fingers dug through the thick velvet, already making dents on her swell.

Belle hummed, gently pushing him away as he started to bite. “No marks.”

Jungkook groaned in disappointment, pressing their bodies close until her own core pressed against his hardening bulge. “Why not?”

“I have to go to work soon and it’s going to be hard to cover.” Belle tapped his bottom lip.

“You don’t have to go to work today.” Jungkook tightened in his grip, a voice that almost sounded pleading.

Belle playfully slapped his chest, making him chuckle. “Am I supposed to stay with you and try on dresses?” she asked.

“Or you could just stay with me a while longer,” Jungkook said softly. His hand brushing up and down her back as his nose nudged against her jawline.

Belle felt herself melt into his embrace. “You shouldn’t treat me like this.”

Jungkook stopped his ministrations for a moment and stared up at her. “Why not?”

This is temporary. This can’t be what you want it to be. What I want it to be. Belle traced her finger down his cheek. “You’ll need to have a political marriage again soon. Need to save some of that wooing for your next wife.”

Jungkook’s face softened as he leaned back on the couch. “What if I am using the wooing for my next wife?”

Belle’s heart squeezed. “Now you’re being stupid.” She slid out of his grasp and stood back on her feet.

“I’m just being honest.”

Belle walked over to the full length mirror, a stranger staring back at her. A reflection of herself if she softened to Jungkook, became the very figure of fear and regalia by his side. Pearls on her neck, fancy dresses and remnants of beloved kisses on her skin. It was beautiful. But it was also tarnished.

Jungkook walked over to her, standing behind her as a looming figure. His gentle hands moving around her waist, pulling her close to his heat until she could drown in it. “This can be your home too, Belle. Nothing to worry about, nothing to stress over. Every little joy will be given to you. All you need to do is ask.” He whispered it into her ear like it was a spell to lure her in. Perhaps it was.

Belle kept a light-hearted smile, resting back on his shoulder. “You’ve been married since you were fifteen. It’s good to take a break and explore your options.” She turned around and wrapped his arms around his neck. “Maybe this time she won’t be tied up.”

Jungkook chuckled. “I kind of enjoyed that part actually.”

Belle smiled and kissed his cheek. “Focus on Namjoon first.” Then worry about these disgusting feelings later.

-

Blood washed and stained the white porcelain of the hotel sink. Taehyung let out a shaky sigh as he scrubbed an entire layer of his skin, wanting to be rid of the memory. He stared at himself in the mirror, the darkness under his eyes and tremble of his bottom lip.

Why did Angel still want to run away with him? If Taehyung held onto Seokjin’s influence a while longer, it would’ve been her blood on his hands. The blood he would never have washed off even if he scrubbed down to the bone. He would never have to do that any longer. Never again.

Taehyung sighed and walked back into his room. His heart jumped seeing a figure standing right near his weaponry. “You’re off commission, aren’t you?”

Jimin stared back at him, a tightened expression on his face. The spy grew desperate to please his master again. He was the reflection of what Taehyung could’ve been if Angel hadn’t come to him. “You do understand what you’ve done by letting that girl live, Taehyung.”

Taehyung tightened his jaw. “Seokjin wanted to kill an innocent woman.”

“The man you just killed now could’ve been innocent. It’s not our duty to question those things.” Jimin’s voice was whispered and raspy as if drinking water wasn’t even a priority anymore. The skin under his eyes turned sallow from the glowing pale he used to adorn like a prize of being Seokjin’s favourites.

Taehyung walked over to his bed and sat. Leaving his back to Jimin, testing his limits of what the spy could do for a small sliver of approval. “If Seokjin ordered you to kill Gaia Takahashi, would you?”

A flicker of something else flashed across Jimin’s face. Finally, some humanity. The part of him that wasn’t a pet peeked through in softness and a hint of sorrow. “I don’t have anything outside of this place. No long lost love returned.”

Taehyung stayed silent. It was a privilege to find someone you lost years ago. Many people in the underworld lived their whole lives never seeing their old family again. Or if they did see them again, the family wanted nothing to do with them for they were too broken to be squeezed back into normalcy.

“Just tell me what you know and I’ll leave you be,” Jimin said almost defeated. “I just want something.”

Taehyung swallowed thickly, looking down at his socks. Hesitating as much as he could. He couldn’t tell him anything to do with the teahouses. All they must’ve known is that Taehyung wanted to keep Angel safe and run away. So he’ll just have to take it from there. “Yeou Pa have someone new on the inside. I don’t know who they are but the girl told me they protected her from being grabbed and somehow they can arrange our freedom.” When his expression turned to Jimin, he had a look of knowing on his face. “You know them?”

“Gaia told me Jungkook had two journalists in his estate.” Jimin furrowed his brows, digging his hands into his pockets. “Hansuke’s articles on the prostitution ring bust.” His brows softened. “They must’ve used my blown cover and the divorce to confuse the pipeline. So we’d never investigate them.”

