#imagine living your life just fine by scent and then suddenly you have two parent figures in your life that are your age

[sqlmn]

Since Fulj and Holly exchanged chokers and then Ananza bought Oh a necklace (but looser than the girlfriends bc she still values whimsy and freedom in the AU)... Oh bought her a lil bracelet. And she is SO happy and adores it and them and she is very happy to show Deacon her cute friendship bracelet.

Cause. Ananza still adores Deacon in the AU and wants to dote on him like a mom despite how much taller he is (and probably the same age tbh).

[julek]

40 & geraskefer?

things you said when you met my parents

read on ao3

“Okay, so, remember: my mom loves wine, knitting, and watching telenovelas. Geralt, what’s my dad’s favorite—”

“He loves ballroom dancing, horseback riding, and your mom,” Geralt says automatically. “It’s gonna be fine, Jask.”

“I just want everything to be—”

“Perfect,” Yen says, finishing his sentence for him. “We know. It will be. Just stop fretting and making us memorize your parents’ hobbies.”

They’re standing on said parents’ doorstep, Jaskier’s finger an inch away from the doorbell. There’s a bottle of Jaskier’s mom’s favorite wine under Geralt’s arm, a neat tiramisu from their favorite bakery in Yennefer’s hands, and a delicate bouquet of lilies in Jaskier’s. They all look beautiful — beautiful enough to bail on dinner and go back to their apartment — but tonight is important. So important that Geralt is wearing his nicest jeans and the crisp button-down he spent half an hour ironing, his hair braided into a beautiful pattern. So important that Yen spent her morning at the salon, getting her hair, nails, and skin done. So important that Jaskier cried twice before getting in the car.

He kind of looks like he wants to cry right now, but he can’t, not exactly, because his mother opens the door at that exact moment and suddenly he’s pulled into a tight hug.

“Julian!” She says brightly, squeezing him a little, and then she’s already herding them all inside. “You’re here! How was the drive? This awful weather, I tell you— oh, you brought wine! That’s so nice of you, you didn’t have to— ooh, is that tiramisu? My sister-in-law makes the most wonderful—”

+

Jaskier’s mom is a whirlwind, and, from the moment he meets her, Geralt is certain it’s something that runs in their blood. She takes his coat, compliments his hair, puts the tiramisu in the freezer and gushes about how beautiful Yen’s dress is all in the same breath. She’s charming, and kind, and there’s something in her gaze that makes Geralt immediately want to trust her.

He has a feeling Yen agrees.

And it’s nice, is the thing, nothing like he had imagined it would be. He’d imagined chandeliers and long dining tables and cool, unfazed blue eyes staring at him during the course of the meal; backhanded comments and fake pleasantries, and it is nothing like that.

The Pankratz household is loud, considering it’s only two people living in it — and it’s full of life. Vitality. There are plants absolutely everywhere (Jaskier’s mom gives them a little tour of the ones she’s proudest of, and delights in telling them their names), a small dog that yaps happily at them and licks Geralt’s hand when he bends down to pet him, a radio somewhere playing old country songs and a kitchen filled with the scent of homemade food and sweet wine.

“Is there anything we can help with?” Geralt asks once they’ve settled down at the kitchen table, watching Mrs. Pankratz — Please call me Camilla, she’d said, we’re all family here — stir something in a pan.

“Nothing at all, dear,” she says with a smile. “It’s almost done, now— oh, maybe you could all help Julian set the table.”

“We’ll do it,” Yen says, taking Jaskier’s hand. “Lead the way.”

Geralt watches them as they leave the kitchen, Yennefer’s laughter soft as Jaskier pokes her in the ribs. When he turns, Camilla is watching him with a gentle expression.

“You love them a lot,” she says.

He smiles. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

He does. He still can’t believe his luck, getting to spend his life with them.

Camilla takes the spoon between her lips as she tastes the sauce. “I could tell,” she says. “I can see it in all of your faces— the love just pouring down like sunlight on a stream.”

She’s a poet as well. It makes Geralt smile.

“I was so happy that one morning Julian called me,” she says, turning the stove off. “He was so nervous, that poor boy, I could tell there was something important he needed to tell me. And then he just blurted it out, Mama I’m in love, and I asked who with, and there was silence, but I could hear someone laughing in the background.”

Geralt snorts. “Yen.”

“Yes,” Camilla says with a grin. “She took over when he couldn’t answer any of my questions. I could tell she was a good one.”

“She is,” he says softly. “Jaskier is, too.”

Camilla smiles at him. They spend a few moments in silence, the gentle sizzling of the pan filling the air. When she’s done, she turns, and says, “Give me a hand, here, dear. My joints aren’t what they used to be.”

“Of course.”

+

Dinner is fun.

Yen has no recollection of ever enjoying herself so much in a meet-the-parents situation. In fact, they’d all been disasters, prior to this one. Camilla is a gracious host, and heartbreakingly nice, telling her all about the family history behind the meal they’re enjoying, asking her questions with genuine interest and listening to her answers with intent. There’s so much of her in Jaskier, Yen can’t help the way her heart squeezes when she looks at him across the table.

Jaskier’s dad is no different. He’s loud and hilarious, telling them all sorts of anecdotes that both embarrass Jaskier and bring great joy to her and Geralt. He’s straightforward but still polite, honest in a way she’s grateful for. He and Geralt have a shared love of horses that they spend a long time discussing, longer than she cares to listen to, so she turns her attention to the conversation Jaskier and his mother are having.

“...and the house will be empty in June,” Camilla is saying. “Maybe you guys could drive up there for the summer.”

“Oh, well,” Jaskier says, rubbing the back of his neck, “I don’t know about that, I mean— I’d have to discuss it with them first. Yen is working the first two weeks of June, I think?”

“Yes,” she interjects, joining the conversation. “But I could move my appointments. What were you talking about?”

“I was just telling Julian about our holiday house upstate,” Camilla says. “We normally go up there on the last days of June, but this year we’ve decided to travel somewhere else. I was thinking maybe you all could head up there for the summer, if you wanted to! There’s a beautiful beach, and it’s really peaceful that time of the year. Most people head somewhere else for the summer, but we’ve always loved going there. Ever since Julian was a kid.”

“Oh,” Yen says, a bit taken aback by the offer. “That’s a really nice idea. Thank you.”

Camilla shakes her head. “It’s nothing, dear. But, speaking of Julian as a kid, do I have the pictures for you—”

“Mom!”

+

“It was lovely to meet you, Mrs. and Mr. Pankratz,” Yen says one last time, on their doorstep.

The stars are shining and there’s a cool spring breeze ruffling their coats. Geralt’s hand is resting on her waist, Jaskier’s hands in the pockets of her peacoat (he never wears gloves, and she has to suffer for it).

“Drive safe,” Henry — Jaskier’s dad — says. “See you soon.”

They all walk to Geralt’s truck in silence, the comfortable kind. Yen’s belly is full from Camilla’s delicious meal and their sweet wine, the taste of coffee in her mouth from the tiramisu like a reminder of a night gone well. The radio plays softly in the background when Geralt starts the truck, and Yen tucks herself into the passenger seat, eyes closing as Geralt grabs her hand over the gearshift.

Jaskier breaks the silence. “Did you guys have a good time?”

“Yeah,” Geralt and Yen say in unison, and the three of them laugh.

“I really enjoyed myself,” says Geralt, honest. “You didn’t tell us they were such nice people to be around.”

Jaskier shrugs. “They can be a bit much, sometimes. Like me.”

“Mm, and we love you, don’t we?” Yen says sleepily. Geralt hums in agreement.

“Anyway— uh,” Jaskier coughs. “They loved you guys. Obviously, I mean— they gave me the shovel talk.”

Yen’s eyes spring open. She turns around in her seat. “They gave you the shovel talk?”

“Yeah!” He says, eyes shining with indignation. “Me! Their son! The one person they swore to protect no matter the cost!”

Geralt smiles at him over the rearview mirror. “What did they say?”

Jaskier huffs. “Oh, just the classic don’t break their hearts unless you wanna deal with us type of thing. You know, the kind of talk children don’t have to hear from their own parents.”

He looks like a kicked puppy, and Yen can’t contain her laughter.

“No one’s ever given anyone the shovel talk on my behalf,” she says, and oh, this is brilliant. “Oh my God, Jaskier— they like us more than you.”

“That’s not true!”

“They love us!” She cackles, and Geralt snorts. “Your dad was practically looking at Geralt like he hung the moon when he showed him those pictures of Roach, and I’m meeting your mom for brunch this Saturday. They love us.”

“You witch—”

“Watch it, little bird,” she says. “You wouldn’t want your parents to hear that you’re calling me mean names. You know, since they love—”

“Yen!”

[mythicalgemwrites]

Selkie x F! Reader (Linn) Part 1

Sorry for not posting earlier guys! I've been very busy with online classes.

Warnings: mentions of drowning. Pics are not mine, all credits go to the owner!

M! Selkie X F! Reader

Living on an island your whole life has its perks. From the fresh scent of the salty ocean air to the calming sounds of the waves crashing lazily, it never failed to wake you up with a serenity that could be found nowhere else. You had lived alone with your Toller pup for the past couple years, in the house that your grandparents had left for you. You grew up with them, as your parents always had to move from town to town due to their profession. They were both marine biologists and had taken up a job at a top secret research facility when you were 12, so they decided to let you stay with your beloved grandparents. However, on a stormy day a couple years ago, when you were 19, both your grandparents got caught in a storm while they were out fishing, and they never came back. During the funeral, you had found out that in their will, they had stated that you should get the house, in the event of something tragically happening to them.

And that’s how you got the house three years ago. When it became too lonely, you decided to adopt a Toller puppy for company, and you had named him Sam, which was your grandpa’s nickname. He provided good company and unconditional love, which is important in every home. The house had its own dock leading to the beach, so every morning, after your walk, you’d put Sam’s retriever genes to good use and play fetch with him, fetching the ball from the ocean was one of his favorite past times. Whenever you brought him to the beach, you sometimes feared he was going to be the reason why someone almost drowned. To date, you were grateful nothing like that had ever happened, but you sometimes couldn’t brush off that fear. You were a writer, and sometimes, you couldn’t control how far your imagination went, and sometimes, the words you put on paper would be some of your worst fears, if they were to come alive.

As the days go by, and the weather gets chilly, you would often take Sam on a walk to the nearby cove, usually in the warmer months it would be filled with children playing by the beach and in the waters, but as the weather got cooler, it was mostly couples going on romantic walks, or some who preferred the solitude, just came to enjoy the sunset. On this particular day, there weren’t many people by the cove, just a couple strangers. It was around 6:15 when you threw the ball the last time, and waited for Sam to retrieve it. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, fully inhaling the chill autumn air, when you heard a whelp coming from the water. Opening your eyes, you saw Sam caught on a wave, and struggling to get back to you. In a panicked state, you took off into the water, not worrying about the growing current, but more worried about your faithful companion, struggling in grasps of strong waves, at least for a dog his size. As you grab him by his collar, attempting to pull him out, another wave comes crashing into the two of you, causing you to go under. Trying to call for help, and failing, as the water fills your lungs, you stop struggling, knowing it might make your situation worse, however, Sam starts barking, with his head barely above the water.

Suddenly, you could feel yourself being pulled out of the water, and being held against a broad chest by strong arms. Once you reached the water, you looked at your savior, beautiful greenish-blue grey eyes met yours, and you saw a cute familiar face looking back at you. It was Linn, the barista in the cute local café. You had to admit, you’ve always had a crush on him, but from afar. You didn’t know anything about him, except that people claimed that his family had lived on the island for years, centuries even.

He had shaggy brown hair, and small freckles were scattered along his face. With his help, you got up from the ground and called out to Sam. “Are you alright? I saw you getting pulled under and saw your dog barking. Do you want me to call someone?” he asked , in a boyishly deep smooth voice. Gaping like a goldfish out of the water, it took you a few seconds to process what was said. Coughing, you rasped out “ Yes… I’m fine, thank you! My dog , Sam, got caught in the waves, and I tried to get him out.” you started babbling like a lost child. “ Can I call someone to come get you?” He asked again, a hint of concern in his eyes. “ oh, no… no it’s okay, I live alone, well with Sam. There’s no one to call.” you said, trying not to act like a 15 year old who just couldn't help but be nervous around her crush. “I’ll be fine, really, I just need to walk home and dry out. Thanks again for helping!” you exclaimed. Calling Sam to you, the both of you started to walk home. “ Hey! Wait!” you heard Linn calling from behind, “ I’ll walk you home, if that’s okay. It’s getting dark anyway. I’ll see to it that you both get home safe,”. Before you could say anything, you felt him putting his jacket over you, helping with the chill. You didn’t realize you were freezing until he wrapped his jacket around you.

When the three of you reached your home, Sam was happy to be back in the warm embrace of his bed. Standing by the door “ Would you like to come in? Maybe a cup of coffee… or tea or anything else, if you prefer?” quickly giving him the option of whatever he preferred, to make sure you didn't seem ignorant. Sure, he worked as a barista in the local café, but that doesn't mean he loved coffee, right? “ Um, sure! Anything will do,” he said, as he followed you in. Looking around, you kicked yourself in your head, not keeping up to the schedule you set yourself for cleaning up around the cottage. Sure, it was decent, but paper everywhere? A heaping amount of mugs were strewn around your coffee table, as you sat there working on your next work.

Quickly picking them up and moving them to the sink, you filled up the kettle and turned it on to boil. “ There’s tea and coffee in the cabinet above the kettle, feel free to help yourself. I’ll go get dried up,” the words left you, as if you were telling them to an old friend, hoping to not make a fool of yourself anymore, you gave him a sheepish smile and made your way upstairs to your bedroom.

(Linn pov)

I made my way to the cabinet, looking through the various tea blends. Something which would help with the cold temperature would be nice. There in the right corner of the cabinet, was a box of peppermint tea. It would definitely help make her feel better, since she was soaked to the bone. I can’t help but feel a sense of concern for her. This beautiful strong woman that I always encounter in the café I worked in, and possibly have a crush on, I can’t believe I never spoke to her. I’ve always seen her writing in the corner of the café, in her spot, as my coworkers and I have labeled it. She always seems so sure of herself, and always seems ready for anything, but today, out in the water when I saw her struggling, something came over me. I had to save her, felt a sense of protectiveness for her, hence why I offered to walk her home. Taking two bigger than average mugs from the cabinet, I filled them up with the boiling water, after placing a tea bag in each and placing them on the coffee table before the couch. Her dog was in front of the heater, longing for some warmth and hoping to dry off. I heard soft footsteps coming down the stairs.

As I got to the bottom of the stairs, I saw Sam laying before the heater, trying to get warm. Making my way to the tiny laundry room, I picked up Sam’s towel. Making my way to him, from the corner of my eye I saw Linn, sitting on the couch, two steaming mugs of what seemed to be one of my teas in front of him.

“ I made some peppermint tea, it helps with colds, we don’t want you to catch one now do we?” grinned Linn.

Thanking him, and taking the mug he held one, I sat next to him on the couch. Keeping some distance between us, I asked him if he wanted to use the bathroom to clean up.

“ If you have any spare clothing that might fit, I’d like that! It’s okay if you don’t though!” he nervously exclaimed. “ I do have some spare clothing that belonged to my grandpa, they should fit. Gimme a sec! I’ll go grab ‘em, and a towel too!” I exclaimed, leaving the cozy embrace of the couch.

Making my way to my room, where I kept a spare drawer full of my grandparent’s clothes, I dug out a jumper and a pair of pajama pants which belonged to my grandpa.

When I went down, I saw Linn drying Sam with the towel that I had left by his dog bed, and Sam being the belly rub loving dog he is, happily accepted Linn drying him with the towel, belly rubs being a necessity. Letting out a chuckle at the scene before my eyes, I held out the spare clothes and a fresh towel to Linn.

“ There’s a bathroom two doors left from the stairs upstairs,” I exclaimed, reaching for the doggy towel he left by the couch and chucking it in the laundry room. “Thank you,” he exclaimed, leaving to go to the bathroom.

Once Sam was dry enough, I picked up my mug of tea, making myself comfortable on the couch. Looking out the living room window, rain droplets trickling down the class, I sip on my tea, waiting for my guest to arrive from the bathroom. A couple minutes passed, looking up when I heard soft footsteps heading towards me, I offered Linn a smile and patted down the space next to me on the couch. “ Here, you can leave once the storm stops,” I handed him the mug.

We both sat beside each other, talking about what we remember about my grandparents and how we never spoke to each other when we were younger. Sam sitting at our feet. The dying fire casted a warm allure on his face, illuminating the soft scattered freckles. Hours passed as we enjoyed each other's company over another mug of tea, laughing at all the brief mutual moments that were shared between us. He mentioned that he would always get excited to see me whenever I visited my grandparents by the docks. I didn’t want to admit it, but I always loved to catch a few glimpses of him, whenever he wasn't looking as well.

I laughed at his words, tired but somehow feeling rejuvenated. It had been a long time since I last laughed with someone. It felt good to let go.

His expression of awe paused me mid laughter. He was gazing into my eyes, as I his. For a brief moment, his gaze averted to my lips. Moving his gaze up to my eyes, as soft as a whisper “ May I kiss you?” he asked, a foreign emotion lingered behind his now soft eyes.

Giving him a gentle nod, I felt him place his hand at the nape of my neck. Inhaling a deep breath, his scent which reminded me of the sea with a hint of musky peppermint enveloped my senses.

Linn leaned in, gently bringing my face towards his. He closed his eyes, and for a brief few seconds I admired him until mine shut involuntarily as I felt his lips on mine. After a few seconds, he pulled away, still gazing into my eyes, “ I’ve been wanting to do that for quite a while now,” he said, with a sheepish grin, before kissing me again.

He deepened the kiss a little, giving my bottom lip a light lick before pulling away. “ I regretted not telling you how I felt about you earlier… I did ask permission from your grandpa before he passed. The last thing he said to me was, he’d be happy if you chose me,” he paused for a second, a hint of sadness and regret casting a shadow on his blue eyes. “ I… I need to tell you something. I might … might not be who you expect. And I understand if I’m not who you want,” he stammered. Grunting, “ The rain’s about to stop. I should probably get going,” he said as he started to get up.

Grabbing onto his hand, “ No...don’t! Please… It’s late, you should stay!” I stopped him. “And I’ve had a silly little crush on you too… I just never knew how to tell you” I whispered. He sat next to me, slowly, as if I were made of fine china. That, at any moment, I might crumble. “ You did?” he breathed, his breath close enough that I could feel it on my face.

“ I also know what you are. Grandpa made sure to educate me on myths, and he said some were not myths. I’ve seen you carry your pelt around sometimes,” I closed his hand between mine. “I know you’re a selkie, Linn. I don’t want you to hide that from me.” I breathed, gazing into his eyes. I could catch a glimpse of adoration in them. “Thank you… for not running away, even when you knew what I was,” he sighed. I gazed at his lips, before catching them with mine, a soft peck, to let him know I accepted him for who he is.

[sundaysundaes]

Monochrome

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader/Female OC | Romance, Eventual Smut, Fluff | NC-17 | Soulmate AU, Childhood-Friends-Become-Lovers AU

CHAPTER 1 OF 2. Part 2, titled Spectra, can be read here.

Summary: Lee Donghyuck once believed in the concept of soulmates—how fate would connect a red thread from one lover to another, in a form of dreams and memories. That was how his parents met, that was how they claimed their happiness, and he wanted nothing more but to live his life the way they lived theirs. Until one day, as he sees her slipping away from his hands, he has no choice but to stop believing entirely.

It was the color of amaranth red, Donghyuck remembers now, though he was still too young back then to know the name. It was the color of amaranth red that painted her cheeks and the tip of her nose as they were kissed by the morning breeze. It was the color of amaranth red that tinted her shoes, her knitted sweater dress, the two ribbons she wore on her hair. And it was the color of amaranth red that burst onto his cheeks, as his eyes widened in both glee, curiosity, and sheer excitement. He was four years old and she was five, but the way she spoke so courteously as she introduced herself upon their first meeting was something little Donghyuck could only imagine doing.

But it didn’t matter, Donghyuck was too distracted anyway. If he was older maybe he would’ve been left dumbfounded at the sight of her breathtaking smile, or the perfect curves of her lips, or the vibrant eyes she had hidden behind her symmetrical bangs. But he was merely a four-year-old, so he was more distracted with a jar full of chocolate cookies she carried in her arms.

“We’re the family that’s just moved in next door.” The older lady, who looked like the exact doppelgänger of the little girl, mentioned with a polite smile and a formal bow. “I hope we can become friends.”

Donghyuck’s mother cheered and took her hand in a friendly handshake before she beckoned the little girl to come closer. “Oh my, look at how adorable you are! You’re about the same age as my son. I hope you two can get along.”

Donghyuck, who had been hiding behind his mother’s legs, took a step forward. He was only interested in the jar full of cookies that she carried in her arms, licking his lips once as his eyes bore into it. But when the little girl offered the jar, grinning widely from ear-to-ear, and chirped, “Brought you some cookies! I helped my mother with these so I bet they’ll taste great!”, Donghyuck decided that he liked her more.

It was the color of azure, the crayon she held between her fingers back then, as she tried to imitate the look of his clothes on a stick figure. She was quite a painter, four-year-old Donghyuck thought, because there was no way for him to know how to draw mountains and the sun lurking behind them with that little head of his.

“Okay, so this is you,” she told him, smiling to herself as she finished perfecting her sketches of him. “And this is me. And this is our pet dog, Jelly Bean.”

“But we don’t have a dog.”

“We can have one in the future.”

“We can?”

“Of course. When we grow up, we can have whatever we want.”

Donghyuck believed her. He believed everything she said because she believed everything he said, even about the monsters living under his bed that his parents completely ignored. During their sleepovers, which occurred nearly three times a week in his room, she would always stand by as a guard, saying, “I’ll keep watch. If it appears, I will destroy it with my sword. Nothing can hurt you when I’m around.” And he would feel content, knowing she was there to protect him, even when in the end she fell asleep way before he did with her toy sword hanging loosely around her fingers.

Donghyuck would sleep next to her, curling up like a baby that he was, seeking her warmth. Their little feet would dangle out of his teepee tent and he would breathe in the scent of his grapefruit shampoo from her hair. And secretly, under his breath, as he tangled his pinky finger around hers, Donghyuck would say, “I wish we could stay like this forever.”

“Why do you always draw the sun?” Donghyuck questioned one day with his round, chocolate brown eyes scanning the giant yellow circle that she drew repeatedly with her crayon.

“Because I love the sun,” she answered, searching for another yellow crayon so she could paint it even more. “It’s bright and it’s warm, and I can play outside when it’s out. Don’t you feel happier when it’s sunny outside?”

Donghyuck thought about it, he really did with the very little experience that he had. “Probably. I can play soccer when it’s sunny.”

“See? The sun is amazing. Nothing can beat the sun. Do you know that the sun is the biggest star in our solar system?”

If he was smarter, he would've told her that of course, it's the biggest star, you idiot, it's the only star in our solar system. But little Donghyuck, who could barely remember what came after the letter S, innocently asked, “What’s a solar system?”

She sighed, shaking her head. “I forgot that you’re only four.”

“Hey, you’re only five!”

“But I know what a solar system is and you don’t.”

Donghyuck pouted. If only he was older, perhaps he could reciprocate with a better argument. But then again, she was quite smart—the smartest girl he had ever met. Well, in his whole four years of living anyway.

“You’re kinda like the sun, actually,” she suggested, gathering his attention back to her. “You have a bright smile and whenever you smile, you make me want to smile too. You’re like the sun because you always make me happy. Oh!” She suddenly jabbed one finger into the air, making him jump on his little feet. “I know! You should be called Haechan, as in Full Sun! And I’ll be calling you Haechannie because we’re friends.”

And Donghyuck smiled the way he always smiled, which made her point a finger to his face, shouting, “Yes, that’s it! That’s the smile! That’s my Haechannie!” And he liked the sound of it. He liked the way she called him Haechannie but not as much as he liked being called hers.

Because he’s always been hers, from the beginning of time till the end. It’s always been her who owns his heart, who paints a spectrum of colors to his monochromatic life, and who breaks his soul to pieces and tones everything down into black and white.

It’s always been her. No one else owns him but her.

***

It was apple green, the color of the duster his mother was wearing when she had her eyes glued to the TV screen, watching another episode of her most awaited romance series. It was way past their bedtime so Donghyuck performed his best ninja skill which was tiptoeing his way out of his room with his bunny socks enveloping his feet and his deer plush toy accompanying him in his arms.

He was five and she was six, but she had learned how to forgive when he could barely remember to send an apology after making a mistake.

“You stay here and be on guard, okay, Haechannie?” She whispered before she tiptoed her way to the kitchen, leaving him alone in the hallway.

He grabbed the sleeve of her rosy pink pajamas. “But what if my mom finds out?”

“She won’t find out. She’s busy watching TV.”

“What if she walks into the kitchen?”

“Then that’s the time you should give me a signal, Haechannieeeee. Will you ever listen to me?”

“I don’t wanna stay alone. Mom can be scary sometimes.”

“Ugh, fine, take my hand. We’ll get in together. You can help me hold my chair when I reach up to steal those cookies.”

“Can we just go back to bed? I don’t need any cookies.”

“No, no. When you have nightmares, you have to eat cookies.”

“But will you still sleep beside me?”

A delicate hand ruffled his raven hair until it got all tousled and adorable. “Of course, Haechannie.”

The moonlight did not shine as bright as the girl’s cherished smile. But it was okay, he thought, she could replace the moon with her lips. She could replenish the stars with her eyes. They did not sparkle nearly as beautiful as they were anyway.

On their way back to their room, Donghyuck heard two sentences being exchanged by the lovers inside the screen so he stopped and listened, carving every word into his memories. When he arrived back in his room, he ran toward her, circled his short little arms around her waist, and muttered the exact same words.

“There’s no life without you, Noona.”

And she didn’t question him anything, wasn’t surprised of him, wasn’t disgusted with it. She simply smiled back, turning around to embrace him properly, and whispered.

“There’s no life without you too, Haechannie.”

***

It was the color of cherry blossom pink, the petals of flowers that flown into his room, coming from the window that he just slid open. He stood up on his little wooden chair, waving his hands back and forth like a drowning man desperate for attention, as he shouted, “Noona! Wake up! They’re blooming!”

He was six and she was seven, but she had memorized how to count one to ten in three different languages when he could barely count all the planets in the solar system.

When she opened her window, her eyes were all squinted trying their best to adjust themselves to the brightness of the sun—or Donghyuck’s smile, considering it shone just as bright. “I’m still sleepy!”

“But you promised we’d go for a walk!”

“Ugh, fine! I’ll meet you outside my house in an hour. Don’t forget to wear your jacket, Haechannie, because I’m not lending mine again!”

He nodded, smiling all the way. But by an hour later, he had forgotten yet again to carry his coat with him because he was too busy remembering the look on her face whenever she called his name, and too excited to have her hold his hands during their little trip outside.

And it was fine, really, because she already brought two jackets with her, knowing him like the back of her hand.

***

It was the color of crimson, the droplets of blood that stained his shirt. He could barely breathe through his broken nose, and the pain stung so much that his eyes began to water. But knowing that she was there, sitting beside him on the side of the pavements with worried eyes observing his expression, he had no other choice but to rub his tears away before she could catch the sight of them falling to his cheeks.

He was twelve and she was thirteen, but she already had her own preferences of clothing, knowing exactly what kind of dress could accentuate her beauty, while he, on the other hand, was still pretty much wearing the exact same type of clothes like what his mother bought him two years ago.

“Are you okay?” Her eyes examined his face as she dabbed an ice-cold napkin to his bruised jaw. Donghyuck swatted her hand away, stealing the piece of cloth from her fingers so he could do it himself.

“I’m fine. I’m not a baby,” he muttered and he knew how harsh the tone he was using but he did not apologize for it. She most likely had forgiven him anyway.

“What happened exactly?” She was still tentatively reaching out to him, tidying the tousled strands of his brown hair. “Why did you get into a fight?”

“Who said I was in a fight?” He was. He absolutely was. It was against a boy with the stupidest haircut he’d ever seen on a male, in his classroom after he caught him stealing her sketchbook. Donghyuck saw him raking his pen back and forth on her drawings, grinning mischievously to himself as he did it. He didn’t stop to ask for an explanation. The second he saw her beautiful drawings get tainted by something that wasn’t made from her hands, he began to launch his fist, directly to the boy’s poor face. Donghyuck had always been more temperamental, so he fought more with his rage than his strength, which usually ended up with him getting a fair share of beating as well.

“Here.” He handed her sketchbook back and saw her widening her eyes in surprise. “That’s right, stupid. You forgot your stupid book. I was on my way back to the class to get it when I tripped down the stairs.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize I even took this out of my bag.” She blinked, checking her book and stopping after she flipped a few pages. Donghyuck froze on his seat. He’d already predicted that she would find out sooner or later that one of her pages—the one that was ruined by that asshole—was missing; he just hoped she wouldn’t notice right away. But maybe she also noticed the anxious look on his face when she went through the pages, which was why she decided to close the book, and do nothing but smile that stupidly blazing smile of hers.

“What?” He asked, already feeling quite flustered even when she hadn’t said anything yet.

“I’m just happy,” she replied, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Thank you for, uhh, for getting this back for me.”

And he looked up to the sky, not caring if the sunlight was burning every inch of his skin and blinding his eyes, as long as she didn’t notice the rosy blush that painted his cheeks.

***

It was the color of lemon meringue, the chunk of tart that Donghyuck shoved into his mouth. They were celebrating his fourteenth birthday and he had a bunch of friends coming over. And yet, there he was sitting on the bench in his backyard, next to a girl dressed adorably in a yellow lace party dress, who was scowling at him.

“What?” Donghyuck muttered, yet plopping another big chunk of the tart. “Why do you look like you want to murder me? Is it that time of the month already?”

“No, jackass.” She rolled her eyes. “That’s my tart.”

“Sure, but,” he pierced the cake with his fork, taking another piece into his mouth with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “It’s my birthday cake.”

She sighed—a habit that she did a lot whenever she was with him. “Why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be opening the presents right now? I think your friends are looking for you.”

“Nah, I’d rather talk to you.” He shrugged, pushing the empty plate back now to its owner. “Besides, you look like you’re seconds away from crying. I figured I can be a jerk to you another day and play the role of your prince charming for the rest of the evening.”

“You literally just ate every bit of my tart.”

“You’re welcome.” He sent her a flying kiss and a wink.

They both leaned backward, resting their spines against the bench, staring blankly at the cloudy sky with their fingers lying idly just a few inches from each other.

“Have you heard about that thing with our soulmates?” Donghyuck suddenly asked, his tongue still tracing every little bit of the sugary taste left inside his mouth. “About how we’ll begin to constantly dream about them after we turn eighteen, even if we’ve never met them before.”

“I thought that was just a rumor?”

“I thought so too, but then my parents told me that the exact same thing happened to them.”

“They met each other in their dreams?”

“No, it’s like—” Donghyuck scratched the back of his head, furrowing his eyebrows. “I don’t know for sure, but it’s like your dreams are a mixture of your soulmate’s past and present memories. My mother said that she lived through his memories every night, until one day she met my father by coincidence during the day, and then she saw herself in the dream the following night. That was when she realized that he was her soulmate.”

“This is giving me headaches, but I kinda get the idea.”

“So whose memories do you think you’re going to see in your dream?” Donghyuck wiggled his eyebrows. “Mine?”

She snorted. “You wish your soulmate was me.”

“Actually, I do,” he stated, making her froze for a split second before she looked at him in bewilderment. “No, wait, don’t get me wrong,” he immediately corrected, raising a hand in the air. “It’s not like I’m into you or anything, ‘cause that’s, like, so gross since we’re basically like siblings by now, but if it really is true—this soulmate thingy—I wouldn’t mind if it turns out to be you because we get along really well, don’t we? Being soulmates doesn’t necessarily mean we have to marry each other—eww, God, no—” He made a show about it, sticking his tongue out in disgust. “It’s more like saying we’re connected. Know each other’s mind—like, we understand each other, you know what I mean? Don’t you feel that way about me?”

She thought about it, and with every second passing by, Donghyuck became more aware of how embarrassing his lines sounded in his ears. “You know what? Forget it. It’s dumb. I don’t know why I said—”

“Well, I guess, if you put it in a non-romantic way, then yeah, sure.” She smiled, a bit awkward and shy but sincere like always. “We can be soulmates. But I will only marry you if we’re the only two people left in the world. And even then, I would still think about it.”

He rolled his eyes but inwardly thanking her for not making this even more awkward than it already was. “Right, but for our friendship’s sake, let’s never talk about this again.”

“Agreed.”

They stood by in silence, hearing a bunch of children laughing in the background as they danced to the blaring music. “So on that note,” he said again, slicing through the awkward tension. “What are you so upset about today?”

She huffed, playing with her fingers. “I don’t know, I feel like everybody’s looking at me weird. I knew I shouldn’t have worn this dress—I know it’s too much—everyone is wearing shirts and jeans and I’m here looking like—”

“—a pretty girl,” he finished, staring nonchalantly at the clouds as he said it. “I don’t know what these guys think, but you’re prettier than any girl in the room today. You’re prettier than me, even, and that’s saying something.”

She bit her lower lip, holding back a laugh. “You just turned fourteen today and suddenly you’re old enough to flirt.”

“I wasn’t flirting.”

She smiled sheepishly. “Well, thanks, I guess.”

He looked to his side, a lopsided smile on his face. “Feel better now?”

“A little.”

“Good. Now go fetch me another plate of that thing I just ate ‘cause I’m still hungry.”

***

It was the color of ruby, the lipstick she wore on her lips for the very first time, which made Donghyuck knit his eyebrows together, both in confusion and bewilderment.

He was fifteen and she was sixteen, but she already read a bunch of novels about first kisses and sappy love stories when he barely even owned a novel.

“Are you wearing make-up?” he uttered with a frown, scrunching his nose. He was sitting on the edge of her bed, his black Michael Jackson shirt falling a bit loose around his shoulders with the bottom edge of his light-blue jeans folded.

“Yes, and before you judge me for it,” she began, but Donghyuck was already sticking his tongue out at her, making the most disgusted look on his face. “You’re an ass, do you know that?”

“You look like a clown, honestly.”

