#maybe i sound insane but i genuinely have this vision for the story

[themetalhiro]

you thinking i said she hates him when i clearly used "dislike" because it's nowhere near hate is insane. marcille is nearly always uncomfortable around laios because his personality is incredibly off-putting to her. she never goes out of her way to interact with him more than necessary. she very obviously tolerates him and is generally fine with him but has no desire to be actual friends with him. dont put words in my mouth. the desire people have to make straight couples out of a series where the most important relationship to the story is a fairly explicitly lesbian pairing is absolutely unreal

( Anons last message for context )

You sound very silly right now anon, I just have to say it. Do you also think chilchuck is there for his paycheck only?

You can feel extremely strongly that something is suggested, but if it’s not canon, it simply isn’t canon. I could argue that marcilles succubus (the things that shapeshift into what the victim finds most appealing) was a male prince. THAT’S canon. Do I think because of that, marcilles staunchly straight? No. That would be extremely stupid.

You may interpret the relationships in the series however you see fit, that’s your right. That’s what I’m doing. None of them are more important than others.

I AM noticing though while you’re taking what you read between the lines as absolutely unarguable, you’re missing the in-your-face fact that Marcille, besides his eccentricities that exasperate her, genuinely respects Laois as a leader and a person. She enjoys his friendship and cares for him deeply. It’s displayed in every chapter of the damn comic.

You have tunnel vision for your own ship. That’s fine, but keep me out of it! Maybe try fanfic if that’s all you give a shit about? If it helps you sleep at night, I think farcille is cute and has plenty of merit too.

[kyouka-supremacy]

Atsushi for the ask game.

ATSUSHI HERE WE GO THANK YOU FOR HEARING MY PRAYERS

Favorite thing about them: HIS SELFISHNESS. It's so so delicious to explore. Can you imagine a protagonist that saves others not out of simple good will, but because of egoistic self-preservation motives? It just feels counterintuitive for me lmao, and I found it quite messed up when I first watched the anime, but now it's so compelling to explore. His whole “everything I do is in order to gain the right to live” is crazy fashinating. Because lol, that's entirely nonsensical to me! There's no such thing as “gaining the right to live”; all humans, every person in the world is inherently deserving of life. All. No exception. So there's no level of “weak” or “worthless” that would make you lose that right. The fact that's it's a vision so distant and absurd from mine, idk, it just makes it very compelling to explore? “What if there was a little fucked up guy who believed the right to live had to be earned” just sounds like a very interesting premise.

Least favorite thing about them: When I first watched the anime, I think I found him low-key annoying? I just... Don't do very well with self-deprecating people and people who complain a lot in general, I usually suffer in silence and tend to (wrongly) assume others should do the same (this probably makes me sound pretty mean, I swear I try to be understanding irl). However, it doesn't bother me as much anymore, I simply think it's more of a distinctive trait of the character that makes him multilayered and unique. As of now, I can't think of anything I don't like about him if not the fact that I wish he'd rely on Dazai and others in general a little less. I know that has to do with his lack of self-worth, so maybe it makes sense,, but as of now he feels kind of stuck. I just wish we'd see him grow more on that front.

Favorite line:

There may be better ones, but I really like the delivery of this one.

brOTP: KYOUKA AND ATSUSHI they make me go insane. Already talked about this in the Kyouka post but just to reiterate: in my headcanon Kyouka really is the only person Atsushi feels genuine, selfless affection towards. It's very sweet. They're siblings. Kyouka's happiness is really important for Atsushi. They really do have that feeling of people who got out of an abusive environment learning what normality is supposed to be like together. I also really like how they compensate for what the other lacks, be it decisiveness and coolhead for Atsushi and empathy and positivity for Kyouka. Although plenty shipping them romantically, I really like platonic sskk and atsulucy as well.

OTP: I really like sskk eheh. I think they're neat. There's a thousand and one reasons why I find them pretty great. They're objectively the only reason why I got invested in bsd as well as the only thing that has me keep up with the franchise to this day. Right now, I feel like the one thing I really appreciate about them is how you can be the worst person in the universe and still somehow be loveable to someone. I think it's sweet. I also find it very fun and enterataining to explore their various soulmatism antics. They're both very complex and multilayered characters with something deeply wrong with how their minds work that makes them very fun to analyze both by their own and in the complexity of their relationship. Their collective story arc and canon relationship progression is extremely engaging and nice to follow, too. I love dazatsu and atsulucy as well!! Both were ships I wasn't particularly invested when I read the manga for the first time, but really grew in me in the last six months or so. I really dig akuatsulucy as well!!

nOTP: Nothing?

Random headcanon: He really likes reading. There's some real meta-analysis to be made here I actually had written this is probably not the right place to talk about, but in a work that's all about literature, he's the character who reads.

Unpopular opinion: He's the hardest character to write / characterize. That's why people should probably go easier on other fans when they mischaracterize him. He's just very multifaceted and genuinely hard to get. I keep seeing people being like “Stop babyfying Atsushi he's an independent adult!!” then turn around to say “he can't be shipped with Dazai because there's too much unbalance of power :// [somewhat implying Atsushi can't make free decisions for himself]”, or “Stop making of Atsushi a soft baby who never did wrong in his life!!!” then turn around to say “Atsushi is the happy puppy of the agency who gets treats and pats from everyone ^^ ” like. At least to me, a lot of people's arguments sound self-contradictory all the time; but that doesn't mean people should stop having fun and characterize the characters as they like! Just, let's stop being mean to each other and try to be a little more accepting towards others' takes, shall we? And yes that also includes letting people find Atsushi annoying if they find him annoying (although like, I've NEVER found anyone call Atsushi annoying ever, so really, what remote fandom spaces is everyone visiting? Why are you looking for clothes (good takes) at the soup store (Tik/tok I assume?) ).

Song i associate with them: Common World Domination by Pinocchio-P, HIBANA by DECO*27, Ghost Rule by DECO*27, so on and so forth.

Favorite picture of them:

Favourite panel from the manga:

Favourite illustration: Look, there's too many beautiful illustrations, I can't chose. Here's a very good one though.

Favourite illustration in the anime art style:

But also:

Favourite Mayoi card:

Send me a character?

[meili-sheep]

oughh what if Diluc's mom is apart of the hexinzirkel(I am not spelling it ever again)

I know this is the if Diluc's mom was there they would have such a good relationship so think abt this as an au of sorts

SOME SPOILERS BEWARE!!

Oh god!!! And Remember the letters found in the Diluc skin event???? Of Alice asking in them that bc he takes good care of Klee that he wont mind that he is regarded as her own???

No im not saying Alice is his mom BUT WHAT IT SAYING IS!!! Diluc's mom (Calling her Umbra so i wont have to type it all out) is never mentioned even ONCE

And the lore vid of the hexinzirkel has like, a teacup and teapot that has the exact same design as the one in Dawn Winery!!!

And how does Alice KNOW HIM FROM A YOUNG AGE??? Bc she's never mentioned in Diluc's lines and that the letter implies she met him when he was young!!!

And ohhh god Diluc and Klee have interacted b4 and he takes good care of her... and he has a mischevious devious and trouble maker streak imagine if Klee got the idea of fish blasting from Kaeya recounting childhood stories of he and Diluc's shenanigans as bedtime stories for Klee...

Sure Klee calls him a weird grownup, but she sounds genuinely curious why Diluc is 'weird' compared to the other adults in Klee's life like the knights of Favonious who are supposed to be formal bc theyre well, also in charge of diplomacy

In Klee's eyes, Diluc is a weird grownup because his behavior is so so contradicting compared to everyone else. Kids are very perceptive afterall, so Klee could notice that Diluc is mischevious and a troublemaker behind the scenes but his face shows no sign that he is

Ouhh got off track but anyways--

Imagining Diluc calling Alice 'Aunt' but she butts in and tells him to call her 'Mom'

Maybe Umbra did something or got too absorbed in her circle of expertise with the Irminsul and thats why Diluc never mentions her

Also the delusion seems less of a fatui or abyss thing to me... instead more of an heirloom.

Like!! Why was Crepus looking like he was planning to give it to Diluc?? ON HIS EIGHTEENTH BDAY???

And it doesnt work like other delusions!!! The other delusions have an ELEMENT but this one has BLACK FLAMES AND CHAINS AND MAGIC CIRCLES

anyways thank u for coming to another one of...

-Leyline! Anon's Insane ramblings are back babey!!!!

So I am 100% on board with Diluc's mother being Hexinzirkel. Like there is a video. This one. Where they not only point out how the teapot is in the dawn winery, but the pattern on the teapot is not only on the dawn winery carpet but on Diluc's jacket.

Then there is the Diluc's star broach in the manga, which matches the Hexinzirkel star.

Especially considering the star and the teapot were things in the center frame.

So we are past the realm of coincidence in my book, even before Alice watches Diluc for a while and takes him in when Crepus dies. It would sort of raise the question of why she might not be more involved in his life if she's a sister of Diluc's mom. But I feel that could easily be explained by well safety reasons. You don't want to draw too much attention to it. Specially if she really wanted to settle down and live a normal life. Alice is just honoring her wishes.

This also makes me wonder if there is something biological in visions. Like Diluc being a possible Hexinzirkel child and probably got his vision around Klee's age. Do you see the line I'm making here? My theory is that there is a certain about of harmony you do have to have with elemental energy to get a vision and maybe having a powerful witch as a mother helped that?

As for the delusion, Diluc's delusion has always been different. So I got two ideas (Outside of Crepus getting it from the fatui in some way)

One. Diluc's mom stole it from the fatui, learning about their delusion research. Maybe figuring it would be best to delay their plans a little bit. So the Delusion is an early stage, one that His mom was playing around with, trying to figure out or "fix."

Two. Diluc's mom made it. And it's not a true delusion. At least not a Fatui one. This would sort of explain why Dottore, who should have known about delusions didn't recognize it at one of there's. And Crepus couldn't use it because well he simply couldn't handle the elemental energy in it. But Diluc could which is why it never backfired. And that works with your heirloom idea.

The only hiccup with that idea is the webcomic. But I don't recall if they were saying where that piece of the journal came from or who it was from that told them Crepus had the delusion.

And well, now It's sort of got me wanting to write more Alice and Diluc or Diluc and his mom, to be honest

[sumerun]

IM GONNA SCREAM ABT SOME OF THE CHARACTERS AND JPN CAST SO IM SORRY IN ADVANCED LMAOO

FATHER???? LAW DADDY????? MAKSJSJ okay I genuinely do love this design I ADORE his gorgeous long hair. It’s finally time mhy releases more long hair makes (COUGH LUOCHA) I’m gonna eat this dry, stoic, serious male characters UP

I cannot fuckjng believe they got the man kamiya HIROSHI THAT IS HUGE. (But surprisingly he sounds REALLY young in the trailer?? was hoping for deeper but will grow on me 😭 junichi suwabe was perfect for him too omg)

FREMINETTTTT omg I’m genuinely so curious about him. The way the trailer was so dramatic with his scenes and all of the dialogue going on. I’m sensing an albedo 2.0 here. Potentially tragic character but a soft boy at heart. or. he just likes free diving in the ocean lmao. I NEED TO KNOW MOREEEEE *SHAKES UR SHIRT COLLAR* I would love to see more 4* characters to have bigger archon story relevance!

WRIOTHESLEY. I love his design a lot!! (still super salty abt what we could’ve had from the giant concept art leak 😭😭) it’s chaotic, really busy. he’s *our* goth bf. saw a lot of people think he’s possibly vision impaired? it’ll be dope if he is but MHY does lack a bit in the diversity department so expectations are low lol anyways the girl next to him is insanely adorable and I wonder if we’ll have some sort of cute sibling-like relationship between the two?? maybe she’s the assistant to him hmmm

ANYWAYS ONO DAISUKE VOICES HIM GNANSNAJNNHA 😭 same VA as JPN Jing Yuan IM GOING FERAL

CHLORINE (ik it’s clorinde shhh NSJS) CONFIRMED TO BE ELECTRO AND SHE HAS A FREAKING GUN. AND VOICED BY THE ONE AND ONLY ISHIKAWA YUI 🥺🫶🫶🫶🫶 if I get a dollar for every time she voices a stoic female character, oh boy I’ll be rich

I’m sad she couldn’t keep her prev colors but she still looks amazing nonetheless. Her and Navia is already going to be a power duo/couple hehe

AAAAAAAAA LYNEY AND LYNETTE. after reading some leaks of them I’m 10000% more curious about these two. They’re extremely fascinating and I’m so curious to what their role is in the game!!! And my boy LYNEY is voiced by Hiro Shimono 😭

I’m SO excited. forget abt 3.8 can we get Fontaine instead 💀💀💀

[thefvllsun]

nct dream series

❥ nct dream - bitch hunters

actual name: bitch hunters

synopsis: huang renjun, lee jeno, lee donghyuck, and na jaemin are determined to have girlfriends by the end of their college years, but that’s easier said than done when they’re known as the biggest players on campus.