Taehyung began to understand why Angel trusted this journalist so much. “Distract them with fireworks while you poison their tea.”

Jimin narrowed his gaze. “You’re relying on the person who ruined my life.”

“Your life isn’t ruined. You have your information, go place it at your master’s feet.” Taehyung waved his hand.

“He took you out of poverty and pain.”

Ah, the very words Seokjin used to get Taehyung out of the mess. But they weren’t completely true. Yes, Seokjin saved him from being culled by Japanese attackers but his life still had happiness before Holangi Pa. It was that happiness Taehyung was fighting to protect. “He turned me into a killer. That is not a life, Jimin, that’s being a tool.”

Jimin raised his chin, pursing his lips together. “So be it.” He stomped out of the room to be the weapon Seokjin needs him to be.

-

Tanaka Hansuke arrested for prostitution solicitation. The headlines choked every corner of the street. Belle stared at it many times to ensure whether it was a dream or not. She never had any ill will towards her old boss but a dark part of her was almost relieved. As if the light grip on her neck was released, one she hadn’t realized existed.

Jungkook’s connections with the police managed to solidify the chances of Hansuke’s demise. Although Belle opted to wear her own white blouse and brown skirt as if somehow that was going to help her disconnect from who she was becoming outside of this building.

Belle traced her fingers over her typewriter, an unfinished article taunting her. From the distance, she saw Hoseok pacing through the glass window. Hoseok was Hansuke’s next in line as the editor but the man took it in silence. They figured it would be respectful to have less celebration with the way Hansuke ‘stepped down’.

Even then, Belle still saw congratulation letters and bouquets cluttering the desk. The expression on his face turned sad as he reluctantly sat on the chair.

Belle got up from her chair and entered the room. “Mr. Jung?”

Hoseok stared at her, mouth open wide. “Please don’t.”

Smiling, she closed the door behind her. “What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t earn any of this,” Hoseok said in a whisper, eyes screaming panic. Sweat formed at the edge of his hairline and his tie already loosened early in the afternoon.

“Of course you did.” Belle walked over to the table. She stopped near the bouquet of petunias with a card that had a lipstick stain perched on it.

“You of all people shouldn’t indulge my ego.”

Belle gripped at the edge of his work table. “You supported me through all this. That matters.”

“I knew Hansuke was problematic and we did a good thing. But, Belle, this. . .we’re in too deep.” Hoseok took out his handkerchief and patted his hairline.

Belle felt herself unravelling at the seams at those words. Hoseok meant they were too involved with Yeou Pa, which could be construed as crime by association. But the words gripped her at a deeper level. One that hurt her. She liked it. She liked the reflection she saw in the mirror of someone lovely and cared for, hidden by the troubles and atrocities of the world.

Hoseok took her sudden silence with suspicion. “You okay?”

“Jungkook asked me to go with him to the meeting with Kim Namjoon.” Belle let the words spill without a break.

Shock spread across Hoseok’s face. “That’s. . .outsiders aren’t supposed to go to those meetings.” He leaned in again, whispering to her as if someone could hear through the door. “You didn’t go to the meeting with Takahashi. Why now? Why all of a sudden?”

Belle’s chest rose and fell, staring at him. She let go of the table, folding her arms unable to form the words because they were so stupid. I let myself go. I let him dig deep into parts of me that shouldn’t have been touched especially not by him. Yet she could say nothing.

But Hoseok’s expression softened, using his years of knowing Belle to put the pieces together. “Oh. Was it—it wasn’t forced?”

Belle shook her head. “No. It wasn’t even for information.” She shrugged, chuckling sadly. “I just wanted him.” It was only now, in the building where she began her whole mission that she realised how bad it had become. How close and intimate she’d become to this whole world. “Hoseok, I’m losing grip. Today I melted over some fucking pearls, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Hoseok stammered, lifting to his feet and walking around the table towards her. “Listen. There’s nothing wrong with you.” He rubbed her arms up and down. “People get attached during these missions. It happens. Look at me.” He cupped her cheeks as Belle tried to stare down in shame. “You’re not a lesser person for it.”

Belle had done many things, woken up in the worst of beds to get things for her articles. Anything to help those who needed it but this was her own desire. Instead of pretending she was off somewhere else while a stinking club owner kissed her neck, Belle wanted to relish in every brush from Jungkook, every slight touch. She wanted it all. “Are you sure?”

“I’m the last person to think any less of you.” Hoseok chuckled. “You’re the reason why I have this job now.”

Belle smiled and rested her head on his chest. Everything else seemed unravelled but it was Hoseok’s comfort that always brought her back to the ground, sturdy and firm. “You’re good for me too. More than you know.”

“We’re not gonna get out of this for a while, are we?” Hoseok looked down at her.

Belle nodded, taking a deep breath. “It seems so.”

But I will get us out. I will. I will.