“Well, this clown is going on a date.” She looked proud, which made him furrow his eyebrows even deeper. “And if she’s lucky, she’s going to get her first kiss by the end of the evening, while you, on the other hand, are just going to sit there in your room watching The Kissing Booth for God knows how many times and pretend like you’re handsome enough to date the female protagonist.”

“I am handsome enough to date the female protagonist. Handsome enough to date the male protagonist even.”

“Yeah, in your dreams. You’re just a virgin with a stupid bowl cut in reality.”

“Whatever. You still look like a clown.”

“Whatever. Now turn around, I need to change my clothes.”

“To your clown costume?”

“Turn around!”

Donghyuck had little options in his hand, when she brought her high heels in the air, ready to hurl them to his face, so he exhaled loudly in annoyance and lied down on her bed, turning his body around so he was facing the wall.

“Who’s this idiot you’re going with?” He eventually asked, because the rustling sounds of her clothes hitting the floor were getting too distracting.

“Na Jaemin. You know, that extremely cute boy from P.E Class.”

He knew who exactly Jaemin was. Heard his name being spoken several times as he walked down his school’s corridor. Girls were obsessed with him, and they would scream as if the world was ending whenever he played a game on the basketball court. They might be thinking why is someone as perfect as Jaemin interested in someone like her? And he hated the fact that he was thinking the same thing, just the other way around.

Why is someone as perfect as her interested in someone like him?

But on the outside, he toned it down to a simple grimace. “What the hell is a Na Jaemin?”

She threw her heel at him, hitting his spine and making him groan. “Hey, that hurts, you bi—” But his words died on his tongue when he saw her standing in front of her mirror in nothing but her matching underwear, with her dress threatening to fall from her arms.

“Hey!” She shrieked, squatting down to the floor and trying her best to gather as much clothing to her body to stop herself from being so exposed to his eyes. “I didn’t say you could turn around!”

And Donghyuck would’ve played it cool, he really would have, if he wasn’t too aware of the heat rising to his cheeks. “I, uhh—” He turned around again, clearing his throat. “Well, it’s your fault for throwing your shoe at me! I turned around in reflex.”

“Ugh, you’re so annoying! From now on, you wait outside!”

“Fine!” He scrambled to his feet, making sure that he didn’t spare any glance at her—no matter how badly he wanted to—as he made his way out. “You have small boobs anyway.”

She screamed his name in both shame and anger but he was walking out with a cheeky grin on his face. He waited outside her room with his hands buried deep in the pocket of his jeans, yawning as he pressed the back of his head against the wall. A moment later, she opened the door with her face down, trying to tuck her bra strap under the collar of her dress. When he called her name, she nearly jumped out of her skin. “Damn it, Haechannie, I thought you’ve left!”

“I wanted to see your clown costume.”

“Why you little—” But this time, it was her turn to be lost at words because Donghyuck was staring at her in the way he never stared at her before. His eyes were gleaming as they took in her features—her lace cocktail dress that matched the color of her lipstick, her red ankle strap heels, her natural make-up that gave prominence to her eyes, and the way all of her clothing just fell perfect on her skin, embracing her every curve.

“W-what is it?” She asked, carding her fingers nervously through her hair—her soft, beautiful hair that always made him a little bit weak whenever she tucked a loose strand behind her ear. “Do I look weird?”

He forced himself to close his gaping mouth and act nonchalant again. After nine years of training, he was beginning to master his act. “Well,” Donghyuck said, shrugging, “It’s not exactly like the clown costume I remembered it to be, but it’s okay, I guess. So now tell me where is this Halloween party you’re attending because I’m going too.”

“I can no longer tell whether you’re joking or not, honestly.” She waved him off, tightening the straps of her heels. “Look, it’s my first date with a really cute boy who I really like. Can’t you at least wish me luck?”

Donghyuck didn’t answer right away. His heart was still conflicted about the whole thing and his head was still swirling over the thoughts of how pretty she looked. “I can’t believe you’re blowing me off for something as lame as Na Jaemin.”

“Someone as lame as—wait, he’s not lame!”

“But does he know you the way I do, though? Like, does he know how loud your snores are? I know that, and I accept that.”

“Haechannie, we literally spend every weekend together for the last nine years. I’m just taking one night off.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you’re still blowing me off.”

“Look, if it wasn’t a date, I would’ve asked you to come but since this is a date,” she stopped to smile, tapping her fingers against his cheek, “You be a good boy and wait for me at home, okay?”

As she walked out of her house, with him trailing behind her with heavy steps, Donghyuck said, “I hope his breath smells like shit when you kiss him later tonight!”

She laughed it off, raising her middle finger playfully at him, probably thinking he was upset because they didn’t spend the weekend together when he was entirely livid about something else.

He wasn’t sure how he felt towards her, but he was pretty certain that he didn’t like the fact she went out with some boy who probably wasn’t aware of her full name—or the way she would bite on her bottom lip from being too deep in concentration whenever she sketched something down, or the way she would puff out her cheeks in the most adorable way when she got teased too much. That fucking Na Jaemin wouldn’t understand her the way Donghyuck did.

So for the first time in his life, Donghyuck prayed something bad happened that night so her date would get canceled and she’d come running back into his arms, snuggling close with a popcorn bowl on their laps as they watched the same movie for the hundredth time.

Unfortunately for him, his prayer was not answered.

***

It was sapphire blue, the color of his hoodie was when he swung by to her house again, casually letting himself inside without even greeting her parents because he did it so many times within a day. It started to feel more like his house compared to hers.

“Oh,” she sneered, a smile appearing on her face. “You again.”

“What’s with the under-appreciating tone?” He clicked his tongue. “Most girls would actually scream in joy when I graced them with my presence.”

“Scream in horror, more likely.”

He ignored her banter, taking a seat on her bed again. She was lying down on her duvet, stomach pressed against the fabric with a fashion magazine under her fingers. “So,” he began, casually laying his head down on the dip of her spine, staring at the ceiling and secretly loving the feeling of knowing directly every time she took and released her breath. “Did he smell like shit when you kissed him?”

She flipped through a page. “As a matter of fact, we haven’t kissed. But that’s none of your business anyway.”

Donghyuck couldn’t help a smile creeping up his face. It was his luck that she didn’t notice. “Oh, but it is my business,” he said, trying not to sound as gleeful as he felt inside. “I really want to know whether he smells like shit or a dog's piss so I can make fun of him every time I see you.”

“Well, from the close proximity I had with him during our conversations inside the cinema, he smelled deliciously wonderful.”

“Deliciously? So he smelled like tacos?”

“Smelled way better than you, at least.”

“You’ve never kissed me so you wouldn’t know.”

“I already can tell without having to kiss you, asshole. You reek from a hundred feet away.”

“But just to be sure, wanna make-out with me for a while? I won’t bite.” Then he leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Unless that’s what you’re into.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“AUNTIEEEEEEE, SHE’S SAYING THE F WORD!”

“SHUT UP!”

***

It was Navajo white, the color of her knitted scarf was, as it hanged loosely around her neck, matching the color of her duffle coat.

“Oh,” Donghyuck flatly said as he opened the door to his room, answering her persistent knocks. “You again.”

“Haechannie.” The way she said his name sounded like she was desperate for help, and that made his heart flutter a little bit at the thought of being needed. But the words that followed soon after, crushed every bit of his happiness within an instant. “Jaemin asked me to be his girlfriend.”

He could feel how tightly his fingers were sinking into his palms but he tried to keep his voice steady. “And you’re confused because you just found out he’s a girl?”

“What should I do?” She whined, completely ignoring his sarcastic reaction. She seemed anxious, jumping a little on her feet every now and then, which was so adorable for his eyes to take but whenever he remembered the reason why she was acting that cute, he could feel his jaws tightening again.

“Do whatever you want, it’s not my business,” he muttered, walking back to his room but leaving the door open for her to follow.

“I like him, Haechannie,” she continued, and with every word that came from her mouth, a javelin seemed to strike him even harder in the chest. “I really do, but am I ready to have a relationship? Like what do I do? I know I joke a lot about having my first kiss but now that we’re about to become official, and knowing that he’s most likely going to kiss me soon, I get so nervous.”

Donghyuck didn’t say a word. He had nothing nice to say, so he kept himself in silence.

“W-what would you do if you were me?” She sputtered. “I mean, if a girl you like asked you to be her boyfriend?”

Donghyuck had his hands hidden in the pockets of his hoodie, so she wouldn’t be able to tell when his fingers curled into balls of fists. He had the back of his hips pressed against his desk, locating his eyes on his shoes instead of hers. “This girl I like is actually talking about being someone else’s girlfriend,” he professed, “So I’m not sure I can give you proper advice.”

“Stop messing with me, Haechannie, I’m seriously begging for your help here.”

It was goddamn annoying, he thought, how she could be so dense when it came to things like this. Well, to be fair, he did have his fair share of flirting with her from time to time whether he meant his words or not, and knowing how playful he was, it’s a given that she grew to become accustomed to his teasing personality. It was nearly impossible for him to be taken seriously nowadays.

“Why are you even asking me?” He spat out, now looking at her eyes—almost glowering. “I’m not your boyfriend.”

“I don’t know, I really need someone to talk to, I guess.” She played with her hair, biting her lower lip worriedly. “And you’re my best friend so I naturally just come to you. You always seem to have the answers to everything.”

There was a pang in his heart when she singlehandedly decided on their relationship status and he knew he shouldn’t have asked for something more but with more days passing by where it was only the two of them walking side-by-side under the first snow, or calling each other’s names the first thing in the morning through their windows, Donghyuck couldn’t help but to hope for something more.

“Well, like I said,” he repeated, voice sounding low and foreign even to his own ears. “Do whatever you want. As long as it makes you happy.”

She took a proper look at his face. “Are you angry or something?”

“No.”

“What, like, did I do something wrong?”

“No.”

“Then why—”

“I said nothing’s wrong!” His voice thundered through the thick tension that was hanging between them and he felt his own heart shaking in pain from the tone he just made. They stared at each other’s eyes in what felt like hours before Donghyuck finally covered it with a tired sigh. “I’m sorry, I’m just really tired right now. Didn’t catch any sleep last night from playing too many games.”

It took a good few seconds for her to regain back her composure. “Well, I don’t want to bother you then.” She didn’t sound angry, but she did sound hurt. Donghyuck was still in the middle of sorting out his feelings when she walked out of his room, saying, “I’m sorry for pestering you like this. Goodbye, Haechannie.”

He had never hated someone as much as he hated himself then.

It took him five hours for his mind to finally make up the decision to go into her house and apologize in person, but only a second for him to immediately do it once he’d made up his mind. He ran down the stairs so fast, he almost fell face-first on the carpeted floor. When he stood in front of her house, desperately pushing back air into his lungs, the door was locked and no one came to answer no matter how many times he rang the doorbell.

Muttering a train of expletives under his breath, he turned to his iPhone and found the first number in his emergency contacts. He was about to press dial when suddenly her name popped out on his screen, asking him to answer her call.

“Noona?” Donghyuck called, breathing in relief. “Hey, I was about to call you. I wanted to apologi—”

“Haechannie.” She sounded so happy, almost to the point of shedding tears. “Haechannie, he just kissed me.”

Donghyuck’s lips were parted in shock, his throat felt like burning, even though puffs of air still tumbled down from his mouth. His heart almost stopped beating entirely.

“What do I do, Haechannie, I’m so happy,” she said, laughing between tears. “I’m actually crying right now. I’m so lame, I know, but—God, I can’t believe I got kissed by my crush—no, wait, my boyfriend—oh God, it’s still embarrassing to say that but—”

As if turning deaf, her voice in his ears was reduced into a silent murmur before vanishing entirely. The loud beating of his heart soon replaced it as it pumped more anger and jealousy through his veins but Donghyuck wasn’t going to repeat his previous mistake. He wasn’t going to let his emotions take control again.

“Well,” he breathed out, unfamiliar with the sound of his own voice. “I’m happy for you then.”

“You are? Oh, thank God, because I thought you’d whine about me for not spending time with you anymore.”

“Do you really think that lousy of me?”

“I’m kidding, Haechannie. I love you. You know that, right?”

And it hurt, the way she said it, because it meant nothing more than a platonic love and he wanted it to mean more. Perhaps he had been waiting for those three words to mean more for the last nine years of his life.

“Of course,” he simply said, hoping she wouldn’t hear the crack in his voice. “There’s no life without you, Noona.”

It took her a while to respond, and he was worried whether the cold tone in his voice stood too vividly again, but she laughed before he could think too much.

“It’s been a while since we said that. Of course, yes, there’s no life without you, Haechannie.” She giggled again, “It’s kind of embarrassing to say that when we’re already this old. Maybe we should start looking for another catchphrase. I don’t want Jaemin to catch me saying that to you either—”

“No, don’t—” Since when did speaking to her become this hard? “It’s something that we’ve been doing since we were kids. I’m not gonna change our tradition just because of one asshole that you happen to like.”

A silence, then a chuckle. “Seems like you’re back to your old self again. I was beginning to worry. All right then, let’s keep it that way. I’ll just have to be more careful.” He could tell that she was smiling all the way when she said her sentences.

“When will you be back?” I miss you. “I want to see you.” I want to hold you. “We haven’t really talked these days.”

“Oh, umm…” She sounded so apologetically soft, so quiet, so out of his reach. “Jaemin actually just asked me to go somewhere with him, but I’ll be back soon. Is there something you need?”

He curled his fingers. “Nothing important. It can wait.”

“Great. Oh, Jaemin just called, I gotta—”

“Stop saying his name.”

When a small gasp came from the other line, Donghyuck raised his head, startled by his action. “I mean,” he cleared his throat, his stomach doing somersaults. “It’s just—” He couldn’t think of anything fast enough. “You’re right. I’m sorry for taking your time.”

“Oh, no, it’s…” A pause, which struck like a hurricane. “It’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, okay?”

“Sure.” But he didn’t hold her on her promise, because she now belonged to someone else.

He just had to get used to being alone.

***

It was the color of eerie black, the denim jacket that he wore above his white shirt as he prepared himself for his date. Donghyuck had cut his hair short, ran his fingers through his bangs so they no longer covered his eyes, and sprayed the new bergamot perfume he bought around his neck.

He didn’t notice it at first, but he had become more popular in school for the past few months, after being a vocalist in a band and performing during the school festival. Girls were approaching him, asking from what class he was, wanting to know whether he wanted to hang out with them from time to time and it felt weird, although he had been quite popular back then too, it was more because he was the funny kid—not the hot kid in school.

So eventually he started going on dates, and every time he managed to spend a day with a girl, he’d come home to brag about it to his neighbor, wanting to evoke a reaction but what came out of her was only a small chuckle and a shake of her head, “What are you talking about? You’re just a boy. You know nothing about girls, let alone going on a date with one.” And he would drop the topic, fuming for the rest of the day.

“There.” He straightened his jacket, gazing at his reflection in the standing mirror. “New day, new beginning, Hyuck. You can do this.”

You can forget her and move on.

So he checked on his phone, noticing a new chat just popped up under the name of the stranger he had been seeing for two weeks, and felt his heart beating as steady as usual. Everything felt the same. Even after he’d kissed her for the first time, intertwined his fingers with hers as they walked from one cafe to another, or hearing her laugh over his words even when he didn’t try to be funny—everything felt the same. So… plain. Unexciting. And after two weeks had passed by, meeting this stranger—the girl with the auburn colored hair, crooked teeth, and waist thinner than most—began to feel like a chore.

No, you said you’d do this. You said you’d move on from her.

“Ah, Haechannie!” The way his childhood friend immediately smiled upon his presence, waving a hand back and forth as if they were long lost companions instead of neighbors, almost made him stop in his tracks. “You’re going somewhere? You look so nice!”

His resolution faltered as simple as that. Only by the sound of her voice calling his name, only by her contagious grin creeping to his face, only by simple praise that made his stomach flip most delightfully.

“What do you mean, I look nice? I always look nice.” Donghyuck was proud of himself to be able to conceal his feelings most of the time, and not actually acting like a blushing seventeen-year-old boy with the hugest crush on his childhood friend that he was.

She took her time analyzing him and for the first time in his life, he began to fidget on his feet, swallowing his breath.

“Stop staring at me, you’re making me feel weird.”

“Sorry, I just can’t believe you’re this big,” she said, her eyes sparkling in amazement. “Like, I know we’re neighbors but we’ve been busy dealing with our own things these days so I haven’t really taken a closer look at you but man, look how much you’ve grown. You’re way taller than me now.”

“Yeah, if you weren’t too busy playing tonsil hockey with that fucking Na Jaemin all the time, you would’ve noticed.”

“Indeed.” She looked amused, even proud somehow. “But I got to make-out and stuff. What have you done so far, cherry boy?”

He clenched his jaw, jealousy coursing through his veins. He tried to shove the picture of Jaemin running his hands all over her body—her perfect body—to the back of his head and he thought he did a remarkable job at it. But when he smiled, his eyes didn’t follow through.

“None of your business,” he simply said, tucking his hands inside the pockets of his jeans and walked away. “I’m going on a date. See you later.”

“You’re going on a date?!” She shrieked, eyes wide. “With who?”

“A pretty girl.”

She took a hold of his hand, stopping him from walking further. “Is this the girl you’ve been seeing for the last two weeks?”

He didn’t realize she kept count. “Yeah. What about it?”

“Nothing, I was just…” She awkwardly shrugged, her fingers hanging loosely around his arm. “Just curious, that’s all. So, like… Do you like her? What’s her name?”

It was almost possessive the way she asked the questions which on one hand, made him feel happy, hoping that she was jealous about it, but on the other hand, also pissed the hell out of him because if she was indeed jealous—if she ever felt the same way as him, even if only slightly—why did she go to Jaemin’s arms instead of his?

“Her name,” he glanced at her with lifeless eyes, “is Miss None-of-Your-Fucking-Business.”

Her smiled dropped instantly. “What is your problem? I just wanted to know—”

He knew he had the worst temper and patience in the world when it came to her, and he was not always like that before. Ever since the feelings he harbored for her grew bigger and bigger with each day passing by no matter how hard he tried to make himself fall in love with somebody else, he grew even more anxious, even less patient, and he hated the way he’d become.

But he couldn’t help it.

“Want to know what?” He asked, now facing her, circling his long fingers around her wrist and raising it in the air. “What do you want to know, exactly? It’s not just her name, is it? You want to know the things I do with her too? Want to know how I feel for her?”

Her eyes began to shake, frantically trying to understand him. “What—why are you so upset?”

“I’m not, I—” He sighed with a groan coming from the back of his throat, letting her go before he massaged his temple. I’m just so stressed out knowing how clueless you are of both your own feelings and mine. “Look, I gotta go. I’m running late.”

When he walked away, taking just about three steps ahead, she shouted. “Haechannie!”

He turned his head around, just enough to see her smiling softly at him. “This weekend,” she said, “Spend time with me this weekend. Please.”

“Noona, I—”

“I miss you.”

Just like that, she had him wrapped around her fingers again. It’s not fair. You’re not fair. You can’t keep doing this to me. But he smiled back, his gaze growing gentle, almost longing. “Then I’ll see you this weekend.”

He was in a fight he knew he’d lose every time.

***

It was coral pink, the color of the girl’s lip cream but he felt it pressed against his lips before he could see it properly. He felt his collar being tugged as his body was pushed further into her room, hasty hands pushing the jacket off his shoulders.

“You smell so good,” she said, giggling as she brought his bottom lip between her teeth. “And you look so fucking hot in this outfit.” Donghyuck hit the back of his knees against her bed and tumbled down onto her sheets, with his self-proclaimed girlfriend following shortly after.

“Wait—” he said, his eyebrows joining together in the middle from feeling both confused and uncomfortable. “What about your parents—”

“They’re not home,” she said in a rush, climbing onto his lap. “And I want you.” She tangled her lean fingers around his locks, pulling his head back to expose more of his neck. “I’ve been wanting you for so long, Hyuck,” she gasped, her mouth latching on his skin, tasting his bergamot perfume with her tongue. “And we’ve waited long enough, don’t you think?”

A little more than two weeks had passed since they first went on a date, and he really thought he could like her but whenever he closed his eyes during the kiss, his mind would start acting on its own, morphing her face to someone more familiar. Someone who could pull on his heartstrings and play with them only by the sight of her smile.

It felt wrong. All of this felt wrong. But he said he’d move on, he promised himself he would, and this was one of the ways to do it.

“You seem distracted,” she moaned softly against his ear, pressing her hips against him. “Am I boring you?”

He didn’t say a word and instead forced himself to kiss her better. He held her by the nape, angling her head to the side, and she sighed against his mouth, hooking her fingers around his silver necklace to pull him even closer.

Donghyuck was lost deep in his thoughts, and his heart just wasn’t there, but he didn’t push her away. She spread her legs and tangled them around his waist, pressing herself down until she could feel the zipper of his jeans grazing against her underwear. Donghyuck hissed under his breath, not agreeing with how his body reacted on its own and she grinned against his lips, guiding the hands he reactively laid around her waist to move further down her body.

“Touch me here,” she begged, taking his right hand and slipped it under her shirt, pushing her breast against his palm. Donghyuck let out a heavy breath as he let her tongue slipped past his lips and he closed his eyes again because that was the only way that this could all feel right to him.

Noona…

But no matter how good her touches felt on his skin, guilt was the only sensation he could feel in his heart. The more they kissed, the more he realized that she was not her, and she could never be her. He couldn’t smell the scent of strawberries from her hair. He couldn’t hear the cute giggle she made when his jokes got to her head. And no matter how they seemed physically similar—the look of her hair, the shape of her eyes, the way she dressed—he still couldn’t lie to himself and pretend she was her.

“Wait—” He pushed her gently off his lap by landing both hands on her shoulders. “Let’s stop.”

“Why?” She was upset, he could tell. “What is it?”

You’re not her. “I feel like we’re going too fast.” I don’t want you, I want her. “And what if your parents come home?” I feel sick. I need to get out of here. I need to see her.

“They won’t be home until midnight, I promise.” She had her fingers curled around his nape again. “Please, Hyuck, don’t you want me?”

She didn’t give him the chance to answer, swallowing his protest with her lips, tasting more of his mouth with her tongue. “Mmph—no—wait!” he pushed her away again, firmer this time to the point she almost toppled over. “Look, I’m not in the mood, okay?” His tone was getting harsher, which only led her to feel even more agitated.

“Why the fuck are you even here then?” She spat out, throwing her hands in the air.

Donghyuck shoved her away none too gently this time, stepping down from her bed. “I don’t fucking know,” he growled under his breath, putting his denim jacket back on. “I’m leaving.”

“What are you, gay?!” She was screaming as he stormed off, slamming her bedroom door on his way out.

***

It was the color of sunset that illuminated her face, as she sat on her porch with her knees pressed together to her chest and her spine glued to the wall. Her eyes were blank, almost lifeless as she stared into space, her previous conversation with her beloved childhood friend replaying non-stop in her head.

Does he really like her? Why didn’t he tell me anything about this? How far have they gone? Has he kissed her yet?

The heat was spreading to her cheeks at the thought of Donghyuck leaning in close, his eyes going half-lidded before he closed them entirely, his lips—his beautiful, plump lips—slightly parted in anticipation before he—

She buried her hands in her palms. What is wrong with you?! He’s practically your brother!

It wasn’t like she never thought about him as something more. She just never allowed herself to think about him that way. What they had was special—Donghyuck was special. He was her only true friend, the family that always stood by her side even when her parents didn’t. The one who noticed the simplest things about her without having to be told—like handing her a brand new sketchbook whenever she was about to run out of pages, or the way he would always take a day off school whenever she was sick in bed so he could accompany her the whole day, watching re-runs of her favorite show while munching red velvet cakes the way he knew she liked.

He was the one who could see behind her lies and excuses, and the only one who would come over to her side at any hour just to fulfill her dumb requests—even though he whined the whole time. And she knew she was special to him in some ways as well, because she was the only one who he allowed to see him cry while watching Titanic which to this day, still brought a smile to her face whenever the thought came up.

It was getting pretty distracting when puberty hit him like a truck somewhere in his first year of high school. His shoulders got broader, his jawlines became more prominent, his voice got a tad deeper, and he was getting taller and taller that she had to tilt her head upward to see his face properly during conversations. He was packing more muscles too, from all the soccer activities he did after school, turning his complexion from slightly pale into the perfect color of a sun-kissed tan. While she, on the other hand, only had two pimples appearing on her cheeks and her chest growing slightly bigger.

She adored him. To her, his existence had become such an integral part of her life that whenever she didn’t see him for a day, she would sit on her porch, counting the minutes until he walked past her house, calling her, “Noona,” with that cheeky smile on his face before he told her about his day.

That was before she dated Jaemin, though. Because after that, he became quite distant. It felt weird and slightly out of character for him to give her the cold shoulder whenever she mentioned his name, but she thought perhaps it was just a boy thing. The whole conversation about her drooling over her boyfriend was probably too boring for his ears, and Donghyuck was always straightforward with the things he wasn’t fond of so she shouldn’t have been so surprised.

Maybe he just wanted to give her the time she needed, so she could spend her days with her boyfriend—like what she was supposed to do—but she couldn’t help it that whenever Jaemin called her noona because he was also a year younger than her, the thought of Donghyuck’s teasing eyes and lopsided smiles crossed her mind.

And then the thought of him, holding another girl on his bed, his lips brushing against hers—

Ah, she mentally groaned, attempting to massage her scalp but ended up yanking on the roots of her hair. Lee Donghyuck, what am I supposed to do with these thoughts of you?

“You look like you’re going insane, honestly.”

She’d recognize that voice in a heartbeat even if she had her eyes closed and when she saw him slouching over her fence with a teasing smile painted on his lips, she nearly crumbled to the ground.

“Were you waiting for me, Noona?” He questioned with his eyebrow raised in a teasing manner, causing her to blush even harder.

“Of course not, idiot, why would I?” And the sound of his small chuckle warmed her heart. “You’re coming back pretty early. I thought you were going to spend the night with her.”

“Yeah?” He dragged open the fence, walking closer to her spot. “You were thinking about me spending a night at her place? Doing what, exactly?”

“Shut up.” She threw her sandal at him which he easily dodged before he took a seat beside her. “Did something happen on your date?”

“We had sex.”

She wasn’t sure whether it was because of the way he just casually said the words as if he was talking about the weather, or simply because he said those words at all, but she found herself frozen to her toes, her heart dropping into a bottomless pit, her chest suffocating.

“O-oh…” She gulped, bringing her eyes down to her fingers. “That’s great… I guess.”

“It was great,” he said, leaning back to press his spine against the wall as well. “But her parents came home soon after so I had to bail.”

He was still talking but she could no longer hear him, as if he was drowning in the background, his voice turning into whispers.

There was a feeling she couldn’t understand that kept appearing in her chest, sending fire to her fingertips. It felt like he was crushing her heart little by little with every word he said, choking her until she couldn’t breathe. She never felt like this before. Was it sadness that she felt—knowing that her little Haechannie was not her little Haechannie anymore? Or was it loneliness, knowing that he had someone else in his life—someone who could feel his touches, and made him feel theirs, in the way she could never do?

“Noona.”

She blinked herself awake. “What?”

“You’ve been quiet for a while.”

“I was just…” She desperately sought an answer. “I’m sleepy.”

It was a terrible lie and he could tell, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he offered her his shoulder. “Come here, then.” And she obliged, lying her cold cheek against his warmth and for the first time in her life, she began to be more conscious of everything.

Of his intoxicating scent. Of his slow breathing. Of his velvety voice sounding dangerously close to her ear.

Of his presence, entirely.

“So,” he pressed the side of his head against hers, voice turning gentle and quiet. “You’re not playing tonsil hockey with your stupid boyfriend today?”

“He had something to do, like a group project or something. And it’s fine, I needed some time alone to sort out my—” feelings. “—thoughts anyway.”

Donghyuck snorted. “Thoughts? Like, plural? You with that one brain cell of yours?”

She poked him on the side of his abs, forcing him to laugh in the way he usually did in the past. “All jokes aside though, Noona.” He sighed, staring at the way their hands were lying side by side on the wooden parquet. If only he could just move slightly… “Are you happy with him?” was the question he asked, but he actually wanted to hear the answer to Are you happier with him compared to when you’re with me?

“I think I am,” she said, and he could hear the smile in her words which ironically sparks pain to his every nerve. “I mean, it’s my first time being in a relationship so I barely know anything at this point, but… He does make me feel something in a way that no one has ever made me feel before.”

“What, like, horny?”

“That too, but—” She huffed. “I don’t know, like, he makes me feel wanted. Desired. He makes me feel pretty and I feel like I’m more confident now as a person, knowing that there’s someone out there who wants me that way, you know?”

Donghyuck stared into space, his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. “But does he need you, though?” Does he need you like I do?

“Is there a difference?”

“Well, wanting you would be like he wants to hold hands with you, kiss you, touch you, be intimate with you or something but you can be replaceable as soon as he’s satisfied with you and starts wanting someone else.”

“I don’t think Jaemin is the kind of person who thinks like that.”

I don’t fucking care about Jaemin. “Yeah, I hope not. I don’t ever want you to have your heart broken.”

There was a silence that hung around them, and it started to make him feel flustered at his own words so he immediately added, “By anyone else but me. The only one who can mess with your head and your stupid heart is me. That’s like the reason for my existence—to make sure your life is a living hell.”

She smiled, taking his hand in hers, and squeezed him softly. “Yeah. You’ve always been my little devil after all.”

The word ‘my’ had a nice ring to his ears, enveloping his heart in a warming sensation, and Donghyuck blushed again, for an entirely different reason but as long as she didn’t notice, he would be fine.

***

It was ash grey, the color of his sweater that she borrowed to be worn as her sleeping attire during their sleepover at his house. It felt strange for two young adults in their primal stage of life to be sharing a room, but Donghyuck was more than pleased to offer her his bed while he slept on the floor, and his parents also didn’t mind, as long as they kept their bedroom door open.

“Final chance to back down, Noona, because I’m not stopping once we go all the way,” Donghyuck warned, suggestively raising his eyebrow, making her gulp nervously.

“I-I’m ready,” she said, nodding her head shakily a few times.

“You sure.”

“Just do it.”

“Well then, here we go.”

And as he clicked play, the movie started. It felt like it had been years since the last time they watched a movie together, sitting side by side on a carpeted floor, with a popcorn bowl on her lap, and a MacBook on his. They shared earphones, forcing them to sit as close as possible to avoid having them slipped out of their ears. Horror movies were her weakness so he always insisted to watch one of them to torture her—and also to see her cute reactions but Donghyuck scratched that off his mind—and somehow, she always ended up agreeing to it.

Donghyuck could watch every jumpscare in the movie without batting an eyelash, but his heart jumped every time whenever she clung on to him, her arms wrapping tightly against his, her head sinking at the crook of his neck, her frantic breath fanning his skin.

“What are you so scared about?” He asked, thanking God that he didn’t stutter. “It’s just a ghost of his dead girlfriend, haunting him for vengeance while singing a creepy tune as she does it.”

“Literally everything you just said!” She sobbed, her fingers clutching tightly to the fabric of his shirt, her fingernails nearly scratching his skin.

Donghyuck knew he was blushing and he hated it, and if she kept doing that, who knew what he’d become. “Let’s just stop then.”

“But you want to see this movie, don’t you—AAAH!”

His ears began to ring. “Not with you screaming like this!”

“It’s okay, I can handle this.” She puffed out her chest, taking a deep breath. “But can I hold your hand, just in case?”

It was his turn to take a deep breath. “Sure.”

It was scary, Donghyuck thought, how his mind could pay no attention whatsoever to what was showing on the screen, and instead focusing every nerve in his body on the sight of her fingers resting on top of his, squeezing them tightly whenever she was scared out of her mind.

There was a knot in his stomach, making him feel lightheaded and he tried to push the thought of lifting her fingertips to his lips and kiss them until she could think about nothing but him away from his mind.

By the end of the movie, he knew nothing about the storyline but she was bawling her eyes out. “I can’t believe I’m crying over a ghost’s background story, this is so stupid,” she said, sobbing fervently until her entire shoulders began to shake.

Donghyuck lifted one knee to his chest, laying his arms on top of it before he rested his cheek on them, He gazed at her with a pair of longing eyes, gleaming in adoration. “You’re so cute,” he sighed in a breathy voice.

Still rubbing the tears out of her eyes, she asked, “What?”

“The way you get so worked up over stupid things like this is just—cute. You’re so cute.”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop saying those kinds of things to me. You already have a girlfriend. It’s not right to do this to her, even if you’re just joking around.”

Maybe it was because she seemed a bit hurt, her voice sounding strained and plaintive, or maybe it was just her line entirely but whatever it was, it made his skin crawl and he could no longer control what came out of his mouth.

“What if I didn’t have a girlfriend then?” He questioned, eyes deadly serious. “What if I wasn’t just flirting with you? What would you do if I told you I meant everything I said, every praise, every feeling I had for you?”

Her hands froze mid-air as she tried to wipe the rest of her tears away from her eyes. “What are you—”

“What would you do if I told you I loved you?” He leaned closer, brushing his fingertips against her tear-stained cheek. “Would you believe me if I say I’ve been in love with you ever since I met you?”

Silence struck like a hurricane, and there was a storm swirling in her chest. “I…” Her throats felt dry. “I, uhh…”

She looked so conflicted that it began to hurt him even when she didn’t intend to, because Donghyuck wanted her to immediately say, “I would’ve said the same thing,” straight to his face without having to trip on her words. Without her voice sounding so brittle. Without her face looking like she was about to break someone’s heart.

So he simply got up to his feet, forcing a train of laughter to erupt from his mouth. “I’m just messing with you, idiot. Stop looking at me like you got your panties in a twist, I was just kidding.”

And he expected her to be angry. Angry enough that she would shout while throwing things at his face, but instead, she broke down in tears again but smiling so widely in relief.

“I’m so glad,” she said, nearly choking on her tears. “I’m so glad you were just joking.”

He knew he wouldn’t be able to hide the pain that fleeted on his eyes, so he turned around, sinking his nails deep into his palm so he could focus on that pain instead of the one in his heart before he gathered his quilt with both arms. “Let’s just go to bed, it’s late.”

“You’re sleeping on the floor again?”

“What do you think?”

“But…” She nibbled on her lower lip. “It’s, umm, I don’t mind if we sleep together—I mean, on the bed, like, side-by-side, not—” She caught herself, shaking her head. “Anyway, it’s big enough for both of us anyway, and also…” She grew quiet, fiddling with her fingers. “I’m still so scared right now so if you could just, you know, sleep right next to me, that would calm me down a lot, I think…”

Donghyuck had his tongue poking the inside of his cheek, glaring at his ceiling, asking his Lord, why must you test me like this?