❥ nct dream - "Hot Sauce"

actual name: hot sauce (m)

preview: “Why don’t you just fuck all his friends? If he really was that heart broken over you moving away back then, he’ll go mental.” you friend suggests. You stare into the screen, swiveling back and forth in your computer chair.

“Have you seen his friends? That would be too easy..” you smirk to yourself toying with the idea.

❥ "그래 wulf, 내가 wulf"

actual name: into the wolves den

preview: [★]; TWO BOYS. TWO UNIVERSITIES. TWO RIVALING TEAMS. And then there's you, stuck weightlessly in the middle of it.

The time left on the clock is running out— and soon, you're going to have to pick a side.

❥ Boom

actual name: boom (m).

preview: “Here it is, high end hybrid shop in the heart of Gangnam. A couple of us should go check it out, get an idea of price and stuff.”

“I’ll go, I am the most well versed in hybrids. You idiots will end up picking the first one that flirts with you.” Renjun skims Jaemin’s phone, nodding to himself.

“Make sure you steer clear of bunnies. I’ve watched a few videos.. they’re hot but insatiable all the time. Heats are insane.”

Renjun waves him off, familiar with bunny hybrids sex drive. He knew better than to purchase one, at least he thought so.

❥ “camp half-blood” - starring 00 liners

actual name: demigods.

synopsis: summers at camp half-blood are never dull—especially when there’s a cute boy at every corner.

❥ “water. earth. fire. air”

actual name: master of all elements

synopsis: y/n, a waterbender of the northern water tribe, has been named the new avatar. she must master all of the elements in order to keep the peace of the four nations. which path will she choose first?

❥ “Dive into You”

actual name: dive into you (intro.)

preview: “Who is that?” You ask Mark. Eyes lighting up watching the boy- the man in conversation with the pastor.

“Oh.. that’s Haechan. The pastor’s eldest son.” Mark follows your line of vision with a sound of disapproval. “Don’t bother with him. He’s bad news.”

❥ spellbound

actual name: spellbound (series)

synopsis: When it comes to spells, you think it’d be simple: follow the steps in the book, use the correct ingredients and boom, magic... WRONG. Anything can happen and it’s just your luck that your mistake drags seven unsuspecting souls into the mix, as well as yourself, and sends them off to parallel universes where everything is much different than it’s supposed to be.

Instead of sidewalks and cars, there’s forests and fairies. Lampposts are replaced by the blinked red eyes of vampires and the howling of werewolves sends chills down your spine. Sirens lure innocent sailors to their demise while ghosts wreak havoc and and demons possess the living. It’s absolute chaos, and you have no idea what to do to reverse the spell or how to get home, but maybe one of these seven newcomers who came here with you might be able to help.

❥ playing field

actual name: playing the field

synopsis: well-known athletes in their college and respective fields, the members of dream struggle to find love that's genuine. they play the field of available suitors in attempts to get laid despite their demanding practices and lonely hearts.

❥ 00’ line at hogwarts

actual name: a hogwarts collection

❥ 7 boys

actual name: Midnight Memories 💫

synopsis: don’t know where you’re going but you want to find your way? look no further. 7 boys, 7 different stories. this is midnight memories.

[chaotic-nerd-93]

This is a little short story I wrote called False Faces... let me know what you guys think!

One, two, three, breath Chris you’re fine. My internal monologue screamed at me, clawed at my brain. He wouldn’t ditch me, not when it’s something important, he just wouldn’t.

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, it’s fine, it’s going to be fine. He’ll be here in a few minutes, he’s only five minutes late, it’s fine. I looked down at the mug sitting on the table in front of me, trying to drown out the buzz of the people around me. I ran a hand through my dark hair, my finger tapping on the table mindlessly, the buzz of these people’s gonna drive me insane. That’s when I heard the door open.

Benny sat down in the seat across from me, a smile across his face, I must look panicked because as soon as he looked at me his expression turned to worry. “Chris, are you alright?” he sounded genuinely concerned, maybe he wouldn’t run away. No, he wouldn’t do that, Benny isn’t like that. He’s not, and I know that.

“Benny, if I told you something that you might not like, would you stick around?” my voice was shaky and his eyes widened at the question.

“You know I wouldn’t up and leave you.” He picked up my mug and took a sip of the coffee inside, looking at me over the cup. The light hit his eyes and made the dark brown look like rich honey. I liked his eyes, they made me feel safe.

“Well, um… I just don’t want you to hate me,” I took the mug from his hands a took a sip, letting the warm liquid help settle my nerves. I could feel that lump in my throat, and the burn in the back of my eyes, “you’re my best friend.”

“I could never hate you, man you’re like the most important person to me,” he put his hand over the mug and lowered it to the table, locking his eyes with mine, not letting me drop my gaze. “Chris I could never.” He said it strongly a firm expression on his face. He wasn’t lying, he wouldn’t leave.

I took in a breath. “So, you know how you’ve been trying to set me up with a girl?” He nodded his head, knowing not to speak or I might go into a panic. “I want… no, I need you to stop.” I put my hands on the table scraping at the wood with my nail.

“Okay, you don’t want a relationship that’s fine man, I mean whenever you’re ready.” he leaned back in his seat. “I’m sorry I pushed that.”

I away from him, biting at my lip, and shaking my head. “It’s… It’s not that I don’t want a relationship, Benny…” my voice was barely a whisper, but he heard me. My vision started to become blurry and I looked out the window. I felt the wet tear slide down my cheek. “I just don’t want one with a girl.” I wiped my face and looked up at him. I couldn’t read his face, but it looked like shock. “You can go if you want, I get it, okay.” I heard my voice crack and I swallowed thickly.

He stood up, and dread immediately washed over my entire body, and I felt myself sink into the chair, as I tried not to let this god awful noise leave my throat.

But he walked over to my seat grabbing my shoulders and pulling me into a bone-crushing hug. I balled my fists into the back of his shirt, burying my face in his neck. I was shaking from head to toe, my knees about gave out on me. But he squeezed me tighter.

“It’s okay, Chris. You’re okay.” He soothed, and I just let the hot tears fall from my eyes. “I’m glad you told me. Chris, I could never hate you for who you choose to love… never.” I nodded my head, a smile he couldn’t see across my face. I couldn’t believe it, it took me so long for me to be okay knowing that I was gay, but he… he accepted it just like that. I dropped my arms and lifted my head, the grin still on my face. He smiled back.

I think it’s going to be okay, I think we’re gonna be okay. I don’t have to hide behind this mask anymore. I don’t need to be as afraid. I can be okay with me again, and I can be happy with that, just as I should be.

[your-daily-biaswrecking]

I dunno if it's too late to make requests (and u can ignore this message if it is) but I have this idea that I'm completely incapable of writing, I was hoping for maybe..some kind of fantasy scenario where human reader meets fae or siren Taehyung once while they were both children and, maybe they kinda pinky promise to marry one another, only for her to have forgotten about the whole ordeal with time, maybe assuming it was all just her imagination, and years later into her adulthood he comes back, having never forgotten the reader? You can change this however you see fit in order to make it more your style, and smut isnt necessary of you don't want to add it in..😅 💕

You had heard about the stories. Heard about him. Perhaps that’s why you walked into the woods so late at night, with a full moon lighting your way. To see if they were true, or because you already believed them and wanted to see him. The woods, however, were empty and what an unsuspecting fellow would call normal. Undismayed, you sat by the big Oak tree until you felt your eyelids be weighed down from the weariness. For you were only eight and the night was growing older than you. From that point on, you were not sure if you dreamt of the boy or if he shook you awake, but you remembered the interaction like it was yesterday.

“You’re waiting for me.” Not a question but you still took it as one.

“No, I’m waiting for the fairy.”

The boy chuckled. He laid down next to you, eyes sparkling in the dark as if they were luminescent. “I like you. You’re pretty. It’s only why I appeared.”

You thought about all your classmates and your cousin’s friends. None looked like that boy. “I don’t know you.”

“Oh.” He shuffled closer until he could reach to extend a hand to you. “You can call me Taehyung.” You took his hand, introducing yourself as well. “I’m new here. Did I by any chance bother you or your folks? I apologize.”

You shrugged, looking away, still trying to catch a glimpse of the alleged creature that playfully appeared here and there to tease the townspeople. “You’re not bothering me. I don’t know about anyone else, though…”

“Haha.” The boy laughed in a forced way yet it felt genuine. Like he had indeed enjoyed your remark but laughter wasn’t a sound he could make by his nature. “I really like you. You’re very pretty,” he repeated. “Do you want to stay here with me forever?”

You eyed him from your peripheral vision. “You mean like… marry you?”

He frowned for a beat, analyzing your words. And then his face lit up— quite literally. “Yeah!” he chirped. “Yeah, something like that.”

You had never been proposed to before. Sure, you knew about all the boys that had a crush on you at school, and you knew about how cute you were because your parents and their friends always told you so. But Taehyung was better than all of them combined. “Okay,” you replied easily.

The young boy seemed so happy, reached out to grab a piece of your hair. And after a couple of sparks appeared, the strand had been cut off and was trapped between his fingers.

“Hey! What—”

Taehyung brought the strand to the side of his neck, pressing it against his skull, and with a couple more sparks, it was connected with his own hair. Standing out from his locks yet looking like he had grown it himself. “Now we’re married,” he said, speaking the word as if it was foreign to him.

“No,” you immediately interjected. “That’s not how people get married.”

“It’s not?”

You shook your head. “We need to walk down the aisle and have the pastor say I pronounce you husband and wife and kiss.”

“Kiss…” Taehyung gave it some thought. And then he snapped his fingers. “That’s right. We need to kiss.”

“And we can’t get married yet because we’re just children,” you continued to speak your wisdom to the confused boy.

“So when can we?”

“Hm…” You rubbed your chin because you had seen people do it on TV when they tried to think hard. “When we’re old. Like, old like my aunt! She is getting married next month.”

And the boy nodded obediently. “I can wait that long.” For your weird kind of ceremony. For his, you needn’t wait at all. All he needed was… a kiss. He leaned in, lips pursed and going straight for yours. And you gasped, getting up and running away, out of the woods, far from the boy you had just promised to marry.

You never saw him again. Which is why you were inclined to believe it was all just your childhood imagination going wild. Sometimes you got a very sudden urge to think about him, like he was mentally intruding on your life. But the older you got, the less you believed in fairies. And you got old… old like your aunt. And it was your turn to get married now.

Waiting in the dressing room alone to stare at your reflection in that mirror and take a few last, deep breaths before walking out for the nuptial rite, you didn’t expect to be disturbed by a strange and deep voice.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Upon turning around, you saw a man. A novel man. Handsome and somewhat scary as he glared at you and charged towards your spot. “What?” you choked out before clearing your throat. “I- I don’t think you’re supposed to be back here.”

“You’re about to walk down that aisle and have the pastor say I pronounce you husband and wife and kiss that man?” he spoke in a breath, pointing to the door.

You were frozen, looking into his shiny eyes as if you were entranced. Not sure how to react in this odd situation, yet something about the man intriguing you. “Um… yeah?”

“You can’t!” he gasped. Eyes so wide and pleading you silently. “We were supposed to do that.”

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

“I’m your husband.” It wasn’t what you were expecting him to say, not in the slightest, but he seemed so confident of it he almost convinced you. “You’re mine, you can’t marry another man,” he insisted.

And right when you were about to open your mouth to tell him he was being insane, tell him you had no idea who he was and that he needed to get out, he called your name. Called your name in a way that was so fitting for it, like he was the only one who ever should be saying it. You paused, and you frowned. And you looked at him better. The man reached behind his neck and brought forward a strand of hair that didn’t match his own. Didn’t match because that was your hair. That dream… that dream hadn’t been a dream at all.

“I waited for you,” the boy-turned-man whispered, voice sounding as sad as his eyes looked. “I waited for as long as you needed. How can you do this to me?”

Your face was numb. And you shivered, shaking harder the more you let the realization sink in. “Tae- Taehyung?” you gulped. “You’re real?”

The man rushed to you, grabbed your face with both hands gently, fingers stroking your cheeks as if he knew tears were about to fall. “Of course. Who ever told you otherwise?”

You were lost for words, just staring into his eyes that were communicating more than you ever could. The boy from the woods had returned for you, just as promised. And now that he had you, he felt ready to finish what you two had started. This time, when he leaned in with his eyes closed and his lips on a straight line towards yours, you didn’t flinch, you didn’t pull or run away. Maybe it was the shock. Maybe it was just what was meant to happen. He kissed you and everything instantly changed. The bond completed. A bond unlike the mortal rituals you try to parody— that was a bond connecting your souls instead of a verbal agreement that could easily be broken by the human instability. And when he pulled away, you knew it, you felt it; you were indeed his and he was yours. Forever.