-

Jungkook, Belle and Rosyne made their way to one of Namjoon’s estates. A painfully traditional Korean structure thickly layered with guards. Jungkook heard stories of Japanese attackers getting brutally murdered at these doorsteps for attempting to destroy the architecture. Each old piece of wood was kept to its condition, better than some temples in the city.

Alliances were a tricky business especially if marriage wasn’t involved. That’s why Yoongi was kept far away just in case something did happen to Jungkook in the fray.

They walked through the entrance into the main courtyard. A open-aired living room was lit with painted lanterns with a makgeolli set gleaming in porcelain. Kim Namjoon already sat the table, facing them as they arrived with a loose hanbok. His smile was filled with both mockery and a faint kindness.

“Never thought you’d come into my humble abode.” Namjoon gestured to his luxurious estate. “Though I suppose things must’ve gotten desperate.”

Jungkook withheld the groan under his breath to which Belle responded by squeezing his fingers briefly. As he glanced at the woman, she gave him a warning look. Everything was monitored. He had to keep his pride in check. He did need help. A lot of it. “Seokjin has created quite the stir in the country.” Jungkook sat across from him while Belle and Rosyne on either side.

“The man always had a gripe with the way things are.” Namjoon gestured and two of his servants poured makgeolli for them.

“That’s all well and good but he’s taking a few too many shots to my empire.” Jungkook immediately took a sip to ease some of his body.

“Generational feuds break most empires.” Namjoon’s voice ran deep, thrumming through the air like a booming drum amongst the silence of his house. “So you’ve come down to the lower gangs for some help after your viper gave up.” He smirked.

Jungkook licked the inside of his cheek, forcing himself to take breaks between sipping the alcohol. But the urge to chug it was strong. “You know I’ve always paid respect to fellow Korean gangs.”

“Yes, but marrying a Japanese ally can create some sour reputations.” Namjoon squinted his nose. “Seokjin suffered the same when he jumped for his wife.”

Jungkook glanced at Belle for a split second. The presence of her calmed him slightly. “I won’t lie to you, Namjoon. I have come for help but I will not ask for it for free. So name your price.”

Namjoon smiled, eyes flickered over to Belle. “You’re a new face.” He leaned in like a slithering snake.

Jungkook knew that Namjoon wasn’t a slimy man and his goal was purely to annoy him. He knew that. Yet anger still boiled fresh like Namjoon was some horny prick out to get Belle and not a cunning boss who wants to pick at his weaknesses. “Stay focused, Kim.” He tried to keep his patience as best as he could.

But Namjoon laughed regardless. “I’m assuming then she’s off limits.” He gestured with a smile so pleased that it earned a punch. “But my price is more of a personal variety.”

Jungkook’s anger passed then as Namjoon’s tone turned serious. A hardened expression that forced even him to listen closely. “What is it?”

“Seokjin isn’t the loyal husband he makes himself out to be,” Namjoon explained. “He’s been fornicating with multiple Korean women in order to ensure a Korean lineage whilst posing for a Japanese with his wife, Akira.” A grimace formed on his face. “Many of those women were promised good lives and titles in exchange but Seokjin keeps them hidden. As someone who wants to be proud of being the sole Korean leader, he’s been upsetting a lot of innocent people. One in particular that came to me with a child. Her and Seokjins’ child.”

There had to be something. Every single boss alive had something as their ultimate weakness. For months, Jungkook thought that breaking Seokjin would feel like chipping away at steel with a toothpick but here it was. “He’s trying to get best of both worlds.”

“Which always ends in disaster.” Namjoon pursed her lips.

“Do you have some connection with this woman?”

“The very reason we try to stay strong in the underground is so everyone else out there can be safe.” Namjoon’s tone infused kindness. “I want us to have our country back. But I do not want Seokjin sitting on that chair.” He shook his head. “So. . .my help for his head.”

Jungkook smiled, finally feeling an agreement with the man. They were getting close. Seokjin was at his downfall. “That I can happily arrange.”

-

Seokjin was always most affectionate during the afternoons after he’s had his tea. They would share some cakes at the floor table and then his fingers reached under her sleeve. A quiet sign that he wished to take things to the bedroom. Most of their days were quiet together but not without love. Akira enjoyed the comfort of it all.

Having Seokjin’s weight in between her legs, thrusting inside her while her robe bunched at her waist. The rain pattered outside in their lovely gardens. Cool air made her nipples stand before Seokjin reached out to kiss them. The way he gave pleasure was slow and deep, forming remnants of him days later.

Akira left marks on his shoulder as the smell of fresh rain and arousal suffused the air. It was when Seokjin grabbed onto her wrists and placed them atop her head that she knew he drew close. Everything was familiar yet sweet and lovely. Akira opened her legs more allowing him to move faster until her walls felt the ache.

With a shaking moan, Seokjin pulsed inside her. Warm liquid filling her womb and making her dizzy. Seokjin let go of her wrists and relaxed atop her body. Akira pressed kisses across his jawline.