“You do know that your boyfriend would kill me if he knows I’m doing this with you, right?”

She winced, smiling sheepishly. “Can’t you just keep it a secret?”

He sighed, making sure that he had the expression that said I’m-so-done-with-all-your-bratty-requests when deep down inside, he was shaking in both excitement and fear of not being able to hold himself back.

“I’m a man too, you know,” Donghyuck grumbled, slipping himself underneath the comforter. He didn’t take off his shirt this time, unlike the other nights when he slept alone. “I could attack you in your sleep.”

“Isn’t that the very reason why we’re keeping the door open?” She giggled, though the tremble from her previous breakdown was still there. “This is actually rather exciting. It’s been years since we slept side-by-side like this. It reminds me of our good old days.”

“Yeah?” He jeered. “Remember what else we do in our good old days? We take baths together.”

“Just shut up and go to sleep.”

Donghyuck slept on his side, facing the other side of the wall while she laid on the bed with her spine pressed against the sheets and her eyes glued to his ceilings. Though she was the one who said those words, it took her forever to fall asleep. “Haechannie?”

“What?”

“You’re still awake?”

“No, this is his voicemail speaking.”

“If you’re too tired to talk, could you sing me a song or something? It’s too quiet and I can’t help remembering that creepy tune she sang every time she showed up.”

“My God, what are you, a kid?”

“You forced me to watch that, so take responsibility for it!”

“Ugh, fine,” he groaned, turning to his back with his eyes locked on his ceilings and then started to hum. She listened to it wholeheartedly, a smile popping up on her face but it didn’t stay long before she realized something.

“Are you singing the theme to Mario Bros?”

“If you even begin to complain, I’m going to kick you off the bed.”

“Right, okay, continue then.”

She listened again, prepared for the same tune, but he changed it at the last second. “I can’t believe you changed it to Spongebob’s now.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, just go to sleep!”

“Okay, geez!” Her smile became permanent on her face. “You just said the F word. Mommy’s gonna be pissed at you tomorrow.”

It ended up with them throwing playful punches and kicks under the duvet and Donghyuck laughed a lot, missing and loving every second of it because this was how they used to be—playing around like kids, messing with each other’s hair and faces. At one point, he began to hover over her, trapping her body between his arms, his knee placed on the small space between her thighs. The pendant of his silver necklace was grazing along her collar bone, making her shiver slightly from the cold.

She was sweating, her bangs sticking to her temple, and she was as breathless as he was, panting for air. It felt like time began to slow for Donghyuck the second his eyes were locked on hers, his surroundings vanishing into a blur. He was so close, too close, that he could feel her breath on his lips, could almost taste the scent of her shampoo on his tongue, and if he could just lean in…

The sound of his name tumbling down her lips in a soft, almost inaudible manner was what stopped him from pressing his lips against hers, and he was thankful because otherwise, he could’ve done it, and then everything would be ruined.

He couldn’t afford that to happen.

“Your breath stinks,” he said instead and pecked her quickly on her forehead. He immediately scrambled to his other side of the bed, shouting, “Go to sleep, you idiot,” as he gave his best effort to pretend he was sleeping.

You were so close, Donghyuck thought, you almost ruined everything. Pull yourself together.

And if I can’t have her, just let me have this moment for the rest of my life.

***

It was the color of ivory, her trench coat was as she wrapped it harshly around her body, all the while fuming in anger. Her phone was buzzing non-stop, alerting her to the new messages that arrived almost at the same time and she knew exactly who they were from.

I still can’t believe you’re choosing him over me to celebrate your birthday. - Haechannie, 09.10

We do this every year, Noona, we PROMISED to always celebrate our birthdays together. - Haechannie, 09.10

And now that you have Na fucking Jaemin giving you sloppy blowjobs as your birthday gift, you suddenly just forget about me?! How fucking ridiculous is that?! - Haechannie, 09.11

Does he even know it’s your birthday today? Did he congratulate you on it like I did? Showing up at your door at midnight, carrying the world’s most gigantic alpaca doll in my arms when it was fucking freezing outside?! Because I sure as hell didn’t see his stupid donkey face! - Haechannie, 09.12

Also, not trying to be an ass about this, but do you even know how hard it is to find a one-meter tall Alpaca doll?! Why can’t you just like teddy bears like everyone else for fuck’s sake. - Haechannie, 09.13

“Oh my God,” she groaned loudly to the air, almost stomping her feet in fury as she texted back, “I’m not ditching you, you selfish idiot! I’ll be back before dinner and then we can spend the rest of the day together so for once in your life, stop sounding like a fucking asshole!” She paused, thinking more words to add before she jabbed her thumbs to her phone screen again. “Also, I didn’t ask you to get me anything so you can take that stupid ugly doll back if you’re going to be a bitch about it because I don’t need it!”

And she pressed send. But before she could catch her breath, another response came by.

Great. Do me a favor, will ya? Don’t show up at dinner. I’m not your fucking backup plan. - Haechannie, 09.15

She was so close to smashing her phone against the wall, but the text coming from her boyfriend, telling her that he was waiting for her downstairs, made her heaved the heaviest sigh she’d ever made, shoved her phone into her purse, and stepped down the stairs with angry clicks of her heels.

The entire birthday date was a disaster for her because Jaemin was discussing something important but she couldn’t decipher a word he said. The look on Donghyuck’s face when she said she had promised Jaemin she’d go on a date with him on her birthday—how shocked and disappointed he was, not to mention furious—was the only thing that she could focus on. She kept replaying it over and over again in her head, until Jaemin took her hand and called, “Noona? Did you hear what I just said?”

And she was so terribly upset that she began to lose control of her mouth. “Don’t call me that. I have someone back home who calls me that a lot and it’s getting annoying.”

“O…kay,” Jaemin awkwardly said, pulling his hand away from hers. “I was just trying to be respectful.”

She threw her head back, sighing loudly in exasperation. “You’re right, sorry. I didn’t mean to take this out on you.” She took a deep breath, waited until she calmed down a little bit before she continued again. “I just had this fight with someone and it keeps bugging me.”

“Let me guess. Is it Lee Donghyuck again?”

She raised her head in surprise, looking at him. “What do you mean again?”

“He’s all you’ve been thinking about, for as long as I remember.”

“Yeah, because he’s like a little brother to me who annoys the hell out of me.” She rubbed her temple, feeling her energy drained. “Well, he’s not actually my brother, but he acts like one—he gets on my nerves, teases me a lot, calls me stupid all the time—”

“Why do I get the feeling that he’s more than just a little brother to you?”

She frowned. “What do you mean? You’re not listening to me—”

“Look, you know what?” Jaemin ran a hand through his hair. “I think it’s best to end this.”

“What?” She nearly dislocated her jaw. “What are you even saying—are you breaking up with me?”

“Well, you’re going to graduate soon and you told me once that you’d probably leave town for college, and with all this Donghyuck thing going on…” Jaemin sighed. “I just don’t see how this is going to work.”

***

It was the color of dark grey, the heavy clouds that hovered above the earth with thunders flashing between them. She stood in front of Donghyuck’s door, fingertips shivering slightly from the cold as she rang his doorbell. The boy came to answer shortly after, his usual gaze quickly turning into a menacing glare at the sight of her. He was about to rave over their previous fight when he noticed how she was all drenched from the rain with tears streaming down her face. She glanced up at him, murmuring his name between sobs, and Donghyuck hastily gathered her in his arms, not caring one bit how the rain seeped almost instantly to the grey Nirvana shirt he was wearing.

“Are you okay?” He attentively asked, cupping her cheek with his lean fingers. He lifted her face, examining every detail of her features, making sure she wasn’t hurt in the slightest. “Did something happen?” His voice suddenly turned gravelly. “Did he do this to you?”

She sniffled, burying her face in his chest. “Jaemin broke up with me.”

“On your fucking birthday?!”

She nodded.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Donghyuck said, almost growling as he embraced her tighter. “I’m gonna keep you company today and make sure you’re okay first, and then I’m going to kill him.”

There was no need for apologies to be exchanged, because Donghyuck already had his arms around her, drying her hair with a towel and lending her his sweater that he knew she loved. His parents weren’t home at the time, so they sat on the kitchen counters, legs dangling a few inches above the porcelain floor with a cup of hot coffee in their hands.

“This is the worst birthday in the history of mankind,” she said, slurping her coffee. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Well, there was actually this girl who got murdered on her birthday—”

“Just humor me, will you?” He chuckled and patted her hair. “But to be fair, I don’t think he’s aware it’s my birthday today. He hasn’t said anything, didn’t give me anything. I also never told him, and he…Well, he never asked.”

“And yet, you still went out with him.” He sighed, now tucking a loose strand of her hair to the back of her ear. “I know you’re an idiot, but I didn’t think you were this much of an idiot.”

She grew smaller. “Please be mean to me another day. I’m currently wounded.”

“Right, okay, come here.” He cradled her in his arms, placing his chin on top of her head. “You smell like a wet dog, by the way.”

“Thanks.” She was about to lean more to his touch when his phone began to ring.

“Aren’t you going to answer that?” She questioned when he did nothing about it and when he kept quiet, she broke apart from his embrace, jumped down, and grabbed his phone from the table.

“Unknown number,” she mumbled when his ringtone stopped playing. “Wait, there’s a text.”

“Don’t read it.”

“It said aren’t you coming over.” She raised her eyebrows in question. “Is this your girlfriend?”

He yawned. “A different one.”

“What, that fast? Were you supposed to meet her? Oh my God, I’m so sorry for taking your time, why aren’t you—”

“Rather than saying that,” he took a sip of his coffee, “We should begin our revenge plan on that stupid ex of yours. I mean, I could just straight-up punch him in the face, but you already know his weakness. It’s time to strike, baby.”

She blinked, her puffy eyes soon began to gleam mischievously. “I’ve already planned it all out. Do you wanna hear it in alphabetical order?”

***

It was the color of burgundy, the quilt that covered her body when she suddenly woke up from her dream with a jolt, surprising the man who slept on the floor next to the foot of her bed.

“What happened?” Donghyuck asked, rubbing his eyes away from sleep. “Nightmare?”

Her eyes were wide when she looked back at him, gulping hard before she said, “I just had the dream.”

“What dream?”

“The dream, Hyuck.”

“Wet dream? I thought that was only for boys—”

“No, you’re not listening to me. The dream.” She threw her blanket away, scrambling back to her feet, and kneeled in front of him, taking his hand in hers. “I just met my soulmate.”

Donghyuck almost shuddered. “What?”

“It’s true, Haechannie, it wasn’t just a rumor,” she said, looking at her trembling fingers. “They said the dreams would start sometime after we turned eighteen and I saw it. I saw him. And it felt so weird. It wasn’t like a dream, it was—” Realization befell her eyes. “A memory. You were right, it was a memory—his memory.”

“Okay, wait a sec.” He held up a finger in the air. “What exactly did you see? And talk like a normal person this time.”

She nibbled on her lower lip, deep in her thoughts. “So, you know how when you’re dreaming, you can’t tell if it’s a dream? Like you’re suddenly somewhere, doing something that you can’t remember the beginning of it but it felt normal so you kept doing that, until suddenly you wake up and you start noticing how weird it really was.” Donghyuck nodded, albeit still a little unsure. “Well, this isn’t anything like that. You’re completely aware that it’s a dream—at least, I was. I remember telling myself it was a dream but now I realized it was a memory.”

“My God, you’re taking too long,” he complained. “What exactly did you see? For fuck’s sake, just tell me!”

“I was in a classroom at some school that I’ve never seen before and there was this guy who looked just about my age, sitting on the last row—just right by the window. He had the softest hair, a pair of big, beautiful doe eyes, cute thin lips, broad shoulders—”

“Hold up.” He grimaced. “You’re not talking about me, are you?”

“One of these days, Lee Donghyuck, I’m going to strangle you in your sleep, I swear to God, I will.”

“Right, apparently not then. Please, continue.”

She took another two seconds to throw ice daggers at him with her eyes before she finally started again. “He was scribbling something down on his book. And I tried to talk to him, but he couldn’t hear me. I could hear him, though, and everything else that was going on in the classroom. I could hear him hum a song before he nodded his head, looking like he just figured something out, and then he was writing things down again. I tried to reach out to him, but I couldn’t physically touch him too. I was just a bystander that saw everything—like watching a movie or something.”

“A completely boring movie, if you ask me.”

She rolled her eyes, completely ignoring him. “Then, when I blinked my eyes, I was standing somewhere else. There was this lake, so beautiful, surrounded by mountains—like the entire scenery of it was just breathtaking, and I don’t think that’s in our country so he might have traveled somewhere overseas.”

He snorted. “Sounds like an annoying rich kid.”

“Can you just—” She sighed, calming herself down. “So, I saw him there with a camera in his hands and a guitar case strapped to his back. He was taking some shots of the landscape and, uhh,” she shyly chuckled, “I know it’s too fast for me to say this, but his face when he’s concentrating—“

“Constipating?”

“Concentrating,” she corrected and Donghyuck sent her a kissy face. “The face he made when he was concentrating was so cute.”

“Ugh, enough with the lame commentary.” He yawned, stretching his arms above his head. “Why are you so sure he’s your soulmate? Sounds like just another weird-ass dream to me.”

“I can’t really explain it, but…” Her eyes turned soft, cheeks going a bit rosy. “It feels like I just found something that I didn’t know I lost—something important, something that was a part of me, even. And it just makes me feel whole, you know? It’s weird saying this when I don’t even know his name but… That’s just how I feel. Everything just clicked.”

“Huh…” Donghyuck’s tongue was protruding against the inside of his mouth as he tried to process his thoughts. It suddenly felt like his heart was being cut into several pieces, the moment his reality sank in. He didn’t realize it was that serious. Or at least, he didn’t want it to be that serious.

She squeezed his hand. “You understand how I feel, don’t you, Haechannie?”

He sent her a timid smile before he pulled her body into him, pressing his chest against hers, leaning down to rest his chin on her shoulder. “Yeah,” he muttered softly, his lips grazing the fabric of her sweater. “I get it.” And she giggled, embracing him tighter, thinking that maybe he was just as happy as her.

She didn’t notice the way his fingers slowly curled against the back of her sweater. She didn’t notice how he deliberately pressed his lips against her clothed shoulder as he spoke so he could hide the shivers in his voice. And she didn’t notice how his eyes were shaking in the fear of losing her, how he could barely bear the pain in his chest, how his mind almost made him vomit the words he’d been dreading.

It’s okay. She hasn’t met him yet. Maybe it’s just a dream. It doesn’t mean anything.

God, please don’t let it mean anything.

***

It was a shade of purple, the color she used to paint a lavender in her sketchbook before she drew the rest of the landscape. But before she could finish painting the next thing, she sighed dreamily into the air, closing her drawing book with both hands.

“He’s in a band,” she said as they laid side-by-side on the grass, enjoying the warm sunlight on their faces and the scent of the pine trees in the garden near their homes. “Was. Or still is, I’m not sure.”

And she laughed, she always did whenever she talked about him and although the sound of it used to warm his heart, it made him struggle even more with jealousy. So he just hummed, scrolling down his Instagram feeds to distract him.

Three months had passed by ever since she had that dream, and Donghyuck was conflicted between wanting to know more or hearing none of it for the rest of his life. She had the dream every single night, reliving every single one of her soulmate’s memory—both past and present—every time she closed her eyes, and to him, she seemed more alive when she was about to go to bed, rather than after she woke up.

“I heard him sing once during his band practice when his vocalist had a sore throat. He sounded great but like, a bit hesitant, you know? Like he’s not confident with his voice.” She turned around to her stomach, staring at him with excitement in her eyes and a speck of scarlet painting her cheeks. “Well, he doesn’t sound anything like you, but I still think he’s great.”

“Good to know,” he coldly replied. She seemed to take notice of that.

“I’m sorry, Haechannie,” she said, “I must have bored you to death with all this soulmate talk.”

“Yeah, well, he’s your soulmate, not mine, so I couldn’t care any less.” He could’ve been nicer about it, but then again that wouldn’t be him.

“Well, guess what?” She landed half of her body on his stomach, knocking some of his breath with her weight but he just threw a glare in response and not pushing her away. “Somebody is having his eighteenth birthday in a month. So then, we’ll have your soulmate to talk about too.”

“Yaaay,” he weakly cheered, face flat and ignorant.

She pouted. “Why aren’t you excited about this? You’re gonna be dreaming about your soulmate! I’m excited to know who’s that lucky girl going to be.”

His chest felt heavy and it had nothing to do with the girl on top of him. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“I hope she’s nice and pretty,” she said, smiling genuinely at him. “Because only the most perfect girl in this entire universe can deserve my Haechannie.”

But he didn’t want a perfect girl. He just wanted her, so why was it so impossible to ask?

“Wish I could wish the same for you,” he said, placing his phone on his chest and leaned back on his elbows so he could focus his gaze on hers.

“What do you mean?”

And he switched their positions, rolling their bodies on the grass until she had her spine pressed against the ground with him hovering above her. “H-Haechannie?”

She looked so perfect like this—trapped between his arms, her doe eyes widening in surprise, taking in his sight, her lips parted making a soft gasp of his name.

Ah, I want to make her mine. Why can’t she be mine?

He leaned down, the tip of his nose almost brushing against hers. And if he could just forget everything—their friendship, her future life with her soulmate—for a few seconds and allow himself to be selfish, he would close the gap, meeting her lips with his, bask himself in her warmth, and he would let her moan against his mouth, would caress her cheeks with his fingertips, and would just wish the time to stop so they could repeat that for eternity.

But this reality of his was not that.

This reality of his felt more like a nightmare—one that he could never wake up from.

So in this reality, he brought his lips dangerously close to her ear, and whispered, “I hope your soulmate picks his nose and eats his booger whenever you’re not looking because only then he’d be perfect for you.”

And before she could kick his abs in response, he already scrambled back to his feet, running away as if his life depended on it.

***

It was the color of cerulean blue, the scarf that Donghyuck wore around his neck because he was a bit sensitive to cold even when spring was about to come to an end.

“Let’s go somewhere,” Donghyuck said, adrenaline rushing through his veins. “Anywhere. Just you and me.”

“What, now?” She frowned, looking at the clock on her bedroom wall. It was two hours before midnight—before he turned eighteen. “But it’s late—”

“I don’t care—”

“And it’s freezing outside—”

“I’ll keep you warm.” He was already tugging on her hand, pulling her up to her feet. He wrapped his scarf around her neck and placed his beanie on her head. “I don’t have my gloves but I’ll hold your hand all the way, so no more excuses and let’s go.”

Because it might be his last chance to spend his time with nothing but her presence filling his thoughts. He dreaded the possibility of having that dream sometime after the clock struck twelve. He didn’t want his heart to be taken by someone else—let alone, a stranger. And he knew he wouldn’t dream about her because she had found her soulmate and he was not him.

And if it was true—if having that dream changed his entire perspective where he could only love that one girl for the rest of his life then…

Just let me have this moment with her, where I can still love her with all my heart, even if she doesn’t love me the same way.

“Where are we going?” She demanded as they broke past the front door as quietly as they could since her parents were sleeping in their room.

“I don’t know—I don’t care—I just—” He breathed into the night air, puffs of warm breath painting the space between them. “Anywhere is fine. I just want to be with you.”

He saw her cheeks turning scarlet but he didn’t hope for too much. It was probably just the cold playing tricks on him.

“Okay, well then,” She tightened her duffle coat around her body. “Lead the way.”

He smiled, feeling blessed for having her putting so much faith in him, even after all this time.

There weren’t many places open at that hour, and it was fine because they already felt content just from walking side-by-side under the cherry blossoms that had withered all of their flowers. The way she held his hand reminded him of their younger days, both gentle and somewhat protective—like a sister to a younger brother and it made him feel both joy and sadness because he wanted to intertwine their fingers together as lovers, embrace each other under the dim glow of the streetlight, and connect their lips together while whispering loving words between chaste kisses.

“Haechannie,” she said, snapping him out of his reverie as she stopped them both in their tracks. “Happy birthday.”

Donghyuck blinked, not realizing how two hours just passed in an instant. “I’m as old as you, already?” He sneered. “I feel so gross.”

But she didn’t laugh the way he thought she would. Instead, she was looking at him with a glint of loneliness in her eyes which made him wonder why. “I bought you something.” She rummaged her coat’s pocket before she showed a little black box the size of her palm with a red bow wrapped around it.

Donghyuck faked a gasp. “No way, you’re proposing to me? But honey, I’m already carrying your child!”

She stomped her feet on his. “Shut up and just be serious for a sec, will ya?”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” He chuckled but he could hear how nervous he actually was from the little crack in his voice. He took the little present with a shy, slightly awkward smile. “Can I open it now?”

“Sure, as long as you don’t mock me for it.”

He furrowed his eyebrows at her before he opened the box to find a silver oval locket necklace displayed inside it. He glanced at her. “Don’t tell me you have a picture of us taking our bath together as babies in it.”

“Interesting, but no. I did have something written on it, though.”

“Okay, but if you wrote something stupid, I will—” He froze, hands stopping mid-air after he opened the locket and read the words engraved on the silver plate.

To my first love, Lee Donghyuck.

“Okay, before you say anything,” she cut him off, fidgeting a little on her feet. “Let me explain about it first. I don’t want to come out as weird or anything because after this, we’re both going to find our soulmates and go our separate ways so let me assure you that I’m not saying I love you that way, but—”

He pulled her into his chest, wrapping both of his arms around her shoulders, his lips pressing against her hair.

“Haechannie—”

“Shut up,” he said, closing his eyes as he calmed his racing heart. “Just shut up and let me have this moment.”

She wasn’t sure whether he got her previous message but she no longer cared, because at the end of the day, he was her first love in every way—as a family, a brother, a friend, and even a lover once, though she never allowed herself to think about him like that. So she tangled her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest, and closed her eyes for as long as he would let her.

Donghyuck wanted this moment to last forever but he knew time was running out even if he tried to stand still. It would be over the second he had that dream and fell in love with someone else. It would end the day she’d meet her soulmate, treating his existence merely as a bystander in her love story.

But for now… Just for now…

“I love you,” Donghyuck whispered so softly against her hair, almost inaudible by the sound of the wind passing through their ears. “I love you, Noona. So much that it hurts.”

She chuckled, embracing him tighter. “I love you too, Haechannie.”

Then why does this feel like a goodbye?

He pulled back, pressing his temple against hers. “There’s no life without you,” he said, a shy smile forming on his lips.

She cupped his cheek, rubbing comforting circles on his skin. “There’s no life without you, Haechannie.”

***

“So, umm, thanks for today,” Donghyuck said, as he walked her back to her house, rubbing his nape awkwardly as he said it. “And thanks for the gift. I’ll treasure it.”

“You better.” She playfully punched his arm. “It was pretty expensive, just so you know.”

“More expensive than a one-meter tall made-by-order alpaca doll I bought you?”

“Sorry, I’ll take that back.” She winced, and Donghyuck chuckled a little bit under his breath, patting her head and letting his fingers linger a little longer than usual on the soft strands of her hair.

“Well…” He retracted his hand, placing them in his coat’s pocket. “Good night.”

“See you tomorrow.” And she leaned in to kiss him on the cheek at the same time he was about to do the same and their lips grazed each other, soft lips meeting softer ones in the faintest of touch but carved something deep both in their bodies and minds.

They both took a step back at the same time, startled. He was busy looking anywhere but her face, and she concealed her lips with her fingers, bringing her head down to hide her eyes underneath her bangs.

There was a silence that made his skin crawl. “S-sorry, I was—”

“No, it’s okay, I get it,” she immediately said, forcing a smile before she hastily turned on her heels, her shaky fingers searching for her doorknob. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Donghyuck still had trouble breathing. “Y-yeah, sure.”

She timidly smiled again before she stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

Now that they were both out of each other’s sight, Donghyuck inaudibly cursed into the air, running a hand through his hair, feeling his heart ramming against his ribcages while she slid down to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest and pressed her spine against the back of her front door.

The thought of their brief, accidental kiss was the only thing that painted their minds even behind their closed eyelids as they laid on their beds, hoping for exhaustion to take over their bodies. Once it did, they both fall into a soundless sleep where she began to think about another pair of lips but it wasn’t the case for Donghyuck.

Because, as he fell into his first soulmate dream, he was facing the same person—the girl who owned his heart, whose lips were just as soft as he’d imagined them to be.

Noona, he spoke inside the dream, staring at the sight of her, why am I dreaming about you?

***

[yanderesimps]

Destined torture

Yandere Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

(Warnings: Unrequited love, forced relationships, forced intimacy, angst, obsession, soulmates AU)

❁-----------------------------------------------❁

It wasn't easy to avoid the blonde when you're the childhood friend of one of his main targets for bullying. Izuku Midoriya, the boy from across the street with a somewhat concerning all might addiction.

You two met in the park one day, stumbling over as you loomed over the greed haired boy as he played in the sandpit. The two of you had sat in awkward silence for a few minutes, always keeping about a meters distance between yourselves as you eyed each other quietly as shy children do.

Until you mumbled about how you liked his all might action figures and his eyes lit up like the night sky, filled with unimaginable excitement. It had all gone up from there of course but now instead you'd both graduated from harmless kiddies to slightly less harmless adolescents.

That of course meant that you had the pleasure to often have deal with the rampaging temper and relentless bullying of a certain Katsuki Bakugou. That wasn't to say that he'd always be such a brat, only ever giving you the brunt of his lashings when he would spy you with Izuku in the school halls.

For years he mercilessly hassled Izuku and it had only ever gotten worse when your classmates had begun to develop their quirks. Izuku, much to his dismay, had to face the bitter truth that he was indeed quickless.

You were almost afraid that your quick would've widened the divide between you two but it somehow in a weird way brought you two even closer if they was humanly possible. By all means, your quick wasn't flashy and explosive like Bakugou's but it had been noteworthy, nothing that get you into UA but respective nevertheless.

When Bakugou would begin his precise schedule of tormenting Izuku, you were steadfast in defending your best friend much to Bakugou's annoyance.

But when you spied Bakugou in the halls today, you'd expected the worst. Your lips twisted into a blatent frown which could make even Endeavour's fire run cold.

Bakugou approached, his hands shoved into his baggy trouser as he stood in front of you, his delinquent friend thankfully no where to be seen. You two stood in raging silence that seemed to ring louder in your ears that your thoughts of contempt for the boy in front of you.

Pulling a hand out of his trousers, you almost expected a bloody nose but soon found yourself staring at a crinkled envelope. You stared at the letter for a few moments before darting your unimpressed glare back to meet the red pupils that stated right back at you.

"Is this a new tecnique? Come to defeat me through the power of paper cuts?" You tittered, resisting the growing earge to swat the paper from his hand.

The blonde clicked his tongue at your sarcasm, thrusting the letter closer to you. "It's an invitation, dumbass, my birthday is next week and the hag made me give you this since she thinks we're friends or whatever"

"Oh my goodness! Why didn't you just say so? I'll make sure to put this in my files, right in the "remember to burn" section" You sang in fake glee, your mocking joyful expression soon falling back into its usual scowl when in the company of the blonde.

Bakugou's eye seemed to twitch slightly at your works and you could practically smell the caremel scent in the air heating up. Surprising, he didn't even say anything and simply turned on his heel to leave. "Well that was...boring" you said with almost a huff. In the past, making bakugou angry was something you actively avoided like the plague but now? It was nothing more than a fun family activity.

So when you didn't feel the flesh of your cheeks burning from 3rd degree burns it was nothing less than a shock. You could almost felt the bright heavens radiating down upon you. Had katsuki bakugou finally developed an actual personality that didn't involve being a dick?

Of course not.

But that still didn't explain why he was inviting you to a fucking birthday party.

It practically struck you like a brick when you realised what this meant.

Bakugou was now one year older

It was the day that everyone seemed to yern for. The day of the mark. A mark that would tell you the name of your soulmate. A mark that would appear on your 16th birthday.

It was bakugou's birthday.

He was turning 16 in one week.

And all that was just more gloating material.

There were quickless people which was bad enough. If you were quickless, you were seen as weaker, lesser and not normal but having no soul mark? It was practically a death sentence. You were seen as unlovable, unlikeable and unwanted. You were abnormal and disgusting. And ever since a certain blonde had developed a knat for explosions and Izuku hadn't, never having a soulmark was the first bullet in Katsuki's rifle when it came to his conquest of making Izuku's life a living nightmare.

And now for the next few months until your birthday it was all you two were going to hear about.

Heaven's gates swung closed right then and there and the pits of hell threatened to swallow you right there.

"Y/n"

You suddenly snapped out of your inner dialogue to see Deku approaching you with a slightly worried expression. Perhaps you'd been spending too much time standing silently while imagine your future months of torment from bakugou.

You pulled an eneasy grin and rubbed the back of your neck nervously. "No it's fine! Just fine!"

The boys face lit up with his classic smile that made your own heart warm. "great! Wanna get lunch then?" Clasping his arm you nodded with a stark grin. "Let go. I'm starving"

....

...

..

"What's you favorite type of coffin, Izuku?"

_______

There was no amount of pleading that would have gotten you out of this situation, no matter how hard you pleaded to your mother. She didn't even care that your funeral would be expensive.

So now here you were.

In a dress.

Your hair dolled up.

Make-up.

Planning out your 13th reason why.

Standing outside bakugou's home with a present clasped in your hands, the decently loud chatter within taughting you like the drums of War but then again you were practically about to dive into the trenches.

Your numb finger pressed the doorbell, your heart seemed to stutter at the sound of a nearing voice.

"Katsuki! Open your presents later!!" screeched a voice of whom you could only assume was miss Bakugou. The door opened the woman in front of you visable brightened as she glowed down upon you.

"Y/n, what a pleasant surprise, get in here! Katsuki's in the back garden" The woman's mood had practically done a full 180° at a mere glance of your slightly shaky form. "I'll take that, now go in and have fun with the others" She hummed with a wild smile as she took the neatly wrapped present from your sweaty palms. You merely nodded in response, finding that your throat had closed in on itself making it impossible to even swallow down your initial fear.

You could hear the distant cheering, chatting and occasional parent's voice as you walked further into the house, closer to the clear glass slide door that revealed the decoration littered back garden.

There only kids you could see were the possy that would always surround the blonde haired boy, the occasional guy you'd know from class and almost ever girl that would drop to their knees in the hope of katsuki bakugou noticing them.

Most never glanced at you, some glared at you in disgust but one particular pair of red eyes were fixated on you the moment you stepped in the garden.

You nearly cried tears of joy that the make up had taken so long since it seemed you'd actually missed the majority of the festivities. "In and out. This'll all be over soon" You hummed, trying to pathetically console yourself.

You'd made a beeline for the corner with the least amount of people, seating yourself on a lawn chair before quickly pulling out your phone, ideally hoping that you'd allowed to spend the next hour just lazily scrolling through your phone before grabbing a slice of cake and leaving.

Sadly, that wasn't what fate had instore. You looked up from your phone screen as a shadow suddenly loomed over you. "What? Not even gonna give me a happy birthday" Bakugou sneered, glaring down at you. Your own expression twisted into the perfect rendition of what the word "hatred" meant. Your eyes narrowed, your nose crumpled and lips fell into a neat frown. "I'm sure you'll find a way to survive without my half heart congratulations"

The boy above you nearly smiled at your words as he clicked his tounge and sat on the chair next to you. "Not even curious to find out who my soulmate is?" You raised and eyebrow but your expression remained the same. You took a mere glance at his wrist, only to see it covered before returning your gaze. That seemed to satisfy the boy in front of you as his grin widened visably.

"Don't flatter yourself, I'm just praying for the poor soul that is destined to be with you for the rest of their days"

Bakugou just laughed and then left, leaving you in a puddle of confusion. He should've already gotten his soul mark, so why wasn't he parading it around like he did with everything?

You didn't give it another though, returning to your phone for the next while and brushing off the unsettling feeling the crawled up your spine.

__________

It wasn't surprising that they waited for the big reveal after bakugou had blown out his candles. You were just mildly aggrivated that such torture was continously being forced upon you rather than just letting you go home.

Everyone had crowded around the table where the cake sat. You, for some reason, found yourself stood at the corner of the table nearest to bakugou who stood in the center alone as the other surrounded the other sides.

Ms Bakugou had placed a hand on your shoulder and who you looked up to ask her why she was so clingy, she merely silenced you with a toothy smile.

She seemed to be excited about something.

Everyone had begun a countdown as katsuki raised his hand to everyone, lightly gripping his sleeve that hid the name of his future beloved.

You simply joined in hopes that the scene would go by faster, you didn't even look when he pulled down the arm of his jacket. You only notice the silence that followed after.

Then you noticed the eyes burrowed upon you.

The tightening grip on your shoulder.

Bakugou's glare.

How he was lightly smiling.

Then you noticed your first name neatly written into the flesh of his wrist.

The world seemed to slow then it had all soon went by like a blur just like you. Reality seemed to slip away at the seems and all you could do was slightly nod at the voices of congratulations and bright smiles of bakugou's parents. Disoriented, eyes pickled with tears as your dry throat struggled to find words.

Why was Katsuki still smiling?

__________

You'd been branded that day.

"Katsuki's girl"

Always finding a firery arm latched around your waist or shoulders as you were paraded down that halls like a spectacle for the ages.

You weren't allowed to speak to Izuku anymore or any guy for that matter. It wasn't like any of them risked their necks to talk to you anyway ever since Katsuki claimed you, broadcasting his mark like a trophy, a fitting collar that was locked around your neck.

You found yourself seated with the popular girl at every lunch when Katsuki didn't cling to you, people who you once years to be next to and chat with. Now it just felt empty. Empty conversation. Empty smiles. Empty happiness.

You would sometimes catch Izuku's eye in the hallways as a river of words went unsaid between you two. Then katsuki would tell him to "fuck off" before dragging you to class.

Life wasn't fun anymore. It wasn't even livable.

You barely realised how the month passed and your birthday was right around the corner. In fact, it was tomorrow.

"We'll have matching pairs then-? Hey, idiot, you listening to me?"

"Yes, Katsuki"

"good. I would hate to think you were ignoring me again" His palm gripped your chin like a face, tilting your head before he smashed his wet lips to yours. It was clumsy. It made you feel disgusting.

A hand sorely gripped your thigh, snaking up the helm of your school skirt. You didn't even bother to swat him away there days when he got handsy. It just encouraged him more to discipline you.