“Oh my God,” you mouthed. The feeling crushing you and making your mind race faster and faster. “Oh my— Fuck!” You were his and he was yours now. Forever. What would you do now? There was another man still waiting outside to marry you. “Fuck, fuck!”

“It’s alright,” Taehyung whispered, holding you tighter. Like he knew exactly what you were thinking about or could feel exactly what you felt. Perhaps he could. “Don’t worry. None of that will matter in a bit.”

He scooped your legs, lifting you up with ease you were certain no human being could possess. And he jumped out of the window and landed perfectly, even though that window was so high up. And you were in the woods within a blink of an eye, even though those woods were miles away. By that big, old Oak tree, where it all started. He was right, your meaningless mortal problems already appeared like so; you were with Taehyung now and it all seemed to make more sense than anything ever did in your life.

“You look so pretty,” the man spoke, drawing you back from your thoughts. “Like a fairy.” He chuckled, this time his laughter sounding better than the last. And then he kissed your cheek, and your neck, and it felt like each peck was gifting you whole years of life. “I’ve missed you. You never came to visit.”

“I’m sorry,” you breathed, flustered.

“It’s okay.” He was calm, looking at your eyes that you didn’t even know yet that they shined like his. “We have eternity ahead of us to be together.”

“Eternity?”

He chuckled again, music to your ears. And he leaned in to bite your bottom lip playfully. “Don’t you know, honey? Time flows strangely when you’re married to a fae.”

Masterlist

[wesimpforxiao]

Say My Name and I’ll Be There:  5.1

Author’s Note:  How’s everyone liking the story so far?  Kinda getting into my head about how stiff the writing is.  Maybe it just feels stiff to me, idk.  Anyways, here’s an early chapter!

"So, why are your eyes different colors?"  Childe caught you alone while you gathered firewood a few yards away from the camp.  The sun had long set, leaving you to rely on a lantern and the dim light of the distant fire.  He was limping from your sparring session earlier.

You had beat him.

And man, did it feel good.

"We crossed paths with a merchant that was traveling from Fontaine.  He said they're 'contacts.'  Basically little objects a person can put across their pupils and change their color," you repeated the rehearsed words a little too perfectly for Childe to believe.

"Oh?  I've never heard of that invention before," he tested.

"I guess it's new?  Like the kamera devices they recently developed? Aether has one of those."  You watched as he kept his hands idle at his sides.

"Interesting.  And Aether was the one who told you to say this to me?"  He blocked your path to the fire by placing a hand against the tree that stood behind you.  What a terrible liar you make, ojou-chan.  His friendly smile never left his lips, but it never reached his eyes.  They were cold and demeaning as they examined yours.

"I-I," you stumbled over your words.  "Why are you acting so weird, Childe?" You tried to laugh him off and attempted to duck under his arm.  What to say, what to say! Oh, maybe this'll work?  "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're acting like a schoolboy crushing on one of his friends."

It might have been a wrong move.

He pinned your shoulders to the tree and made sure no one had their eyes on the two of you.  "On the contrary, you began acting strangely the minute I found you today."  Something in his gaze faltered as he replayed your words in his head. Perhaps I am acting like a schoolboy. But I can't help it if I'm infatuated with my target.  His eyes fell to the shimmering necklace resting against your collarbone, and he gently touched it.  "This is new."

"Don't touch that," you slapped his hand away.

"I don't recall you wearing such a genuine cor lapis charm before.  Where'd you get this from?"

"It was my Granny's."

Childe scrunched his nose at the answer, a brief look of internal conflict passing over his face like a cloud.  'Was?' The woman passed? I made sure she wouldn't get hurt by my men.  So then how did she--  He wanted to ask until the realization struck him.  They went to Quince Village after my leaving.  She saw the Fatui there--

You were too enraged to notice him visually fight himself and approached the campsite with an armful of branches.  You made a point to sit next to Xiao and glared at the Harbinger as he returned.

He maintained eye contact with you, even after sitting across the fire from you and the yaksha.  Your pupils seemed to glow from his perspective.  The fire licked the air in between you until all he could make out was the anger in your eyes.  She knows.  He mentally kicked himself, but only partially because of the possible complications this could pose for Signora and her grand plan.  If you were this angry, there was a chance you had told the yaksha.  And if the yaksha saw the Fatui, or at least heard of what you thought happened, then there's a chance he told Mr. Zhongli.  While he could not break the contract with the Tsaritsa, he'd find a way around the stated rules.  He made a fool of Childe once; he could do it again.

Childe didn't care in the slightest about fighting the entire group--though he was a bit afraid of facing the yaksha despite his urge to fight every living thing on Teyvat.  The only thing that mattered to him was you.  And if you were angry enough to fight, vision or not, he'd have to take you by force.  You may hold a special place in his heart, but his feelings for you meant nothing compared to his loyalty for the Tsaritsa.

One chance, the harbinger strengthened his resolve. I'll give her one chance to prove herself.  If she fails, I won't hesitate to take that which will secure Snezhnaya's future.

...................................................................

Several days passed by without incident--

--Is what I'd like to say, but unfortunately, that didn't hold true for you.

Childe and his unrelenting pleas for battles continued to reach your ears day in and day out.  He was the one that was attached to your hip, not Xiao.  You had only realized today that Childe was around you more often than the yaksha ever since he greeted you with a jumpscare at Luhua Pool.  To make matters worse, Xiao neglected to make a move towards him.

She can handle herself, he thought after witnessing the stunts you pulled on Childe.  Xiao recognized that the movements you were using as his own; perhaps there was an upside to you unconsciously peeking in on his memories.  He put himself on standby when he came to the realization.  But make no mistake, he would and will protect you if things got out of hand with the harbinger.  He just figured he'd take a step back and quietly observe his weak points, just like the old days.  The days in which Childe did not pose a serious threat to the group; when all that was between you and the harbinger was harmless bickering.

It would seem like those old days were still fresh to an outsider, but as the days passed by, you were growing increasingly frustrated with Childe's behavior.  After all, how could he continue to play the part of an oblivious comrade, when it was clear as day that the tensions within the group were growing?  How could he even call you a comrade with a straight face? How was it that he felt no remorse for his actions toward Granny when he looked you in the eye?

How was it that he could be so carefree?

Maybe part of you envied him for it.  Your inner grumblings did you no favor in the present moment though; the team had stepped into the western side of Dragonspine.  Your four coats made almost no difference against the sheer cold, and your body shivered uncontrollably even though warmer weather was only a hundred yards behind you.

Everyone except Xiao and Aether wore warm clothes, and it looked like the poor outlander regretted his decision to forego the garments.  Xiao appeared to be unbothered and more energetic than usual.  Childe looked like he was right at home with the weather, his shirt still sloppily unbuttoned to reveal his toned body underneath.  Bennet walked alongside you and was replacing Zhongli for the time being.

Snowflakes lazily floated their way down to earth, but they did nothing to grab your attention when the wind continued to howl against the team's direction.  You caught Xiao letting snow collect in his hand with an almost childlike wonder, but he glared at you when he found you staring.

"I want to find some dragon teeth for a sword and since you haven't been here before I thought it'd be a good idea to show you around," Aether called out to you over his shoulder, his arms crossing over his bare stomach for an ounce of warmth.

"You're insane!"

Aether's laugh mixed with the clattering of his teeth.  "You only live once, right?"  You removed two of your coats and threw them over his head.  "T-t-thanks."

You rolled your eyes despite the fact that you were smiling at him, only for your gaze to lock with Xiao's look of disapproval.  'Mortals are fragile,' you interpreted his frown and giggled.  

"Here we go!" Bennet lit the firepit with his flaming sword and knelt down in front of it.  Everyone joined him;  Aether was especially close to the flames.

"It's kind of annoying to find fire every five minutes," you shivered violently.  "And you practically go up here for fun?"  

"It gets easier the more we do it," Paimon giggled with a nervous smile.  "Besides, we get to mine starsilver and find cool dragon stuff that we can sell--"

"Don't lump me in with you," Aether piped up without moving away from the fire.

The distant sound of a conversation was carried over by a bone-chilling breeze.  "Huh?  Should we go check it out?"  Paimon stared in the direction the vague voices were coming from.

"U-uh-huh," nodded Aether.

The group stumbled over a hill only to find the body cavity of Durin.  While it threw you off, the sight around the remains was what chilled you to the bone.  Of course there's Fatui here, you scoffed.

"I see a tooth over there too,"  Aether whined.

"What's everyone looking at me for?"  Childe let out a nervous chuckle and awkwardly scratched the back of his head.  "These aren't my guys."

"We know," Paimon cooed.

"That's why we want you to go talk to them and let us pass," Aether held the smuggest expression you've ever seen him pull off.

"Uh...I'm not under any jurisdiction to--"

"Do it," you ordered with cold eyes.  When he locked eyes with you, you stood on your tip-toes and spoke in his ear.  "Prove your loyalty to the group."

"My loyalty, ojou-chan," his eyes narrowed significantly, "lies with Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa."

"Uh-oh," Paimon poofed out of existence.

"Uh, guys?  Those Fatui agents are approaching us reeeaal fast," Bennett warned.  

The two of you broke eye contact to find that he was right.  One electro and two geo skirmishers were walking towards the group.  Poofing would be a more accurate description.  Childe gave you a final look before he hopped over a log to greet them.

"Greetings!"  He didn't smile, and the skirmishers stopped in their tracks.

"Master Childe?  We didn't realize you'd be joining us on the mountain."  The three of them knelt out of respect.

"It's a surprise visit, really.  I came to check on your progress--"  The group made their way around the Fatui and Aether yanked the large tooth out of the ground while Childe chattered away with his subordinates.

[meesa-hoe]

An Angel In Beskar

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader x Paz Vizsla

Summary: Two Mandalorians find you near death in the middle of a desert on Tatooine and while you’re quick to warm up to the one in the mismatched blue armor, his silver companion is much colder towards you.

Rating: M but later chapters will probably be rated E for sexual content.

Word Count: 4,500

Warnings: Descriptions of hopelessness, violence, trauma, and minor injuries.

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! I’ve been working on this for a while and finally decided to post it here since I noticed there’s not a whole lot of Paz x Reader x Din stories and I absolutely love the ones that I have read. I’m hoping to have the next chapter up in the next week!

There is an established relationship between Paz and Din prior to them finding the reader.

‘May the Maker have mercy on my soul.’

There’s no point in you praying when you’re certain death is about to wrap it’s cold arms around your weak body. After traveling through the unforgiving Tatooine desert for days without water, your body is beginning to shut down and you fear that this will be your last night spent alive on such a cruel planet. Your thin dress and the scarf you had used to cover your face in an attempt to protect yourself from the scorching hot suns is your only source of warmth as you lifelessly lay on the sand and you wonder how long it will take for you to be buried deep underneath the soft granules.

You will soon end up like the ones who had perished in your village after it had been brutally attacked by bandits and raiders just days ago. Though you had barely escaped in one piece, you suddenly wished you had stayed so you could have at least had a quicker death, rather than slowly dying in the middle of nowhere. You had been foolish to think there would be another village nearby and tears finally trickle down your cheeks as you peer up at the moon, an intense feeling of despair seeping all the way down to your heart.

You miss your family.

The silence that surrounds you only makes you sob harder, loneliness eating away at you as you simply long for your family. Despite not living a luxurious life in the tiny village, it never diminished the love you had for the ones close to you. The images play on a loop in your mind--bodies covered in blood and lifeless eyes staring into your soul as you hid from the bandits--and you finally allow the physical and emotional pain to consume you.

In a way, it’s cathartic to let it all out without others being around to judge you, though it also has you longing for a comforting touch, whether that be a firm hug or someone just holding your hand. You’re reminded of the way your parents would comfort you and your siblings when you were younger, their voices always like soothing, cold water during the hottest days of summer and it only has you crying harder.

Once it feels like you can’t cry anymore and you’ve accepted your fate, you rest for the final time.

Hours pass--at least you think that as you barely cling onto life.

You don’t even realize you’re not dead until a quiet, filtered rasp manages to break through the darkness and silence that surrounds you, though your eyelids feel like they weigh a thousand pounds and are nearly impossible to crack open. It’s morning now, or maybe even the afternoon, judging by the way the suns ruthlessly beat down on you.

“How did she manage to get all of the way out here?” That hushed, soothing voice sounds a little further away and you wonder who he’s talking to until two leather digits press against the pulse on your neck. “The nearest village is days away on foot,” The person taking your pulse simply grunts in response and you finally manage to pry your eyes open when your curiosity threatens to overwhelm you. 

Who would be insane enough to trek through a desert on Tatooine?

Your vision is blurred, black dots floating around as you blink several times before it finally clears.

Instantly, you’re face to face with a t-shaped visor and--

A Mandalorian! 

Not just one, but two.

You think the lack of water and the intense heat has you hallucinating.

You had grown up hearing stories of the warriors, your oldest brother telling you how they were the strongest beings in the galaxy and typically not cruel to strangers who were innocent. There had been rumors of one living on Tatooine and as a little girl, you remember praying to the Maker that they would show up and rid your village of all the bandits that would terrorize your family and neighbors.