Seokjin lifted himself up, cupping her cheek. “I do enjoy our teatimes.”

Akira laughed. “Maybe I should just place a tea set for décor next time.”

Seokjin chuckled, kissing her forehead before climbing off her.

The cold air was unwelcomed but Akira quickly wrapped herself with her wrinkled robe. Just as the belt fastened, the door burst open.

“Jimin, my boy.” Seokjin tied his own robe with ease walking to the tea area. “What’s the matter?”

“Sir, it’s—your indentures. . .from the teahouses. They’re being bought off by the thousands.” Jimin shook his head, sweat glistening off his dark hair and his chest pulsating from lack of deep breathing. “The birds have suspected Kim Namjoon on the move. He’s making an alliance with Yeou Pa.”

Seokjin stayed silent, leaving Akira to only watch the movements and twitches of his back. He was stressed. The tightness of his shoulders showed her so. “Hansuke arrested and now Kim Namjoon, of all people, makes his major move. That is quite strange.” His voice was mellow and airy.

“If I may, sir? You said that there may be a third party interrupting operations.” Jimin spoke the words in a hurry. “I found two senior journalists in Saja Ilbo. One of them was promoted to editor. Jung Hoseok and his secretary, Arabella Sol.”

Akira perked up slightly. “She climbed quite high up. Impressive.” She spoke mostly to herself but it seemed capture Seokjin’s attention.

“You’re not wrong, my love.” Seokjin gazed back at Jimin who looked like a small boy desperate for his father’s approval. “Get some information on both Mr. Jung and Miss Sol.”

Jimin bowed. “Of course, Master.”

Seokjin patted his cheek causing Jimin’s eyes to light up with pride. “Good work, Jimin.”

Akira felt a mix of pity and joy for the man but said nothing. This was how Seokjin handled his birds and tigers. This was how she would let him. “It appears we are going to lose money, my love.”

Seokjin rested on the bed with a deep sigh. “It appears we are.”

Akira shifted closer to him, hands caressing the edge of his shoulders, loosening some of the tension. “The Takahashi’s are free. Perhaps I can put in a good word.” She rested her cheek against his chest.

Seokjin raised a brow and lifted his head to face her. “Cavorting with Jungkook’s ex-wife? A bit cruel, isn’t it?”

Akira smiled. “Work must be done.”

Seokjin grinned, tenderly brushing the top of her head. “What would I do without you?”

Akira moved her head and kissed him. “You’ll never be without me.”

tagged: @outrofenty | If you’d like to be added, please read the guide!

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[deliciouskeys]

@cozycornerkinktober prompt 4: Overstimulation

Side Ribs (Maeve x Homelander)

Warnings: none unless you have a tickling phobia. Rated E for general sexual situation backdrop.

Set in 2008. Any similarities to @xieyaohuan ‘s lovely piece for the same prompt are purely coincidental the result of an overlapping hive mind. Also owe inspiration to an anon ask sent to @blindmagdalena and Antony Starr’s tweet about his side rib area being a no fun zone. AO3 link.

“You’re always so damn quick,” Maeve says, smiling down at him from her perch on his cock.

“Shut up.” Homelander swallows down the urge to laser her right then and there for looking so amused. Maybe this whole relationship was a mistake. Homelander was insanely attracted to her from the moment he saw her– everything about her, from the way she looked, to how strong and durable she was, and even down to her rebellious personality. He was shocked by it at first, then annoyed by it, but at the same time he couldn’t help admiring how she’d sometimes just talk back to the Vought executives, or refuse to do something when she deemed it pointless or stupid. Before seeing her, it had honestly not occurred to him that he could potentially do that too. When he tried it out with Madelyn she immediately put a stop to it, though. “You’re too old to be copying your girlfriend’s bad behavior,” she said sternly and Homelander nodded but secretly kept admiring whenever Maeve didn’t follow the rules as much as he did.

Maeve never seemed to admire him much, though. He found it confusing. Wasn’t he repeatedly told he was superior to everyone else? It eventually dawned on him that Maeve didn’t necessarily value how easily he could destroy things, or how fast he could fly. She knows more things about the “real world”, she has a sharp sense of humor that he can only try to learn and emulate, and she just cares less about what people think of her, which is an amazing type of strength he hadn’t even considered until meeting her. She is, plain and simple, a much cooler person than he is.

That’s probably how this whole shaky dynamic developed. Two weeks ago he decided to up the stakes from what was a curated, fake PR relationship and ask her out on a real date, and he was so nervous while he asked that he prayed she couldn’t hear his racing, nervous heartbeat like he could hear her steady one. She shrugged and agreed to give it a try, and the same evening they found themselves in his apartment. Things went south from the get-go. She refused to sleep with him in his bed. She didn’t like the mirrors, implied he was weird for putting them there, although she didn’t really explain why. He’s honestly amazed at how good she looks given how little time she seems to spend in front of any mirror. So these two weeks he’s stayed over every night and slept in her bed, and he soon confirmed what he suspected– that even though she’s five years younger than him, she’s had a lot more experience with a lot more people than he did. It irked him and disgusted him a little bit, but she was just too damn attractive to hold it against her. But now he has a chip on his shoulder, and the feeling that he needs to assert himself in bed.