"I'll make sure to get you a great present, you'll love it" You knew what he meant by that, it made your heart drop and stomach threaten to heave.

Bakugou soon got up to leave with a group of his friends, leaving you to wallow in you own desperation. You glanced at your wrist. Katsuki had been baring down upon it every day to see if there was even an inclination that his name was appearing.

In reality it didn't really matter, it was just gloating privileges for him now, a way of bragging that you two were destined and you would be hs fine piece of ass for life.

You stroked the reddened skin, it had been sore lately.

"please..."

"Please...anyones name...just as long as its not his"

__________

"Come on, Y/n!"

"Show us!"

"Its obvious what it is gonna say"

You didn't even bother to check what your wrist said when you woke up this morning. Katsuki made you promise that you wouldn't and that you would wait for school.

So here you were, seated in the cafeteria with the majority of the class surrounding you a Katsuki. You could practically feel the pride radiating from him right now.

"go ahead, babe, show em"

And so you did, jutting out your arm and revealing the name to all around.

It was silent again. You expected squeals of jealously, congrats and awe.

Silence. It was louder than any sound imaginable at that moment .

You looked up from where your listless glare had fallen onto your lap to the wide eyes all baring down upon you.

"Oh...hard...luck, Bakugou"

Your eyes fell to your wrist.

"Izuku"

Perhaps fate wasn't so cruel after all.

[6sakusa]

‘why’ part 2, miya atsumu.

wc : 1.6k

warnings : post break up themes, implications of toxic relationship, cheating.

part 1

it had been a year, yes, an entire year had passed and yet miya atsumu still couldn’t get his mind off of you, in fact, it seemed to get worse as time progressed. the thought of you not being here by his side was suddenly becoming a reality and it took his mind by a sickening storm. initially, he believed that you’d come back and he’d get the chance to sort out the entire situation, perhaps beg for your forgiveness and give you the speech he had been practicing for the past months that would guarantee the two of you getting back together.

he made sure to change the locks of what used to be your shared apartment just to make sure if you had come by to get the rest of your stuff you wouldn’t be able to get inside unless he was home. he took almost all the extra precautions necessary and he had the upmost faith that you be back in his arms soon enough. and when you were, he swore to himself that he would never let you go. he had it all planned out, the two of you would settle down together and have a beautiful family, all his past digressions would be forgotten.

it had even become so bad to the point where he had begun skipping out practices, babbling to his teammates about how “y/n might come back today!”. they would all shoot him sympathetic glances at his words knowing that even though he was too blind to see it you would be the biggest fool to come crawling back and therefore, it would never happen.

it took osamu talking some harsh sense into him much to bokuto and hinata’s dismay to get him to understand the severity of the entire situation.

“you do realise you cheated on her? over and over again, why would she come back? be realistic, you two are over and you’ll probably never see her again, it’s been months.” atsumu glanced up at his brothers harsh words but chose to disregard them. “you’ll see, you’ll all see.”

but the day never came, he never heard your light knock on the door, the clicking of your heels as you walked into your shared apartment, the smile that etched your lips as you locked eyes with him, your laugh that echoed throughout the living-room when he told a joke that he knew you’d find funny. and he missed all those things with his entire heart, it was from then on he understood that you were irreplaceable.

looking back on it he couldn’t believe how he had made you feel, he wondered how long you had known, how many nights did you cry alone knowing that he was lying to you? how hard was it to pretend that everything was alright because you wanted to hold on to your relationship with him more than anything? how long did you believe that it was going to be possible to fix things? why did you give up…?

“don’t you think you're becoming a little too obsessed?” his brother asked the day he proposed hiring a private investigator to find out where you’d gone off to. even though he respected your privacy it was hard knowing nothing about your current situation or at the very least, if you were alright. all of your friends had disconnected from him and you had completely ceased speaking to his, even your parents were no longer anywhere to be found. more than anything he just wanted to know that you were alive and okay.

“she’s probably fine and is doing better off now.” his twin assured him, but those words didn’t have the comfort that was intended. better off? he thought to himself. but the two of you had promised to always love each other, he’d even given you a ring for God’s sake, how could you be better off? how could you function? why weren’t you broken the way he was? were you not searching for him too? you knew exactly where to find him if you wanted to, maybe, you just didn’t care and atsumu couldn’t bear the thought of it.

and maybe, that’s what led him to a late night walk at 11pm in the midst of the night to clear his head. he knew he didn’t deserve you but that didn’t mean he could live without you. he knew what he needed to do and he was willing to go to any lengths to do it, to be better for you, and to be loved by you once again, and in return he’d be the perfect boyfriend and this time he’d keep his promise, this time you’d keep the ring on.

the frosty air of the midnight streets prickled against his skin but it was nothing compared to the feeling of emptiness that was left inside him from the moment you were gone, it was almost as if he was immune to everything, he was completely numb and it was even beginning to worry those who were closest to him. even osamu had stated he’d never seen his twin brother this depressed in his entire life, and what was worse is that he couldn’t do anything to fix it.

atsumu was only pulled out of his thoughts by the dim light radiating from a corner store, the crimson neon sign that echoed ‘open’ was slowly dying out but he paid no attention to it as he pushed open the door, becoming engulfed in the warm atmosphere that originated from the artificial heaters. he sighed to himself rubbing his palm together in a pathetic attempt to create friction and that’s when he felt it. a thud in the side of his shoulder followed by rattling of various products hitting the floor.

“my bad, let me help you there.” he watched as the figure before him froze at the sound of his voice and he couldn't believe he didn’t notice at first. even though your hat was gracefully hiding your face he should’ve known at the familiar scent of your perfume.

“y/n?” his voice was unsteady even though he’d imagined this moment countless times. he had an entire speech prepared for you, what was he going to say again? he couldn’t recall, his mind went blank at the sight of you and by the way you still hadn’t moved, not even to look up at him told that you had almost the same reaction, except the feelings that erupted in your chests were entirely different. atsumu was blinded by love and you on the other hand, hate. you were on two opposite ends of the spectrum but that was something your ex-boyfriend refused to acknowledge.

“i’ve been looking everywhere for you, i can’t believe you’re here, did you come back for me? i’ve been wa—“

his voice was cut off by a man who turned the corner to see you collecting items off the ground. “babe, are you okay?” he rushed to your side to assist you.

babe? atsumu thought to himself, maybe he has the wrong person, yes definitely, this man must be confused. he’s probably mistaken you for someone else since you’re wearing that pesky hat, afterall it does make it hard to see your true identity. what a fool, he had half the mind to shoo him away since he was bothering you—

“yeah i’m fine.” you responded turning to face the male with a smile and there it was .. the feeling of his heart clenching when you looked up at him for a brief second as if he wasn’t even important to you. this wasn’t how he imagined this to go, and who the hell is this porcupine getting all handsy with you? and why are you responding to him? there’s no way.. it couldn’t be..

“y/n is this a friend of yours?” the man stopped shooting atsumu a handsome smile, the male’s build wasn’t much different from his own and he could tell that he was in athletics of some type. his demeanor wasn’t necessarily friendly per se, instead it he held an air of indifference around him. if he hadn’t just seen him getting all smitten with you there was no doubt it would be hard for him to imagine it.

“no hajime.” atsumu snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of your voice, it was still like a drug to him and he hated the way it was saying someone elses name and not his. you had no idea of the things he would do just to get you to say you loved him again, he wanted to hear it out of that beautiful mouth of yours accompanied by your pretty voice.

“he’s nobody.” you gave him one more glance and he noticed that there was an unrecognisable look in your eye. it was so cold and uncaring that it took him a while to process your words as the two of them barged past him.

he’s nobody? what are you saying? did you not recognise him? no .. of course you did he looked the exact same, so why would you say that? and that was the moment his whole life shattered before him. the moment he watched you walk out of the store, hand in hand with the man next to you, a smile beaming on your face, eyes full of love that used to be directed at him and he couldn’t help but stare even though it pained him more than anything he’d ever felt in his life.

the last time miya atsumu cried this hard was when he was six years old, but this day had beaten it by a landslide.

[joel-millerr]

What’s Your Favorite Color?

Chapter Seven of We Are One When Together (formerly A Mandalorian and a Smuggler)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 14.2k

Summary: reader is stuck on the Crest with Mando and the kid. what should be an uneventful trip turns into something that changes everyone on board.

Warnings: SMUT! rough sex, oral sex (female receiving), orgasm denial, edging, overstimulation, praise kink(?), aftercare, depictions of death, mentions of mental illness (even though the reader doesn’t explicitly say it--it’s more implied), slight spit play?

A/N: ok so this might be the dirtiest thing I've written but I'm just so proud of where this story is going and I hope you guys enjoy. also, the entire chapter takes place on the crest, and it’s one day :)

also big shoutout to @eznova​ who helped me with this chapter. LOVE U

--

I worry that your own attachment to the Mandalorian will be your undoing.

That eerie reminder echoes over and over in your mind as you wake up from one of the best nights of your life. It’s hard to control the stupid, shit-eating grin plastered on your face as you lie in Mando’s cot. You’re alone, but his scent—a delicious mix of soap and musk, fill your nostrils and if you close your eyes and focus hard enough, you can imagine him laying right next to you, wrapping strong, tree trunk sizes arms around you and placing chaste kisses all over your skin.

You couldn’t have planned falling for Mando so deeply and so quickly as you have, mainly considering that you haven’t known each other for very long, but you know damn well that if given the opportunity, you’d do everything over again.

Stars, you don’t even know what his name is.

What is his first name?

Should you ask him? You don’t want to come off imposing, and there’s a part of you that wants to wait until he chooses to share that information with you, rather than try to wrestle it out of him, but he’s shrouded in mystery, and that just reels you in even more. You really want to pick his brain, figure out what makes him him, but you don’t know if you’ll ever get that chance. There’s the possibility though, that after last night, he’ll be more vulnerable around you. Maybe you’ll both be more vulnerable and inclined to share each other’s pasts. After all, you’ve been pretty intimate with each other.

When you finally decide it’s probably time for you to get out of bed and face the potential awkwardness that could happen between you and Mando, the door to the cubby hole hisses open, with neither the kid nor Mando in sight. Your feet touch down on the cold ship’s floor, and you slip into your boots. Once on your feet, you feel an ache at the apex of your thighs. It stings and you have to basically have to walk with your thighs spread apart in order to ease some of the uncomfortableness between your legs. Every move you make is a reminder of the night before. You can even feel him inside you, stretching your walls to hug him perfectly. Kriff, you’re already wet and you only just woke up.

Hoping a sanisteam will wipe away the crude thoughts from your barely conscious mind, you take to the fresher and wake yourself up with a brisk rinse. Once you’re out and throw on yesterday clothes—you make a mental note to wash your only other garments, you’re about to head up to the cockpit when you hear Mando’s voice. Stopping at the ladder, you listen in on what he’s saying.

“…but you have to agree to go with them if they want you to. Understand?” His’s voice goes quiet for a moment. “Plus, I can’t train you. You’re too…powerful. Don’t you want to learn more of that Jedi stuff?”

It’s a damn shame how last night you had heard his true voice for the first time, unmodulated but still as deep and rough as it sounds with the distortion of his helmet, and probably won’t be privy to it for a while. You wish you could hear him, like really hear him, naked and untapped again but even if you don’t, it’ll just make last night even more significant.

You hear the Child coo in response before hearing Mando’s cadence again. “I agreed to take you back to your own kind, so that’s what I need to do.” There’s a brief pause. “You understand that, right?”

For the first time, you detect some sadness in Mando’s tone. Like he’s trying to reassure not only the kid but also himself that he needs to go through with this, that even though there might be a part of him that doesn’t want to let the Child go, in the end he has no choice in the matter. It tugs at your heartstrings. The Mandalorian, a seasoned warrior, a survivor, a bounty hunter—at war with himself and his own feelings.

You can’t help but feel guilty as well. Ahsoka had warned you that one day, you too would have to make a choice but after last night… It’s no longer as clear-cut as you initially thought it would be. Had this come to you even just six months ago, you wouldn’t have given it a second thought. You’d make the choice of being a Jedi, and forgo all attachments and dedicate your life to the Order. It wouldn’t be hard for you to set all your feelings aside—you’ve had many years of practice on that subject, but now things are completely upside down. It’s territory you’ve never been in before and Maker, that terrifies you. The longer you journey with the Mandalorian, the more you become weaved together like vines wrapping themselves around a duracrete structure. Similar to the ancient temples on Naboo, tightening and gripping in every nook and cranny until it’s impossible to separate one without destroying the other.

When you reach the floor of the cockpit, you watch Mando sit ever still in the pilot’s chair, with Grogu seated to his right. Your boots hitting the ground as you walk alerts the Child, his ears twitching in your direction and he giggles excitedly, holding that little durasteel ball in his hands.

“Morning,” you announce as you plop down in the seat to Mando’s left. Grogu peers at you with big eyes and makes grabby hands at you, so lean over and bring him into your lap.

“How long until we reach Coruscant?”

“A day or two,” he answers curtly, keeping his visor glued to the blues of hyperspace through the transparisteel.

“Oh, okay. Looks like we’ll have time to kill then.”

Mando rises from his seat, turns his body to you for just a moment before announcing his leave. “Does your blaster need cleaning?”

“Uh—maybe?”

He offers you a quick dip of the helmet before leaving the cockpit in one swift movement and heading down the ladder. Your eyebrows pull together as you stare at the empty doorway to the little room you and the Child are still seated in. Looking down at him, you whisper, “Why do I get the feeling he’s avoiding me?”

Grogu bats his eyes at you before gently sucking on the ball still firmly gripped in his claws. It’ll always amaze you how attached he is to that sphere. You might never know why it’s so important to him but then again, you suppose that it’s a secret between him and his caregiver.

“I wish I knew what was going on in that mind of his,” you confess—not necessarily to Grogu, but since he’s the only one around, you feel almost compelled to spew your concerns and confusions about everything that’s happened.

“What do we do, little guy? I suppose since you’ve had training, you’ll probably want to be found by a Jedi, right?”

Grogu mumbles something at you and for just a second, you think he might understand you.

“And you’re okay with leaving him?”

He coos almost sadly, and you can hear your heart shattering. This little creature has grown such an attachment to Mando. It’s exactly what Ahsoka said—Mando’s basically his father and truthfully, if your parents were still alive, you couldn’t imagine leaving them to join a group that shuns on attachments. It would take a strength that you couldn’t muster to pull yourself away from them, not after knowing the kind of pain of having to live without them.

“I’m scared, Grogu. Truthfully, I have no idea what to think about all this.”

Of course, he doesn’t say anything. He’s not even really paying attention, too busy staring at the little ball in his hands. It’s okay, though. It’s enough just for you to express your concerns aloud. Your mind can get cluttered if you think about everything all at once. The moments you convey your thoughts verbally, it forces you to focus on what you’re actually saying, rather than all the hypotheticals that bounce around in your head.

“Should I go down there?”

Again, Grogu says nothing, he doesn’t even look up at you. Eyeing where Mando sat just minutes ago, you feel like a teenager. You’re both adults, you can’t just tiptoe around each other, it’s not like there are many places to hide on the Crest, anyway. If he won’t come to you, you’ll just have to go to him.

Holding Grogu close to your chest, you take to the ladder and head down, being mindful not to accidentally hit his head on the rungs. Just as you reach the hull, you notice Mando facing one of the crates, his blaster completely taken apart, wiping the coil with a dirty rag. Placing Grogu in the bunk to your left, you lean on another crate and watch Mando dissect his weapon and clean every little bit of residue off his gun.

“How’s your shoulder?” Mando asks, back still turned to you.

“It’s fine, kinda aches a bit but it’s nothing I can’t handle,” you answer, transfixed at the way Mando meticulously cleans his weapons. He’s nothing if not thorough.

“Mmm,” he hums low in his throat. The sound reminds you of the mind-altering grunts he made the night before when he was balls deep inside you, causing you to rub your thighs together at the memory. That sanisteam was supposed to get of these filthy thoughts.

It becomes suddenly very awkward in the hull and you get the feeling that you might be lingering. He clears his throat a few times but says nothing. There may not come another time where you could try to learn more about Mando, so now seems like right time. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you muster up the strength to finally ask him, “You were born on Mandalore?” Keeping your eyes down, staring at your feet because you just don’t have the nerve to look at him.

“No, Aq Vetina.”

“Oh… I thought—”

“I was a foundling.”

“Like Grogu.”

“Yes,” he answers deep in his throat.

It suddenly makes sense why Mando saved him from the Empire, and why Grogu’s still in his care. He sees himself in the Child. He sees the vulnerability, the childlike innocence and he understands that he is responsible for this little baby, at least until you find a Jedi that is.

“Do all Mandalorians hide their faces?” You ask curiously.

There’s not much that you know about Mandalorians. The few things you do know about them is that they’re almost impossible to find due to the Empire nearly wiping them all out, and that they’re some of the best—if not the best warriors in the galaxy. Given the fact that Mando hasn’t removed his helmet once since you’ve been around (until last night), you can assume he take his Creed very seriously, and can’t help but wonder if the Child has been fortunate to catching a glimpse of his face.

“No,” he answers methodically.

Already feeling like you’re pushing the limits of how many questions you can ask before he finally decides to shut you down and stops being so forthcoming, the genuine curiosity is sadly too strong for you to pull back. It’s not like you’ve ever had this much time around someone so secretive and mysterious as Mando, and there’s just too many pieces to this puzzle that you want to so desperately put together.

“So, why do you do it?”

“This is the—” he begins, but a chuff of air slips through your lips before he can finish speaking. “What?” He asks annoyingly, turning his body around to face you.

“I don’t know…” Your hands motion around you in an effort to find the right words. “I mean you did take off your helmet in front of me last night.”

“I did.” The words come out through gritted teeth.

“So, is the rule that you can’t take off the helmet or that you can’t show your face? Because there is a difference between the two.”

This must catch him off guard because Mando stays silent for a ridiculously long time. The two possibilities are that he’s considering what you’re saying—which you’re beginning to doubt, or he thinks you’re totally out of line and is choosing to ignore you. You have this bad habit of being pretty blunt and somewhat insensitive with the way you express yourself and that’s caused you some issues with others in the past, but it’s always gotten the results you wanted. Honestly, someone like Mando will probably have tough skin, so you’re pretty sure he can handle whatever you throw at him.

“When did this become an interrogation about what I choose and choose not to do?” He grumbles, resting his hands on his utility belt.

“Doesn’t really seem like you’re choosing…” you mumble under your breath, kicking the ground and keeping your eyes to the floor.

“What did you say?” He asks defensively, squaring his shoulders and then taking a step forward. Out of habit, you lean back further against the crate.

“I’m not trying to offend you,” you clarify, using the bottom of your foot to kick off the crate, and straightening your back. “I’m just trying to understand—”

“Why?”

“Well, we’re kinda stuck with each other for who knows how long, so we should take this time to get to know each other, don’t you think?” Raising an eyebrow at him, you rest your hands on your hips, waiting for him to either deflect or finally let his guard down and talk like two normal adults.

“I don’t see how that matters.”

Your jaw literally drops, completely dumbfounded. It during moments like this that you so desperately wish you could see what his facial expression is. Why does he continuously try to keep a distance between himself and every living thing in the galaxy? Is he scared of being vulnerable around someone else? That his reputation as a hardened Mandalorian warrior would be compromised if he so much as shared a tiny bit of information with you? Does he think a Mandalorian would come and strike him down for having his own opinion about his Creed? That questioning the only thing he knew since he was a child would be considered sacrilegious?

It’s pretty silly how worked up you’re getting right now, but the way Mando dismisses you, it stirs up that anger inside you that is so hard to control. He’s always pushing your buttons, just as you push his—only this time, you simply wanted to know a little more about him. Is that too much to ask for?

Do you continue to press him?

Do you let it go?

Announcing your defeat by drawling out a sigh, your hands drop to your sides, looking down at the ground because you can’t be bothered to look at him in the visor anymore. “All right, well I’m going to head up to the cockpit and um…” You try to come up with a quick excuse to leave the room as it’s becoming more and more awkward with each passing second, but unfortunately, nothing comes to mind. You result to turning on your heel and climbing up the ladder without another word, not bothering to wait and see if Mando comes up with something to say before you disappear.

Once you reach the doorway, the blues of hyperspace nearly blind you, and your hand comes up to give shade to your eyes as they adjust to the sudden change in brightness. You’ll need to find something to keep your mind occupied until you enter Coruscant airspace, because you’ll quite frankly drive yourself insane not doing anything, so you walk over to the control panel in front of Mando’s chair and begin running some diagnostics to see at what capacity the hyperdrive is operating at, see if there’s any leakage that you could fix inside the ship and any little thing that might need some maintenance. After running a few tests, you realize that unfortunately, Peli had fixed pretty much every little issue with the ship, so there really is nothing to fix in order to keep yourself busy.

Fuck.

Feeling defeated, you fall back onto your bum and sit on the cold floor, back leaning against one of the walls, resting your right arm on one of the passenger seats. You’ve always hated silence. With nothing to distract yourself with, your mind always ends up wandering, overanalyzing every little minute detail of your life, meticulously going over each moment in time and thinking of all the ways you could have done something different, how the choices you made were wrong, how things would be better off if you did x instead of y. It gnaws at you, until the only thing you feel like you can do to stop the voices inside your mind is to scream and lash out, causing pain to yourself and everyone around you.

Is this the work of the Dark Side or is it just your unstable mind?

Is it both—working together and tearing you apart from the inside out? Slowly picking your brain apart, section by section, nerve ending by nerve ending until all that’s left of you is the worthlessness of your existence, a make-up of atoms and tissue that can’t be controlled or understood?

Stars, you’re doing it again.

You can feel your mind retreating deeper and deeper into itself, wanting to disappear from all of this. Making yourself as small as you can, you pull your knees close to your chest, head dropping down between them while your palms rub the back of your head, grabbing fistfuls of your hair and clenching so hard you think you might end up ripping some right out of your head.

The harder you pull, the more anxious you become. Heartrate picking up steadily and the lump in your throat growing in size, it’s as if the space around you is screaming, that everything is spinning, which could explain all this anxiety you suddenly feel when in reality, it’s all just in your head. The cockpit is dead silent, there isn’t even the slightest sound coming from down in the hull. Everything is deafeningly still and yet you feel it’s all too loud, and you just want to scream. Scream until you feel your vocal cords explode or until there’s no air left in your lungs. Your body no longer feels like it’s yours, and instead it’s as if you’re just living inside of it, watching everything happen around you but not having any actual control over it.

Fuck fuck fuc kfuck fuck fuck

Being so wrapped up in your own mind, you don’t even hear Mando coming up the ladder. You don’t hear his heavy boots clanking against durasteel. You don’t even hear him speaking to you. All you feel is a presence and when you finally lull your head back and peek through heavy lids, you see Mando—on his fucking knees, trying to comfort you. One of his hands hovering over your figure like he’s not sure whether to touch you or not.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks as softly as he possibly can. It comes out smooth like honey but still sitting at a low register through his helmet.

“I’m fine,” you answer curtly, no longer feeling particularly chatty.

He sighs deep in his throat, and you can tell he wants to ask you again, maybe hoping he’ll get the truth this time, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he takes a step back and sits down on the chair opposite the one you’re closest to and stays as silent as a statue. While normally you appreciate the company, right now you want to be left alone, but you don’t have the heart to tell him to leave. So, you stay where you are, both acting like the other isn’t there.

As time ebbs on, your breathing has slows down. Mando being there—despite not saying anything, has you distracted. Your mind’s starting to settle on what’s going on at the present time, rather than all the thoughts that clawed at you just minutes ago. Without even realizing it, he’s helped you significantly.

“How old are you?”

Taken aback by his sudden engagement in conversation, you lean into the wall behind you and feel your shoulders touch the cold durasteel.

“Sorry?” you ask, pulling your eyebrows closely together. This might be the first time he’s ever asked you something personal. When Mando asks a question, it’s usually because he’s searching for clarification, not because he’s genuinely curious.

“How old are you?” He repeats.

You tell him your age and he hums in his throat.

“What about you?”

Something like a chuckle emits from his helmet before answering. “Older than you.”

That’s as close to an actual answer as you’ll get from him.

Okay, since you’re back to asking trivial questions about each other, “Is there anything you like to do for fun?”

“Fun?” He echoes.

“Yeah. Like, what do you do for enjoyment?”

He stays silent for much longer than you expected. Maker, does he not know how to have fun? Maybe it’s the way you worded the question?

“What brings you pleasure?”

His head turns to you and cocks ever so slowly to the side. It’s impossible to hide the annoyance on your face. Rolling your eyes and crossing your arms against your chest, a chuff of air releases from your nostrils.

“Forget it.”

“I…don’t know,” he answers somewhat defeatedly. The idea that Mando doesn’t know what having fun is comes as quite a shock to you. Even though you didn’t have much knowledge on Mandalorians, you didn’t expect that they were unable to have fun.

“Okay, forget that question. What’s your favorite color?”

“Who has a favorite color?”

“People, Mando. People have favorite colors.”

“I don’t.” Letting out a gentle laugh, you use the palms of your hands to push against the floor and rise off the ground, slipping into the chair you were leaning on previously. Turning your body in the direction of the Mandalorian sitting across from you, you sit cross legged.

“There isn’t a color that you gravitate towards? One you look at and think, ‘I like that’?”

“I suppose I never thought of it.”

He’s been missing out on so much. How he’s been going through life without having these mundane preferences or opinions on things is…almost unfathomable. Every person you’ve ever met has had these frivolous details that made them different, giving you an insight into their personalities but Mando has no preference on anything. He just…exists.

“I’m assuming you have one?” he asks through the modulator.

“Yellow,” you begin to say. “But not a flashy kind of yellow, more like a dusty, pale yellow.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why is that your favorite color?”

“I don’t know, Mando,” you answer with a smile on your face. “I just like how it looks. It’s warm and inviting.”

“Hmmm.”

“I guess… It reminds me of the sun. Back home, the sun would shine so bright, and it was so big. I used to stare at it even though my mother warned me not do that.”

He doesn’t say anything more but given that this might be the longest casual conversation you two have ever had, it’s quite the improvement from just saying a couple words to each other.

“Why do you always wear your armor?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… We’re in hyperspace right now and you’re geared up for battle. Doesn’t it get uncomfortable always wearing your armor? Isn’t it heavy?”

“It is heavy.”

Eyebrows knitting tightly together, your lips press into a thin line, unamused by Mando dancing around your question.

“Are… Are you not even allowed to at least take off your armor in front of another person?”

“I never thought about it. I’m usually alone so it makes sense to keep it on; in case.”

“In case what? We’re not going to get attacked in hyperspace.”

“It’s not impossible.”

“Seriously, Mando. You need to loosen up a bit.”

“I do not need to ‘loosen up’. I’m fine,” he says, a hint of derision in his voice.

“Says the guy in full body armor all the time.”

“It’s practical.”

“Oh, it’s practical,” you mock, a grin creeping up on your lips.

“Yes.”

“Even when you’re fucking someone?” You remark, eyebrow raised.

The visor burns into you. He’s definitely caught off guard by your brass question. Your lips curl into a sly smile, your tongue darting across your bottom lip.

“No one’s complained about it.”

Oh.

It’s kind of silly how angry that statement makes you. Okay, not necessarily angry but it definitely stirs something deep inside you. It’s clear by the way he fucked you last night that you weren’t his first—he’s obviously experienced in that area. However, you can’t help the way your jaw clenches at the thought of someone else crying out his name while he fucks them senseless.

You’re mine.

Thighs rubbing together as you remember Mando’s confession from last night, it’s quickly replaced by the thought of him saying that to someone else. Has he said that to anyone else? Are you reading into this too much? What if the only reason he said it was because it was in the heat of the moment? People say things during intimacy that they don’t necessarily mean… You’re definitely overthinking things, right?

“What are you thinking?” He beckons, voice hitting that part inside of you that nearly has you fucking moaning on the spot. How can a voice be so intoxicating? It’s not even his true voice, it’s distorted and cuts up like static but it has you nearly soaked in your seat.

“Nothing,” you lie, hoping he’ll drop the subject and move on.

He doesn’t.

“You’re quiet and from what I can tell, your heat signature’s gone up.”

Your what? “My heat sig—? No, your helmet must be malfunctioning.”

“Oh,” he rises from his seat slowly, squaring his shoulders as he does but doesn’t take a step towards you. He stays painstaking still, visor never once breaking away from you. “Is that right?”

Stars. Your heartbeat is picking up, palms starting to sweat, and your throat is beginning to close up. Your eyes maintain their gaze, trying to regain some kind of control over the situation. It’s childish, really—always attempting to have even the slightest amount of authority over whatever situation you’re put in with Mando because you never actually have any control. He may fool you into thinking you do, but at the end of the day, Mando is always the one in control.

“Your heat signature is burning up, pretty girl,” he taunts.

Kriff, this is not going the way you want it to go. You can’t be the only one looking foolish right now. If he wants to play the game, you can play it too, and you’ll make damn sure you play it better.

Looking him up and down trying to pinpoint any indication that he may not be as calm and collected as he’s playing off, your eyes drop to the bulge in his pants. As your vision pierces into him, you notice him shift his weight slightly, his hands balled tightly into fists by his sides.

“Why so tense, Mando?”

“I’m not—”

“Oh,” you echo his words from just minutes ago. Slowly slipping out of the chair, you stand to face him, squaring your shoulders. Pleasure heats up deep in your stomach, travelling down to the apex of your thighs, reminding you of how sore you actually are. “Is that right?”

“Stop that,” he warns. You got him.

“Not doing anything,” your voice sounding as innocent as you can while your eyes convey the opposite. You want him to know that you won’t give in so easily.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Do—” he starts but quickly composes himself. Craning his neck, his next words drip out of him slowly. “Drive me crazy.”

“Any of your other friends ever drive you crazy?”

Okay, that was a low blow, but you can’t shake the thought from your mind. For Maker’s sake, you’re an adult. Obviously he’s had lovers before, why is this so hard for you to accept? It’s not like you guys are together, you’re simply stuck with each other for the time being. Not only that, but you’ve had your fair share of men. He doesn’t seem to be jealous about that.

I’ll kill anyone who comes close to you.

“Mmm, are you… jealous?”

“Maker, no.” Lie.

“Then why are your cheeks red?”

Fuck fuck fuck fuckkkkfuck

Why does your face always have to give you away? You can play sabacc with the best deadpan expression in the galaxy, but right now you can’t even hide your resentment. How is Mando able to get under your skin and expose your every emotion, every thought? He pulls it out of you and basically presents it to you on a fucking platter.

“Because you annoy the shit out of me.”

“Your body is telling me otherwise.”

“Stop cheating! I can’t read your body heat, that’s not fair.”

“I’m not trying to play fair.”

All right, if this is how he wants to play, you’ll just have to be bolder. Taking a deep breath and exhaling through parted lips, your left foot moves forward, taking one big stride towards Mando, stopping just inches from his breastplate. You can practically feel his own heat vibrating off of him. His fists tighten even more, and you swear you can hear his breathing quicken, cutting up in the helmet.

“You’re not the only one who can play games, Mando.”

He makes a noise in his throat, somewhere between a growl and a groan. Stars, the air is getting thick, you’re all but drunk on this feeling. Your undergarments are stuck to your pussy, drenched with slick, waiting for someone to make the first move. The blood is pounding in your ears, but you try to maintain the best stony stare you can muster. This is a fight you’re not willing to lose. You bite down on your bottom lip, staring into the ‘T’ of his helmet through hooded lids. His chest pushes out slightly and his head angles to the side, just enough for you to see the underneath of his jaw. There’s some stubble poking out from the bottom of his helmet, and you lick your lips at the sight. Wanting to put your lips to his jawline and trail wet kisses along it, gently sucking at his skin. Maker, you might end up losing this if you don’t compose yourself.

“What do you want?” He asks, voice hoarse and low.

“For you to lose,” your answer is honest. You want him to break down and give in, just to give you the slightest bit of power.

Mando lets out this sound, a joyful sound you’ve only heard once or twice before but it nearly throws you for a loop. Hearing him laugh, even if it’s quick and low, fills you up with the greatest amount of delight. To see someone who’s always stoic and serious let out a sound of pure pleasure, it makes up for all the times he purposely chooses to get under your skin. All the moments he infuriates you, it all goes away with the sound of his laugh.

At this moment, you’re grateful that his face is covered because you definitely would have crushed your lips together by now. His helmet actually works to your advantage, holding you back from doing the one thing you would have otherwise done by now.

“I’m not touching you,” he whispers. It sounds less like a statement to you and more like a reminder to himself. He’s fighting his urges just as much as you are, but you will continue to fight this until he breaks, he has to break.

“Then don’t.”

All of sudden, you both hear a disturbance coming from the hull. The kid must be getting into trouble down there.

“I’ll go check on him,” you tell him, choosing not to wait for Mando to say anything in return before making your way to the ladder of the cockpit. Fighting the urge to take one last look at him before disappearing down the rungs, you head down to the hull and see Grogu rummaging through the various crates placed around the Crest. Once he sees you, he shows you a big toothy grin and runs straight for you, arms stretched out. You bend down and pick him up, holding him close to your chest.

“Hey, kiddo. What trouble are you getting yourself into down here?”

Grogu babbles something at you and you smile in return. A small grumble, something like an animal growling, comes from the baby’s stomach and his ears droop down.

“Hungry, little guy? Let’s see what we got for you.”

Walking down the hull with the kid in your arms, you stop at the small closest Mando keeps his ration packs. There aren’t many packs left, just enough to hold all three of you down until you land on Coruscant. After that, you’ll need to buy some more packs. Grabbing one of the packages and a bowl from one of the shelves, you prop the kid on one of the smaller crates and begin emptying the contents of the pack in the durasteel dish.

It’s a dark green looking blob. Quite frankly, you hate ration packs. They always look like food that’s been mashed together into a jelly bar and even despite the fact that once you add water to it so that it actually looks like food, just the sight of it in its raw form is enough to ruin your appetite. The kid doesn’t care about all that though; he’d eat anything you give him. Back on Sorgan, you had seen him eat a frog whole—just swallowed it without even a second thought. It was impressive and yet totally gross at the same time.

Leaving him on the box momentarily, you walk over to the sink in the privy and let a few droplets of water touch the blob in the bowl. Within seconds, the bar transforms into a small bread roll. It’ll hopefully be enough to tie him down for a few hours.

Passing by the ladder, you call out to Mando. “Hey, I’m about to feed the kid. Do you want to come down for a meal?”