Even the Gods don’t want anything to do with Tatooine.

If you weren’t so exhausted and weak, you could have cried from relief and begged the two Mandalorians in front of you to save you, though your throat is far too dry and your mouth feels like cotton.

“What are you doing all the way out here, little one?” The blue Mando closest to you questions when he realizes you’re awake and you find that his voice is far more rough and brusque than his companion’s, though it’s not unpleasant in the slightest. After going days with nothing but your own thoughts to keep you company, you’re just happy and relieved to not be be alone

“P-Please... Help,” You manage to speak in a hoarse plea, tears spilling from your eyes as you clutch at the material covering the warrior’s ribs as tightly as you can, afraid that he’s simply going to stand up and leave you there to die. The way he leans in a little closer instantly fills you with hope and even though your face is mostly covered, you pray that he can see the desperation in your eyes and that he’s able to sympathize with you.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now.”

He’s massive and wears scuffed up, dull blue and yellow armor that you think has seen several battles since it was forged; he’s all mismatched and terrifying, but in that moment, you see him as some sort of Beskar angel.

His armor looks far more worn than his companion’s as you lift your gaze to peer at him, though it only has you squinting your eyes in pain as the impossibly bright suns reflect off of the silver Beskar and you simply let your eyelids slip shut once again. You feel a hand touch the thick cloth that covers your cheekbone, your Beskar angel letting out a low hum as he assesses your injuries as much as he can with all of the fabric in the way.

“What are you doing?” The silver warrior questions, his tone now cold and your heart instantly shatters when he continues, “We don’t even know who she is and you want to bring her with us?”

“We can’t just leave her out here to die,” The Mandalorian crouched down next to you doesn’t hesitate to admonish him, his voice filled with sympathy and conviction, “The ship isn’t too far from here and I don’t mind carrying her. Who knows how long she’s been walking through this desert on foot.”

“We can’t just take in every stray you stumble upon. Besides, we don’t know her--what if she’s just another criminal? Tatooine is filled with scum.”

“Look at her!” The blue warrior instantly snaps, his voice tinged with anger towards his companion and you nearly cry upon realizing he’s willing to fight for your survival, “She’s so weak that she can’t even keep her eyes open and she looks injured. Who’s to say she wasn’t running away from a bad situation? Besides, if she does try anything, do you think she could really get the upper hand on two Mandalorians in her condition? She doesn’t even have a single weapon on her!”

You hear an exasperated sigh and before the shiny Mando can put up anymore of a fight, you feel clunky Beskar sliding under your knees while his other arm winds around your shoulders, bringing you off of the hot sand with ease. If your mind wasn’t so hazy, you would have marveled at his sheer strength, but you feel your body relax against his Beskar that has been warmed from the suns.

“If she tries anything, I’m putting her in carbonite.”

Instead of praying to the Maker for mercy like you had hours ago, you find yourself praying that the stories your brother had told you of Mandalorian are true and that these two strangers don’t have cruel intentions with you. The blue one carrying you seems nice enough, but the silver Mando with the quiet voice still has you on edge and you immediately tense up at the thought of essentially being frozen.

“You don’t have any slabs left available because you’re an impatient di’kut,” The blue warrior reminds him, sounding more amused than agitated and you hear a hint of fondness in his gruff voice, “Let’s just get her back to the ship and we’ll find out what happened to her.”

“Fine, but I’m putting the cuffs on her.”

The one carrying you is quick to shoot down that idea, “Unless you want me to give you a concussion, you’re not putting cuffs on her.”

Using all of your strength, you manage to curl your arms around your savior’s neck, your fingers pressing into the soft fabric covering his nape as you whisper out a meek ‘thank you’. It hurts your dry throat but you hope he can detect the genuine gratitude in your hoarse voice, tears filling your eyes as they crack open to peer at the silver Mando who’s trailing behind your savior.

His tilted visor is trained solely on your face, despite the fact that most of your features are covered by your white scarf and you can tell he’s still wary about your presence. For a moment, he fiddles with his cuffs before giving up with a tired sigh and you let your eyelids slip shut when you realize he’s no going to restrain you.

“Shh, little one,” The Mando carrying you intones, his rough voice soothing the ache in your heart as you sniffle, tears soaking your scarf, “It is safe to rest your eyes now. Once we get back to the ship, we’ll get some water and food in your belly again.”

That’s all he has to say for you to slump against his cuirass before you’re being tugged back into unconsciousness once again. You’re in and out of it for most of the journey and every single time you manage to pry your eyes open, the silver Mandalorian’s visor is fixated on you, putting you even more on edge until you fall back asleep again. Even with his gauntlets digging into your knees and shoulders, you find comfort in knowing that you have the protection of at least one Mandalorian and it’s the only thing that lets you rest as peacefully as your hectic mind will allow.

The next time you regain consciousness, it’s to the sounds of the warriors conversing with one another in hushed tones, perhaps in an attempt to not wake you up.

“Do you think it’s okay to take off her face coverings?” Your savior sounds hesitant as fingers graze along the material covering your jaw and something about it is endearing, “What if she has it on for a reason?”

He thinks your culture is similar to his--that you have to keep your identity concealed just like a Mandalorian--and if you weren’t so exhausted and in so much pain, you would have found this amusing. “Not everyone who covers their face does it because they’re sworn to a creed,” The silver Mando sounds just as entertained as you are, the terseness from earlier no longer lingering in his filtered rasp and when you finally open your eyes, you’re surprised to find how relaxed he appears as he sits on a crate adjacent from the cot you are laying on.

Your savior has his back to you as he stares at his companion, “I just don’t want to invade her privacy.”

“She’s probably wearing it to protect her skin from the suns.”

“You think so?”

“Ask her yourself.”

The blue warrior instantly turns to you, his visor tilted to the side as you stare back up at him with wide eyes, suddenly feeling sheepish and shy. Slowly, you manage to sit up on the cot with a pained whimper and reach up to remove your white scarf that is stained with splotches of blood. As soon as the cold air cycling through the ship kisses your warm cheeks, you let your eyelids slip shut with a relieved sigh, the stained fabric that had protected you from the unforgiving suns falling to the metal floor next to your feet.

“You must be thirsty,” The blue Mandalorian’s rough voice has you opening your eyes and you nearly let out with a loud gasp when he offers you his canteen, “Here.”

The water could have been tainted with poison and you wouldn’t have even noticed as you chugged the cold liquid, a few tears escaping your eyes at the immense relief that instantly floods you after going days without a drop of liquid. “What is your name?” He inquires once you’ve sadly finished off all the water, though the one in silver approaches the two of you and retrieves the leather canteen, wandering off to perhaps refill it.

You hesitate to give the stranger an answer, especially after all you’ve been through these past few rotations, but you think if he wanted to hurt you, he would have done it by now and you eventually whisper your name after a pregnant pause. His visor tilts further to the side as you stare at his scuffed up cuirass rather than his helmet, tears filling your eyes when he asks how you ended up in the desert.

“It is okay, little one,” He soothes your pain with that gruff voice as he towers over you, “You’re safe now.”

“M-My village, it--” The blue warrior places a heavy hand on your shoulder as the terrifying memories of your home being burned to the ground play on repeat in your head and something about his firm touch is incredibly comforting, “The raiders they… They killed everyone and burned down all the buildings. My whole f-family--”

You don’t realize the shiny Mandalorian is within earshot until he says something in a foreign language that you don’t recognize, though you think he must have asked about you when your savior repeats your name in a terse voice, along with a few other words. 

“Dank farrik,” The smaller of the two sighs before angrily shoving the canteen into your hands and they continue to speak in their mother tongue, sounding as though they’re arguing.

“D-Did I do something wrong?” You meekly question them after you take several swigs of the cold water, tears still drying on your cheeks as they both gaze at you long enough to cause your nerves to spike even more. Anxiously, you pluck at the loose threads on the hem of your skirts, feeling anxious underneath the intense stares of such strong warriors when you feel the weakest you ever have in your life. The blue warrior angrily shakes his scuffed up helmet before hastily stomping off of the small ship, leaving you alone with the silver, brooding Mandalorian that seems far more awkward around you than his companion.

The ruddy, orange tips of his leather gloves curl against his sides as he silently regards you for a few more moments. 

“Come with me,” He eventually orders with a slight tilt of his helmet, urging you to follow him as you scramble to your bare feet to obey his gentle command. He leads you to the hull of the ship and you nearly cower away from him as he leads you through a small walkway that’s lined with several slabs of carbonite, afraid that you’ve done something wrong. With the blue Mandalorian gone, your mind runs rampant of all the horrible things this stranger can do to you and your gaze lifts to the huge rifle strapped to his back.

You freeze as you wonder how many people he’s killed with it, or if he prefers to use the smaller blaster holstered against his hip.

Upon noticing that you’re not following him, he turns to face you.

“I’m... I’m not going to hurt you,” He quietly promises when he notices your hesitation, his visor lingering on you as you eventually trail right behind him again, still clutching the leather canteen between your clammy palms, “I just want to see if you recognize someone.”

The stranger comes to a stop in front of one of the slabs of carbonite and confusion floods you as he gestures to it like one would offer a prize, though fear and horror immediately has your heart in a frenzy when you recognize the Zabrak frozen in time.

He had been among the many that had terrorized your village for so long.

“W-What is he doing here?!”

“He’s the leader of the group of bandits that burned down your village and he is also a quarry of ours,” He quietly explains in an oddly gentle voice, watching as the canteen slips from your palms and onto the floor of the ship, “We managed to track him down the day after the attack. I am... sorry we were too late.” 

The shiny Mandalorian holds a hand up in an attempt to calm you as panic tugs at your heart to the point where it’s difficult to breathe properly and you quickly back away from the hunter, fleeing further into the ship until you manage to find the refresher. You’re grateful there’s a lock on the door as you sink to the floor, the hunter’s voice calling out to you on the other side of the door, though there’s a sharp ringing noise blaring in your ears that makes it damn near impossible to hear even your own thoughts.

The Mandalorian eventually gives up on trying to get you to exit the refresher and leaves with a defeated sigh. You’re shaking with fear as you keep reminding yourself that the you’re on the same ship with the cruel monster that orchestrated the attack on your little village.

That Zabrak is the reason why your entire family was slaughtered.

And he’s on the same ship with you.

You sit there in solitude for quite some time, listening to the two Mandalorians as they quietly talk to one another in the hull of the ship. The larger of the two must have a naturally loud voice and you can’t stop yourself from smiling when his silver companion occasionally shushes him when he speaks your name. It sounds like they might be arguing about something and you hope it’s not about you, but judging by the irritation in both of their voices, you’re certain they’re trying to figure out what to do with you.

Especially now that you have no home to go back to.

A deep sigh pushes past your lips you as you finally stand, the warriors’ argument ceasing when you move to the sink and turn the water on to splash some of the cool liquid on your face. The stark contrast between the cold water compared to the sonic shower in your home is lovely and cathartic after having gone so long with only ever really having warm water.

There’s a firm knock on the door, the blue warrior calmly reciting your name in an effort to get you to come out, “It’s okay, I just want to talk with you.” 

Dread floods your frantic heart as you dry your face off with the sleeve of your dress before hesitantly cracking the door open to stare at his scuffed up cuirass, too afraid that if you look at his helmet, you’ll only breakdown again.

“I am sorry for your losses, little one,” The Mandalorian sighs, holding his hand out for you to take in a friendly gesture that has you opening the door all the way. “I know all too well the grief of losing loved ones,” You take hold of his hand and he immediately strokes a firm thumb along your knuckles, the foreign touch comforting as he guides you out of the refresher and to one of the crates so you can sit down.

“Are...” You hesitate as you finally peer up at his tilted visor, fear wrapping around you like a vice, “Are you two going to leave me here?”

A sigh escapes him and your eyes widen when he rests a leather palm on the side of your neck, his thumb grazing along your jaw as he takes in your appearance for several moments. Though you’ve only been in the presence of the two warriors for a couple hours, you realize just how different their personalities are. Your Beskar-clad angel is massive, loud, and rough around the edges, yet somehow so gentle around you, while the silver warrior is placid, quiet, and constantly brooding, wanting nothing to do with you. 

You can’t help but to wonder what their relationship to one another is, if they’re simply close friends or something more, given how they’re simultaneously comfortable and dysfunctional around each other.

“No, we’re not just going to leave you in the middle of nowhere,” He sounds oddly sad as he pulls you from your thoughts, his voice the quietest you’ve heard from him so far, “We can either drop you off somewhere safer or you can stay with us for a little while and help out with certain things on the ship.”

You don’t hear the silver Mandalorian descending from the cockpit, his visor on the two of you as shock courses through you. “Y-You would let me stay?” His fingers twitch against your neck upon hearing the way your voice shakes, your eyes burning at the kindness he’s displaying, “But... I don’t think the other Mandalorian really wants me here. He doesn’t trust me.”