Maeve makes to move off of him, but he clamps down on her legs. “Just fuckin’…. stay there,” he growls.

She rolls her eyes. “You’re gonna try that thing where you come three times without ever pulling out? I’m tired of bouncing around on your cock. If you really want to make it up to me for being a fucking minuteman, why don’t you at least do it using your mouth.”

Homelander grimaces. Eating her out was fine, but something about the idea of encountering his own fluids with his tongue was not to his liking.

“Such a prude,” she says, as if reading his mind from his expression, and he seriously considers getting into a wrestling match with her- the one arena where he’s pretty sure he can overpower her, even if he doesn’t resort to heat vision. But he honestly can’t be sure even about that. She’s deft and quick and maybe he’s underestimating her yet again.

When Maeve makes to move off of his cock again, he grabs her by the waist and pulls her down, more roughly this time because he’s getting frustrated with her.

“Ow!” she whines, but he can tell she’s just being dramatic, rubbing the side of her torso where he grabbed her. “Bastard!” She abruptly reaches down to the side of his body, touching him in a way that makes him jerk and throw her off of himself, because he suddenly feels extremely vulnerable.

“Oh so you do have a weakness!” she says with a note of triumph, grinning as she clambers out of the tangle of sheets he shoved her into.

“What the fuck did you just do to me?” Homelander is rubbing his side, disturbed by whatever sensation that was. Did she find a way to short-circuit his sense of touch somehow?

“What do you mean?” Maeve laughs. When Maeve laughs in the bedroom, he always has to fight down the assumption that she’s making fun of him.

“What did you just do?” he repeats, calming down a little bit.

“You mean– THIS?” she blurts out the last word as her hand descends on his ribs again and starts wiggling them across his skin.

“FUCK.” He rolls away from her, and gathers up the blanket defensively around himself.

“Oh my god. You’re fucking ticklish! I bet no one knows this!”

He blinks at her. He’s heard about tickling and people being ticklish. He’d always assumed it was some bizarre weakness he wasn’t privy to, like being “sleepy” or “depressed”. No one had ever triggered him like this.

“What’s tickling, exactly?” he asks her and immediately regrets it when she bursts out laughing.

“What are you saying? Is this the first time you’ve ever been tickled or something…” She trails off and her smile fades a little bit. “Wait, you seriously have never…”

It’s that familiar feeling where Homelander feels stupid and ignorant and embarrassed that he was apparently raised differently from everyone else. No matter how many times they tell him he’s special and better than all the rest, why is he always in these situations where he’s caught off guard and defensive about not knowing apparently simply things?

“They sure raised you weird,” Maeve says, and her tone is no longer mocking. She scooches closer to him and strokes his face, which is the only thing not under the blanket. “Tickling is just… when you get touched in certain places and you feel uncomfortable and start to laugh.”

“I’ve never felt uncomfortable when I touched my ribs!”

“You can’t tickle yourself. It’s only when someone else touches you.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Homelander grumbles, still feeling defensive, but relaxing a little bit. “And why would you laugh if it’s uncomfortable?”

“I don’t know, I’m not an expert. It’s like when you’re… nervous that someone will do something to you. That’s why it can’t just be you doing it to yourself.”

Homelander huffs through his nose and looks up at the ceiling to avoid eye contact.

Maeve sighs. “Look, I’m sorry I laughed, it’s just very strange to hear someone in his late 20s has never been tickled or knows what it feels like. But I get it. You told me. They didn’t really touch you much. That’s pretty sad actually.”

Homelander gets even more uncomfortable hearing what sounds like pity in her voice, and thankfully she seems to notice this and pivots the conversation.

“You want me to… show you?”

“Why would I want to feel uncomfortable?!” Homelander snaps at her.

“Because, it can be enjoyable, I think. We can figure out where you’re ticklish and where you’re not.”

Homelander looks over at her and relents cautiously, unwrapping himself slowly out of the blanket.

She keeps eye contact with him as she strokes her index finger along his chest. “Feel anything?” she asks.

“No?” he says in annoyance, still not quite convinced she’s even talking about the right phenomenon. What he felt when she reached down and touched his ribs was not enjoyable in the slightest. Not something a parent would do to their child.

Her finger travels up to his shoulder.

“No,” he answers her unspoken question.

But then she takes her finger down his body, heading towards the same side ribs she touched and he bucks and squirms away before she even gets there.

“Okay, okay,” she laughs. “I won’t touch you there. See, you’re so ticklish there that I don’t even have to touch you.”