“Not hungry. Thank you,” you hear him answer. He never eats with you two. Given that he needs to take off his helmet in order to feed himself, he chooses to wait until you’re both asleep or nowhere in sight, but that doesn’t stop you from asking each time. Part of it is so that he feels included but mostly you hope that one day he’ll choose to sit with you both. One day, you think to yourself.

When you hand the bowl over to Grogu gently, he takes it with both hands and begins eating the bread like it’s the first meal he’s ever had. Your brows pull tightly together as you watch him devour his food. For such a small creature, he sure eats like a bantha. He could probably eat for a whole day without stopping to catch his breath.

It’ll never seize to amaze you just how strong this little guy is. He’s so tiny and somehow, he possesses a power stronger than you could ever really understand. This is the same kid that saved Mando’s life from a mudhorn. This is the kid that swallowed a whole frog that was half his size. A child this small is somehow a Jedi.

Once he’s done eating, he peers up at you with big, black eyes and coos at you.

“Nah, I’m not hungry right now, kid,” you answer as if you understand what he’s saying to you. Then again…maybe you can understand him.

Ahsoka said she and Grogu could feel each other’s thoughts. You should be able to do the same, right? Granted you have no training in the matter, but you were able to communicate with him once, surely you could do it again.

Your hand reaches out to him and you hook a finger around his hand. He grips around your index and squeezes you tenderly. Closing your eyes, you try to imagine what he could be thinking, what he might be trying to tell you. At first, you don’t hear or see anything—just darkness. A part of you wants to give up, nothing that it was worth a shot anyway, but you choose to press on. Focusing hard on Grogu, you relax the tension in your shoulders and take a deep breath, exhaling through your lips.

By Creed, until it is of age or reunited with its own kind…

A woman’s voice fills your mind, but you can’t make out any of her features. Focus, you tell yourself.

You are as its father.

A Mandalorian. She looks different than Mando. Her helmet looks to be made of gold, with horns erecting from the very top. Her armor appeared to be different as well. Unlike Mando’s shiny, chrome beskar, her cuirass is a reddish brown and instead of a cape, she wears a fur coat on her back. Immediately, you got the impression she’s a warrior of her own nature, just as cunning as Mando, but in a swifter, more agile way, unlike Mando’s brash style of battle.

Just as the moment appeared, it vanished, filling your mind with images of sand dunes. Suddenly, you’re back in Mos Eisley. Only this time, you’re much younger, playing on the outskirts of the city with Tye.

--

“Tye, I’m tired,” you whine out to him. He’s running around the sand, punting a ball at you and then taking it away when you opt not to kick it back to him.

“Oh come on, we have to head back soon anyway. Just a little bit longer.”

It’s hard to hide your disappointment. Really, you just want to be inside. Today is such a blazingly hot day, and water is at its peak in scarcity. Most folks will be inside all day, avoiding the scorching heat. Less time outdoors means less water consumed, but Tye never listens to what he’s told. He does whatever he wants and drags you along with him and unfortunately, you have a hard time saying no to him, so you’re almost always roped into his shenanigans.

“Tyyyyyyye,” you drawl out. “I want to go inside! It’s too hot!”

Just as you say that a giant spacecraft enters the atmosphere, covering the entire surrounding area in shadows. You look up at the giant structure in awe. You’ve never seen a spacecraft so grand before, jaw dropping as you watch two smaller vessels appear from the hovering fortress above your heads. They drop down a little less than a click away. By now, Tye is at your side, both of you watching men in white uniforms exit the ships, charging towards your direction. An immediate fear washes over you, grabbing Tye’s wrist and running to hide behind a nearby moisture vaporator. Your heart is racing, and you feel Tye’s own panic coursing through your veins.

“Wh-what’s going on?” He whispers, voice shaking as he speaks.

“I don’t know…”

The men pass you by, not even taking a second to look around them. Their heads stay glued to what’s in front of them, hands gripping onto giant guns you’ve never seen before. Just as fast as they came, they disappear into the city. Screams and shrieks suddenly break out. People scatter, running out of the city walls in mass hysteria. Your legs itch to run, to find your parents, but Tye senses your urgency and grabs your forearm.

“We have to stay.”

“But—”

He whispers your name. “We don’t know who those people are. We’re safer here.”

Your bottom lip begins to quiver. Tears form in the corners of your eyes as the screams of the villagers echo through the city walls, causing you to wince. Tye wraps his arms around you, and you embrace each other, weeping silently in each other’s arms, praying to the Maker that these soldiers leave. The sound of Tye repeating, “It’s okay. We’re okay,” echoing in your mind.

It’s only when the sun begins to set that the town becomes quiet. The spacecrafts are gone, leaving no trace that they were even here. Your eyes are swollen from the tears, and you feel overwhelmingly exhausted. Body still shaking, burning off adrenaline and fear. Standing up is difficult, your knees are buckling but the need to see your parents is stronger than the quaking of your legs. You wake Tye up by shaking his shoulder gently.

“They’re gone. We have to head back.”

He rubs at his eyes with the heel of his palms. At first it doesn’t seem like he fully understands you, but when he looks up and doesn’t see the ship from before, he all but jumps up, dusting the sand off his clothes and charging right into the city.

“Tye! Wait up!” You shout after him, but he doesn’t relent. Taking large strides, you attempt to catch up with him, running past weeping elders, hysterical children, and what appears to be dead bodies all around you. Your mind doesn’t allow you to process what you’re seeing, you’re just too focused on catching up with Tye and then finding your parents.

His name being called in the distance stops him dead in his tracks.

“Mama! Papa!” He cries out, pivoting around in hopes to see someone he knows. When you finally manage to catch up to him, his mother appears from the shadows, tears streaming down her face. From the faint streetlights, her cheeks are dark red, and her eyes are just as swollen as you assume yours are.

“Sweetheart!” She shouts as she races to you both, wrapping you up in her arms and squeezing you until the air is all but knocked out of your lungs. It hurts, but you hold on to her anyway, feeling her warm, motherly touch.

“Where’s Papa?” He asks in the crook of his mother’s neck. Tye’s voice is hoarse from crying and yelling, and she attempts to soothe him by gently shushing him.

“It’s okay, son. We’re okay.”

“I have to get home,” you say, pulling away from her grip.

“Honey…”

The look on her face… you’ll never forget it. Tears welling up in her eyes, her jaw slacking because she wants to say something but not knowing how to say it. The pain you see in her green eyes, it’s like she’s just watched a loved one die right in front of her. Fear and anguish hit you in waves, crashing down on you more aggressively with every second that goes by.

“No…” Your voice is barely above a whisper. Taking a step away from her, her arm reaches out to you.

“Sweetie…” she tries again.

Shaking your head in panic, you turn on your heel in one swift movement and disappear down one of the quieter streets and make for your home. As you race in the direction of your dwelling, your heart bangs against your ribcage, tears flying down your cheeks. You can’t even see where you’re going due to the water in your eyes, but you keep trekking on. Nothing’s going to stop you. Throat unbearably tight, you can barely let in little breaths as you turn the corner to where you live.

When you reach the street, you stop so suddenly that you almost tumble down on the ground, somehow managing to catch yourself at the last moment, your breathing ridiculously erratic. There’s a horde of adults crowding the front door to where you live. Your feet carry you to them at a painstakingly slow pace. Blood pounding in your ears, you can barely make out what anyone is saying. When someone finally catches sight of you, they rush towards you, dropping down to their knees to meet your eye level.

“Sweetie, we can’t let you go in there.”

“But t-t-that’s my h-ho-me,” you manage to say through shaky breaths.

“I know, but we ca—”

You push passed them before they can finish speaking and dart passed several other people trying to stop you until you squeeze through the half-open door into your house, pressing a button on the control panel by the doorway. The door hisses shut.

There’s only a bit of light offered inside. To your left, you see the table you’d sit at with your parents for supper. The chairs are tucked neatly under the table. You’re not sure if the banging you hear is from someone outside trying to get in, or if it’s your heart thumping against your chest but it doesn’t deter you from searching for your parents.

As you continue to scan the area, there’s a couple of cups lying around on the counter, but other than that, nothing is out of place. Relief begins to settle in but is rapidly replaced by sheer terror when you finally shift your head to the right. Then, you see them.

Your parents lying face down on the floor.

“No!” You cry out, running to them and dropping to your knees to hover over their bodies.

There’s a blaster sized hole in your father’s back, heat still steaming off his wound. Your screams could be heard from the other end of the city, clutching onto their lifeless bodies as you beg for them to wake up.

“Please, wake up. Mama, Papa. P-please!”

Someone pulls you off of them, wrapping their arms around your torso. Your arms flail around, clawing and scratching at whoever’s holding onto you. “Let me go! My parents! Let me go!” Your voice is shrill and hoarse, becoming more hysterical, but they never let go. Your parents become smaller and smaller as you’re carried away from them. The last thing you remember is seeing the door to your home whoosh shut…

Your body jolts, and you’re not on Tatooine, anymore. You’re on the Razor Crest. Grogu sits just a foot away from you, peering up at your shivering body. Somehow, you exposed a memory you had sworn to never remember. After that day, you locked that memory up in a part of your brain and shut it off, choosing never to think about it again. The pain was too much for you to handle. Instead of facing your pain, you always chose to ignore it, to pretend it didn’t exist. Once again, compartmentalizing your trauma and locking it away for good.

Grogu fusses and when you look down to him, his eyes begin to flutter. Poor thing gets so sleepy whenever he messes with the Force. You pick him up and hold him close to your chest, making your way to Mando’s bunk. As you pass the ladder, the kid fusses and makes grabby hands for the ladder.

“You want Mando?” You ask him, and Grogu babbles in response.

Climbing the ladder with him in your arms is a bit difficult, but you’re able to get to the top without too much of a struggle.

“He wants to be with you,” you tell him.

Mando swivels his chair around to face you. Extending his arms out to you, you hand Grogu over to him and your hands briefly touch. The brushing of your hands suddenly reminds you of the game you were in the middle of playing just before the kid decided to explore the cargo hold.

“I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

Turning on your heel, you head down the ladder quickly. How is it that over the course of just a few hours, you could go through so much emotional turmoil? Honestly, you haven’t even been awake for that long, but you’re already wanting to take a nap.

Fuck it, there’s nothing else to go in this hunk of metal, and Mando’s probably busy with the kid, so you decide to let your body rest. Crawling into the little cubby hole and shutting the door closed, you close your eyes and hope your body will allow you some peace of mind.

--

You’re reminded of why you hate naps so much when you wake up. Instead of feeling refreshed, you always end up feeling much worse. First off, you always wake up in a cold sweat and feeling super groggy. Quite frankly, it does the exact opposite of what you hoped a nap would do. Secondly? Mando’s cot is unbearably hard. It shouldn’t be considered a bed; it resembles more like duracrete than anything else. As much as you like finally being able to sleep not sitting up in that kriffing passenger chair, this is another struggle of its own.

Pushing the button on the control panel by the door, it opens with a swift motion. The first thing you clock is that the Crest’s lights are almost all out, making it damn near impossible for you to even see your hand in front of your face. How in the hell is Mando able to walk around here not being able to see a single thing? The second thing you notice is the sound of running water. He must be taking a sanisteam.

To think that just on the other side of that wall, he’s naked and wet? If it were anybody else, you’d strip out of your clothes and join them, but things aren’t that simple with Mando. There are boundaries you wouldn’t dare cross unless he gives you his consent. Rather than frustrate you, it entices you even more. It keeps you wanting more and more, especially because he can’t just give you everything you want, whenever you want. No, you have to work for it.

Realizing that now you’re basically just standing outside the fresher like a creep, you head up to the cockpit in search of the kid. Just like you suspected, he’s sound asleep in one of the passengers’ chairs, wrapped up in what looks to be Mando’s cape. The thought of Mando taking off his cape to wrap Grogu up makes you stupidly giddy.

Treading carefully as to not make any noise to wake him up, you tiptoe back to the ladder and shut the cockpit door, your feet barely touching the rungs as you descend back down to the hull.

Something in your stomach growls, and you’re suddenly reminded that you haven’t eaten since… yesterday? Kriff, has it really been that long since your last meal? You head over to the pantry where the packs are kept, extending your arms out in front of you so you don’t bang into anything on your way there, and grab the first pack your hand touches, not having a preference as to what you’ll be eating today—tonight? You don’t even know what time of the day it is. Time in hyperspace can be difficult to keep track of. The only way you’d know what time it is is if you checked the control panel back up in the cockpit and right now, it’s just not worth the trip.

The pack itself feels sloshy in your hands; it’s probably some kind soup. Reaching into the closet again, your hand searches for a bowl to put your meal in.

Mando will be out of the fresher at any moment now, given that the water’s been turned off for a minute or two. The door to the fresher wooshes open and out of reflex, you shut your eyes but are quickly reminded that the hull is so faintly lit that even with your eyes open you wouldn’t be able to see him, but just to be safe, you announce your presence.

“I heard you,” is all you hear back.

“Can you turn the lights on a little bit more? I can barely see a thing and I really don’t feel like dropping my soup all over your ship.”

He doesn’t answer but within seconds the Crest transforms from a dark abyss to a twinkling, starry night. Not unlike the ones you’d spend hours staring at with Tye in the sand dunes during your teenage years.

Your head spins to your left, selfishly hoping to catch a sight of Mando, and Maker do your eyes latch onto him.

He’s not wearing a shirt, first of all. This is the most of his skin that you’ve ever seen before. The warm lights flickering off his back accentuates the curves of his muscles, concaving in certain areas and then protruding in others, outlining every bit of toned tissue. You can vaguely make out a few water droplets trailing down his golden skin, and it’s seriously taking all the self-control you have not to close the gap between you both and lick them off his back. An ache begins to build in the apex of your thighs, and you start to rub your legs together in an effort to alleviate some of the heat stirring inside you. Still wearing the kriffing helmet, though.

The second thing you notice is the vast amount of scarring on his skin. Each scar representing a different battle. You could probably lay him flat on his stomach, and his back would appear like a visual biography of his life, each mark giving you an understanding into his past, and the tests and trials he’s had to overcome over the years.

What were you trying to do, again?

Food.

You need food.

“Do you—” you squeak. Pull yourself together. Clearing your throat in hopes your tone will go back down to its normal octave, you repeat yourself. “Do you want any soup?”

“No t—” he begins to say but you cut him off before he can finish. You knew he’d say he wasn’t hungry.

“Have you eaten today?” Your eyes stay glued to the bowl in front of you. You’re certain that if you so much as looked at him again, you’d forget about the damned soup and pounce on him like loth cat.

“No.”

“Then you’re eating.”

Taking a second bowl from the shelf, you divide the soup evenly between both cups and begin making your way over to Mando, keeping your head down in the off chance he’s still not wearing a shirt, you don’t want to seem like you’re gawking at him.

“You can look,” he clarifies, noting the way you refuse to look up from ground.

When your eyes finally shift from the ground to look at him, he’s now wearing a black long-sleeved tunic that hugs his figure in ways that should be illegal. Your jaw is practically hanging and swallowing the lump in your throat causes a sound somewhere close to a moan to expel from your mouth, but you’re quick enough to stifle it with a cough.

As you hand him the bowl of soup, you’re feeling incredibly shy for some reason, your hand extending out and trembling as he takes it from you.

“I’ll eat in the cockpit to give you some privacy,” you tell him as you put your hand on the railing.

“No,” he says immediately, grabbing your forearm and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Stay.”

Lips curling upwards into a smile, you end up biting down on your bottom lip to keep the smile from growing and growing as you replay that in your mind.

Stay.

Moving away from the ladder, Mando pulls out one of the smaller crates and seats himself down on it. As you begin to look around for another box you could sit on yourself, he watches you closely.

“You can sit here, if you want.”

“Oh, okay.”

Once you’re seated, you begin to take small sips of your soup. Mando reaches over to where his vambrace is—scattered somewhere on another crate and presses a button on it. The Crest’s lights fade even more, leaving you both in almost complete darkness.

A muffled hiss fills the air, and you hear beskar touch the durasteel ground. You eat in silence for a few minutes, hearing only each other’s sips as you continue to fill your bellies with food. It’s incredibly domestic. A Mandalorian and a…well you’re not really sure what you should label yourself as, but you’ll stick with smuggler for now; the two of you eating together like an actual couple—even if that’s far from what your relationship actually is.

“No amour?” You decide to ask, trying to make a bit of small talk in the pitch-black abyss.

“Someone told me I had to ‘loosen up’,” he jests, knocking his elbow against your arm. Maker, you’ll never get tired of hearing that unmodulated voice of his. Something as simple of a voice shouldn’t make you feel the way it does. For a man who kills for a living, he speaks with such a gentle intonation.

It’s such a juxtaposition, really. In full body armor, Mando is definitely one of the most feared hunters in the galaxy. He’ll kill if something threatens his life or the kid’s life. Impossible to read, impossible to predict. But right now? He’s the most relaxed you’ve ever seen him. No helmet, no amour. His guard is as down as you’ve ever seen and is willing himself to be naked with you, even if he’s still fully clothed. How you were able to find yourself in this situation is something you might never be able to fully understand, but it is truly the greatest gift you could have ever been given.

“I’m sorry about before,” you whispers, feeling guilty about how you approached the question about his helmet. “I didn’t mean to pressure you about your Creed.”

It’s not fair for you to come down so hard on him. You might not understand why he chooses to live his life with such restrictions, but it really isn’t any of your business.

“It’s fine.”

You still feel angry with yourself for acting the way you did, but if Mando says it’s fine, the last thing you’ll do is continue your self-loathing and make him feel uncomfortable about the whole thing.

Taking the last sip of soup and feeling satisfied with your meal, you push yourself to your feet. “Are you finished?” you ask him.

“Yes, thank you.”

You search aimlessly in the dark for a moment in search of his dish and accidentally knock the bowl right out of his hand, hearing it tumble on the ground.

“Shit, sorry,” you curse, dropping to your knees in search for it. While frantically searching for the dish, you feel his hand caress the small of your back, sending shivers through your spine.

You’re starting to feel pretty flustered, the fact that you’re both in the darkness doesn’t help. There’s no way of anticipating what could happen and that’s exhilarating and unnerving. Of course, you eventually find the bowl and Mando’s hand disappears from your back once you get back on your feet.

Walking over to the pantry where the ration packs are, you place the bowls on the shelf, making a mental reminder to wash them later. Just as you’re about to turn around and head back to where you think Mando is, you suddenly feel a presence behind you. Two hands grip onto either side of your hips and he presses his body against yours, pushing you right up against the little closet. A moan escapes your lips without even realizing it, and you can feel his hot breath tickle the crook of your neck.

“I’ve wanted to touch you all fucking day,” he growls in your ear.

Holy Maker, the heat in your stomach is somehow already becoming too much. You’re basically panting, the blood in your ears is almost deafening.

“I’ve been watching the way you’re walking. Did I hurt you? Do you still feel me?”

“Stars,” you breathe out.

Mando presses his lips to your skin, sending shockwaves through your entire core. You can feel his stubble prick your neck and it’s everything you didn’t know you craved. It feels deliciously rough.

Your hands brace themselves against the door, it’s the only way you can keep yourself upright. Knees already buckling, feeling the heat pooling from your cunt and drenching your underwear with slick. One of his hands begin to trail away from your hip and trace the waistband to your trousers. Instead of teasing you though, his hand wastes no time pushing passed your pants and panties, finding his way down to your cunt and cupping it with such force you jerk forwards, groaning as his hand finds your clit.

“Already so wet for me.”

Fingers leaving your bud, he slides them between your folds, gathering your slick on his calloused fingertips and then he’s shoving a thick finger deep inside you. His free hand flies to your throat, applying slight pressure with his thumb and index on that sweet spot underneath your jawline.

“Fuck,” you cry out brokenly. It doesn’t fill you up nearly as much as his cock does, but the way he moves inside of you, hitting that spot inside you no one has ever touched, marking it as his, causes you to see fucking stars.

Mando nips at your neck, alternating between sloppy kisses and bites hard enough to cause bruises, you can already feel an orgasm stirring inside you. You clench around his digit, feeling yourself climb higher and higher.

“Are you already close?” He mutters in between kisses and nibbles.

“Shit, fuck I-I think so.”

Your hand finds its way to the back of his head, grabbing fistfuls of his soft, damp locks and pulling hard, causing Mando to groan in your ear and buck his hips into yours. You can feel the outline of his rock-hard rock against your ass, and you grind into him, feeling his length burrow between your cheeks. You’re so close to your climax already.

Without missing a beat, he pulls out of you and his hand disappears from between your thighs.

“W-why?”

Grabbing your hips, he flips you around to face him.

“Up,” he instructs.

You linger there for a moment, unsure of what he’s asking you to do. When you don’t move, his hands grab onto your waist and lift you off the ground without so much of a groan. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms cross around the back of his neck, your head leaning on his shoulder. He walks over to the little bunk in the corner of the hull and lowers you onto the mattress gently, being mindful not to hit your head on the small doorway.

Feeling your heart pound against your ribcage, the thrill of not being able to see him at all and not having a clue as to what he’ll do next, it’s incredibly sensual. Your legs unwrap themselves from his waist and dangle off the edge of the cot. His hands trail up to the waistband of your pants and tugs them down off your ass. Lifting your hips up to help him, he takes them—along with your underwear, off and you hear them thump to the floor.

Hands returning to your skin, he hooks thems under your calves and lifts them up so your bent at the knees, feet resting on the edge of the bunk.

The anticipation is getting to you. He continues to take his agonizingly sweet time running the tips of fingers on your naked skin, causing you to shiver and goosebumps to form on your skin. Lifting one of your legs and placing it over his shoulders, he peppers kisses from your ankle all the way to your inner thigh and repeats the same taunt with the other leg. Both of them now resting on his shoulders, he drops to his knees in front of you. Suddenly feeling nervous, you try to close your legs and end up squeezing his head by accident.

“Shit, sorry,” you whisper, propping yourself on your elbows.

“Shhh,” he hushes, placing a large hand on your sternum and pushing you back down on the cot gingerly, and then his lips are on your skin again, leaving a trail of kisses and gentle bites all over your inner thighs, slowly getting closer to your throbbing pussy but never getting close enough to relieve the pressure building.

“Mando, please,” you whimper.

“Do I have to gag you?”

Shit… How is he able to make that sound so fucking hot?

“I’m going to take care of you, but you have to be quiet. Can you do that?” His voice is gentle but commanding.

“Yes,” you breathe out.

“Good girl.”

His tongue glides over your clit and there’s no controlling the moan that rips through you. Pulling away immediately, Mando stands up and presses his body into yours, his mouth merely inches away from yours, his large hand cupping just underneath your jaw.

“What did I say, pretty girl?”

You can feel his hot breath on your lips. If you just moved even the littlest bit forward, your lips would meet his. Licking your lips, you wrench your eyes shut to keep you from closing the gap.

“To be quiet,” you manage to say through ragged breaths.

“So be quiet,” he hisses, feeling his teeth sink into your bottom lip for just a second and then his weight is off you, returning to your thighs. His arms wrap around your thighs, keeping them pinned over his shoulders. Now, he wastes no time lapping you up, flicking your clit with his tongue with such a mind-blowing rhythm you have to throw your arm over your mouth and bite down on your skin to keep from making any noise. Mando never relents, developing the perfect torture. He plays with your bud then practically shoves his entire fucking face in your cunt, pushing his tongue inside you as far as it can go. It doesn’t take long for your orgasm to bubble up to the surface, threatening to burst. It’s all too much, your body starts to shake from the sensations.

You’re close, you’re so fucking close. Dropping your arm to your side, your voice hoarse from stifling all your cries, you’re somehow able to find the strength to say, “I’m gonna come.”

“No,” is all he answers.

No?

“W-w-what?”

“Hold it,” he says hastily, then continues his assault on your pussy.

How in kriffing hell are you supposed to hold it? You’re basically already there and he’s denying you it. You can’t hold on; you can’t stop it.

“I c-can’t,” you confess.

And then he stops. His tongue leaves you, his hands leave your skin, and you’re left there on the bed, legs hanging off the cot, chest heaving from being so fucking close and then being denied at the very last second.

“What the fuck?” You ask breathlessly, a hint of anger but mostly disappointment in your tone.

You hear him make a noise and then something wet trickles down your clit down to your entrance. It’s…sticky and warm. Did he just spit on you?

Lifting your legs back up and letting your feet balance on the very edge of the bunk, his cock rubs against you, angling the tip of himself to slide between your folds, mixing your slick, his spit and precome all over his length and you. Mando continues to tease you, lining himself up with your entrance but never sheathing himself inside you. It’s driving you fucking insane, even angling your hips whenever he does, hoping he’ll lose his self-control and plunge into you, but it only spurs him on. He knows how much it’s annoying you and he’s fucking thriving on it.

“If you don’t start fucking me soon…” you warn.

Mando actually laughs at you, like this is all a big joke to him. Anger begins to mix with your arousal, this is maddening. Why won’t he just fuck you already?

All of a sudden, he slams into you with so much power, you actually slide up the cot, and you wail feeling so fucking full and tight, your cry filling the small space you’re in. You’re still sore from the night before and feeling him stretch your walls again is almost unbearable, but it feels too fucking good. You’ll take every fucking inch of him without a single complaint. Then, just as your pussy begins to acclimate to him, he pulls out, hiking your shirt up just enough for him to grab onto your naked waist and pulling you back down closer to him.

“Mando!”

He leans over you once again, a hand cradles the back of your head while his thumb rubs your cheek tenderly. “If this gets to be too much, just tell me to stop and I will.”

Letting out a deep breath through your lips, you nod.

“Words.”

“I’ll tell you to stop.”

“Good.”

Thrusting his hips against you, his cock continues to grind along your slit, making you dizzy from both the lack of touch and the taunting of his cock against you.

“Maker, you’re so fucking wet. You sure you didn’t come?”

Words aren’t something you’re capable of forming so you’re stuck resorting to answering him with broken sobs. Practically writhing from all the overstimulation and lack of, from him toying with you, the pressure in your cunt actually fucking hurts, you’re nearly begging for some release. Adding onto the fact that you can’t see a fucking thing, it heightens all your other senses. They compensate for your lack of vision; everything feels so much more intense than you ever could have imagined.

No one could ever drive you to the brink of madness and pull you back in at the last second. No one could possibly make you feel so satisfied yet deprived. You’re convinced you’ve traveled the galaxy in search of him, that your soul was missing a piece so small, you didn’t even know it was missing until Mando filled that void. He’s etched into your skin, your bones, your veins. Every nerve ending tissue has been electrified by this enigma of a man. A man who wouldn’t hesitate to kill those who’d try to come between him and his clan.

Kriff, you’re drained already. He hasn’t even begun to fuck you, but waves of exhaustion are coming over you. Mando’s still fucking teasing you, only ever prodding the tip of himself inside you and then pulling away before he can truly fill you up.

He said if this became too much for you to handle, all you had to do was say the word and he’d stop. You’re starting to consider it; you don’t think you can handle much more of the slow torture he’s inflicting.

Just as your jaw slackens, he slams into you in a sift motion, fully immersing himself inside your swollen walls.

“Fuck!” You pant out, wrenching your eyes shut and feeling tears trinkle down your cheeks. Mando doesn’t move one bit, just sits inside you like he’s waiting for you to adjust yourself to the size of him.

“Shit, you’re tight. Gonna train that pretty cunt of yours to mold to my cock,” he grits out. Big hands hold you down by the waist, and he ever so slooooowly eases out of you only to ram into you again, all the way to the hilt. You’re seeing stars, every move, every thrust bringing you closer to euphoria. The only thing your mind can process is how fucking amazing it feels to be clenched around his cock. It’s mind bending, it’s intoxicating, you’ll never get used to the way he fucking tortures you.

He develops a downright brutal pace, pulling out just enough for his tip to pierce your walls and then pounding into you, growling every time he touches your cervix. Once he’s fully immersed inside you, he bucks his hips and practically jackhammers his cock inside you. A sheen of sweat covering both your bodies causes the sound of skin slapping against skin to sound so wet and fucking obscene. Still pounding into you, Mando’s hands leave your waist to grab under your thighs, lifting them up to hang off his shoulders. Pushing down on the backs of your thighs, he practically bends you in half at the knees, an arm on either side of your head, and then begins a pace so fast and brutal, you’re sure you’ll be sore for weeks. The spot he’s hitting right now is one you didn’t think was even possible. It knocks all the air out of your lungs, you can’t even make a goddamn sound. Your throat is bone dry, and whatever pathetic sounds that escape you are barely audible and breathless.

“Stars, you feel fucking amazing,” he mutters in your ear, and then he’s sucking at your neck, bruising the skin.

Mouth agape, you’re so fucking close to coming, a part of you doesn’t even want to tell him how close you are in case he stops. You don’t think you could physically handle it if he denied you again.

“Do you hear yourself? Do you hear how much fucking noise your little cunt is making?”

On a normal day, Mando says as little as possible, giving you a quick sentence in response or even a one-word answer, but when he’s balls deep inside you, he can’t seem to shut up. He turns into a blabbering mess, offering you praise after praise like it’s a fucking prayer. Mando makes a note of everything. He comments on your gushing pussy, how your walls clench around him as you get closer and closer to your orgasm, how no one will ever touch you again.

How you’re his.

And you? You can barely throw two words together. You’re on the brink of losing your goddamn mind. Is this what being on spice is like? Feeling a sense of euphoria that hits you wave after wave, each one stronger and more intense than the last, teetering the line between sanity and insanity.

“…mine,” you hear him snarl. Reality doesn’t even feel real anymore, you can barely make out what he’s saying to you.

Something like a whimper slips through your parted lips.

“Now, come for me.”

He barely finishes speaking before your orgasm tears right through you. It begins deep inside you and is quickly shattering the earth around you. Crying out so loud Mando has to slap his hand over your mouth to muffle the sounds expelling from your lips. He continues to pound into your pussy, riding out the ripples of your climax, not relenting even for one moment. There isn’t any fucking air in your lungs—Mando’s weight is still pressing you into the cot and your climax is so strong, your chest is way passed heaving now.

You’ll be chasing this high for the rest of your life, the feeling of Mando unleashing his feral instincts on you, and you just helplessly letting him take control of you—it’s unlike anything you ever could have imagined.

“Good girl,” he praises. When you don’t immediately answer, still in a haze from the mind-shattering orgasm that just expelled out of you, Mando stills, cupping your face with his hand and murmurs, “Are you okay?”

Your lips part, and your brain desperately tries to find any word that might help him understand that you’re okay and also anything but okay. Only being able to breathe in quick, sharp breaths, Mando places a kiss on your jaw and repeats in the gentlest tone you’ve ever heard him speak, “Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”

Shaking your head frantically, you attempt to moisten your throat by swallowing, and it gives you enough to answer, “I’m okay.”

“Do you want me to stop?” He reiterates.

“No,” you croak.

“Are you sure?” Stars, how can he be so relentless in the way he fucks you and switch into a nurturer so quickly?

“Mmm. Please f-fuck me,” you mewl against him.

His cock twitches at your plea, and he obliges. In an effort to help you climb down from the overstimulation, he eases in and out of you at a deliciously hard, but slow pace, and then he does something you couldn’t have been prepared for. Your lips are slightly parted, letting in little bursts of air to help calm your breathing, and suddenly, you feel wet, soft lips clash onto yours. Instinctively, you yelp into his mouth from the unexpected touch, but you quickly acclimate to it, feeling your lips move on his. It’s a little awkward at first, you get the impression Mando hasn’t kissed many people in his life, because your teeth end up clashing together a few times. He fucking giggles into your mouth and you all but melt into the cot. His tongue slips passed your lips and meets yours and you can taste yourself and broth on his tongue. Your hands find their way to his hair, grabbing fistfuls of it, pressing your lips even deeper on his. Mando moans low in his throat and you can feel the vibrations ripple in your own mouth.

He makes to pull away, but you keep his lips locked on yours, using your hands to keep him where you want him. He gives in without hesitation, letting you take control of the kiss as he continues to ram into you. The dreams you’ve had of this moment, the moment you’d feel his mouth on yours doesn’t even come close to the feeling of it happening to you right now. It all makes sense now. Every kiss you’ve had previously was just practice for this. It was all just preparing you for this defining moment, the moment you’d finally be able to break through Mando’s heavily guarded walls. Every smack of your lips, every flick your tongues, every broken moan in each other’s throats, they’re all just feats breaking down the duracrete barrier that he’s forced himself to build over the years.

Bodies intertwined, every part of yourselves wrapped up in the other, it’s impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins, and you suppose that’s how this is was always supposed to be. Each of you were missing the same piece— the inability to be perceived as anything but a person of strong will. Believing that vulnerability was a weakness, instead of something that should be treasured, and without knowing it, your paths crossed and challenged every part of your identity.

Foundling, Mandalorian, bounty hunter, father.

Orphan, mechanic, smuggler, Jedi.

Those shouldn’t mix together as perfectly as they do, but stars, does it feel like everything finally makes sense.

A second orgasm begins to brew in your stomach, but you don’t dare pull away from Mando’s lips. You’ll never pull away until he forces himself off of you.

He leaves your lips for just a moment, panting and his own chest heaving against yours. “Maker, you’re gonna make me come.”

“Shhh,” Tugging desperately at his hair, you close the small gap between you and slosh your mouths together. You both whimper brokenly on each other’s lips, and Mando slams into you three more times before his hips still, feeling his cock pump his seed into your soaking pussy. Just as he begins to come, your second climax reaches its peak and crashes into you. His hands are back on your waist, digging his fingernails into your skin. Whatever moans you both cry out are muffled by each other’s’ mouths, catching the sound and swallowing it, burying it deep inside one another.

When you come start to come down from your climaxes, Mando drops his head to the crook of your neck, burying his face into your skin and pressing sloppy, chaste kisses right where your jaw meets your neck.

“I—” You attempt to speak, but your vocal cords are so raw, it hurts even just making a sound. You’re still practically bent in half, and your legs are burning up. Resorting to stir around hoping he’ll get the message, Mando pulls off of you, using both his hands to very gently bring them down his shoulders, one by one, once again giving each of your inner thighs some tender pecks. Pulling out of you, his come seeps out of your completely worn out slit. He peppers a few kisses along your waist, and then you hear his footsteps retreat.

“Where—” You begin to say, making to slowly prop yourself on your elbows.

“I’m still here,” he assures you.