His blue pauldrons slump and you resist the urge to reach out and trace a silver indentation on the worn armor, “It’s not that he doesn’t trust you, we’re just not used to being around people who don’t want to kill us.”

You contemplate his words thoroughly as his thumb continues to stroke your jawline and after going several days without anyone to talk to or share your fear with, the touch is a warm welcome. “Well, after everything that happened to my village, I don’t think I have it in me to hurt anyone, let alone kill,” Your own shoulders slump, eyelids slipping shut as you remember how scared you had been as you hid yourself from the bandits underneath a pile of bloody, lifeless bodies.

You don’t realize you’re shaking until the silver Mandalorian makes his presence known by softly saying a word in what you think is their mother tongue, instantly earning his companion’s unwavering attention.

“Vizsla.”

You quickly pull away and wipe the tears from your flushed cheeks, a heavy hand lingering on your shoulder as the quiet Mandalorian speaks in that gentle rasp that sounds softer than usual and you feel bashful when his visor lowers to regard you. 

“I set the coordinates for the next stop,” He appears awkward as his fingers flex against his thighs, his visor still fixated on you as he offers you a sharp nod. The blue warrior chuckles, though you’re not sure why as his companion approaches the two of you, seeming to tense up a little more and you’re certain that the silver Mando hates you already.

“This is your last chance for us to drop you off at the nearest village,” He warns you as the heavy-infantry warrior gives your shoulder a firm squeeze, as if trying to give you some of his strength even though you feel devastatingly weak, “Otherwise you’re stuck with us until further notice. We can’t guarantee your safety.”

You try your hardest to appear tough in front of the hunter, though his helmet tilts to the side with what feels like amusement as you awkwardly shift on your feet, “I… I have no family left and nowhere else to go. I would rather be with you two than have to suffer alone in an unfamiliar village that may or may not be attacked by cruel people again.”

He hesitates, visor shifting between you and the Mandalorian at your side, before nodding and making his way back to the cockpit without another word, pulling a sigh from the blue warrior as he turns back to you, tilting his helmet in the direction of the ladder. “Come on, little one,” He helps you off the crate before guiding you to the cockpit, following close behind as you push yourself up the ladder. Before you can say anything else, you’re interrupted by an intense rumble coming from your empty stomach and you pray that he didn’t hear it, though judging by his snort of laughter, your prayers were unanswered.

“Once we make the jump into hyperspace we’ll get you some food. Flying can be a lot if you’re not used to it and I don’t want you throwing up all over the cockpit.”

A warmth blossoms across your cheeks as the metal doors slide open, his palm still covering the small of your back as he urges you to sit in one of the unoccupied co-pilot chairs. You quickly buckle in as the brooding hunter flicks some switches on the console, seeming completely at ease as his blue companion lazily plops down in the chair next to you, the two of them not bothering with their seatbelts. Briefly, you wonder how long they’ve been doing this--traveling with one another--and with how sure of himself the silver Mando appears as he easily guides the ship off the sandy ground, you think it’s been quite a while.

“Have you ever been off Tatooine before?” The blue warrior asks you when he notices how tightly you’re clutching your seatbelt the further the ship ascends and you force yourself to relax your stiff fingers. “N-No,” You quietly inform him, tearing your gaze away from the windows to peer at him instead, “I lived in that village for all my life. When... When everything happened with the bandits, I wasn’t sure where to go, so I just ran.”

His visor tilts to the side and as he continues to speak, you can’t stop yourself from wondering if he’s doing it to distract you as the ship breaks the atmosphere of the sandy planet. “Well, it’s a good thing we happened to be close by since the nearest city was at least four more cycles away on foot,” This information makes you shudder and instantly, you grow quiet, knowing that there was no way you would have ever made it if they hadn’t shown up when they did.

He seems to notice your melancholic disposition and is quick to change the subject, his filtered voice melting into something more lighthearted that has you weakly smiling at his visor. “Maybe it’s a good thing you’re here,” He tilts his helmet to where his silver companion is piloting the ship into space, “He doesn’t exactly make for the best company sometimes, always brooding and complaining. Besides, you’re far prettier to look at.”

Your cheeks immediately grow warm at his sudden coyness, though it only seems to exasperate the other Mandalorian as he sighs, his silver helmet shaking as starlight reflects off of the pretty Beskar.

As the old, rickety ship makes the jump to hyperspace, causing a queasy sensation in the pit of your belly, you think that maybe the two of them don’t make for bad company at all.

Perhaps there is some force in the galaxy that took mercy on your soul after all.

[wildernessuntothemselves]

The Last Exhale | Prologue

Summary: The honest and hardworking poor girl finds love in the arms of the rebellious and charming rich boy, and despite all odds, their love prevails and their inspiring story gets its fairytale ending when the two tie the knot, cementing their love under the sacred vows of marriage. Except real life isn’t a drama, and the story doesn’t end here for our protagonists who, instead of being the heroes they set out to be, end up taking on the role of the villain in each other’s life story.

Word Count: 1.5k

Genre: Angst, slight smut

Warnings: substance use, domestic violence, choking, bj

A/N: if you feel like you’ve read this as a bts fic before dw I’m the original author trying to continue it as a skz fic. Hopefully I can succeed in that. The general concept of this fic is that each chapter is based on a specific song and set in alternating POVs between the MC and the member so you can see their differing opinions and takes on each event and highlight how biased every person’s perception is.

Song and title of the prologue: Back to Black

POV of this chapter: 3rd person

The member in this story isn’t decided yet so please help me decide by voting between Chan and Lix. And if you can give me a reason for either member that would favor your choice being picked.

____________________

“I can’t believe you just stood there and let your parents humiliate me like that.” She shouts at him, not caring that the entire house staff can hear her argument with her husband.

“But I thought you were a strong woman, an Amazon, who doesn’t need my help.” He mocks her cheerfully.

She grits her teeth together so hard she thinks she could taste the pulverized bone on her tongue. “There is a difference between treating me like a prized show horse and coming to my aid when I genuinely need you.”

He cracks up. “Look at what you’re wearing! A show horse is worth more than your entire life, baby.”

She slaps him. At any other time, He would’ve returned the favor but not right now.

“Ohh, baby, are you in that mood again?” He places a hand on her ass, pulling her up against him. “Told you that you wouldn’t be able to stop for long. It feels good doesn’t it, punishing me? Hurting me? But that’s ok, I like it too. Hit me more.”

All colors drain from her face. That was a mistake. A colossal, fucked up mistake. It was during the worst time of her life, a time where she would’ve killed herself if he’d only left her alone for a second, but he just wouldn’t leave. And before she even knew what she was doing, as if she had blacked out, she was striking him, over and over again. It had started as a way to get him to leave so she can finally do it, she remembers now, but along the way, it morphed into a sick redirection of all her anger and remorse onto him, and instead of leaving or shouting or fighting back, he let her. He stood there, head bowed, and neck bared--and god help her, that only made her hit him more. But it was over now, and she would never go back to being that monster again.

A crazed laugh snaps her attention back to the source of all her torment who was staring at her with a euphoric smile on his face. “What do you say, babe?”

“Are you fucking high? You couldn’t even stay sober one night for me?” She pushed him off. She had specifically requested that he doesn’t do coke today so he can stay alert and by her side at his parent’s dinner party, but what did she really expect from him?

“You can’t blame me when you insist on embarrassing me in front of everyone I know.” She gives him a confused look and he comes up to her and tugs harshly on her dress, ripping a piece right off. “What is this shit? Why couldn’t you just let me buy you something nice to wear? How do you think it makes me feel when people see that my wife dresses cheaper than one of my father’s whores?”

She is about to slap him again but he catches her hand this time. “Not all of us have fathers who can get us what we want before we even think it up.”

“But you have me. Let me take care of you.” He puts his hands on her upper arms and searches her eyes. “Just like I used to before.”

“And have your parents think that they were right about me? That I was a gold digger all along.” She shakes his hands off of her. “And even if I do that, what happens after your father dies and your brother takes control of the company and throws you out. How will you take care of me then? You’re doing nothing to secure your place in the company and soon we will be out on the streets. What are you doing to prevent that? Going to parties and driving your expensive cars around with your friends, denying like a child that your father will ever die?”

“Well maybe if you weren’t such an uptight cunt, we could’ve worked together to find a solution instead of you spending all of your energy on constantly tearing me down and saying how useless I am.” The words held a lot of meaning but her husband’s tone was lightheartedly insane, and that stupid euphoric grin was still plastered on his face.

She could easily argue back that he wasn’t such an angel himself and that he always treated her like she were inferior to him and spoke down to her whenever she tried to suggest something that could help, always making sure to point out that she had no idea what she was talking about because she’s just a cook’s daughter.

But it was useless. He’s high out of his fucking mind and they’ve had the same argument a thousand times before. She turns her back to him and heads up the elegant marble stairway of the outrageously expensive house, looking to wash the night’s events off of herself.

“Fine, just walk away from me after you’ve ruined my fucking buzz,” He shouts up at her, but she’s sure she didn’t really. He’ll be in bliss for hours still while she sits in bed contemplating how in the world she ended up like this.

They used to be so happy before. Nothing could ever dim the love they had for each other, not his parents’ disapproval nor their different backgrounds. They were different people when they were together. They changed just for each other, and they vowed on their wedding day that they wouldn’t let anything come between them.

But the years proved them wrong. They never changed at all. They just came back full circle, and hard. The differences between them became more apparent than ever and as the years went by, they stopped seeing from the other person’s point of view and became more unyielding in their own opinions than even the people that stood in their way in the past were.

So where do they go from this?

The sound of feet dragging heavily across the floor as someone makes their way slowly down the hall would surely frighten anyone, but she doesn’t even flinch. She knew it was her husband finally back home after disappearing for hours like always.

The sound continues for a few minutes until it stops just behind her, and she turns away from the window of her little alcove to look at him. She takes his appearance in, hair and clothes disheveled and a dark aura about him. She holds the joint in between her lips and reaches out to him, looping her thumbs through the waistband of his pants and pulling him close to her before unbuttoning them and pulling them down to his thighs along with his boxers.

There on the inner side of his boxers was the evidence of his night out, dried cum and pussy juices. He didn’t even bother cleaning himself up or changing his underwear before coming to her. He wanted her to know.

She takes a deep breath from the joint and turns her back to him again, blowing out the smoke through the open window.

He never liked when she ignored him. He doesn’t like that at all. He reaches forward and snatches the joint out of her hand and snuffs it out violently with his boot. His high is very obviously over. She’s relaxed now and he’s the one on edge.  

The cool gaze she regards him with pisses him off more and he grabs her by the hair and pulls her down to his dick, “Suck.”

He wanted her to taste that woman on him. He wanted to humiliate her. He wanted to hurt her, but all she felt was numbness.

He is not gentle with her, those days were long over. He moves her around like a ragdoll over his cock, thrusting it down her throat and not stopping even when he hears her gagging around him and clawing at his thighs. Instead, he pinches her nose, cutting off her oxygen supply completely.

“Should I let you die like this? No court would dare condemn me, my father would see to that.” He growls, taunting her with his father’s power the same way she belittled him for it earlier. “It’s what a cheap bitch like you deserves for not knowing her place with her master.”

Her face was turning blue, and her throat was constricting vigorously around her husband’s cock, fighting to let a breath in but only increasing his pleasure. She hears him moaning and grunting above her but she can’t see him through her rapidly blurring vision.

She doesn’t know if he knew just when to stop or if it was a stroke of luck but right as she thought she was about to pass out, he pulls his cock out of her mouth and stops pinching her nose. She falls forward on the floor at his feet, coughing and sputtering, and he watches her from above while he gives himself those last few strokes before cumming all over her. Some of it lands on her face, some on her hair, some on her clothes…In the end, she looks as much of a mess as she feels she is inside.

Despite having nothing obstructing her airway anymore, her lungs still couldn’t believe it, heaving in huge gulps of air as if the supply would be cut off again at any moment.

Her husband tucks himself back into his pants before crouching down over her. He holds her chin in his hand causing more of the cum stuck to his palm to mess up her face. “Why do you have to make me do this, baby? You know that I love you.”

His voice sounded so hurt and sincere that she couldn’t stop yourself from spitting in his face. What did it matter that he loved her, that she loved him, when it wasn’t enough anymore? “You’re nothing to me.”

He retaliates by slapping her, sending her crashing against the floor from the powerful blow. “I’ll make you yield, you’ll see, and then we’ll be happy again.”

He walks away and she stares after him with a hatred that taints her very soul. How was it possible for the human heart to contain so much hate and love for the same person without just giving up?

_______

A/N: before I put this fic on hiatus, I had posted 4 (very long) chapters. I will be reposting one every week and hopefully by then I would’ve written chapter 5.