Slowly but surely he lets her explore. Whatever’s happening, he’s probably never seen her be so interested in his body. He can’t take her touching his neck, his armpits, and the middle of his stomach either, but he starts to understand. It’s a bit of a game. And when he trusts her more, he finds himself giving into laughter sometimes. The giggles are embarrassing– high-pitched, like he’s never heard himself sound before. But she doesn’t seem to judge him for it, even seems charmed by him.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh before, John,” she says when she’s done with her investigation.

Homelander scoffs. “That can’t be.”

“I’ve heard you make the sound you made just now plenty of times. The ugly mean sarcastic laugh. But never your actual happy or nervous laugh.”

“You think I’m mean?”

“Very.”

“That must be why we get along so well then,” Homelander says. He looks over at her and tries to catch her unawares, but she’s on to what he’s trying to do, faster than him somehow, lightning-quick, her hands grabbing his sides before he has a chance to do it to her, tickling him mercilessly. He can’t gather himself enough to retaliate. He’s writhing and laughing to tears, still trying to be careful not to kick or punch her even as he’s attempting to squirm away, because the tickling is unbearable, and is completely overloading his senses. The loss of control over his own body is intoxicating.

“Maeve… please…Maeve... I can’t…” his words keep getting interrupted by pained laughter, tears actually streaming down his face, but it feels so good to be at her mercy, not to be judged, to have Maeve be so fucking interested in his body all of a sudden. Every time her hand reaches for a new place, he feels like he’s going insane with fear and arousal. At this point, he can’t stand having almost any part of his body touched, even the ones that weren’t sensitive before, like he’s primed for being assaulted and feels the discomfort before her hands even alight on his skin. He’s rolled up to protect his vulnerable front side, but at this point even her touching his back is sending him into convulsions.

Eventually he’s worn out but manages to grab hold of her wrists and hold them far away from his neck and torso. His whole body feels weakened and pliable, like jello, after all the nerve-wracked laughter and squirming, but he somehow enjoys feeling that way. Maeve smiles and cranes her neck to kiss him. But once she pulls back, she moves her head back and forth, the ends of her long red hair dragging across his already overstimulated neck, and he loses it again, throwing her off and scooting away from her. But he’s not disturbed or pouty this time. He enjoys how sweet Maeve’s laughter sounds when they’re playing like this. He’s honestly glad no one’s ever done this to him before. It’s an amazing discovery, and now it’s something he’ll associate with her forever.

Maeve is good at playing flirty games outside of their bedroom too. In the following weeks, she keeps slipping in a touch here and there when no one else around them seems to be paying attention. Homelander tries not to react, tries not to jerk away or make any kind of sound, but it takes all of his restraint. She knows exactly where she can poke him, quickly figuring out how she can inflict torture even through his padded suit.

“You’re on very thin ice,” he hissed at her through gritted teeth after she discreetly reached under the table, so discreetly that he didn’t even notice, and attacked him viciously just above the belt, so viciously that even the padded abs didn’t offer enough protection from her fingers. He bucked away from the table, and Madelyn paused her presentation, looking at both of them quizzically. And yet, despite how embarrassed he is to lose composure, or disrupt Madelyn, or the fact that his suit can barely cover up how much he associates being tickled with sex, Homelander’s on cloud nine. He has a secret relationship that Vought may have planned out for him but never sanctioned as a real thing. And his girlfriend is hot and spontaneous and playful and rebellious. She’s not afraid of him. She has secret jokes with him. He’s giddy with love. He’s probably going to marry her, Vought’s PR assessments of that move be damned.

[cilil]

Day 6 ~ Loss & Betrayal

𓂃🖋 Characters/pairings: Melkor x Mairon 𓂃🖋 Synopsis: With Melkor trapped in the Void, Mairon can no longer reach him and resorts to addressing him in letters to cope with his situation on Númenor. 𓂃🖋 Warnings: References to/discussion of sexual assault. Also Mairon is a hater 𓂃🖋 Oneshot (~1.2k) | AO3

Beloved, 

I made it out of dungeons at last — in body, that is. 

In spirit I have long since been wandering and dreaming to distract myself from the miserable existence that I was subjected to. And subjected myself to; you know as well as I do that at times the long, twisted road of deception is a safer path to tread than brute force. 

I had to let them take me. Though it means little either way. 

The mortal king has, as was to be expected, grown fond of me already. He wants the divine secrets that only our kind has to offer, and more important yet, power and immortality. I promised him all of these things, of course, and he might well get at least a taste of some before I seize victory from his greedy, filthy hands. 

There will be a price to pay, however, that much I know already. Not only the shameful matter of allowing mortals to take me prisoner like a lowly incarnate, but also the realm in itself. 

I despise Númenórë, precious. I hate it. 

It is full of foul, indecent Men, crawling all over the island like the vermin they are. They consume lots of slimy seafood, presumably another "gift" from Ulmo and his ilk, and they audaciously serve me these abominations as well, expecting not only that I should eat them, but also praise their odious cuisine. They love the sea and venture out often, thinking themselves great explorers as if anything they could ever find has not been known for ages untold to us, the makers of this world. They worship our father and the vain Valar who in their eyes are nothing but strange gods they have never seen but bow to nevertheless, while they call us hateful names. 