You can hear him moving things around, and you seriously wish there was some kind of light allowing you to see what he’s doing but given that your eyes have gotten used to being in complete darkness, you’re sure you’d be blinded by even the smallest amount of light right now.

A few minutes go by and then you feel his hands on your hips, pulling you down the cot. Once he feels like your head won’t hit the top of the bunk, he lifts you off your feet, wrapping his arms around your back, and in turn you wrap your legs around his waist. He carries you for a couple steps and then brings you down onto what you expect will be the cold ground. Instead, you feel cotton on your back as he lowers you down.

“Where did you—?”

“I have a couple of extra capes in case one gets too battered,” he says, answering your question before you can finish asking it.

As soon as your head touches the ground, you feel your eyelids shut, exhaustion overpowering you. Turning over on your side and hiking up one of your legs up so that your knee lines up with your chest, you don’t even care that your own slick and his seed is practically dripping down your legs. You don’t care that you’re still naked from the waist down. The only thing you care about is falling asleep, preferably in Mando’s arms.

“Don’t sleep yet. Need to clean you up,”

“Mmm,” you protest. “Later.”

Mando chuckles lightly and then he’s wiping the slick off your legs and entrance with what feels like… a pair of trousers.

“Are you using my pants to clean that up?”

“It’s the first thing I grabbed. I’ll wash it.”

“Mmm, you better,” you mumble into your arm.

Now, you’re starting to slip in and out of consciousness, fatigue taking you over. Mando rummages around the hull for a bit longer, and then joins you on the floor, throwing what you assume is another cape, over your half naked body. You don’t even have the energy to move your body over towards his, but he doesn’t seem to mind. You’re both still close enough to feel the heat radiating off each other’s skin.

“Hey, Mando?”

“Yes?”

“I won.”

Things are quiet for a few minutes after that, and you’re on the verge of falling asleep when his velvety smooth voice breaks through the silence of the Crest.

“Blue,” his voice is low and barely audible.

“Mmm?” You mumble, desperately trying to stay awake.

“I…like the color blue.”

Okay, now that puts a stupid, hazy smile on your face. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Any particular shade of blue? Bright… dark?” You may be barely conscious, but you hang onto every word he says.

“I guess… dark.”

“Mmm,” you hum. “Why do you like that color?”

He lets out a deep breath, like he’s about to confess something to you that he hasn’t told anyone else. As if in this very moment, he’s about to give himself to you completely. “The Mandalorians that saved me from that battle droid in my village. Their armor was blue.”

Mando doesn’t elaborate any further, but he doesn’t have to. Feeling your heart tighten in your chest, you imagine what a young Mando must have been feeling when that droid pointed its guns at him. How he must have been utterly terrified and convinced that he was about to die. And then to be saved at the last moment. Seeing these warriors in blue armor coming to rescue him, to save his village from an even worse massacre. They were his saviors, it only makes sense that after all these years, that color would bring him solace and comfort.

It’s quite ironic, actually. Blues have the reputation of representing sadness or pain and you too have been accustomed to associating blue with your own trauma, and then here comes Mando.

The color symbolizes the exact opposite of what its known for. To him, it brings relief and reminds him of being saved; representing the beginning of a new life that he’s exemplified through and through. It’s a beautiful confession, and you’ll forever be searching for him in all the shades of blue that the galaxy has to offer.

Two opposites.

Yellow and blue.

One representing happiness and light. The other representing sadness and melancholy. Blend those two together and you create the fiercest of combinations. A beautiful balance of both extremes.

And when you think about it, what color does blue and yellow make?

[xenia-cenia]

Chongyun x Fem!Reader - Strength

A/N - I forget how many days since I finished the Mondstadt part of this series... I had to start Liyue with my boi. My beloved. He <3

Also fan fact: Chongy means gum in Britain so it double works for Chongyun cuz he’s so dang good :) 

Trigger/Content Warnings: ghost mention, bad parents, food mention, we hurting Xingqiu today lads, fear, light swearing, kidnapping (kinda?)

Word Count: 2,937

Request: No

Summary: You’ve been plagued by demons your whole life. He’s never seen one. What will happen when you meet?

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Ghosts, spirits, and demons.

You were no stranger to the unknown. They often whispered secrets of their lives into your ears as you slept. Many exorcists had come and went. They all charged thousands of Mora, only for their promises to fall short. 

Your family was desperate. These whispering strangers grew stronger with each passing day, they began to claw and destroy your family. In one last-ditch effort to keep the (L/N) legacy alive, you were thrown to the streets. 

Many weeks passed, your survival depended on the kindness and naivety of strangers. They invited you into their homes, promising happier times and brighter futures. 

But just like before, they lied.

The whispers turned into yells, the yells into shrieks. It was positively unbearable. Madness constantly danced at the edge of your vision, you wanted nothing more than to give in.

It all changed, however, when a boy with light blue hair and cat slit pupils paused at your trembling form.

“...are you okay?”

Your head snapped up and you looked the boy up and down. He looked nothing special, light clothes and a melting popsicle in his hand. Your eyes focused on the popsicle and you unconsciously licked your lips as you imagined how good it’d feel to have real food in your mouth after... 4 days? 5? You’ve lost count.

He looked between you and the popsicle for a few seconds, sighed heavily, and handed it to you. As you nibbled on the popsicle, he uncomfortably shifted his weight between his feet and waited for you to finish. 

When you were done with it, he cleared his throat and began to rifle through a small bag that was slung over his shoulder. A few moments later, he pulled out a trinket that was engraved in gold.

“You’re (Y/N) (L/N), right?” His voice was soft as he handed you the item. “Take these. It’s a talisman, it should keep the demons at bay.”

Taking the talisman in hand, you flipped it over a few times and considered the boy carefully. Hundreds- no, thousands- of exorcists have tried their hand to free you from the demons who chose you to haunt. What would make this boy any different?

“It’s not like they’ll ever leave.” You mumbled to yourself.

For a moment he looked almost excited, but quickly hid it with a stoic expression, “Can you still hear them?”

You paused. What an odd question. Of course, you could still hear them, why, they were...

“...silent.” You looked up at him, partially horrified, partially euphoric. “They’re silent.”

He sighed to himself, “I see.” The boy stretched and began to walk away, believing his job to be done.

But the moment he left your eyesight, the voices came back louder than ever. 

“Why did you try to get rid of us? Don’t you love us? We love you! Stay with us. Stay with us. Stay with us.”

“Stay.”

A scream fell from your lips, you gripped and pulled at your hair, trying to regain the peaceful silence you had mere moments ago.

Cold hands on your shoulders, heavy breathing, and the scent of various herbs and old paper. You opened your eyes and saw the somewhat panicked cat slit eyes staring at you.

“They came back.” You breathed.

He sat next to you and went deep into his thoughts. For half an hour, the two of you sat there in silence. You relished it, taking in and memorizing every hint of life you hadn’t been able to hear before. He hated it, remembering each time his pure positive energy stopped him from performing his job. 

“Can I...” you finally spoke, breaking the silence, “come with you?”

The out of the blue comment surprised him, but not a hint of that surprise showed on his face, “Why?”

“They’re quiet when you’re here. I never realized how good the quiet was.”

He considered it for a moment, looked at you, “Fine.”

You sighed in relief, “Oh, thank the Archons...”

“But.”

“Oh no.”

“You have to help me get my friend Xingqiu back.”

You blinked at him. ‘Get him back’? Was he in danger? Was he kidnapped somehow? You knew a bit of fighting but not enough to go raid a camp full of stronger, more trained adults.

“He keeps pranking me. I need to get him back.” The boy shook his head solemnly, “Every day he tells me that I’ll finally see a demon. Every day he makes fun of me when I get back.”

“Oh!” You tried to fight the smile that was building on your lips, “Okay. Yeah, I can do that. I, uh, sure. Okay.”

He stood and shook the dirt off his clothes, “We aren’t too far from Liyue Harbor. That’s usually where he stays. It’ll be about uh... a 12-hour walk.” 

“12... hours...” you squeaked. You shook the nervousness away and managed a shaky smile, “You never told me your name.”

The boy paused a moment, “Chongyun.”

You and Chongyun walked in synchrony after hour 3. He kept his distance but always made sure to be close enough so the voices wouldn’t return. Chongyun found you to be eerily calm considering your situation.

Xingqiu told him that you’d been abandoned by your family after years of the spirits gaining strength and losing patience. For the first time, Xingqiu seemed panicked. He begged Chongyun to set out to find you. 

Who was Chongyun to say no? 

His original plan was just to give you the talisman and leave but... this might work out better. The way Xingqiu had described you, it was obvious you were someone close to his heart. Maybe he’d be happy to see you relatively safe and sound. Chongyun liked the idea of that. 

“...yun?”

Chongyun turned to face you, barely feeling your hand grip onto his sleeve. 

“What is it?” He internally winced at how cold he sounded.

“Thank you.” You let go of his sleeve and ran your hands up your arms, “It’s been... ah. Just, thank you. Could you tell me more about your friend?”

“Xingqiu? He’s... hm. He’s really smart. He helps me think of ideas to finally see a demon-”

“You’ve never seen one?” You interrupted him. “Why would you want to see one?”

He slightly puffed out his chest, “It’s my duty as an exorcist to continue the family lega-”

“Screw that! You’ve been blessed! I wish I had that.” You kicked a small rock that lied in your path.

Chongyun sighed heavily. He’s seen this reaction many times over the years, “It makes my job harder.”

“How? Just sit still and bam! Demons gone!”

“I have to draw and describe them in The Field Guide to Demons and Beasts. Not being able to see them makes it... hard.”

You exhaled, “I still wish I had that power.”

“It’s...” he shook his head. “Nevermind. We can talk about it later.”

The two of you walked the rest of the way, with some snack breaks, in silence. 

As you arrived in Liyue, you caught sight of a navy blue haired boy anxiously pacing in front of the entrance. You paused, narrowed your eyes, thought for a moment and when the realization set in, you cried out in glee.

“Xingqiu!” You yelled. The boy looked towards you and quickly dashed in your direction. As he came to a stop, he gripped your hands and smiled happily at you, “Oh, Archons, how long has it been?”

“4 years? When I heard how your family sent you out, I knew I had to do something!” He tightened his grip on your hands as his smile fell. “Are you alright? Are you injured anywhere? Are they...?”

You sighed and let your grip loosen, “I’ve been better. They’re a lot quieter when I’m with him.” You nodded towards Chongyun who was awkwardly standing while chewing on a popsicle.

“Did you get to see them?” Xingqiu asked Chongyun.

“No,” he spoke dejectedly. “There’s has to be at least one demon who isn’t as strong as it, right?”

“It?” You looked between the two boys.

“My ‘power’.” Chongyun specified.

“Ahhh,” you nodded, “well. I’m utterly exhausted. Xingqiu, can I stay at your place tonight?”

“Su-”

“You can stay at mine.” 

You and Xingqiu both looked at Chongyun, surprised by his sudden offer. 

“It’s only to make sure the demons don’t come back during the night.” He spoke, digging his toe into the dirt and suddenly very interested in a nearby bush.

“Can Xingqiu stay with us? I just... well, I don’t really know you.” You nervously laughed, “I’d just feel more comfortable if he were there.”

“In that case, let’s just skip the walk and stay at my place. I’m sure Father wouldn’t mind.” Xingqiu looked between the two of you. You looked at Chongyun, who was still entranced with a nearby bush and waited for his response. After a few moments of silence, he nodded his head.

The three of you walked the streets of Liyue, the further you got the more familiar it felt. Dogs who always licked at your heels, tourists surprised at the food, children laughing and chasing each other. 

You stopped walking and looked around in awe. The boys, caught up in conversation, hadn’t noticed. 

Is this how it feels like? To not be afraid? You almost didn’t believe it. No, you definitely didn’t believe it. They were gone, it was quiet. You couldn’t feel their warm claws digging into your shoulders, nor their cold breaths on your cheek. Anything you wanted to do you could. The voices and demons would never bother you again as long as-

“Why do you keep trying to leave us?” 

You gulped, sweat beading at your brow as you spun around. No, this isn’t right. 

You got rid of them. They’re gone. It’s been half a day and you hadn’t heard them, you’re free. So why...

“Listen to us. We just want to keep you safe. Don’t you want that too?”

...why were they back?

Why did you feel their nails beginning to pierce your skin as rose petals slipped down your shoulder? Why could you hear their melodic hums in your ears as their tongues tied and twisted around you? 

Your eyes were unfocused, your legs were shaking, you swallowed every bit of spit that lingered in your mouth but your throat still ran dry. You could almost hear pounding footsteps; could almost feel a boy with navy blue hair pushing through the crowd until his hand wrapped around your wrist and yanked you forward. 

Your feet were moving. That much you knew. Where you were going and why they were moving were two separate matters entirely. Slowly, the voices were replaced by panting and their burning claws melted into cool metal.

“...huh?” you spoke as you gathered your senses. Why were you sitting on the streets of Liyue? You looked around and felt your shoulders immediately relax as you saw Xingqiu. “Xing... Xingqiu?” 

He was holding your left hand tightly, trying to manage a reassuring smile despite his panicked eyes. You looked to the boy pressing the cold circular object against your shoulder.

“What’s...” you yawned, “What’s happening?”

“I, uh, we got wrapped up in the conversation. We thought you were right behind us.” Xingqiu looked at the ground guiltily, “You just about passed out.”

You looked up at Chongyun, taking note of the determination in his eyes. “I guess I’m kinda stuck to you for a while, huh?” You laughed sadly.

He froze and looked down at you, his eyebrows knitting together as his lips turned into a tight frown, “I don’t think that makes me stuck to you.”

“True, you could always drop me off at... well, anywhere.” You rested your head against the wall you were propped up against, “It’s not really you who's stuck.”

Chongyun shook his head, “That’s not what I meant.”

A soft blush covered your cheeks, “Oh.” 

Xingqiu looked between the two of you and quickly bit his tongue. 

“Don’t interfere, Xingqiu.” He chided himself. “Your childhood crush is nothing. It’s been 4 years! They just met anyway.”

He shook the anxiety away and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. All old crushes die out eventually, he’ll be fine. 

He was not fine.

It’s been 2 months since your arrival and he’s found himself as head-over-heels for you as he was 4 years ago. He took every opportunity he could to spend time with you. He was jealous of Chongyun, and he hated it. 

Chongyun got to spend all day with you. Chongyun spent hours training with you and planning ways to beat your demons. 

Chongyun was his best friend! It’s fine! Your just his friend, it’s okay! He’s okay with that!

“Mmm, okay I think I get it.” You spoke, pointing at a book that was spread between you and Chongyun, “This is for healing and that’s why we need it.”

“We also should bless it in pure rainwater.”

“Chongy, do we need to wait for it to rain here? Who knows how long that’ll be...” 

Chongy.

Chongy.

A nickname. You gave Chongyun a nickname. Why didn’t you give him a nickname? Xingqiu found he could no longer ignore the feelings building in his chest. He tore through every book in his collection, nearly memorized every declaration of love. 

For 20 minutes a day, you were alone. You and Chongyun were testing your tolerance and slowly but surely, it was growing. That was good news all around. Xingqiu took these measly 20 minutes as an opportunity. He knocked on the door to your room and waited for a response. A few minutes passed and he grew anxious. He announced his presence and let himself into your room. 

It was eerily clean. Xingqiu called your name a few more times and grew more and more confused as he couldn’t find a trace that you had ever been there. He sat on your bed and jumped when he heard something crunch beneath him. 

Right where he sat, a note was lied out.

Chongyun and Xingqiu -

I’ve decided I’m going to try to go back home.

I know you’d try to stop me... so I figured it’d be best to just run for it. I think I’m enough now. Enough for them.

 I’ll use the skills we went over and I’ll control the demons! They’ll be so happy. 

Thank you for helping me.I’ll write again when I arrive so you know I’m safe. Feel free to visit!

-(Y/N)

Meanwhile, you knocked on the door of your family's home. The entire trip over you’d been practicing what to say to them. Your mother opened the door and gasped when she saw you.

“(Y/N)?” She whispered, her eyes wide. “How are you...?”

“I’m back.” You sheepishly smiled. “I, ummm, I spent a lot of time getting control of them. I think I’m better now. See? They’re not even here!”

“S-Stay here...” she half-jogged deeper into your house and didn’t return. You awkwardly stood around, twiddling your thumbs, not even noticing the shovel about to hit the back of your head and knock you unconscious. 

When you woke up, your hands were tied behind your back and you were surrounded by the damp scent of rotting wood. It was dark and your head hurt.

Where were you? This isn’t right. You had been going home. No, you were home. You saw your mother. Why are you here? Are they afraid? No. No, that doesn’t make sense. 

You did your best. You thought it was enough... wasn’t it enough? The voices had stopped. You made friends. You...Tears bloomed in your eyes as you harshly bit into your lip. 

You thought they’d love you if you came home the way they wanted. Why didn’t they love you? Where was Chongyun? Where was Xingqiu?

You missed them. You wanted Chongyun to sit next to you like he always does. You wanted to hear him enthuse about exorcism. You wanted to lie your head in his lap and tease him. Just like you always do.

“Chongy...” you muttered to yourself. “I lo...”

A loud crash upstairs forced a gasp from your lips. In horror, you sat silently and hoped the house wasn’t getting robbed. The yelling, banging, and screaming wasn’t easing your nerves.

You sat as still as you could, hoping that whoever was up there wouldn’t hurt you. Praying even. Light flooded the room which made you wince and turn away. “(Y/N)?” A familiar voice called.

You looked in the direction of the voice and let the tears fall loose. There, at the top of a staircase, stood Chongyun. The light behind him made him look like an angel.

“Ch... Chongy!” You yelled. He raced down the stairs and looked at you. “Chongyun, Archons, I’m so happy to see you.”

He worked quickly, untying your hands and letting you collapse into his arms. “Xingqiu and I came as fast as we could...”

You gripped onto his shirt and held him closer, “I’m so sorry.”

“For what?”

“I thought... I thought they loved me.”

“I know.” He drew loose circles on your back with his finger, “I know.”

You rested your head in the crook of his neck and let the scent of various herbs and old paper engulf you.

Xingqiu, who had just finished fighting your parents, stopped at the top of the stairs and smiled at you two. It was the first time he’d seen Chongyun able to touch someone without his congenital positivity overflowing... 

Maybe you were helping him just as much as he was helping you. 

[donghyuckcuyhgnod]

[5:12 pm]

to say that donghyuck was nervous was an understatement. sure, he hoped that your parents would like him—but would they approve of his lifestyle? being an idol, he knew he couldn’t be there for you as much as you both would have liked; yet, it was something the two of you were willing to sacrifice for your relationship. of course, you had told your parents all about the lovely donghyuck that you happened to call your boyfriend. you had been dating for nearly two years now, and he had yet to meet your parents. surely they hated him for that, right? however, you constantly assured him that they knew he was an idol with very limited free time, and they understood.

he previously had some brief conversations with your mother over the phone a few times, but his nerves were still shaking and his heart was still hammering in his chest at the thought of your family not liking him. you had grown close with his, and he hoped that your parents and siblings loved him just as much as his family loved you. noticing the silence in the car (your boyfriend was never silent), you glanced over at him only to see his eyes shaking and his eyebrows furrowed, clearly deep in thought. his eyes were trained on the road, both of his hands gripping the steering wheel. 

“hyuck,” you called out softly, his eyes darting to yours for a split second, his features immediately softening at the sight of your comforting smile. he knew that look; it was the calm down, everything’s going to be fine look. he had seen it plenty of times, mainly when he was nervous before performing and you were there to calm his nerves. you were good at that.

responding to your unspoken words, he sighed. “i know, i know. i’m just nervous, okay? i mean, how could i not be? i’m meeting your entire family tonight. including your siblings. oh, god! what if your older brother hates me? i’m dead meat.”

you chuckled, “hyuck, my brother loves nct’s music. he’ll probably be fanboying over you the second you walk into my house.” hyuck groaned in frustration, letting his head fall to the steering wheel while at a red light. you smiled, secretly enjoying the rare show of hyuck’s nervous habits. you thought it was kind of cute how much he wanted to make a good impression on your family. 

donghyuck let out a shaky breath when the two of you pulled up to your house, a light smile taking over your features as you inspected the place where you grew up. after moving to seoul for your internship at sm entertainment, you weren’t really given the time to visit your family, for they were nearly a three hour drive from the city you now called home. still, a sense of nostalgia washed over you. you missed your family dearly. 

“ready, baby?” you said, unbuckling yourself as you climbed out of the car, smoothing down your skirt and eyeing your boyfriend with amusement. 

“not at all,” he muttered, before stepping out of the car as well. you chuckled, making your way to his side and stepping in front of him. 

“i know you’re nervous, hyuckie, but don’t be. they’re gonna love you,” you said, trailing your hand up his arm, lightly caressing his hot, blushing cheek at the nickname that only you called him. he wrapped his arms around your middle, snuggling into you and taking a deep breath. you cooed at him, one hand rubbing comforting circles on his back and the other playing with the ends of the hair on his neck. 

you took ahold of his cheeks, forcing him to pull away from you. he closed his eyes, resting his forehead on yours as he sighed in contentment, and for a moment, all of his worries were forgotten. the only thing he cared about was the way your embrace felt like home to him, and he wondered if you felt the same despite the inviting house that you stood in front of. your lips felt like a warm blanket on a cold winter night, wrapping him in the utmost of comfort and warmth when connected with his. the soft sweater you wore that was bunched in his hands felt like a cloud, the smell of your laundry detergent and soft vanilla perfume filling his scents with everything that reminded him of you. 

“i love you. no matter what happens,” you whispered, breaking the soft and gentle kiss between the two of you. you pressed a featherlight kiss to his nose, his eyes shining underneath the golden rays of the sky as the sun began to set. he nodded, giving himself a mini pep-talk before following you to your doorstep with his hand tightly grasping yours. he put on the kindest smile he could muster, unaware of the ten eyes sneakily watching the two of you through the living room window, smiles on all five of their faces. 

–

your family sure did love donghyuck, alright.

“you were so cute as a baby, y/n. what happened?” your boyfriend teased you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. your younger brother, aged twelve, laughed at the joke. you playfully rolled your eyes, pushing his shoulder lightly as he chuckled, giving your younger brother a high five. you continued to look through your baby photos on your living room couch. you felt completely at ease in your beloved home, surrounded by your family who you loved dearly. even better, you were sharing this moment with the love of your life. you were in heaven. 

“oppa, look what i found!” your seven-year-old sister yelled, running down the stairs with two barbie dolls in hand. she giggled, “this one looks like you!” she shoved the tan, brunette ken doll into his hands, her eyes crinkling in happiness and delight as he smiled at her. 

“you’re right, it kind of does!” he said enthusiastically, despite the fact that the ken doll did not, in fact, look anything like your boyfriend. the young girl was cute for trying, though. “and she looks just like you!” he gasped in fake disbelief, pointing to the other barbie doll in her hand. she giggled, giving him the biggest and shiniest eye-smile as she plopped on the couch right next to donghyuck, shyly looking up at him. you cooed at the sight.

“looks like you’ve got some competition, sis,” your brother says, older by three years. you laughed, causing donghyuck’s ears to perk up. diverting his attention from your little sister who was desperately trying to play barbies with him, he looked at your smiling figure and his heart nearly burst out of his chest. you were laughing with your brother (although, he wasn’t sure what about; and frankly, he didn’t care at the moment), and donghyuck thinks that he’s never seen someone so beautiful. after getting to know your family while eating the delicious meal that your mother had made, it all made sense to him. 

your kindness, and the way you talked to others all made sense when he had met your parents. the way they welcomed him with open arms made him feel like he was already part of the family. the same smile that made his heart run a mile a minute whenever you looked at him was the same smile that your mother greeted him with. the kind glimmer in your eyes that donghyuck could get lost in was the same look in your father’s eyes—nice to finally meet you, son. 

the way your younger siblings clearly admired you like no other, and the proud look in your older brother’s eyes when you talked about your experience as an intern while passing him the mashed potatoes. all of it; the family portraits hung on the wall, the coziness of the home you grew up in. donghyuck could only imagine your memories in the house, and it created an unexplainably intimate feeling in his heart. the overall atmosphere of a simple, yet tightly knit home—it radiated you. seeing you like this, in a way, made donghyuck feel even closer to you.

he didn’t realize he was staring at you with a smile on his face until you poked his cheek. “hyuck? are you okay?” you lightly chuckled, “you’ve been staring at me for two minutes, now.”

“right, yeah, sorry,” he breathily laughed, his cheeks flaring up with a red tint, shaking the overwhelming feelings of you out of his head. “i’m fine. i’m perfect, actually.”

“okay, whatever you say,” you teased, pinching his flushed cheeks and causing him to scrunch his face in displeasure. suddenly, your mother called you from the kitchen, asking for your help with the dessert she was almost done preparing. you happily complied, a sweet sure thing, mom! escaping your lips.

“i’ll be right back, baby. just keep these demons occupied for me,” you jokingly pleaded, causing donghyuck to laugh a little at your words. he happily nodded, before you kissed him on the cheek and made your way to the kitchen. he watched as you disappeared from his side, smiling to himself.

“you’re really whipped for my little sister, huh?” your older brother said from the other side of the living room, crossing his arms with a teasing glint. donghyuck nervously laughed, scratching the back of his neck in a nervous manner. he looked down at his shoes in slight embarrassment, your brother smiling knowingly at the shy boy. 

donghyuck sighed, “you have no idea.”

[bisexualklausmikaelson]

- fifty ways to kill your lover -

a/n: I have so many feels about this show :'( so it translated into this arumika/eremika/eremin fic, I've watched until aot s4 pt 1 so that's all the info I have to base on for this fic

-

Contrary to popular belief, Eren is not Mikasa's first kiss.

Back in their training days, the group got up to all kinds of mischief. Starting with Sasha stealing whatever food rations she could find, Reiner and Berthlot getting into the top secret liquor cabinets, Ymir sneaking into Historia's bed - they were all such trouble makers.

Of course, Connie is always putting everyone in the most uncomfortable situations.

They're all reluctantly huddled together, playing a game of spin the bottle and suddenly, it's Armin's turn.

"Eh?" He blushes, as there is so much laughter in the air when the bottle is flicked and ends up pointing to Mikasa.

Connie can't help but release a chuckle, "well Armin," he releases, swinging an arm around his shoulder. "You either get beat up by Jean for doing this or Eren - I wonder which fate you'll pick," he scoffs.

Armin avoids Jean's angry gaze and spots Mikasa's rosy cheeks.

He then turns to Eren - who is as red as a cherry. "Can I?" He wonders.

Eren widens his eyes. "You idiot, why the hell are you asking me for?" He asks, turning away .

It's unexpected and yet, it works.

He leans across the circle and softly pecks Mikasa on the cheek.

Strangely, she doesn't feel any discomfort towards this.

Hey, they hear Sasha yell, that's cheating! she wines, wanting a real kiss from them.

Mikasa and Armin don't comply and it's only later they realized that this gives Eren some relief.

-

Mikasa hurts her arm during battle and it is quite surprising that she even let this happen to her in the first place. Even more surprising is the fact that Eren happens to be the one to dress her wounds.

"Armin is much more gentle at this," he says, as Mikasa winces at the slight pain. "His hands are...softer, aren't they?" He looks up at her and it's only then she realizes how similar his eyes are to Armin's.

So youthful and full of hope and emotion.

Nothing like hers.

"It's fine," Mikasa quietly releases, allowing herself to relax her shoulder and unclench her jaw a bit.

Eren is not taken aback by the fact that she is always trying so hard to be so strong.

-

(They are eight when the three of them have their first sleepover.

It's all about Mikasa's hair in his face and Eren's snoring - Armin kind of hates it all, he barely sleeps that night.

It's weird - he's never been invited to a sleepover before, he's never actually had friends before, truth be told. He's not sure if this is how it's supposed to be.

"What's wrong?" Grisha asks, as he stumbles out from his basement with a little candlelight on. "Why are you still awake, Armin?" He asks, placing a kind hand on his shoulder.

Armin meets his gaze, all wonder-eyed and starry-viewed. "It's so noisy here," he murmurs softly, "I'm not used to it."

Grisha laughs, "I've lived in silence for most of my life," he sighs, "one day, you'll see, you won't be able to live without the noise," he says, pointing to Eren and Mikasa as they slept.

It's only years later that Armin is finally able to understand what Grisha actually meant).

-

Eren can be a bit of an airhead, at times.

Armin thinks, Mikasa knows.

They have their talks - one on one, like parents do, about how to take best care of Eren, what is the outcome for Eren, how to help Eren get better.

Eren. Eren. Eren.

"He doesn't know, does he?" Armin suddenly asks, as he's mid-way to flipping a page in his book. "About your feelings for him, I mean," he asks, sincerely.

Mikasa tenses up, biting her bottom lip. "Don't speak such nonsense," she tells him, swallowing hard.

He places a hand on her shoulder and this time, makes direct eye-contact with her. "It's obvious, to everyone, you know?" he says.

"Why are you saying this now?" she wonders, flustered. And then, it hits her like a ton of bricks. "Are you afraid we'll leave you behind?" Mikasa questions.

"I didn't say that," Armin sighs.

Their relationship remains strange - she's able to read him so well sometimes, it's almost scary.

"You don't have to," Mikasa whispers. "You should know, we never would anyway, leave you that is," she offers.

And she pretends not to notice the tremble in his voice.

-

Of all things - it is Eren who comes back first with gifts.

His training with Hange could be better - predictably. But, he still makes the time to sneak a visit or two in-between sessions with Mikasa and Armin.

"I got these for you," He gives Armin a pile of books - some on titan history, others just filled with drawings and sketches done by different members of the squad.

Not everyone knows how to appreciate art but, Armin does. Eren is sure of it.

He offers Mikasa some flowers he picked on his way to see her. "I thought it would match your scarf," he murmurs and she takes a moment before taking them in.

They were devoid of their natural scent since he'd been walking with them for so long - but they still smelled like Eren.

-

It seems that, at night, they tend to have the same dreams.

Playing in the meadow as kids, Carla calling them to get back soon and home-made meals.

Armin always wakes up first.

Only this time, he's holding both their hands. Mikasa on his right, Eren on his left - it must've been an accident, just something he unconsciously did in his sleep, he swears.

(He keeps remembering Grisha's words - he is truly never alone, not even in his sleep, there is always, always noise).

-

Eren is the first to realize he loves them both.

Consequently, he is also the first to leave. But truly, he is always leaving them - when he first died, diving head first into that damn titan and pulling Armin out.

When he was assigned to Levi Squad.

When he left for Marley.

It's always him - first to run, first to be the most afraid, a coward, through and through.

(He wonders if they'll ever forgive him).

-

Mikasa doesn't like to dwell on it, not too much - of how estranged they've become, of how he no longer looks at them with care and affection.

"The real Eren is in there somewhere," Armin tells her, the night they're both thrown in a prison cell together. "I just know it," he says, all beat up by his best friend and full of tears.

"You're always the one to bring him back," she still thinks true. "I believe in you - you always find a way," Mikasa hopes.

Armin doesn't know what to think - Eren just seems so far gone at this point, so beyond his reach.

It's hard to imagine him coming back.

"Ah well," he shrugs. "It's like you said, we won't leave any of us behind," Armin tells her, to comfort her at least.

They're going to be together forever, even if they must come between death.

-

And there once was a time where they were all there - the sea, the usurper and the fawn.

It was her hand in his hair, and his lips reading them bed time stories, and the other's laughter ringing in both their ears. It was a litany of things - of memories between them that they all hold dear, that they'll never forget.

"Eren," that one day, after all is said and done, they'd find him in the ruins, and reach their hands out towards him. "Let's go home," they'd say, in unison.

And he'd smile and follow them both out of the dust.

(Later on, Flock would hover him when he woke up, the Jaegerists not too far behind him).

It's nice to dream about, though.

-

[isolemnlyswearpevensie]

Paper Cut | Edmund Pevensie x Reader Soulmate AU

Warnings: Mentions of injury/blood, describing pain, seemingly near-death experience and talk about death, probably some cussing

Time/Era: Modern AU but the Pevensies have been to Narnia. 

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: Every injury your soulmate receives, you also receive. When you finally meet your soulmate, you have a few bones to pick. 

A/N: Hello! This is the first imagine I’ve written on this blog, so I decided to do something a little more light-hearted for our favorite just king. I’m also a sucker for soulmate aus. There will be a part 2 for this story :D Feel free to leave requests :) Also, I’ve never been to Cambridge University so please take everything I say about it with a grain of salt lol

Part 2 | Part 3 | masterlist | read on ao3

It’s a common courtesy to try and be as careful as you can when it comes to your body. Not for your sake, but for your soulmate’s. Every papercut, cramp, broken bone, and even every itch you feel, your other half does as well. So, it was common sense to try to be as careful as you could to not inflict pain on them. Or at least that’s what Y/N thought. She spent her whole life dodging anything she felt could cause her harm. This included “normal kid” things like playing on the playground, rolling down hills, jumping off things, or playing sports. Her heart was always in the right place, even if her friends and family called her a stick in the mud for declining their “fun” requests. She could not, and will not, injure her person. When she was around 8, she had been playing with a paper airplane and it just barely sliced her finger. It left behind a pesky papercut that stung. Bad. The small injury left Y/N guilty for days afterward. She has assumed that her soulmate was on the same page as her for the longest time. Aside from a few skinned knees (they were kids after all,) Y/N was left unscathed. She went on her days carefree until she was about fifteen. 

It seemed as though Y/N’s soulmate had completely changed their deminer overnight. It started with a bit of road rash on her palms. Y/N assumed they had fallen accidentally. Annoying, sure, but it was more than manageable. Then, her lip split open and bled for almost 15 minutes. 

As the week went on, large bruises started appearing on her legs and hips. Maybe the road rash fall was worse than she initially thought. Again, she just rode it off as clumsiness. It wasn’t long until her fingertips started to turn purple. This made Y/N panic. 

“Ma’am?” Y/N interrupted her science teacher in the middle of her lecture, “I think there’s something wrong with my hands.” The purple started to spread down her fingers towards her knuckles. They also proved to be getting harder to move. 

“Oh, dear, you’re freezing.” Ms. Adamson remarks, taking Y/N’s hands into her own. 

“What’s happening? Am I dying?” Her entire hand was now numb. 

“I don’t think so, Miss L/N, but, it’ll help you and them out if we warm you up.” 