[crimsonwolfie]

Best Mistake — Hamish Duke x Reader (x Knights)

Requested by @mysticalcrownbear

Prompt: The Knights accidently summon you, (the reader) a succubus when trying to summon Zecchia. You have a strong liking towards Hamish Duke, and he’s very much into you too.

Word count: 2,095

Hope you guys like this!! Sorry if it’s crap - requests are open!!

Masterlist

Best Mistake Part 2

“It’s not that they have all our stuff...they stole it. So - let’s steal it all back” Jack whispers as he leans forward, straightening his posture in seriousness.

“Are you suggesting a magic heist?!” Randall says, stalking towards Jack

“Yes. A magic heist” Jack replies as he steps up from the couch. Both boys shine a ray of mischief in their eyes and madness in their energy

“MAGIC HEIST! MAGIC HEIST!” They both chant, as Hamish and Lilith begin joining in synchronisation

“MAGIC HEIST MAGIC HEIST MAGIC HEIST!” The Knights chant like toddlers demanding candy.

—

“Well you didn’t think to warn us about that?!” Lilith hissed, eyes dark with fear and damage after the images she’d experienced. Hamish, Jack and Randall all sat with Lilith in the Blade and Chalice collectively recovering from their fear corners. Lilith rocked slightly from side to side whilst Jack was holding a pack of ice on the side of his head. They were tired, scared, drained...but desperate. They couldn’t get into the vault without being stuck in the “fear corridor”. Hamish chugged a swig of his whiskey, slamming the glass down onto the table with force, trying his best to forget what he went through -

“Stupid Ricky Simarco and his stupid fifth birthday party” he groaned, eyes fixed into a trance like state

“What did you see?” Randall asked Lilith, who replies with a simple “nothing”.

“Nothing?” He asks again, confused to why she didn’t see anything

“Nothing.” She confirms, although her shaken state says otherwise.

“Okay, since we can’t get through to the vault, i found the perfect solution” Jack enthusiastically gushes. “We summon a demon! There’s loads of different types to summon and i think i found the perfect one!”

The fellow knights all look around at each other in suspicion...could this actually work? Or is Jack literally insane?

“It’s name is a Zecchia” Jack points towards a yellow dusted page in an old, crippled book “it’s a baron demon, meaning it steals anything that the summoner desires it to”

“Won’t we have to do something for it? You know, a catch?” Lilith questions, her big brown eyes looking up to Jack

“No! You see that’s the beauty of it. We call it, they show up, we pay the toll and they’ll do our bidding!” He replies almost as if it was complete rocket science. “You just gotta follow the protocol perfectly”

“I’m in-“

“-Me too!” Hamish and Lilith both declare with their whole chests, meanwhile Randall starts struggling with the decision...

“Nope.” He announces. “No thanks. No way. Nope. Not a demon. Not ever.” Adamant as ever, he puts his hand on the table as a way to stand against the debate. He gets up and walks away before the others can stop him.

“We’re still doing this.”

“Yeah totally”

“He’ll get over it”

-

Hamish, Lilith and Jack all stand around the summoning circle, ready to summon Zecchia, the thief demon.

“Zecchia, appear before us so that we may negotiate the fee for your service to empty the vault of the Hermetic Order of the Blue Rose and remand those goods into the possession of the Knights of Saint Christopher” they all chant in synchronisation. Below their feet is a demon trap, purposed to trap the summoned demon in order to negotiate wisely. As soon as they finish the chant, a sound of wind brushes past them...but shorty followed by silence.

“Zecchiaaa?” Jack quietly echos into the distance of the house, uncertain if the summoning ritual worked or not. The 3/4 knights walk around the hallway wondering where they went wrong.

“Maybe we messed up the incantation?” says Lilith

“We did everything right?” Hamish replies

Suddenly, the door bursts open as Randall rushes in, slightly out of breath

“- guys STOP don’t do this-” He shouts as he blows out the candles nearest to him on the floor “-Alyssa and i were discussing demon summonings and-“

“-and you suck at it” you pipe up.

Emerging from the shadows of the staircase, you quietly and elegantly walk down, eyes never leaving the people below you...but one in specific - the man dressed in the waistcoat. You’re wearing a red, laced spaghetti strap bodysuit that’s tucked under a pair of tight fitted sheer black leggings (clearly i’m not going to have you wear only underwear and a bra like every other succubus - *que that not on MY WATCH vine* we are more PG here y’all - also may i add, your body size does not matter here. All body types are beautiful and you should love your body, don’t fall for these skinny stereotypes! Curvy girls are breathtaking too!!! <3 okay back to the story lmao). With midnight black wings as beautiful as can be and horns impeccable in sight, you stare with your big Y/E/C eyes as your long Y/H/C, silky locks fall past your shoulders. The sound of your black stiletto heels click and clack on the wooden floorboards, as further silence echos in the walls. The Knights are struck by your beauty, chocked for words at what they’re seeing in front of them. You swiftly bring your wings to your side, stroking your arms as you approach the people below you.

“You’re not what...we...expected” Randall slurs- i mean drools ;)

“That’s because i’m not” you sigh, bringing your arms across your body. “You summoned me, a succubus. Not Zecchia. But hey, you’re not the first...you’re meant to use alcohol as a summoning ingredient. She’s a sucker for it...senses it from many realms away” you continue, shaking your head and rolling your eyes playfully. Looking around the room, you can’t help but keep looking back to the tall man who has a perfect complexion and long, dirty blonde hair with blue crystal eyes. With lips so succulent...you want to kiss all over them and run your hands through his locks, as he uses his large, soft hands to roam around your body-

“So who did we summon?” Your thoughts are interrupted by the small, gorgeous lady to your right. She has blue streaks in her black hair, and a cute little button nose that you want to just *boop*!

“I’m Y/N, a succubus” you smile delicately at the woman in front of you, glancing back to the man who caught your eye before.

“And you are?” You question, turning your attention to the male on your right

“I’m Lili-“

“Not you! This handsome gentleman in front of me” you point with your long, ‘black as night’ painted fingertip towards the tallest man.

“I-i’m Hamish. Hamish Duke” he replies, cheeks blushing a gentle shade of crimson.

“You’re really hot” you tease, biting your lower lip in hot anticipation at your dirty thoughts. Hamish’s eyes widen at this, bringing his hands towards his front slightly.

“I could say the same for you, love” He gulps. He doesn’t know this, but you can actually read his thoughts; images of him pushing you up against the wall, his hands on your ass as your legs wrap around his middle, lips working sweet magic as you’re caressing his face and hair...leaving small, wet pecks on his neck as he moans your name out loud, thrusti-

“Hey, i’m Randall” the tall, pretty brunette calls out, stepping towards you. He brings his hand out to shake, to which you accept. A huge grin is painted across his face as his hand touches your dainty one, Lilith just rolls her eyes and huffs.

“Okay okay let’s wrap this up here” she remarks, pulling Randall away from you. You turn to see a shorter male, who sports platinum blonde hair that falls to the side of his face. His eyes are wide, mouth slightly parted and eyebrows furrowed.

“Are you alright, pretty boy?” You ask, genuine concern across your face. Randall giggles like a school boy at your words, repeating (and i quote) “hehe pretty boy heheee” quietly in the sidelines whilst pointing at Jack.

“I....uh....hi” Jack replies, fixing his hair after noticing you were looking at him

You lightly laugh “hi, cutie”

You look back over to Hamish, as his filthy visions are still happening

“I can read your thoughts, you know” you laugh as he blushes bright red and covers his front completely now

“It’s okay, i liked them” you continue in a husky tone, stepping closer towards him with your hands in front of you, gasping to be touching him.

He reaches his hand out towards your stretched hand, gently touching your fingers and delicately wrapping his large ones round them. You both intertwine fingers, as gazes are locked onto you both. He pulls you towards him, his head tilting slightly in awe at your appearance.

“Uhhh...okayyyy?” Lilith gawked as the rest of the Knights share glances of pure confusion and slight panic.

You chuckle lightly at Hamish’s actions, as

he wraps his arms around your lower back, swaying from side to side.

“You’re beautiful” he whispers into your ear which sends excited chills down your spine. He smiles looking down at you.

“What is happening right now?” Jack asks the others, who shrug their shoulders watching like hawks. Lightly, you plant a small kiss on his lips...which Hamish returns, only with more passion and lust. The kiss deepens as his hands grip tighter and your thrusting into him for more becomes intolerable, until you both need to release for air.

“Uhh Hamish? Y/N? Hello?” Randall waves his hands in the air trying to signal Hamish, but proves useless. As you’re heavily gasping in air, you notice Hamish’s mouth - your red lipstick has smudged all over his mouth

“BRO you look like a clown!!” Randall cracks up, laughing hysterically. Jack and Lilith snort upon seeing Hamish’s state, but he doesn’t care. He quickly and forcefully grabs you again and drops you bridal-style whilst passionately making out with you once again. Jack, Lilith and Randall all look back up from their laughter fits to see you two basically eating each other’s faces. Suddenly, it’s not that funny anymore - just disturbing.

“Okay that’s enough, Ham-burger” Randall shouts. Nothing.

“Yo Hamish dude stop” Jack sings, which again does nothing to Hamish and you.

“Yeah this is now how i thought my Tuesday was going to go” Lilith says as she gestures towards you two. “Is he enchanted or something?!”

“I uh...maybe?” Jack mutters

“Maybe i am too” Randall eyeballs you and Hamish “wait...i said that out loud didn’t i?” he quickly looks down and plants his face with his hands. Yeah...he was totally thinking of a threesome at that time.

Begrudgingly you break the contact between yours and Hamish’s soft lips and lift yourself up from his arms, yet he continues leaving sweet, soft kisses on your neck.

“I know what you’re thinking, cutie” you look up to Randall, who squeals in embarrassment and mouths ‘don’t tell them’ towards you, making you laugh.

“What were you thinking about?” Jack asks

“Basically he was thinkin-“ you begin

“NO no NO DON’T say anything” Randall barks out, breaking Hamish from his trail of leaving kisses down your neck

“You know what nevermind” Jack grunts as he scrunches his eyebrows up in discomfort.

“Okay this is getting too weird now. Hey, Y/N can we get Zecchia please” Lilith asks, seemingly annoyed

You sigh loudly, clearly annoyed that your fun was about to be wrapped up “fine. But i want to see you again” you say, stroking Hamish’s hair out of his face.

“Why does she have to go? Can’t she stay for a little longer?” Hamish pleads, but is shut down by Lilith giving him a death stare whilst growing towards him.

“It’s okay, she’s right. Okay well this was amazing. Call me again” you say as you wink towards Hamish, who’s knees buckle slightly. You walk towards the middle of the room and straighten yourself up, lifting the strap of your top back onto your shoulder.

“Nice to see you, lovelies” you give a little wave with your hand, then click your fingers and disappear. The Knights all glare round to Hamish, who straightens himself up and buttons his waistcoat back up.

“Have fun there buddie?” Randall quips, smirking slightly at his friend

Hamish doesn’t say anything, he just looks down in embarrassment

“Oh, and you might wanna-“ Randall gestures for him to wipe his lips, as Jack and Lilith silently chuckle from the other side of the room.

It’s safe to say, you left your imprint on Hamish Duke...and he won’t be forgetting that any time soon.