And yet I must smile and gracefully endure the company of the king and those he surrounds himself with. He has named me his advisor now ��� a decision he will undoubtedly come to regret, though not a second before my designs for him come to pass and he faces his inevitable doom. 

The queen, it is said, was married to the king against her will, and I can certainly see the utter lack of charm that necessitated a forceful course of action. She does not lie with him willingly, and unfortunately his lust has fallen upon me instead. 

He leers at me when he asks me about our secrets. He corners me when I tell him about power. He touches me when I speak of you. He attempts to hold me when I praise your name. 

He has even had the audacity to call me a servant. 

Precious, 

the king has laid hands on me again. In fact he has only just now exited my chambers, satisfied with his detestable deeds, leaving me to bear the shame and impurity of a mortal's touch. 

I try not to see and not to feel when he comes near me. I try not to recoil or weep or destroy him for the crime of despoiling what belongs only to you. I try not to mourn the loss of our intimacy, long ago though it has been: This form was made for you, made for our love and our pleasure. 

Not for a mortal king.

He grows bolder now, having realised that I will not defend myself, and takes what he wants. And I have to let him. I could, perhaps should destroy him, burn down these chambers, the castle, the entire city with him and flee, but alas, I cannot and will not. For such petty revenge is not enough; the entire realm must fall. 

He does not even have the decency to humbly accept the grace that I show him. He treats me like a common whore, demeans and degrades me, handles me roughly, always takes and takes and takes and never asks. He claims I am nothing but a slave and a prostitute, yet it is him whose mind falls prey to my whispers and whose body cannot resist my beauty. 

I hate it. I hate him. He disgusts me, and no amount of gold or ships or crowns could change that. I need not tell you that only you are King of Kings, and no other could even hope to come close to your glory. I need not tell you that I never wanted any other. 

And yet... no matter how desperately I wish to burn those grasping, grimy, greedy hands whenever it comes into his foolish mind that a mortal could possess a Maia and he reaches for me, I must instead endure. I do not want it. I do not want any of this. But the plan must be executed, so that your enemies will be brought to ruin and returned to the doom you designed for them. 

Worst of all is the knowledge that the king will be back soon. I must admit now that the potency of my charms has become a double-edged sword: So very effective, so very strong is the desire I inspire within the hearts of weak mortal Men, yet being the object of such desire is a most undignified position to be in. 

He is insatiable, thoroughly ensnared, and I am... afraid. 

My love, 

I am distraught, more than I have ever been. I know not what to say. I wanted to cry out to you, but could not allow your name to be sullied by being spoken while another takes what is yours.

Beloved, I have committed the most unforgivable blasphemy against you and our sacred union. I saw it coming, knew it would happen, prayed for your forgiveness in advance, yet it did nothing to dispel the horror of such acts. 

I had to let a mere mortal violate my beautiful fána. I had to let a false king take me. I had to betray both you and myself for the sake of our perfect revenge. 

I want to burn my fána. I will burn it once I no longer need it. 

Even so, I weep. This is the very same fána that you touched, the one that bears the marks of your love. I desperately want to shed a skin so defiled, but the thought of losing what little I have left of you is unbearable. 

Forgive me, my love. Forgive me for letting a filthy mortal have me. Forgive me for sacrificing what is yours as well as mine. I swear that I did it only for you, for only the thought of you can keep me in this world — the thought of how you will smile when you behold the ruin of our enemies, how you will laugh, how pleased you will be with me. 

I have been trying to cleanse myself with water instead, but it is insufficient. I heated it until it was boiling, but it was not enough. 

I still feel his touch upon me, and it disgusts me. 

And if I shall burn to be rid of this filth upon me, so too shall the king and his entire realm. My flames shall feast upon mortal flesh as tribute for my sacrifice, and death shall claim all who remain until there is no one and nothing left of accursed Númenórë and its king. 

Thanks for reading! ♡

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[fancyfeathers]

hello hello ! I love your yan Moriarty works especially the concepts! They feel so fresh! I wanted to ask more about your William. Since William is a rather gentle soul with those he considers innocent and good, wouldn't he be less keen on frightening or mentally torturing them a bit? While being scheming and a bit frightening is on brand for him at times, do you think he would deliberately hurt his Darling? What is your general idea of yan! William?

This post has spoilers for my both of my Yandere William related works so please read them if you don’t want spoilers, you can find the masterlists on my pinned post.

This is interesting to me, I think he is a very manipulative and protective yandere with a touch of delusion in some instances

Like I do not think he would ever intentionally hurt his darling because he would consider them innocent and good, but that doesn’t mean he would never hurt his darling. William will do what he deems as necessary so for example kidnapping his darling, he would kidnap his darling to protect her. Like in my main two stories with William, he takes his darling in Just like Rosemary because it was her friend’s dying wish to have William protect her since how cruel the world has been to her. Then with the author darling it was more or less to save her from her destroying herself, guilt was eating her alive and she could hardly live with herself or let alone write again because of the murders, so William kidnapped her so she would do what she enjoyed again and he himself could enjoy her writing again.