Her toes suffered the same fate, she discovered during a visit to the school’s infirmary. (Which wasn’t even worth visiting in Y/N’s opinion.) The nurse at Y/N’s school didn’t have the “jurisdiction” to help Y/N properly, so she had to settle for a wet paper towel that was warmed in the microwave. Y/N just wished to be sent home instead. By the time she was finally set free, the purple had faded but her skin tone was not back to normal. Hopefully, the paper towel did something for her soulmate cause this sure as hell wasn’t Y/N’s fault. Her parents were flabbergasted when she got home, mostly upset that they made her miss so many of her classes. Neither had any explanation but tried to offer unhelpful comforting all the same. 

When Y/N awoke the next morning, all of the fingers in her hand had gone back to normal and she regained feeling. Finally, her soulmate was finally safe. 

She spent the day coming up with ridiculous reasons as to why they had almost given her frostbite. Maybe they got locked in a freezer at an ice cream store and had to wait for the store to reopen to let them out. Maybe they live in Antarctica and they got locked out of their house in their underwear. Maybe they were trying to win a bet to see who could stay in ice water the longest. The daydreams were cut short as she was harshly awoken by a searing pain in her abdomen. 

Ms. Adamson dropped her whiteboard marker and panicked when she heard Y/N scream. It wasn’t a normal teenage girl scream either. No, this scream was filled with pure agony and distress. It echoed against the walls and vibrated the desks. It sounded as if she was getting murdered. Y/N fell to the floor and landed in a big heap. The scientist hurriedly ran towards Y/N and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the teen’s blood pooling on the linoleum floor. It appeared she had been stabbed, by the looks of it.

Pointing at various other students to do various tasks, call an ambulance, call the office, and to go get another teacher, she took hold of Y/N’s hand. 

“It’s going to be okay,” She whispered, “You’re going to be fine. Keep your eyes open for me.”

Y/N felt very odd. Was this what dying felt like? She felt as though she was underwater; she could hear Ms. Adamson but her voice was muffled and she couldn’t make anything out. Y/N felt dizzy and sick at the same time, all she wanted to do was shut her eyes. So she did. Relief filled her as quickly as the pain. Her wound felt cold as if someone was pushing a damp cloth onto it. The pain lessened and lessened until there was none at all. 

~

Five years later she had almost forgotten about what had happened. Almost. In the years that followed the incident, severe gashes and bruises had become a normal occurrence. Her body was riddled with what seemed like battle scars, and she was almost always on edge. She had no way of knowing what was going to happen to her, nor when it was going to happen. This felt really unfair. She had been so careful for them, but they treated themself like a rag doll. 

Much to her delight, when she hit eighteen all of the injuries suddenly stopped. The last injury she had received was a dark black bruise that covered her entire side, then nothing. It had been two years and all she got were papercuts and burned tongues. 

“Take a break,” Y/N’s roommate grabs the pen out of her hand and places it on the desk. “You’ve been working on that for ages, come get coffee with me.” 

Y/N was currently in her third year at Cambridge University, working on her undergraduate biology degree. For her degree, she had to take organic chemistry and it was, in simple terms, kicking her ass. Her professor is shitty, the work was hard and Y/N was losing motivation. 

“I can’t. If I stop I’ll fail the final, then fail the class then never graduate.” Y/N mumbles, picking up her pen again and scribbling something down. 

“That’s not true, just come with me. Please?” “I said no, Y/B/F/N.”

“What if you take your books with you? A change of environment might help you study.”

Y/N leans back in her chair and looks up at her roommate. Maybe she had a point, it might do her good to get out a little bit. She packs her things and the two make their way to the coffee shop. 

The coffee shop on campus was small and always packed. The school preferred to call it “cozy,” but still, it’s small. Surprisingly, there weren’t many people inside. 

“Most people must’ve already left campus for break,” Y/B/F/N said, seemingly reading your mind. 

Only three of the tables had students sitting at them. One in the far corner had a girl who looked to be a very frustrated first year, huddled over a croissant and an English textbook. A few tables down sat four boys and one girl. Each had books open and pens in their hands, but by picking up snippets of their conversation, they were talking about whether Voldemort or Darth Vader would win in a fight. Finally, near the window, sat a boy who was staring straight at her. She recognized him from a few of her general education classes. Y/N had never talked to this boy, but he was rather cute. He was wearing a crimson sweater and ripped jeans with converse, hair messily tossed to the side. Y/N couldn’t decide whether or not he was staring at her or was in a very deep thought so she waved. No wave back. 

The two girls get their coffee and sit down a few tables away from the boy. 

“Do you know that guy?” Y/B/F/N asks, moving her head towards crimson sweater. 

“Not officially, I recognize him. Oh, what’s his name? I knew it at one point…” Y/N reaches into her bag and pulls out her books again, placing them on the table. As if it were a habit, she immediately starts studying again. She glances past her friend; the guy was still staring at that one spot. 

Time passes fast for Y/N but slow for Y/B/F/N. She tried to speak with you but ultimately gave up. So, bidding you goodbye, she left to go find her boyfriend. Y/N was kind of relieved, she can finally study in peace. The big group also left, after fighting about whether a time turner should be illegal or not, so the cafe was left with an almost eery silence. So silent that you can hear every pencil scratch, every tap of a keyboard, and every gulp of coffee. 

At some point, the boy had gotten up to get another cup of coffee and passed by Y/N. He was wearing a shit ton of cologne, so he left a scent trail wherever he went. Making his way back to his table, he tripped and spilled his coffee all over Y/N’s chemistry notes. 

“No, no, no, no, no!!!!!” Y/N screeches, wiping away the coffee with her bare hands. The drink splashes onto the boy’s pants and shoes. 

“Oh as- oh fuck, I am so sorry!” He grabs a wad of napkins and tries to blot the paper. She had worked on that study guide for hours, and now it was ruined. There was no way her professor would take it now. Thank god her laptop was still in her bag. 

Panicked, Y/N picks up her notebook and starts flipping through it. Her pen marks were bleeding together and there was no way to save them. Coffee crimson boy grimaces and picks up the notebook. 

“I don’t suppose this was an art class and you could turn it in as an abstract piece?” He says in a serious tone, though the words were highly sarcastic. Y/N lets out a single laugh. 

“I wish it were, but no. O Chem,” Coffee crimson’s face contorts even more. 

“Ouch, um, do you have it backed up anywhere?”

“Ah yes, I have my notebook backed up.” The previously broken ice was discarded and Y/N was frustrated again. 

“You should have done it on your laptop.”

“And you should watch where the fuck you’re going.” Y/N snatches the notebook from his hand. Coffee crimson notices your tone and quickly backtracks. 

“Hey, let me redo it for you then,” He glances at the textbook casually. “I’m sure I can figure it out.”

“And why should I trust you? I don’t know you and my grade is riding on this.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” His smile was warm. “I’m Edmund Pevensie, I’m in the prelaw program.” 

“Oh, perfect, a law student that’s going to attempt my organic chemistry homework. Wonder what could go wrong.” 

“I’m sure I can figure it out. Law is hard, maybe a different kind of hard, but still hard. I can do hard.” 

“Take a shot every time sweater guy says hard. I feel like I’m at a frat party.”

“I’m trying to fix my mistake here,” Now Edmund is the one that looks frustrated. “Here, take my number. I’ll text you updates and meet you back here tomorrow.” He looks at the clock. Damn, he had a gorgeous jawline. “4:32 pm. Exactly 24 hours from now.” Edmund scribbles his number onto a napkin and hands it to Y/N. As he writes, she can’t help but notice a long, jagged scar running the back of his hand. She scrunchs her eyebrows. 

~

Edmund actually kept his word. Every hour until four am that night he sent Y/N updates. Goofy pictures of him googling stupid questions or him writing. He sent a video that gave Y/N a perfect shot of the scar. Curiously, Y/N looks down at her own hand. 

The next day, his photo updates started coming again. This time they were more serious, showing the study guide. He ended up putting his own commentary in the margins; some funny some that made her think of the material differently. Y/N could really tell he was smart, even by his handwriting. 

He sent a picture to Y/N at 4:25 of the table in the coffee shop. “I’m early” was sent at the exact moment Y/N opened the door. 

“Wow, I’m impressed. I didn’t actually think you’d show.” Y/N sat opposite of him and smiled. He was wearing the same (coffee stained) jeans as yesterday and a button-up shirt. 

“I wouldn’t do all that work for nothing,” He smiled again and handed Y/N a new notebook she had never seen before. 

As she gripped the pages, the corner dug into her palm and cut her. 

“Ow!” The two said at the same time. They both had a thin cut in the middle of their palms. His large brown eyes met Y/N’s and they stared for a moment. Y/N then grabbed his hand and pushed up his sleeve to show the scar going up the back of his hand. Y/N couldn’t look away from his skin; just as she had thought, it was identical to hers. 

Meeting his gaze again, she pressed a hand to her stomach. Her hand rested right above a large, jagged scar that didn’t seem to heal quite right. His eyes followed the line of her arm.

“Edmund, I think you have a lot of explaining to do.”

[samsoleil]

you can now read the homeschooled au on ao3! or you can keep reading here. in this installment, the boys go to a mall for the first time and have an Experience™

(cw for sensory overload, if that's something that doesn't quite butter your bread roll)

One day, Sam realised that their dad was just a person.

He can’t remember the conversation, if it could be called that, in its entirety. But what he does remember with a surreal vividness is seeing Dad’s face, cold and hard with rage and frustration, and thinking, I don’t understand. Real life doesn’t have those scenes where the camera cuts to the perfect moment to explain the characters’ motivations. Dad had a whole life before Sam and lives most of his existence separate from Sam, with his own ideas and interpretations and some sort of equation that added one dead wife and two kids and came up with the mess that’s been Sam’s life so far. This experience of the world, a mark of being human.

And that thought was like a spotlight had been shone on Sam’s little corner of the world, this glaring thing, an unavoidable truth. It isn’t always there but, when it is, it’s inescapable. If Sam’s honest, it’s fuelled the fire in more than one of his arguments with their dad. Sam wonders if this is how Eve felt after biting into the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge, cursed with a realisation that can’t ever be unlearned.

But Dean’s different. Dean’s life isn’t this impossible, untouchable thing like Dad’s is; it’s Sam’s life, too, this thing they share, and Dean lives life more than anyone else Sam's met. Admittedly, Sam can name the amount of people he's actually met, beyond the handful of cashiers he's made uncomfortable eye contact with, on one hand. But he can't imagine that anyone who's ever spoken to Dean has left the conversation thinking, Well, he doesn't experience life as much as I do.

That’s not the point. The point is, Sam’s become accustomed to the concept that people in the real world have thoughts and feelings and lives that Sam will never know. But he and Dean had wanted to try going to a mall for lunch, instead of their usual cafés, and Sam had no idea that you could find this many people in a single place.

"Wow," he says, standing with Dean in the doorway.

There really are just so many of them. Parents with their kids, old couples, gaggles of teenagers laughing and shouting. Sam sees a group of girls around Dean's age in bright colours, hair falling in a sheet around their shoulders. He sees two young parents with their baby, jostling them up and down as they wail, drawing dirty looks from a couple of older women chatting over coffee. Everything is fluorescent bulbs and colour and sound. It's wonderful. It's horrible. There are so many of them and Sam has no idea who any of them are. It’s the Tree of Knowledge again, if biting into fruit was comparable to plummeting off a cliff, and he doesn't think he’d be able to handle feeling like this all the time. It's almost too much, to think that everyone here is just as alive as Sam and Dean.

Sam reaches out slightly to tangle his fingers between Dean's. Dean's hand relaxes easily, less soft and larger than Sam's, and grips him reassuringly after Sam's fingers are threaded with his. He feels better, after that. He watches the small family as the baby suddenly stops crying, their mother pressing a pacifier into their mouth and receiving a gummy smile. Genetically, a person's DNA is half their mother and half their father. Sam has a matching theory about himself as a whole. Half of Sam is characters from books, TV shows, movies, and half of Sam is Dean.

He follows after Dean as they move out of the doorway, away from Sam's sudden movie moment, and they melt into the crowd. It's even worse once they get in there, and Sam keeps overhearing snippets of conversation, fragments of this bustling chaos of lives.

"-working Friday, and I don't know if-"

There's a girl with an ear full of piercings, silver and solid, wearing all black with ripped jeans and a leather jacket-

"-assignment? I haven't-"

-and the sun streaming in through one of the windows flashes off the glass of one of the stores, momentarily turning Sam's vision white, and it's enough to make his eyes sting-

"-Sarah, Katy, wai-"

-while the air is filled with the scent of a hundred different foods, sweet as spun sugar one second and then the smoky thickness of meat, and Sam's head turns to follow the smell of flowers carried by the curls of a dark-skinned man in jeans-

"-long black, two sugars. Do you ha-"

-who greets an older woman with greying hair, and Sam turns back to face the direction they're heading and sees a crowd of people too thick to move through.

"-believe, I mean, it was so-"

He squeezes Dean's hand. Dean squeezes back. Sam squeezes again, and they have a back and forth for a minute or so as they wait for a space to open up in the crowd ahead of them. Sam knows what the person at the counter is ordering and what the people at the table behind them did for their weekend and what Donnie did to Amy, did you hear?

I heard, Sam thinks viciously, Everyone in a ten mile radius heard, can you shut up?

And then he feels bad, because it's not their fault it's so loud in here. He can barely hear himself think. He can't even hear himself breathe, can just feel his lungs inhaling and exhaling in his chest. The functional unit of the lungs are small sacs called alveoli that have walls one cell thin, and the culmination of Sam's can usually run a five minute mile but today, now, they're barely keeping him standing.

"-diagnosis, it all happened so fast-"

It's been a minute since he last squeezed Dean's hand, so he squeezes again. And Dean squeezes back, hard, and that seems to help the frantic energy building in Sam's body, so when Dean starts to relax his hand Sam squeezes again and he doesn't let go.

"-don't know what I'd do-"

And Dean looks back, and something must show in Sam's face, because then they're moving, the crowd be damned. Someone brushes against Sam and he feels every part of it, too aware of the fabric of their shirt brushing against Sam's flannel. Someone else steps on the side of his shoe and he wants to step on them back, wants them to finish the job, wants to break out of his body. Dean's squeezing Sam's hand hard enough that he feels the bones in his hand shift, but it's all he has, right now. The rest of him is too busy paying attention to everything else.

"-rotten leaf in my salad, I want-"

There's a group of children laughing and stumbling over their feet, their mothers following behind with gentle smiles and chattering conversation, and Sam feels this tug of want-

"-failed my midterms, so I just-"

-and there's someone in a bright, multicoloured jacket holding hands with a girl dressed in all denim, laughing as they reach up to gently grasp her chin and lean in-

"-loud in here, do you want-"

-so Sam looks away, and no matter where he looks there's another person, another family, another store, another thing bright and beautiful and he can't take it, okay, it's just too much-

"-I said, that's crazy, no way-"

-for him to handle right now, the everything of it all, the thought that, all this time, the entire world has existed just outside of their motel room and he's barely a part of it.

"-beautiful, Mary-"

Sam's heart jolts in his chest.

I can't do this, he thinks desperately, still moving with Dean, pulled along by him, his hand encompassed by Dean's. He tamps down the visceral urge to just lie down here, press himself into the tile and be consumed. He sidesteps a puddle of someone's chocolate thickshake, his stomach turning over. He can feel the slick of his sweat between Dean's large, warm hand and his own. Part of him wants to tug away to dry his palm on his jeans, but he feels like he might fall apart if he does.

Dean leads him into a store and the temperature change shocks him, sending shivers cascading down his spine, and Sam feels suddenly unwell, like when he has the flu. But it's quieter in here, the cacophony of the mall muted by the racks of clothing. The fluorescents take all the red away, leaving Dean wearing an ugly brown flannel, and that sick feeling grows stronger. Sam closes his eyes, letting Dean guide him. He flinches at the clatter as Dean pulls something off the rack, the hanger tapping plastic against metal railing, and lets himself be swept along, around a corner and into a changing room, Dean pulling the curtains closed.

Sam bypasses the bench to sit down on the floor, gaze fixed on where the curtain brushes against the faux wood linoleum. He can still hear the chatter in the store, muffled as if underwater.

Dean crouches down in front of him, breaking his line of sight, but Sam can't move. He can't stay still. He's going to fall apart. He's going to turn to stone. He wants to run, run, out through the mall and back home, he wants to crawl into Dean's chest and stay there forever and never go outside again. Fuck outside. Outside is overrated. Outside is filled with people who couldn't give less of a shit about Sam, going about their days while he falls apart in the middle of a food court. Outside is filled with people who aren't Sam and Dean, living TV lives while they spin out on some highway in Nowhere, America.

"Sammy?" Dean says, and it's so loud, what the hell, Dean.

Sam untangles himself from his little ball of limbs to silently shoosh him, and he watches as the tense line of Dean's shoulders relax infinitesimally from where they were hitched up around his ears, all worry. Dean bats his hands away gently, fine, fine, he'll be quiet.

What happened? asks the moue of Dean's mouth, the furrow between his brows.

Sam shrugs.

That's not an answer.

And Sam knows it's not, but how is he meant to explain it when even he doesn't know what happened? It was just everything, all at once, and it crept under Sam's skin and into his head and he couldn't escape it. He looks up at Dean, helpless, and Dean's hands come up to cradle his face and it's alright. It'll be okay. Sam tips his head into the warmth of Dean's skin, lets his eyes fall closed.

Someone laughs from in the store and Sam flinches, then feels Dean's hands move to cover his ears instead. Sam sighs and leans into Dean's chest. He expects to hate it, being touched, worries that he'll want to shed his skin in a heap at the feeling of it, but it's Dean. Sam presses his forehead into Dean's ribs firm enough to bruise, and Dean pulls him along as he reshuffles on the floor so that Sam is between his legs, wrapped in warmth, anchored to the world. He moves his hands away from Sam's ears and Sam, with a bitter-sick feeling of betrayal, clamps his own over them, pressing hard. But Dean puts his hands on Sam's back instead, rubbing soothingly, and that's better than anything else.

A few moments pass, quietly, just the two of them. Sam’s still stuck in his head, which is tuned into the world like a radio turned up too high, but he does his best to focus on the smooth movements of Dean’s hands up and down his back, fingers running over the knobs of his spine. They’re called spinous processes, and they lengthen throughout the cervical spine but are mostly the same size in the thoracic spine. Sam checked. Dean kicked up only a little bit of a fuss. And when Sam realises that he’s playing that memory in his head, eyelids heavy, he notices that he’s feeling a little better.

As if reading his mind, Dean moves his hands to rest on Sam’s arms, and Sam settles back. He takes his hands away from his ears, blinking hard. His chest feels a bit tight, but he’s okay. He conveys as much to Dean, who looks over him, expression doubtful. But when he sees Sam watching his face he plasters on a grin, rubbing Sam’s arms quickly through his shirt before he moves back, too.

Dean signs for Baby. They don’t have to stay.

Part of Sam wants to leave, but it feels like giving up. And he wants to try the mall, was excited until he became overwhelmed and, if he tries, he can make the adrenaline feel more like anticipation.

“I want to stay." He accompanies the words with their signs. “Can we get pizza?”

Dean kept bringing it up in the car, subtle as a truck, and Sam saw some slices of a vegetarian pizza through the glass of one of the counters. It’s an easy choice to make. Sam doesn’t really feel like pizza, but he knows that Dean will try to cheer him up the same way he cheers himself up. And it works, for the most part. Dean just hasn’t quite realised that the main reason why is because Sam likes seeing Dean happy.

And, fine. Sam knows Dean needs him to be happy, too, and maybe that plays a bigger part in it all than Sam would care to admit. He knows that if he asked to leave, they would be as good as gone. It's enough to make him feel lightheaded, sometimes, the things that Dean would do for him. And it's not even because he has to. He chose Sam, over their dad, over hunting, over the chance to be free from Sam's drama forever. So they'll stay, and they'll get pizza, and they'll buy jackets and underwear and Dean's paraphernalia, and then they'll be gone. Sam just needs to hold on for a few more hours.

Dean beams and Sam feels his cheeks flush in response. Dean's so, so proud of him. He circles Sam's heart through his shirt and Sam feels something bright and beautiful settle in him. It’s contagious.

"That's my boy," Dean says, ruffling Sam's hair.

Sam pushes him away gently, reaching up to fix his hair, and Dean rocks back, still wearing that easy smile. Sam has to look away, eyes settling on the amulet sitting on Dean's chest and shining dully in the crappy change room lighting. Sam doesn't know how he does it. Sam knows better than anyone that life isn't always sunshine and roses but, even with Sam losing his grip over and over, Dean's still here. Maybe it's selfish, but Sam can't help but be desperately grateful. He wouldn't trade where they are now for anything. They're alive now in a way they weren't before, and Dean seems to be genuinely enjoying it. Sam wants to love existing that much.

Dean stands and offers him his hand.

One day, maybe I will, Sam thinks, and he reaches out.

[followtheowls]

For a fic prompt, could you possibly write something about Ezra being injured and the medbay and Kanan and Hera are waiting for him to wake up/are worrying. Thank you so much :)

Thanks for this prompt <3 I also used it as a part of my ficlet series on ao3! I hope you like it

tw: medical talk (nothing to gory or graphic though), non graphic mention of injury

fandom: star wars rebels

characters: Kanan Jarrus, Hera Syndulla, Ezra Bridger

Words: 1.7k

The Medbay was not a quiet place, Kanan decided. He took in his surroundings from his place in his chair, in the corner of the small Medbay that was designated for waiting. He could hear the medics bustle around chatting and moving from one patient to another, the medical droids zooming around looking for their next task or procedure, and the medical equipment and machinery hum and creak while they carried out their functions. He could hear the beeping and chattering of binary from the droids, and the medics’ attempt at a hushed conversation. To Kanan, it seemed ironic that a place for healing and resting would be so incredibly noisy, but then again, he was probably more sensitive to it than most. He found that the loss of his vision had forced his other senses to adapt and subsequently become more sensitive to compensate for the loss of his eyesight.

The scent of bacta was thick in the air. So thick, in fact, Kanan could feel it burn his nostrils as he breathed in. The scent provided almost an instant headache, and his stomach churned as it reminded him of agonizing memories, in this very Medbay, from his recovery after returning from Malachor. Nothing eased the effect of the smell, it was something that was burned into his memory unchangeable. Even breathing through his mouth was only a half solution, the odor was so saturated and overwhelmed the air that he could almost taste it. Kanan wondered how the medics were able to work here all day. They probably become desensitized to it, he thought, too much time spent alongside it to let it bother them anymore. Kanan hoped he wouldn’t have to spend enough time in this overwhelming environment to even get near the point of getting used to it.

Kanan felt like a raw nerve, exposed and vulnerable. There was a lot to try to keep track of through the Force, and though he had grown accustomed to using the Force to guide himself through life, right now it was taking extra concentration to center himself. He was feeling everything too keenly. He jumped as he felt someone brush his side accidentally, sitting down in the seat next to him. Hera, he thought. He felt her hand slip into his and squeeze. He returned the gesture, squeezing back with equal pressure. He waited for her to speak first. 

“The medical droid says if all has gone well in surgery that they should be finished soon. He’ll probably be put in a bacta tank for a day or two, depending on how well the surgery goes. They didn’t have any other information to give us.” She stated quietly. Kanan just nodded and tightened his grip on her hand. They sat in silence for several minutes, and Kanan once again became ambushed by the chaos of the medbay.

He prided himself on his ability to remain calm in stressful situations, something that had been hammered into him during his upbringing at the Jedi Temple, but, at the moment, he could feel himself begin to drift from those teachings. Somewhere in Medbay, his padawan, his son in everything but blood, was lying broken and exposed on a table in an operating room, with several surgeons working hard to save his life. He needed to find his balance and his center, but he didn’t know how to do that when he was teetering on the edge of losing everything. 

He should’ve been on the mission, Kanan scolded himself. He should have been there to look out for Ezra, to protect him from what he hadn’t learned yet or from the hate of the Empire. Force knows no one ever did that for Ezra before Kanan was around. Kanan could even fathom imaging the possibility of losing Ezra now. That’s not how it was supposed to go, children were not supposed to go before their parents, it’s against the natural laws of the universe. 

Hera spoke up suddenly. “Stop,” she said sharply. “I know you. Don’t do that.”

“What?” Kanan responded, genuinely confused.

“You’re blaming yourself. I can see it all over your face. This is not your fault or my fault. The Empire. They did this,” she hissed, her anger a white hot presence in the Force. He just hummed in agreement and stroked his thumb over the back of her hand.

Several more minutes passed, it was hard to tell how long they sat there not speaking, just waiting. It could’ve been five minutes or an hour. Kanan really couldn’t tell. He felt Hera stiffen next to him and sit up straighter, and through the noise of the Medbay, he could hear footsteps getting louder and moving towards them. Together they both stood to greet the medic.

“He’s alive and he made it through the surgery. It was touch and go for a while, and his heart arrested once on the table, but we were able to successfully revive him and repair his internal injuries,” explained the medic. Kanan let out a shaky breath he didn't even know he was holding, and slid back into his seat, nauseated and tortured by the knowledge that his padawan’s heart had stopped. 

Hera’s voice shook as she found the strength to speak. “Thank you so much. Will there be any long term effects? Any lasting issues we need to know about? And can we see him?”

“He will, hopefully, make a full recovery,” responded the medic. “There is a very small possibility that there could be some neurological deficits caused by lack of oxygen to his brain during the time that his heart stopped. But, in my professional opinion, I think that possibility is extremely low due to how quick we were able to restart his heart, but we won’t know until he wakes up. Otherwise, he is young and strong, and it is expected that he should recover just fine. though he will need to take it easy and rest for a few weeks. Right now, we have him immersed in a bacta tank to ensure a speedy recovery. I can take you both to see him if you like.”

Hera let out a cry of relief and happiness and she bent down to tackle Kanan in a desperate embrace. He returned it with equal ferocity, almost numb with relief. If the situation wasn’t so dire and serious, Kanan maybe might have made a joke and pointed out just how mom Hera was being. It would have been funny if the situation wasn’t so, just, not funny. The tears were evident in Hera’s voice when she responded that yes, they would like to go be with him, but Kanan was not one to judge. He knew if he had functioning tear ducts, he would’ve been bawling minutes ago.

The medic led them out the door and into a big open room adjacent to where they just waited. Kanan could sense a few medical technicians and droids fluttering around doing their jobs, but his focus immediately snapped to the muted-but-thankfully-still-there presence of Ezra that was emitting from what was presumably inside the bacta tank in the center of the room. While Kanan was his usual brand of stoic and silent, next to him Hera let out a half-suppressed, choked gasp. The medic respectfully excused himself to give them space, telling them he would be in his office if they needed anything.

Beside him, Kanan heard Hera let out another water breath, and he felt her struggle in the Force to contain herself and her emotions. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her into his side, prompting her to lean into him. It was just as much for his support as it was for hers. It would be okay, they could be unbalanced together. 

Hera shook under his arm, and he felt her lose a bit of the emotional battle she had been fighting. He heard the small plops of tears as they slipped off her chin and made contact with their clothing. He squeezed her a little tighter and whispered reassurances that Ezra would be okay, trying his best to be comforting, but certainly feeling like he was failing. Kanan was hovering between a mix of not knowing what to say and navigating his own residual numbness, shock, and terror from the terrifying moments when he hadn’t known if he still had a living son or not.

After a minute or two of silence between them, Hera, always the most verbal with her emotions, spoke up. “Kanan, he - he,” she was cut off involuntarily by a forceful sob. She attempted to gather herself and start again. “He - just - he looks s-so young,” she whispered, her words choppily cut apart by sobs. “And so f-fragile, in there. The tank is so b-big and - and he just looks so small.” She finished her sentence, and abandoned any premise of maintaining her composure by dissolving into quiet, but powerful tears. She turned away from the sight of their kid in the tank and leaned into him fully, pressing her wet face into his sweater. 

Kanan couldn’t or didn’t have the capacity to imagine what she was looking at. He couldn’t bring his mind to produce that image for him. But, for the very first time in the eight months since becoming blind, he didn’t actively wish for his sight back. At this point, Kanan had mostly accepted his blindness, and had learned to lead his life without sight. But, typically the most emotional moments with his family were the moments he truly wished for his vision. But not right now. He knew that the scene in front of them would be seared into Hera’s memory for life, but something deep inside him, he realized guiltily, was relieved he couldn’t see it. Relieved, because, maybe, he hoped, this way the image wouldn't haunt him. That he wouldn’t go to sleep at night and dream of it, or freeze in the midst of a firefight for fear of seeing it again. Just in that fleeting moment, he felt grateful. Grateful that he didn’t have to see what Hera was seeing, Ezra hurt and broken, and suspended in bacta while connected to a million wires. Grateful that Ezra was going to recover. Grateful for more moments with his family.

[holidaywishes]

Turning Page

  Requested: 👍

  Summary/Request: Please, please, please do 13. “your love is my turning page / where only the sweetest words remain” (turning page, sleeping at last) from the music prompt list with Freddie Andersen! I love everything that you write about him ! 💕

  Warning: angst, fluff, soft Freddie

  Author’s Note: I wanted to find a GIF of Freddie looking *wistfully* at the reader because that’s the vibe I got from this song upon first listen and this GIF really hit hard. I did a tiny bit of research on this song, as I often do for my fics, to see if it meant something to the songwriter and that’s when I found it was written for Twilight. It’s been like a decade since I’ve watched any of those movies so I had completely forgotten that any song other than Christina Perri’s a thousand years was used for Breaking Down... That being said, I still think this is a beautiful song that led itself quite wonderfully to some fluff. I didn’t want it to be a wedding though and I had to really stop myself for writing it that way and honestly, the angst kind of got away from me in this one, whoops! If you’d like to request a song prompt, for hockey players or characters from your favourite movies/TV shows, send ‘em my way and I will work on them! Stay Golden, loves! <3

  masterlist

  the other masterlist

  the song prompt masterlist

xx

Freddie’s P.O.V

  You met (Y/N) when you were 10 years old on her fifth birthday party. She had ribbons in her ponytails that intertwined with her soft hair easily and you laughed at the way she took a bow from one of her gifts to add it to the top of her head with a smile. A smile that permanently etched itself in your brain for years. She was the one who kept the friendship going after that day, saying she was curious about ‘Denmark’s Hockey Family’

  “I don’t know anything about Hockey” she said in her soft, almost squeaky, voice. You chuckled at her insistence but agreed to let her come to a few practices and teach her some things. After ten years, the two of you had become closer than you ever thought you would

  “Would you ever move to the States? Or Canada?” you asked and she scoffed at your question

  “Why?” she asked, adjusting the blanket on her lap while the two of you watched a movie

  “You know I want to go into the NHL...” you stammered, wondering if she’d say you were too old, at 20 years old, to get drafted

  “I know” was all she responded

  “Yeah...” you continued, rolling your eyes when she didn’t say anything more, “well, would you?”

  “Would I what?”

  “(Y/N)...” you laughed, “would you ever move there? like if I got drafted, would yo--”

  “Would I go with you?” she interrupted, finally understanding your point, “would you want me to?”

  “Well... yeah. I mean, if you wanted to. It would just be nice to have someone there... Who knew me, who knows me..” you stammered, keeping your head turned away from hers so you couldn’t see her reaction

  “Of course I’d go with you,” you could hear the smile on her voice, “I love... watching you play” after that, the two of you worked tirelessly to find out when a scout would be in the area but you worried that your time had passed.

  “FREDDIE!” your mom yelled for you as you sat outside

  “Ma?” you called back, rushing into the house to see what was wrong

  “THE DRAFT...” she screamed

  “Mom, calm down,” you smiled, “what about the draft?”

  “YOU GOT DRAFTED!!!!!!!!!!” (Y/N) screamed as she jumped on you, “OH MY GOD FREDDIE!!!” she peeled back to look at you, her arms wrapping around your neck, “YOU DID IT!”

  “Wh-aat?” you laughed, swinging your body around to watch the TV, “where?”

  “Anaheim!” your mom exclaimed and you took a deep breath, still not having set (Y/N) down

  “Well, shi--” you started, before catching your mom’s glare, “I mean... I guess I’m going to California!”

  “We’re so proud of you!” your parents smiled before walking over to you, enveloping you and (Y/N) together in a hug where you caught the scent of vanilla and coconut

  “So...” (Y/N) whispered in your ear, “does the offer still stand?” you leaned back to see her smiling before you nodded in return. Before you knew it, you were packing up your life to get on a plane and head overseas. She lived with you for a while until she couldn’t handle the girls who kept circling in and out of your apartment; the two of you fought, she cried, you tried to fix it but both of you agreed it was better if you had some space between the two of you. You’d hope she would see that you only wanted her and that the other girls were just there to... keep you warm because the timing was never right with (Y/N). When she was single, you were with someone. When you were single, she was with someone. Seeing her happy with someone else made your heart ache so you found people that would help you waste your time and everything was going fine until (Y/N) met someone

  “He’s from Canada,” she said, “Toronto. He’s an architect!”

  “An architect? Wow” you said, a bit in shock

  “Yeah,” she continued, “we’ve actually been seeing each other for a while now but he’s just been flying back and forth and I don’t think that’s fair. He says he doesn’t mind because he likes to see me, he says it’s the best part of his day actually,” her smile lightened her rambling but you still weren’t sure where she was going with this. “Anyway,” she sighed, “he’s asked me to... move there. With him”

  “Oh” you chuckled, thinking she’d said no. She moved to Anaheim with you, for you. She wouldn’t just leave you, would she?

  “And I said I would...” your eyes went wide as the words left her lips before you dropped your head. “It’s not like I’m forgetting about you,” she giggled, “or like I’m leaving you behind. I’ll still talk to you everyday and we’ll call and FaceTime and text and nothing will change”

  “Except you won’t be here” you scoffed, smiling pathetically to yourself before slumping onto the couch

  “I know, Freddie,” she sighed, sitting next to you and rubbing your back soothingly, “but let’s face it, our schedules are so different as it is. We barely see each other, I mean you didn’t even realize I was dating someone”

  “I’ve been busy!” you challenged

  “I know,” she chuckled, “I know, but that’s the point. I came here for you and I’m so happy that you asked me to come with you and I’m so happy that I’ve been here for you”

  “So why leave?” you argued

  “Because I love this guy!” she exclaimed, “and I don’t know how much longer I can wait around for you to come home so we can finally hang out”

  “FINE!” you said out of pure anger, standing up suddenly

  “Freddie, please,” she said quietly, remaining seated as you paced around the room, “I know this isn’t what either of us expected to happen but it did. I’d be stupid not to see this through.”