Let me know what you guys thought, and of you want any more fanfic :)

[goatpaste]

shroom story? :0

 oh my god this sdgjkh sat in my inbox for days because i didnt have the energy to awnser it right away and then forgot. i think this was prompted because of this ask which still makes me laugh to think about 

anyways shroom story, its sdjkgh a favorite story in my server and new friends

but like ough i was in the summer between middle and highschool so like ?? 14 i think maybe 15, i forget what age most people are round then

but probably 15, old enough that my parents could question me doing any sorta drug in a normal way. like not a concerning way but in a genuine way.

and my parents smoke weed, SO much fucking weed all the fucking time their a nightmare. and i was in the room next to them and often could smell it in my room at night.

but myself, i dont do any sorta drug, just not something iv been able to do or had a desire for ig sorta.

also more context, my mom stopped smoking and this was about the time she started her road to being a crazy vegan person and it started when she watched some video about how refined sugars and salts will give you cancer. so out went all sugar and refined salts in our house for the rest of the time i lived with them.

but once in awhile when i had a few bucks i still went out and got soda and a snack at the gas station, or we’de have sweets like graham crackers or dfjkgh like literally whatever was sweet like some caramel on bread. shit like that. and on weekends id scrounge the cabinets for snacks and hole up in my room and watch shows on my computer in my room.

and so one night i was doing that and idk, as some of you can probably guess, i found two little chocolates wrapped in tin foil. and ME fucking absolute DUMBASS didn’t think anything of it and went mmm choncholate for sammi! and promptly took it to my room along with some other things.

was watching my show, snacking fine until the chocolates. 

let me reiterate, i am a fucking MORON.

i bit into the first one and went, yuck! gross!....... maybe the other one taste better? bit into that one, didnt taste good. went, hmm theres something in there maybe i need to eat around it. not realizing it was like THE WHOLE CHOCOLAte i tried to eat around the center to find it still gross, gave up and threw the chocolates away.

and see i didnt think anything of it because one, im a fucking idiot. and two, my date was terribly lactose intolerant and kept dark chocolate in the house and its very bitter and i didnt like it, and at the time had assumed it was just dark chocolate.

went back to my shows for awhile

annnd then the shrooms kicked in.

and to be clear, im a dumbass and had NO idea what i had just done.

and i start to feel sometHING is wrong with me and like i cant describe how it made me feel except that when it started my brain decided “oh god im being punished for not exercising enough. i dont do enough cardio and im dying RIGHT NOW for it.”

so i went outside to the backyard where my parents work blowing glass and making weed pipes. and im like... mother.. i have to go outside right now i need to run around the block right now

NOT RELIZING HOW INSANE I SOUNDED

and my mom straight up is like... are you on drugs???

and i ofc, somehow still dont click it together and go, “nononinon no no i dont do drugs!”

and return to my room to calm down and watch my show some more before i accept i MAY be high fjkghg

returning to the backyard both my parents are there and i tell them about the chocolate, they honestly think its a lil funny and my dad and is kinda like “ :O!! my fuckin shroom chocolate we were saving that!”

and they start like trying help me, asking me if i wanted to watch a movie in the living room until i come down and everything. and im telling them i want to be alone and go to sleep until  its over because i was miserable and a little stressed because OFC this didnt happen on my terms.

so i return to my room and try to lay down, but i remember like trying to close my eyes and just seeing fucking colors very much like a kaleidoscope. Annoyed i tried to push that from my vision

but when i would attempt to push away colors and find a dark patch in my like brain? there was a small puppet of me just like, doing the jig. And it was shaped like mister smarty pants from between the lions

so i give up on sleeping and grab my blanket and pillow and go to the living room, leaning against the wall singing “im just a kid” on the way.

i asked my parents to put on some disney movie, they told me no because it fuck me up too bad. and then they turned on the lorax.

i remember that movie being SO blurry and i remember looking at my mom and going “this movie is too fucking orange >:(”

the rest of it was mostly fine, i went outside with my mom and ask if she could hear my poop through the window to the bathroom that was connected to the patio. she told me no

my father tried to get me to drink nyquil, i said no and layed on the floor and rolled away from him because i just remembered i really didnt like how it tasted.

then my parents told me i texted my friends “i ate something weird and im starting to feel weird???” sdjkgh and they told me i needed to clear everything up and make sure my friends didnt think i was high. the next day i went to my friends house and told them this exact story, and iv been telling this story since.

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

the story of us

this was requested by @fantasylover16. I genuinely had so much fun with this thank you! I hope you enjoy. Also I said nb jack frost rights and I meant it.

masterlist; my links

This is a story about two people.

One died three hundred years ago and has been alive since then. They have white hair, whiter than the stars, than burning light, than heaven itself. They have blue eyes that remind you of cracked ice in melting winter. They have ivory skin, some say like porcelain, it's more like liquid opal.

The other is twenty two years old. He has black hair, like jet fuel, and midnight. He has green eyes that hold oceans lost to time, that hold memories. He has brown skin that reminds you of cool forest floors and water glistened rock.

This is a story about who they are.

"Percy!" His roommate shouts from the kitchen. "Get your butt down here and tell me if the blue skirt goes better with these glasses!"

He laughs as he pulls a sweater over his heads and grabs his phone, slipping it into his back pocket. He feels the press of his pen as he pats himself down to make sure he has everything and when he is satisfied he bolts down the passage and stops short of the kitchen where Hazel Levesque is parading in front of their grand mirror on the opposing wall. She is decked out in black platform ankle boots, white fishnets that draw out the colour of her skin, slightly dark than his, a bright blue skater skirt and a soft pastel blue crew-neck not unlike his own.

"You Hazel Levesque," He grins bright and unrestrained, "Are a vision."

"Yes," She mutters still swopping between two pairs of clear-framed glasses and scrunching her nose, "But is it enough to bring my crush to their knees?"

"If Reyna doesn't bow down to you I think we can assume she's in desperate need of glasses."

"Well then maybe I should take both pairs and offer her one." She muses, pulling at her afro distractedly.

He snorts, turning to the counter and grabbing a bowl and whatever cereal he can reach first.

"Well," Hazel turns to him, he can see the smile she's trying so hard to hide, "Shall we be off then?"

He blinks at her, blinks again, points an unsure finger at his chest.

"Oh you don't expect me to brave Reyna on my own do you? Besides we're matching today it'd be quite ridiculous if we went out separately."

"But—" He looks to his bowl, as barren as the desert, "But my cereal?"

"I'll buy you breakfast on the way!" She waves the concern off, grabbing his hand and pulling them both out the door.

Despite their height difference, she makes it look far less like he's letting her pull him and far more like she has the strength to straight up carry him across the country.

"Hazel," He giggles, "Slow down."

"I can't Percy," She shakes her head vigorously, practically running through the park next to their building and into the bustling streets beyond. "If I don't do this now I'll lose all my courage and spend eternity in self-damned misery." Her brown eyes, turning honeyed as they catch the sun through the round glasses framing her face, flash bright and bold.

He stops them, pulling her in for a hug, unable to stop the laughter shaking his body." You have never been a coward Hazel Levesque. No matter the day, time or outfit you have always been brave enough to stand up and do what's needed. And telling Reyna you have a crush on her is just another battle you absolutely can win." He pulls them apart, setting a steady green gaze on her excited one. "Now let's get some coffee, and a mint tea for you because you're hyper enough as it is, and then we'll go find the love of your life and I can finally show you the google-doc I have for your wedding."

She strangles his ribs in another hug and then takes a deep breath as she steps away. "What would I do without you Percy Jackson?"

"Let's never find out," He smiles, slinging an arm over her shoulder and directing them towards the Chaos House.

As per its namesake, walking into the café is like being lost in a crowd of sleep-deprived, adhd kids all connected to caffeine IVs. In short: it's chaos. Its their favourite place on earth.

Being hit with a wall of noise after the quiet of awakening nature feels like being sucker punched directly in your ear canal. Percy cannot help but grin as he takes in the racing patrons and the sound of coffee beans being ground and the smell of cinnamon and honey and endless activity.

They immediately spot a group of their friends and bolt for the booth they're all squished into.

"Reyna isn't here." Hazels voice is pitched with panic, "Oh gods what if she's sick today? What if she fell in a ditch on her jog this morning?" She stops right in the middle of the café, brown eyes wide. "What if she knew I was trying to do this and decided to stay home today to avoid seeing me?"

He grabs her arms already shaking his head. "My darling, I need you to take a deep breath. You are spiraling."

Wildness is still tracing her expression but he feels her shoulders rise and fall as she gulps air.

"Okay," He says gently, "Now we're gonna go to our table, have a good time with our friends and if and when Reyna shows up you're going to tell her how you feel and I'll meet you back at home so you can let me know when the wedding is."

She smacks his shoulder gently, nervous giggles escaping her. "Alright fine. I hate when you get reasonable. It's very disconcerting."

"Good thing it's rare," His lips twitch, and they finally start towards their friends.

A loud chorus of hellos and how are you’s ring around his head as they get nearer and he feels right at home amongst it all.

"What's up losers?" He flops down next to Jason, pressing a shoulder into the blondes side in a hug.

Annabeth sits next to the blonde, squished between him and Piper, a leg over Jason's thigh and her hand intertwined with Piper's. Frank is on the opposite side, a casual arm slung over Leo's shoulder. Hazel squeezes in besides Leo and sighs dramatically.

"What's wrong Levesque?" Piper frowns, reaching over to clasp the girl's hand.

"She's feeling put out because she had something very important to do today and her plans are being delayed because a certain someone isn't here."

And just as their friends start reassuring and ribbing her in equal parts Percy's phone rings. With a frown he pulls it from his pocket, as he gets up and waves to say he'll be back in a minute.

"Hello, this is Percy Jackson."

He's not paying attention to his surroundings as he listens to the person on the line so when his shoulder slams into somebody he almost topples to the ground. When he turns around to say sorry there is nobody there; his frown only deepens but then the voice on the phone is pulling his attention and he makes his way outside.

This is story about they meet.

The conversation is a whirl of information about his upcoming course and what his supervisor needs from him. By the time he ends the call and tucks the phone back in his pocket his whole body feels like it's taken on the sky all over again. He has the urge to check if another grey streak has graced his hair. Instead he leans against the wall, ignoring the way his clothes catch against its roughness. He can feel the cold seeping through the cracks in the brick and into the threads of his sweatshirt.

He looks down, pulling his arms over his chest in an attempt to keep the warmth in but as he takes his arms away from the wall he sees the frost outline of his fingers. A clear, already melting handprint marking the brick like a graffiti tag. He steps back, away from the wall, to find his whole body outlined. It reminds him eerily of the chalk markings they do at murder investigations. He's not entirely sure this isn't prophetic.

The frost, little beads of ice skittered in shape, is melting at a rapid rate but the colour catches Percy's eye. It's not the usual dulled, muddy ice that coats his windows in the morning and sits atop the grass each night. It is blue, bright and pure, and looks... happy?

He's definitely going insane. The lack of coffee is getting to his brain and he has officially going mad. He should go inside and get warm and sit with his friends and have 3 espresso shots in a row.

But the phone call is still rattling his nerves and he can't bare to face the café without all his wits about him. So he studies the melted frost outline, curiosity moving him forward to trace it with his fingers. He doesn't expect to feel cold like winter mornings and snowball fights and sleigh rides coursing through his bloodstream. It's shocks him right into a new state of being. It reminds him of a poem his mother used to say at the beginning of each winter. The poem was long enough that he was always asleep by the end of the last verse but he recalls the first part clearly now

Jack Frost was in the garden;

I saw him there at dawn;

He was dancing round the bushes

And prancing on the lawn.

He had a cloak of silver,

A hat all shimm'ring white,

A wand of glittering star-dust,

And shoes of sunbeam light.

The thought is so ridiculous Percy has to laugh. It bursts out of him unexpectedly but once he starts he cannot stop. It feels like the world has turned on its side but he's still walking upright. Everything is slightly dizzying but strangely amusing from this angle. He laughs harder, ribs aching, cheeks stiff, and eyes bright. He's sure people are staring at him like he's mad but he cannot stop. Until he stumbles over the pavement and is falling to the inevitable crunch of his facial bones.

It happens almost in slow motion. He sees the ground coming towards him, bubbling up like it's going to swallow him whole. He stared it down, refusing to close his eyes, as if challenging it to hurt him, to take him as he goes. But then hands, freezing cold even through his layers of clothing, wrap around his waist and he is being hauled up in a rush of wind and dizzying speed. He bumps into a hard chest and feels as if he's stepped into a freezer.

"Hey," A voice low and playful crackles through him, "You okay?"

He turns around slowly, and is not at all prepared for the site he is greeted with. There is so much all at once, startling and glowing and fracturing. His eyes catch an warm icy gaze, blizzard white hair, pale skin, cold-kissed lips, hands running with blue veins and silver rings.

"You okay?" The stranger repeats, looking at him with concern.

He honestly doesn't know if he has the ability to talk. His mouth opens, his throat bobs, but words are lost cargo.

"Can you hear me?" The stranger asks, accompanying the question with sign language.

Percy responds automatically, raising a fist and moving it back and forth; his head accompanies the action but still no words come out.

They smile at him, and start signing another question. He doesn't bother to stop them, tell them they aren't deaf, he can hear, he just can't talk. He's speechless.

Are you okay? They sign.

He nods, and the words stuck in his throat finally tumble out. "Yes, yes," It is croaky with overwhelming emotion, "Thank you for catching me. I’m sorry I uh—" He doesn't have any respectable excuse for being mute for the entire first half of their interaction. He is just completely struck by everything the stranger is.

"Ah so you can hear me," The stranger laughs. He decides the sound is what makes stars. "Well I'm glad you're okay. I'm Jack."

Percy snorts. This cannot be real. Ice, him thinking about Jack Frost, and suddenly his saviour's name is jack? What has the universe been doing with its time to plan this?

“I'm Percy," He stares at them curiously studying the snowflakes that seem to cling to their floppy white hair despite the snow season being weeks away, and the blue eyes that hurtle him to the Abraham lake in Canada. A holiday his family had taken a mere year ago and one of the most beautiful places he's ever seen.

His demigod senses are peeking out their window, as curious as he is. The action puts him on high alert. His instincts are usually only alerted when he's in danger or............. in love.

"What are you?" He cannot stop the question. His mouth has a self-controlled function and no way to override it.

Jack raises their brow, "What are you, Percy?" His name sounds like luxury rolling off the stranger's tongue.

But the question throws him off guard and before he has time to drool over them again he is pulling his pen out and twirling it between his fingers anxiously. "Are you here to kill me?"