Then when it comes to killing for her, he will do when he deems it necessary. Family members he could easily manipulate, friends might be a bit more difficult since people tend to go to their friends during hard times so they would know his darling better than her family, but again manipulation is not impossible. He would kill someone if they tried to hurt his darling or got to close to the truth (but if was the darling of one of his brothers or friends who was getting to close to the truth he would simply let them deal with them as they see fit).

But again he would definitely manipulate them, not brainwash them but get them to be dependent on him. Like they can cry, scream, yell at him all day and while it does hurt him he does know they won’t leave him because they both know they have nowhere else to go.

He would never physically harm them but mental torture is an absolute last resort. In order for it to be a last resort his darling would at least need to be smart enough to escape William like an author darling or strong enough to physically harm him, which would be difficult since he knows how to kill a man and can take multiple people in a fight, so the more likely is the first of these two. He is trying to protect his darling and his darling is trying to run and could potentially hurt someone in her escape if she is smart enough, like an author darling poisoning Louis, that is when he would resort to mental torture. If his darling ran to the house of a family member or friend, it would be a calm few hours and while they are going to bed they hear screaming before it stops and that person is dead. He would not let his darling see the body but the knowledge of them being dead is enough to keep them in line and then when they get back home and he gets cleaned up it’s back to being their sweet Liam while they are wide eyed with fear.

[luminlunii]

I would gladly share this AU! I already have with a few other people, but I don't think I'll ever write it. It's just for funzies while I'm on break from another fanfic. First, what this big AU is about. Long story short, humans found a way to bring 2D animated characters to life, but through very questionable means like science and making deals with a demonic entity in 2023. While, humans got greedy and didn't want to keep their end of the deal. Which was giving the Entity at least one of the 2D animated characters for him to raise as his child. They stopped doing this at the third, Entity punished them for this, by making the cartoons/anime characters sick with this life sentence ink disease and wiping their memories of them for it, leaving their names of course. The government got scared when people and characters started asking why this was happening as they slowly gained their memories back, so they made a medicine specifically for characters to forget who they are, and where they came from until they could figure out what to do, which was almost never. Although, they had the medicine, it wasn't fullproof and good humans talk. So, they kidnapped characters (Those they weren't experimented on to find a cure or corrupted means) and made them into assassins to take out creators of these characters if they could not be bribed to keep quiet, the animators that were involved, or anyone else that wouldn’t stop questioning things. Eventually, they weeded out the humans that would talk, time went on and the future generations didn’t know anything. Or if they do, they don’t quite understand it. The government also erased/destroyed anything resembling a character. Disneylands, Disneyworlds, resorts, anime studios, all left to be abandoned and anyone on the premises would be killed. They did this because that couldn’t have people finding out they practically used dark magick and science involving human sacrifices of sorts to bring characters to life and it backfired. That would be too much of an uproar.

Second, (Sorry this is long! Feel free to skim!) This was encouraged a rebellion organization called T.O.T.O. ran by Oswald the Lucky Rabbit (The mascot before Mickey Mouse.) and Mickey Mouse. They're trying to get the bottom of the truth. Rocky was with Zib the entire time of his memory loss. While both had been recruited for the cause at the very beginnings of rebellion, Oswald was more interested in Rocky. This is because Rocky heard about the rebellions suspicions on the medicine and was like, "Why don't I test it!" on a whim. And sure enough, he saw old memories from his original world. You see, when Rocky saw these things, he didn't keep quiet and was very chaotic about it, which is why Oswald recruited him. To help the organization make noise about the cause. However, it being the first time for the organization to put face out there, they didn't realize the dangers completely. Oswald grew careless and it resulted in the Incident of Nebraska. Where the government got the jump on them on their first rally, hosted by yours truly, Rocky. Half were killed while the others were taken. Rocky was taken. He was experimented on like the rest at first, but after some research on Rocky. The experimentation facilities saw the same things Oswald saw him, but in a bad way. They turned him into an assassin because they figure they could put his chaotic nature to use, just like the first one and the many other in Rocky's situation after him. The first was Husker from Hazbin Hotel. The assassins are scattered all across the globe by multiple countries.

Yes, Oswald is looking for Rocky as is Zib. Zib is mad a Oswald because it appears he's not looking for him. So, Zib is looking for him on his own. However, the truth is. Oswald hired Mordecai to track Rocky down, but doesn't want to get Zib involved to be more careful about what they do.

All of which I just read is absolutely nuts. I had to walk away from my computer several times trying to comprehend this massive wall of text that was thrown at me. I was screaming how batshit insane this concept is. My brain is imploding.

My final response

What the fuck.