  “No, you’re right,” you agreed, bitterness on your tone, “but what if we never see each other again?”

  “Of course we’ll see each other again! Freddie our parents are best friends!”

  “I guess, I just mean...”

  “I promise we’ll see each other” she smiled, finally standing up to place her hand on your cheek. You knew she meant it but, as so often happens, time got away from the two of you and space got in the way. That is, until you got traded to the Maple Leafs

  “Looks like I’ll be coming out your way” you texted her as soon as you got the news

  “What do you mean?” she sent back and you assumed she hadn’t seen the announcement

  “I got traded... I’m coming to Toronto!”

  Incoming call from (Y/N)

  “Hey” you greeted

  “YOU’RE COMING HERE!” she exclaimed, screaming through the phone

  “It looks that way!” you smiled to yourself

  “OH MY GOD!!”

  “Alright, alright,” you laughed, “calm down before you break my eardrums!”

  “I’m sorry,” she giggled and you could imagine her bright smile on the other end of the phone, “I’m just so excited to see you”

  “Me too” you confessed

  “I miss you.”

xx

  It seemed like as soon as you moved to Toronto, things with Seth changed. Like the magic somehow disappeared and you two were just ships passing in the night. You two were only together there for about two months before he said he couldn’t do it anymore and you were left to find somewhere to live on your own; staying in hostels until an affordable apartment was available. You were miserable and you hated yourself for leaving the only safe place you had, with Freddie. A year passed and you were getting a little bit more comfortable in your new hometown, finding your own favourite spots and everything, when you got a random text from Freddie

  “Looks like I’ll be coming out your way” he sent and you furrowed your brow

  “What do you mean?”

  “I got traded... I’m coming to Toronto!” he replied and you couldn’t believe it. You had been in such a slump that you hadn’t been focusing on the Hockey world even though you made sure to follow Fred’s games, so you completely missed hearing about this trade. You weren’t sure about how he felt about it because he had made connections in Anaheim and moving to another city, again, was a lot to handle but that didn’t mean you weren’t happy that you would be able to see him again; to be around him and feel him near you.

  “YOU’RE COMING HERE?!” you yelled as soon as he picked up the phone

  “It looks that way!” he replied and you could hear the smirk on his face coming through. Oh how you missed that smirk

  “OH MY GOD!” you yelled once more, bouncing around at the idea of seeing your best friend again

  “Alright, alright,” he chuckled, “calm down before you break my eardrums!”

  “I’m sorry,” you laughed before inhaling calmly, “I’m just so excited to see you”

  “Me too” he said and your heart just about broke. You had always wished he’d say that he felt about you the way that you’d felt about him, that the love you had for him was reciprocated but you’d learned that holding your breath and waiting for him was as worthless a pursuit as ever

  “I miss you” you confessed, hoping he’d say it back but hung your head when he only mumbled something under his breath. You waited patiently for him at the airport, clutching the sign you’d made for him; his name in bold letters covered in glitter that you’d knew would embarrass him. “FREDDIE!!!!” you shouted when you saw him, running to him to jump on him like you did that day in Denmark, dropping your sign in the process

  “HEY!” he exclaimed, dropping his bags to wrap his arms around you, “it’s so good to see you. I’m so happy you’re here!”

  “I can’t believe you’re really here,” you smiled, keeping your legs tightly wrapped around his hips, “I thought I’d never get to hug you again”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he laughed, “and if I do, I’m takin’ you with me”

  “Good”

  “So...” he sighed, putting you down gently and grabbing his bags, “where’s Seth?” His question made you realize you hadn’t told him about the breakup

  “Oh... right. We didn’t last,” you admitted, opening the car door as Freddie chucked his bags in the trunk, “lasted about two weeks.”

  “What?!” he returned as he slammed the trunk

  “Yeah.. he couldn’t deal so we ended things. But it was for the best...” you admitted

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked as he got into the passenger seat of your small car

  “I didn’t wanna bother you” you sighed

  “You can always bother me” he confessed and you squeezed his hand with yours before smiling softly at him

  “Thank you” you almost whispered and, just like that, the two of you picked up where you left off. Time went on, he had some bad games, the media tore him apart and you tried to be there for him but he yelled at you or whined that everything was falling apart; you told him to stop being so grumpy but he only growled in return. Everyday, it got a little harder to be with him without actually being with him. You were torturing yourself but you couldn’t stop yourself.

xx

Freddie’s P.O.V

  When Auston suggested you go to Arizona with him while everything was locked down, you asked if (Y/N) wanted to go with you

  “I can’t go with you, Freddie” she laughed

  “Why not?”

  “I wouldn’t want to interrupt... guy time” she joked

  “So you’re just gonna stay here? Alone?” you scoffed

  “Yes,” she admitted, “I have to work anyway. You’ll be back soon enough, I’m sure”

  “Yeah, maybe...” you sighed. Lockdown ended, the qualifiers started, the team didn’t make it through, rumours began to circulate and your relationship with (Y/N) was starting to fray again. You knew you would wait until she was ready, you’d wait a hundred years if you had to, but you needed to at least keep her close -- for fear that she might find another Seth. “Just move in here,” you insisted after finding out her lease was up just before Christmas, “I don’t think you’re gonna find a place during this pandemic”

  “I can’t move in here”

  “And why not?” you chuckled

  “I’ve lived with you before. I can’t really deal with the carousal of girls...”

  “There’s not a carousal of girls” you argued

  “There was in Anaheim” she scoffed

  “It’s different here. I’m different”

  “What if it doesn’t work?”

  “Then... you move out. No big deal...”

  “Why do you want me to move in?” she asked and you took a minute to think about your answer. Why did you want her to move in? So you could muster up enough courage to tell her you loved her. So she would finally realize her own feelings for you. So the two of you could finally be together the way you should’ve been a long time ago.

  “You’re my best friend” you finally said and it seemed to be enough. New Year’s passed and training camp started and neither of you had admitted any kind of feelings but her smile still made you weak.

  “Carla’s getting married in secret” she laughed, explaining how her friend from work hated the restrictions so much she was gathering a bunch of friends and family in the park for a ‘spur of the moment’ wedding

  “Is it really spur of the moment if she’s planning it?” you teased

  “Yes” she giggled

  “Okay” you laughed in response, watching as her eyes lit up as she talked about the details

  “So are you in?” you heard her ask

  “Hmm?” was all you could say since you had completely lost yourself in her

  “You’re gonna be my date, aren’t you? For the wedding?”

  “Uhh.. I don’t know,” you stammered, “when is it?”

  “I don’t know...” she huffed, “this weekend probably?” You could tell she was upset that you didn’t just agree to go, especially after she was so excited about it. Why couldn’t you just say, of course I’ll be your date!

  “I--”

  “I don’t wanna make you go if you don’t wanna go. Don’t feel like you have to, Freddie, just because I asked. You don’t owe me anything”

  “(Y/N), I want to. Of course I’ll go with you. I’m in!”

  “You are?” she questioned, clearly unsure of your answer

  “Always.”

xx

  April was a beautiful time to get married. In the park, as the grass was getting greener, as the birds sang in the trees high above and the sound of wind rustling through the trees was the only sound you could hear.

  “You look beautiful by the way” Freddie whispered to you while you sat, waiting for your friend to walk down the make-shift aisle she’d set up. You blushed at Freddie’s compliment before nudging his shoulder with yours and thanking him

  “You don’t look so bad yourself” you smiled

  “Why thank you!” he teased

  “Oh! Here we go” you exclaimed when the music began and Carla made her way to her soon-to-be husband. “She looks beautiful”

  “Are you crying already?” Freddie laughed

  “No... shut up” you scoffed as you admitted that you were, indeed, crying; you couldn’t help it, it was all so beautiful. Once the ceremony was done and they were officially married, Carla and her now husband, Clinton, invited everyone to their house for drinks and appetizers — their reception.

  “She’s trying to get us arrested” Freddie joked, referring to the quarantine rules that had to be reinforced the week prior

  “She wants to see how many of us will fit in a cell for sure” you added

  “As long as we manage to get drunk before they arrest us,” he smiled, “otherwise, it’s all for nothing.” The were no calls, no complaints, and the small group was allowed to celebrate as long and as loud as you wanted. You all did the obligatory chicken dance and cha-cha slide to really hone in on the ‘wedding vibes’ before eventually moving to slow dances. “Dance with me?” Freddie smiled at you with his hand palm up in front of you

  “I thought you’d never ask” you giggled, taking his hand and following him onto the open space that was being used as a dance floor

  “What I’ve been living for...” the song played in the background as you swayed with Freddie, pulling back to look at him once before he smiled at you.

  “What?” He chuckled

  “You’re just... I missed this” you hesitated

  “Have we danced at a wedding together before?” He joked, earning a playful scoff from you

  “I meant I miss us” you admitted, dropping your head onto his chest

  “I never went anywhere,” he said with a bite to his words, “you did.”

  “Freddie...” you furrowed your brow as you lifted your head off his chest, shaking your head as his hands moved away from you, “I didn’t... it’s not like that. I gave you—”

  “You gave me space. I didn’t need space, I didn’t want space” he sneered and you awkwardly smiled at the faces around you before pulling his arm

  “This is not the place for this”

  “You left, not me. You’re the one who stopped us from... having time together”

  “What?” you huffed, shaking your head in confusion, “I didn’t want to give you space, Fred, but you never did anything! You were so focused on Hockey and the life that you made in Anaheim that it didn’t matter how much I was there, you didn’t have time for me. I got the message. I found someone and, yes, I left to try to make it work with him. It didn’t. And now you’re here, and you’re arguing with me because of... what?”

  “What do you mean I never did anything??” it was all he focused on and you could only laugh in response

  “I gave you every chance to do something. I moved across the world for you and you never did anything”

  “NEITHER DID YOU!” he yelled, veins beginning to pop out of his neck

  “I WANTED YOU TO DO SOMETHING FIRST!”

  “WHY?!?!”

  “BECAUSE I DIDN’T KNOW HOW YOU FELT AND I DIDN’T WANT TO EMBARRASS MYSELF OR RUIN OUR FRIENDSHIP!”

  “YEAH WELL... I DIDN’T KNOW THAT” he yelled before clearing his throat and calming himself down. “How ‘bout I tell you now?” he said softly as you trained your eyes on his face, “your smile is the first thing I think about in the morning and the last thing I see when I go to sleep. The smell of your shampoo and your body lotion mix together and I can smell coconut and vanilla for weeks on end without it being anywhere close to me. I hated seeing you with... anyone else because you weren’t with me but I wanted you to be happy. I don’t know how long I’ve loved you but I know that I’m not the same without you. Without you around. Without you with me, near me, beside me, sharing everything with me, dancing with me, laughing with me. You have no idea how many times I wish I would’ve done something sooner, taken charge of my feelings and just told you how I felt — because I should’ve — but I was scared. I just hoped that you’d say it first so that I could hug you and kiss you and finally call you mine” he finally finished his proclamation and you were left completely speechless. “So...” he smirked, having just laid his heart out in front of you, “what do you have to say?”

  “I’m not a possession...” you mumbled

  “What?”

  “I didn’t know you could be so sweet,” you smiled, feeling a warmness in your chest, “I mean I knew you were a big teddy bear but I didn’t know you could be... this sweet” you repeated. “I love you, too, Freddie. I don’t know for how long either but I know that hearing what you said just now, after all this time, was exactly what I needed to tell you how much I love you. How whenever I hear your voice, my heart melts and my body buzzes or how whenever I see your smile I mentally take as many pictures as I can because I don’t know when you’ll let me see it again willingly. I tried to replace you with other people because I never thought you’d ever want me but now here you are, in front of me, saying the sweetest words I’ve ever heard and I’ve never loved you more” you took a breath and waited for him to say something else when you noticed the corners of his lips turn up into a smile before he walked toward you

  “I love you” he placed his hands on the sides of your neck, brushing his thumbs against your cheeks before he leaned down and connected his lips to yours; finally, was all you could think.

  “I love you, too” you smiled when he finally broke the kiss, trailing your hands up his arms to rest them on his shoulders. “I can’t believe it took you two continents, three countries and 22 years to do something”

  “Guess I just needed a push” he whispered against your lips as he moved to pick you up, wrapping his arms under your butt and bringing your chest as close to him as possible

  “I guess so” you whispered back, your hands lingering on his neck until your fingers found his hair, “better late than never.”

[chatonne-rousse]

Lullaby and Good Night

When two-month-old Emma wakes up in the wee hours of the morning, Adrien employs the unique combination of purrs and piano to help his daughter fall back to sleep. His heartfelt song carries Marinette from dreams to reality and back again.

A little story of sleep deprivation, the power of music, and two hearts overflowing with love for their family of three.

Read it on Ao3 here.

*****

The dream is lovely, but clearly a dream. There's no reason, much less space, for a grand piano to be situated on a rooftop, gleaming in the city lights and the nightly glow of the Eiffel Tower, but here they are.

Ungloved fingers glide across the keys, filling the air with a melody she feels in the depths of her heart. It's more than pleasing to the ear, far more than just a beautiful tune, though every stroke of the keys is perfect. This is his heart speaking to hers through music, pure love in every note. Tears spring to her eyes unbidden and she wipes them away quickly, the feel of her suit cool against her skin.

She gently places her hand on his leg, red and black against the green and grey plaid of his...pajama pants? His muscles flex beneath her fingers as he deftly works the pedals and she closes her eyes, letting his closeness, his scent, the feel of him beside her, right where he belongs, wash over her in a heady rush.

Words are unnecessary in this halcyon moment. I love you echoes all around them in the night air.

As dreams always do, this one drifts away on tendrils of contentment, leaving Marinette with a smile on her face even before her eyes open. Warm and cozy under the duvet, she reaches for her husband, ready to snuggle close and chase a few more hours of sleep - or, at least, as many blessed minutes as the adorable alarm clock they created would allow them.

Expecting warm skin and the body she knows every inch of by heart, it's a surprise to find the other side of the bed empty. Well, it's a momentary surprise. One or the other of them leaving the bed in the middle of the night has become commonplace in the past few months, but Emma will be sleeping through the night before it ever becomes normal to be alone in bed without him.

Wakefulness comes quickly from that point. Figuring she’d been awakened by Emma’s fussing but hearing no sound from the crib nearby, she takes several long moments to blink in the darkness and orient herself to time and place.

A soft melody reaches her ears when she sits up, and there's no stopping the smile that crosses her face.

In all these years, hearing him play the piano has never lost its magic.

With rarely a sour note, the technical prowess gained through years of grueling practice is evident, but his genuine enjoyment for the instrument shines brightest.

His life has long since been his own, happily shared with his beloved family on his own terms, with infinite support to chase dreams he would never have entertained in his youth. When he works the occasional modeling gig, it's because he chooses to do so. When he fences, it's because he enjoys the sport. When he plays the piano, it's because the act of creating and sharing music brings him joy. Simple as that. The latter is one last vestige of connection to his mother, a way to escape a difficult day for a little while, a method of bringing beauty into the world that doesn't involve smiling for a camera.

Marinette knows all of this, knows that when her husband sits at the piano he requested to be placed in their living room, that it's an extension of the man she loves, a precious gift that he gives of himself every time he plays.

She pads silently to the crib and peeks in, finding it empty.

A picture is starting to form. She hurries into the living room, bare feet silent on the hardwood floor.

It's another surprise, then, to find someone other than Adrien at the piano. She'd expected him shirtless and clad in those green and grey plaid pajama pants, with sleep-mussed hair and a tired smile. Instead, she finds Chat Noir, holding their daughter in one arm as the other hand plays a soft lullaby.

When she slides in next to him on the piano bench, the smile he sends her is indeed tired, but also full of tenderness and a touch of wonder. That's common - his awestruck joy at becoming a father, at seeing the love of his life become a mother, has left him with a permanent soft shine in his eyes. Marinette would have said she couldn't love him more, but he's proven her wrong at every turn. It's a good thing the heart has an infinite capacity because, between Adrien and Emma, hers seems to grow daily.

"Not that I mind," she murmurs, reaching over to caress the back of her daughter’s head and marveling as always at the fine softness of her wispy hair, "but why is a superhero in my living room playing the piano in the middle of the night?"

He chuckles quietly. "You know how much our kitten loves my purr. I thought it would soothe her back to sleep."

Our kitten. It makes her emotional every time he says it.

"It does, Minou, but we both know you can purr without the suit." She shakes her head. "Because that's a thing in our lives, for some reason."

The laugh he stifles shakes his chest and the infant held against it, but, Marinette notices suddenly, Emma's eyes are wide open anyway. She doesn't make a peep, simply gazing up at her daddy, with one tiny hand curled against his suit, directly over his heart. Limned in moonlight from the balcony's double doors, they're an ethereal vision, almost too beautiful to be real. Even as she laughs quietly with him, she's helpless against the tears that finally spill down her cheeks and wet the front of the old t-shirt she sleeps in.

He's used to the spontaneous tears by now, and presses a kiss to her cheek.

"To answer your question, My Lady, I can purr louder and longer transformed, and she loves the feel of the suit." He gently touches the back of his daughter's hand at his chest and meets her silent gaze. "Don't you, my precious girl? You love your Daddy Kitty, yes you do."

That startles a laugh that Marinette doesn't even try to hold back now that she knows Emma is awake. "Let's revisit that name later, Adrien."

At this point, the half-delirious laughter they share is that of two exhausted parents awake for the second time between midnight and dawn.

"These claws make playing a total pain, though." He lays his free hand gently on top of the keys with a little scale of five successive clicks. "Worth it for my favorite kitten, though."

Emma looks so peacefully comfortable in his arms, Marinette hates to separate them, but— "Was she hungry?"

"Dirty diaper," he says, patting Emma's bottom. "She wasn't crying, I just happened to hear her fussing a little. Didn't want to wake you up since you were just up with her—" he glances behind him at the clock on the wall, squinting at it to make out the time in the dimly lit room. He gives up trying to calculate and looks at Marinette with a wry smile, "—a very short time ago. We've been hanging out for...a while."

She wonders what "a while" means, but she's beyond grateful to have a partner so willing to get up and tend to their little one in the middle of the night. His thoughtfulness is never really a surprise, but she has yet to find its boundaries - his kindness and care are seemingly infinite. Marinette can't imagine a better husband, father, partner.

Aaand she's crying again.

"You sure you're okay, Mari?"

She nods and smiles at him, sniffling. She reaches for the baby and he hands her off with practiced ease. Within a moment, Emma roots against her chest and Marinette lifts the hem of her t-shirt to let her nurse.

Adrien slips away but returns immediately with her nursing pillow, which she takes with a grateful smile, sighing in relief once it’s in place between her lap and the baby cradled in her arms.

Taking one look at Emma, Adrien puts his hands up in mock-surrender. "Fine, fine, I get it. I've got a cool suit and strong muscles and I can purr, for heaven’s sake, but mommy wins every time, because I can't do that."

"Darn right," she says with another laugh, before her expression softens. "And...thank you, my love. I slept just long enough to get in one nice dream."

The eyebrows he raises are hidden, but his mask moves with them, big green eyes alight with mischief. "Dreaming about a certain cool cat?"

"And his strong muscles? Maybe."

He hums. "We should...recreate it."

"You don't even know what I was dreaming about, you tomcat!"

"Ah, but you were there and I was there and it was nice, so whatever it was, it sounds great."

She shakes her head and grins at him. "I would love to recreate it, Chaton."

Green light fills the room as his transformation falls, leaving the tired, shirtless dad with sleep-mussed hair and plaid pajamas she'd originally expected to find at the piano. He catches Plagg and gives him a scratch between the ears.

"Thanks, buddy. I appreciate your help."

Plagg's huge yawn morphs into a sleepy half-smile that shows one fang. "No problem, Kid. But I'm going to bed...after a cheese break."

"Good plan. You've earned it." He smiles after his kwami as he zips off toward the kitchen.

Alone once more with only the sound of Emma nursing and Adrien rubbing circles on her back, sleep creeps back in at the edges of her consciousness, darkening the corners of her mind and making her eyelids droop.

Adrien shifts next to her, reaching over to brush the back of his fingers against Emma's cheek; the movement brings Marinette back from the precipice of sleep. She blinks several times at her daughter, perfect and beautiful in the pale pre-dawn light - a miracle created without magic, Ladybug's ultimate lucky charm.

She's halfway to tearing up again when she hears a jaw-cracking yawn beside her and gives him a watery but sincere smile. "You can go back to bed, Minou. We'll be right there."

Though his eyes are half-closed, he shakes his head. "It's okay, I can wait for you."

Marinette repositions Emma to the other side and latches her before placing a hand on Adrien's plaid-pajama-covered leg. Unlike in her recent sweet dream, the hand is ungloved and they're in the quiet of their apartment instead of a rooftop, but the feeling of being blissfully happy and loved beyond imagination is identical. If she's just a bit more tired than she was in her dream, well, that's life with an infant, isn't it?

"Will you play for us, Adrien?” she asks, quickly adding, “if you want to."

The radiant joy that lights his face makes her heart soar, and she falls just a tiny bit more in love.

"For the two ladies I love more than anything?" He bends to kiss Emma's head, then meets Marinette's lips for a soft, lingering kiss. "The world."

"A song will do, Kitty. I'm too tired for the world right now."

He nods sagely. "Right as always, My Lady."

She giggles when he straightens his spine and theatrically flings nonexistent coattails behind him off the piano bench. Exaggerated for show, he places his bare foot above the pedal and positions his hands over the keys as though he's playing to a packed concert hall. He flashes a brilliant grin over his shoulder at her just before his fingers meet the ivory.

The song he begins is soft and plaintive, neither a lullaby nor a romantic epic but a heartfelt mix of the two. Gentle and lovely, the melody he coaxes from the keys reflects his own heart in vivid detail. She hears his devotion to his beloved partner in the deep, solid chords that anchor the piece, his effervescent delight at being a father bubbling over in the tinkling trills at the top of the scale that he plays softly so as not to rouse Emma. With a sweeping glissando, he returns to the center of the scale and lets each note tell Marinette how truly, deeply, eternally he loves her.

It's one of the most profoundly beautiful things she's heard in her entire life, a gift of love for her and for their daughter. It's overwhelming.

Emma's eyes have closed as she drifts off, her lips fluttering occasionally against Marinette's skin. When she's sure Emma is asleep, she lets the hem of her t-shirt fall to her lap again and brings the baby to her shoulder. Cradling her close, she lets her eyes slip shut and sways languidly with the melody. The tears that wet her cheeks are inevitable at this point, her chest so full of emotion she could burst.

Adrien's impromptu moonlight concert concludes on a quiet arpeggio layered over a lingering chord, fading into silence when he finally lifts his foot from the pedal.

He takes a deep breath and turns just as Marinette surges up to meet him, her lips moving against his with her heart's own echo of his song.

I love you. Emma loves you. We're so lucky we have you. You're the best dad. You're the best partner. My heart is yours forever.

When they break apart - gently, of course, so as not to wake the currently-sleeping baby - she imagines his expression of lovestruck exhaustion is mirrored on her face.

"I love you so much."

"Mmm. I love you, too."

A pause.

"I'm so tired."

The laugh they share is one of pure commiseration.

"I know. Let's get back to bed and see how much sleep we can get before our kitten wakes up again."

Adrien carefully takes Emma from her before he stands and starts up a quiet purr, reaching out his free hand for Marinette to take. She lets him help her up and lead her back to their room, watching as he settles Emma back in her crib with the utmost care. When he joins her beneath the duvet once more, she finally snuggles up to him as she had intended a half hour ago, before she found the bed empty and Chat Noir in her living room.

She smiles against his chest and listens to his breathing even out. Chasing precious sleep herself, Marinette lets the memory of his song fill her mind as she drifts off, hoping for another dream as beautiful as the last.

[asterekmess]

honestly, my fury at the lack of werewolf culture/history/worldbuilding is worthy of its own post. Let me know if by some ungodly chance, you actually wanna hear my thoughts on it // Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!

ohmygod yes, pls, enable me.

SO.

I think I mentioned b4 that Teen Wolf hates werewolves.

This is a show about werewolves like, yeah, sure, they do other plots and stuff. But the main character is a werewolf. The vast majority of the cast are werewolves (at least in the first half of the show). But think about it. What do we actually know about werewolves? They uhh, they shift on the full moon. But like, what about the full moon? Cus’ Scott gets handcuffed to a radiator and he doesn’t shift and break out until the moon comes out from behind the clouds and he screams like it’s excruciatingly painful for him. But then Derek and his Betas are underground during their full moon, and they shift like it’s all fine and dandy (they’re furious, but there’s no pain) and it doesn’t matter whether they can see the moon or not. They, uhh, they’re allergic to wolfsbane/it’s poisonous to them (btw it’s poisonous to literally everyone, just the scent of it is enough to cause seizures and hallucinations in humans. It’s a whole other frustration that they won’t make up their fucking minds abt it. It’s one thing to say that this is some parallel universe where wolfsbane doesn’t poison humans (bc lydia makes them hallucinate with the punch but injesting that much wolfsbane should kill you, and Stiles straight pulls a plant out of the ground; should’ve caused itching, burning, a cough, nausea, fever, headache and More hallucinations) and yet Jackson has to see a doctor and gets told he’s got Aconite Poisoning. So WHAT IS THE TRUTH?) but apparently not enough for Derek not to be able to plant a wolfsbane plant and massive cord of roots (which he would’ve had to tie together himself) in a revenge spiral around Laura’s body. But just being around it causes wolves to lose control. But also there’s supposed to be different strains that do different things? And also sometimes you burn the wolfsbane and it becomes the cure, or you have to burn it out of them or you just cut it out of them? Make UP Your MIND or at least ACKNOWLEDGE that different strains do different things. They get stronger on a full moon. But does that mean they get infinitely stronger with every full moon they experience? Does that mean they get weaker during new moons? They’re stronger in packs. Okay, but they never establish what the fuck a pack is. Is it an agreement? Is it a magical bond? Scott just sort of says people are in his pack. Does that mean they are? Do the humans he knows make him stronger? Just how strong is this bond? Derek makes a claim that “You have your own pack now” so is that a joke, was he mocking scott? Or is he saying that there’s no need for an Alpha and just being a beta with some friends counts as a pack? Apparently they have some kind of...animal magnetism or mind control? Derek uses a funny voice and a guy wakes up from a near coma to look at him with seemingly no control. Peter can force Scott to shift up. Derek forces Isaac to shift down. Derek has an insane amount of control over dogs and makes one lose its fucking mind from like a hundred feet away? Scott makes one calm down, but derek sends attack dogs running with their tails between their legs. Is it actual control or is it just a persuasion? Is it just intimidation? I haven’t even gotten to culture. You’re telling me that we get an entire episode of Allison discovering the entire story behind the Argent clan’s origins as werewolf hunters, why they started, how her name means Silver and apparently that’s where the entire myth of silver hurting werewolves comes from, but we don’t get to know anything about the first werewolves? Where they come from? If they’re a form of evolution or just straight magic or if it’s a curse or a gift from the gods? There’s an entire hidden werewolf population with packs all over the world, but somehow there’s literally no wolf culture? No moon worship? No specific terminology (Alpha, Beta, and Omega are terms used by a really fucking stupid biologist who studied frantic wolves in captivity and cast aspersions on the entire species. He’s been disproven a Thousand Times. NONE of that Alpha, Beta, Omega shit is right. Packs aren’t Hierarchies of Dominance. They’re families. They’re led by two wolves, yes, an “alpha pair” that’s literally JUST THE PARENTS. THE ‘BETAS’ ARE THEIR KIDS. This terminology makes sense if used by HUNTERS who consider werewolves to be mindless dumb animals. WHY THE FUCK would werewolves use it to DESCRIBE THEMSELVES?) besides the absolute minimum of ‘I caught a scent?’ Are you serious? Then there’s werewolf ages. Oh my god that was so fucking lazy. Saying that werewolves don’t age like humans, but that Cora is seventeen “by human standards” WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? I’ve seen theories that go so many different ways. The idea that Werewolves live really long lives because of the superhealing. The idea that they live really short lives because their healing just burns through their body really quickly. The idea that their lifespan is directly correlated to the amount of damage they take because they can only heal so much, so wolves who get hurt a lot age faster than wolves who don’t. There’s NO explanation! You’d think it might be an interesting point for Scott to find out that he’s gonna live to fucking 200 years old. (How old is Satomi again?) That sounds like something a Teenager would be daunted by. We see them make fun of Stiles a few times because he believes werewolf myths about silver, and then because he believes Peter when Peter tells him he lives in a series of underground caves. But like...why not? THESE ARE WEREWOLVES why did you just make them humans with extra facial hair? Where are the traditional mating rituals (or even the concept of a mate/life partner, can you imagine how interesting that would’ve been? If Scott found out Allison was his mate? Or if he suddenly had all these weird urges around her, like rubbing their foreheads together or cuddling her way too much or wanting to bring her food? That would’ve been fascinating and hilarious as subplots for their romance!) where are the full moon runs or pack get-togethers? Where are the aversions to perfumes or cologne? Where are literally any animal behaviors besides AGGRESSION? Where is the den-making? Can werewolves eat fast food or does the grease bug them? Talia was a famous Alpha bc she could full shift. Does anyone know why she could do that? “Evolution” is a bullshit answer, let’s be real. It’s shitty writing and it put Derek through so much more than he deserved. THEY ACCIDENTALLY ESTABLISHED that ALL HALES can full-shift! IT’s NOT EVOLUTION. It’s BIRTHRIGHT. Talia fullshifted. Peter full-shifted (though his was distorted into the monster thingy. That wasn’t anything like Deucalion’s shift. It was a FULL SHIFT) Laura could full shift bc she did it after she died. No other werewolves on the show turned into full wolves after death, even if they died with wolfsbane in their system? MALIA could full-shift into a coyote. LITERALLY EVERY HALE except Cora and that’s bc she got booted back to South America COuld FULL SHIFT (and it never happened after they lost all of their wolf powers, that coud’ve been an interesting plot if they didn’t FUCK IT UP.) But still there’s no explanation, or even just acknowledgement? You don’t have to spell it out for us, but at least SAY “Hey, so the Hale family is really powerful and all of us can full-shift. Not sure why, but it’s neat.) I’m still stuck on rituals. Routines. Werewolf mores. Social cues. Are there certain smells they’re supposed to ignore? Is it polite to pretend you don’t hear someone coming up to your house until they knock? Do they have rules about waiting until the Alpha eats before they start eating (much like how lots of traditional households wait for the father to dig in, or whoever is head of household)? Is it tradition to homeschool werewolves for the first few years until they learn control? Are there seriously no rules about biting humans? You don’t have to talk to their parents or have a specific conversation with them? And if werewolves are so dominance/hierarchy based, then you’re telling me there’s no “second-in-command” or respectful greetings that are supposed to be used for an Alpha? There’s absolutely no form of werewolf government or ancient laws or anything except a big spiral that is universally recognized as a sign you’re gonna kill people? What was the wolfsbane around Laura’s body for? Why make the spiral out of that instead of just drawing in the dirt or something? We make a lot of jokes about Derek being bad with his words, but so is Peter and so is Cora. And they’re the only born wolves we interact with (except Satomi who ALSO isn’t a chatterbox) What if that’s not just because they’re all traumatized and cranky? What if they’re just speaking on a different level? Scents and body language are integral to wolf interaction. Like how we say that Peter has that conversation with Derek’s eyebrows? What if Derek’s so fucking pissed all the time because he hates talking to Scott because SCott ISN”T LISTENING to his body language and scent and chemosignals? He tells Scott to use all his senses, and Scott does it fucking once to say that Peter felt “Angry” and never again. What if Derek is Talking PLENTY (with his body and movements and reactions) but Scott just isn’t paying attention? Isaac seems to understand Derek just fine. Erica and Boyd never complain that Derek is lying to them or ‘keeping something’ from them? What if the reason Scott always thinks Derek’s hiding something is because he isn’t reading the rest of Derek’s conversation and he assumes that the empty feeling is Derek lying. Even STILES seems to understand Derek. He’s human, but he goes totally wolfy. He already uses body language a lot and while he gets mad at Derek he never has to ask what the fuck derek is saying or what he’s holding back. I digress. I wanna know why no other packs came to help Derek and Laura after their family died. I wanna know why Emissaries and Druids are so incredibly important to the supernatural/werewolf world but Derek barely knew they existed (Especially when it’s established that he know tons of lore about other species.) and even though every single pack should have an emissary, they never handle who is the emissary for Derek’s pack or for Scott’s pack (Once again, is an emissary bound to their pack somehow or is it just an agreement?). I wanna know why Derek knew Satomi and trusted her but for some reason never felt like he could ask her for help? Centuries of hiding and living amongst humans with almost no wolf behavior to their name, but none of these packs interact? There’s Druid Vets and Hunter cops and Emissary counselors. But no werewolf doctors? No werewolf teachers? Absolutely no werewolf society? If Derek was worried about Paige not accepting that he was a werewolf unless she became one, what does that say about his experience with humans? He says “there were people in my family that were perfectly ordinary in that house” who died in the fire. But wouldn’t he talk to a human pack member about his worries, if he had one? Or even a bitten pack member? He admits he doesn’t know how to train a Bitten wolf. He’s never been called out by a human pack member for using phrases like ‘caught a scent’ or for reacting to things he shouldn’t. Does this mean Derek’s family was entirely werewolves? No humans in the know? No bitten wolves? He has a huge thing about keeping the secret and never letting anyone in on it unless they get dragged into it. Did Derek’s pack have some kind of prejudice against humans? Was Derek raised to believe humans were weak or cowardly or something, that he thought this beautiful girl would automatically hate him and expose him if she were to discover the supernatural without being forced into silence by self-preservation.

Lots of times, it’s easy to forget in this fandom that so much is missing, because we’ve been filling in the gaps for so long that some stuff is practically canon. It’s generally assumed that the Hales were homeschooled before high school. It’s generally assumed that there’s some kind of bond that marks people as pack. We instinctively add in mentions of Scent and the use of the shift (growling, claws, a hint of fang, flashing eyes) as part of the casual communication between characters. We add in scent-marking and territory boundaries and specific roles in the pack. We do all of that and never think twice because it’s already in all the fic. But we did that. The show gave us nothing. It spent an entire season talking about the nogitsune and the oni and how they’re summoned and what kitsune fox tails are for, but we never got to find out why wolves can do the pain-drain (or even if it dissipates the pain or just transfers it to the wolf doing the draining) or if Derek Hale EVEN HAS A DAD.