That barks a laugh from Jack, who looks so entirely amused he can't help but wonder if he can frame the moment to keep with him forever; a brow quirked, a slight dimple on their right cheek as their smile grows, and bunched freckles as their nose scrunches slightly.

"Get a lot of assassination attempts do you?"

“You have no idea," He feels his eyes roll in annoyance, an automatic reaction after all these years.

"No Percy," Jack says softly. It brushes across his skin like cool paint and snowy pine leaves. "I am here because the moon told me to be."

"The moon?" He sputters, "What do you mean the moon?"

"I mean exactly that. I talk to the moon and it answers."

He can feel his legs grow weak. "The moon— the moon— the....... moon," He mutters, staring at Jack.

They are silent as he attempts to compartmentalize his thoughts. "You know what?" He finally speaks, "That's not the weirdest thing I've ever heard. The children of Demeter talk to grain so this isn't that far out of reach."

Jack just looks at him with a patient, gentle smile on their face.

"So what are you? A child of Selene?"

"I am not a demigod." They shake their head. "I was chosen by the moon three hundred years ago. I am the spirit of winter."

The silence stretches between them like taffy. He isn't sure he's heard this right.

"You're—" He cannot even bring himself to say it.

"Yes, I'm Jack Frost."

Percy's legs give our from under him. Jack is not quick enough to catch him but he lands on a pillow of snow right before he bruises his knees. "You're Jack Frost?"

"Yes. And you are Percy Jackson."

"How—how do you know?"

"I've been alive for a very long time. I know a lot of people."

He just hums, trying to wrap his head sound another layer of myth and fable that makes up the fabric of the world.

"Why are you here?" He finally gutters out. "I mean I know the moon told you to come but why?"

"I uh have a theory but I need to ask something of you in order to know if I'm right."

He frowns, staring up at the stranger. No not stranger. Can you even call someone who's been around for centuries a stranger? What are they a stranger to? They have seen and heard and learnt and loved more than he ever has or ever will. It's more like he is the stranger. "What do you need me to do?"

"I just need you to summon water for me."

A thousand questions sit like caught snowflakes on his tongue but he let's them melt instead of spilling them into the world. Instead he gets up and concentrates on all the water sources surrounding them.

A reservoir one hundred miles away, fire hydrants near bursting with unused pressure, a small pond in a small park about five miles south, and of course the ocean in front of them, no more than fifty miles within reach.

"How much do you need?"

"Give me fifty liters."

He closes his eyes and imagines the pond, the water rippling within it. He imagines holding it in his palm as he would a basketball ball. When he feels a cool sensation wash over his skin he opens his eyes once more and sees a swirling blob of water surrounding his hand, dancing to the beat of his pulse.

"Is this enough?"

"Plenty," They smile and then their hands are reaching out and as if the water knows they're calling to it, it bounces over in little bubbles. As it touches their fingers a ray of light bursts from the contact and it turns to ice. Jack sucks in a breath, watching in amazement as the water freezes and hits the ground in a flurry of snow.

"What?" Percy cannot hold in his curiosity any longer. "What is it?"

"The moon was right." They look at him, eyes sparkling with something more than awe or curiosity.

"About?" He prompts.

"We're soulmates."

This is a story about their destinies.

"We're what?" Percy whispers. He has never gotten loud when he was surprised or angry or sad. He has always been soft.

"I usually need my staff to solidify water but if I use elements touched by my soulmate I can do it without aid."

"This is ridiculous!" He sputters. There is absolutely no way this is real. Seriously? Soulmates? He would laugh if he wasn't so outraged.

"You don't believe in soulmates?"

"It doesn't matter what I believe in!" He growls, "This whole ordeal is completely insane."

"What would it take to convince you Percy Jackson?" Jack just smiles, it is shining with happiness like it hadn't before.

"I have no idea because I have never heard of or encountered a soulmate." He hisses.

"Do you know why you can see me?"

He shakes his head, thoughts swirling faster than the hurricanes his further looses.

"Because you believe in me."

"I thought you had control over who sees you and who doesn't?" He raises a brow.

"Only with children. I can choose to show myself whether they believe or not. I have the ability since enough of them do believe." They say. "But adults are different. If they don't believe I cannot make myself appear to them. I am simply a ghost of their childhood past."

"I don't understand." Percy cannot wrap his mind around this. "How do you know you can only make ice out of whatever water I touch?"

Jack looks around for a brief moment before catching sight of something behind them. In a split second they are there and then they're back.

"Watch," He pours the water from the bottom he'd nabbed over his hand. It falls to the floor as liquid as it had started out.

"That doesn't prove anything, how do I know you're not just making sure you don't turn it to ice?"

"I cannot touch anything without freezing it, especially water." They worry at their bottom lip with their teeth, thoughts flying across their face. "It's like your friend Leo." They nod their head towards the café where Percy can still see his friends snuggled into the booth. "He doesn't necessarily turn everything he touches to ashes but he will always leave a warm imprint no matter how or what he has touched."

"How do you know that?" He gapes.

"Immortality gives you a lot of time to know the world." They shrug. "Now do you believe me?"

"I don't know." He answers truthfully. "I mean if we are soulmates..." He tries to form the question into some semblance of sense and order. "Does that mean I'm tied to you? That we have to like I don't know get married and spend eternity together?"

"No," Jack says gently, "No you can deny this bond if that is how you feel. It does not mean anything except that the universe put our souls in the same constellation. We are free to pick and choose who we love."

“And how will it work if we do decide to get together?” He frowns, “I will age but you will always stay the same.”

They look at him, head tilted, ice eyes bright. “But you know that’s not true.”

Everything in him barrels forward like a tidal wave. It cannot be. No-one knows. Not even his mother. “What isn’t true?” He will play this carefully, like the strings of a harp. He will not let his life crash through the ground.

“Why are you hiding it?”

“I’m not hiding anything.” He is adamant in his stance. He will not bow.

“You are denying the life you chose.” Jack considers him. “Why?”

“I’m not denying anything.” He huffs, “I’m just taking it slow.”

A snort bursts of them, arrogant and amused. “You are taking becoming a God slow?”

“I want to live with my friends before they figure it out!” He cries, all the fear and terror and worry burning through him.

Jack moves closer, presses a cold hand to his shoulder. “It is okay to be scared and angry and worried but do not forget that you are worthy of the title and you should wear it like a crown, not a burden.”

“There is always some burden in this much power.” He is bitter. He is right.

“Come,” Jack pulls them together, “Go meet your friends.” The hug is so cold but comforts him to the bone. “And when you are ready to make a decision, just whisper my name and i will answer, no matter where i am, or how far apart we are.”

He studies the person before him, beautiful and strange in an inviting sort of way, like no matter how much he learns about them he'll always want to know more. "Well you are very pretty."

They laugh, and the sound lights up the ocean inside him. "Thank you."

“Live Percy Jackson.” Jack Frost whispers.

And then Percy is standing outside a café, an icy wind dancing between his fingertips, and the impression of a freezing hug still clinging to his clothes. He realizes he feels happy. He feels safe.

This is a story about their love.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[image id: a poem by John P Smeeton titled "Jack Frost in the Garden" the poem reads:

Jack Frost was in the garden;// I saw him there at dawn;// He was dancing round the bushes// And prancing on the lawn.// He had a cloak of silver,// A hat all shimm'ring white,// A wand of glittering star-dust,// And shoes of sunbeam light.

Jack Frost was in the garden,// When I went out to play// He nipped my toes and fingers// And quickly ran away.// I chased him round the wood-shed,// But, oh! I'm sad to say// That though I chased him everywhere// He simply wouldn't stay.

Jack Frost was in the garden:// But now I'd like to know// Where I can find him hiding;// I've hunted high and low —// I've lost his cloak of silver,// His hat all shimm'ring white,// His wand of glittering star-dust,// His shoes of sunbeam light"

the background is a light blue and white marble. end id]

Tags: @fantasylover16 @queen-of-demons-and-hell @nishlicious-01​ @leyontheway @caffeinated-croissant

[eddiemunsonssoulmate]

Color is the place where our brain and the universe meet || Part 3

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Words: 2k

Summary: Soulmate!AU. Your vision is black and white until you touch your soulmate. In this chapter, you just want to forget but ignoring colors is quite hard.

A/N: Last part of the mini series, thanks so much for reading, liking and sharing!

Chapters: Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Available on: AO3

The last few days had been the absolute worst. You didn’t even know why it affected you so much, you shouldn’t care about a random boy that you’ve never seen before.

And yet here you were, laying in your bed in the early morning hours, pillow pressed against your chest after another night of crying.

Was this how it felt to lose a soulmate that you never really had? He was your soulmate but you weren’t this and that thought was ruining you.

Why did the universe have to play you like this? What did you do in your past life that you didn’t deserve happiness? You had so many questions but no one could answer you and it was driving you insane.

Maybe the pain would only be here for now and vanish soon enough. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. You’ve heard enough stories of people losing their soulmate in tragic accidents but they were okay sooner or later. This is what you could hope for.

Or maybe you’ll just die of broken heart syndrome.

God this was so stupid. You weren’t in love with him, didn’t know him and yet it felt like you had lost the love of your life. If this was what soulmates felt that were torn apart you didn’t want it. You’d gladly take back the black and white, this wasn’t worth it.

You needed distraction but at the same time, you’ve felt like you didn’t want to do anything.

You also hadn’t told anyone about what had happened. Your parents were too busy working the last few days. Sarah would have been the only one but she was in the Bahamas with her dad so you didn’t want to interrupt some quality family time. You’d tell her when she was back in a couple of days.

Suddenly your phone started to beep and you checked it quickly. A message from Topper.

‘Hey, wanna hang at the Golf Club today?’

You snorted because you knew he only asked you because his girlfriend wasn��t here at the moment and because Rafe had a thing for you. Normally it was Sarah that had to keep asking you to join them so her brother could throw you some looks.

Maybe it was the distraction you needed right now.

‘Sure, pick me up in half an hour?’

‘Gotcha!’

Half an hour wasn’t much time but enough to throw on some clothes and practice some fake smiling.

 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 You’ve never been a big fan of playing golf but you enjoyed the welcoming distraction.

The green grass under you smelled wonderfully while you just sat there and watched the boys play. For now it was only Rafe and Topper, apparently Kelce was going to join in later.

Your phone got the most attention though because you knew Rafe was trying to impress you with how good he was at hitting the balls across the field. Not something you cared about if you were honest.

A yawn left your mouth and you looked up at the clear blue sky above you, smiling slightly. Even though you didn’t want this because it wasn’t a happy thing you couldn’t deny the beauty in it.

Rafe and Topper were walking across the field and talked while you were laying down in the grass and taking a deep breath.

Moments passed before you heard a commotion so you sat upwards again and saw how the two boys were talking to another one that was carrying some bags.

You groaned loudly when they started to push him around, you could hear Rafe yell ‘Pogue’ at the other boy. It was a thing you never understood, their hate for the so called Pogues. Not that you’ve cared much either, you’ve barely been to that side of the island, avoided boneyard parties and all of that.

It was only when they started to push him around and throwing him to the ground that you got up and hurried over there.

“Guys stop, what the fuck,” you yelled while running down a hill toward the sandy pathway.

Topper looked up at you but Rafe kept kicking the bags around, laughing loudly. You’ve barely arrived when another boy jumped out and threw himself against Rafe, kicking him to the ground.

It took a second and a pain in your chest to realize you knew that boy that was currently getting thrown to the ground by Rafe too.

“Rafe, stop!” you yelled at him and he stopped for a second to look at you before getting punched in the face by the blonde boy you’ve met before.

The other boy they had beaten before had gotten up from the ground and pulled at the blonde while Topper pulled at Rafe, trying to get them apart.

“JJ, let’s go,” the stranger one said and it was only then when the ocean blue eyes of the blonde boy locked eyes with yours.

“It’s you,” he breathed out and your bottom lip started to wobble a little at the recognition. He wanted to say something but Rafe was getting in front of you.

“Take your Pogue eyes off her!” he snarled and JJ was about to attack him again but the other boy was able to hold him back.

“Rafe, let him be. Let’s just go, okay?” you asked him with a soft tone and pulled on his arm which made him move, Topper close on your heels.

“Wait, please!” The voice made you cringe and you closed your eyes for a moment, stopping in your tracks but before he could say anything else you hurried back inside the building. You didn’t want to hear what he was saying, he was the reason you were in this mess in the first place.

 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few days had passed and you tried to get his voice out of your head. Should you have waited for him? Listen to what he wanted to say? Did you do the right thing with leaving? You had no idea anymore.

The house was dark when you returned home from a friend’s place, your parents were on a small vacation. You had the place to yourself and you were really glad. Now you were able to sulk in peace without anyone asking questions.

Distraction wasn’t working so you went to the kitchen. Food would help. Food always helped. You took a bowl and simply poured some cereal and milk into it, that would be enough for a late night snack.

When you were about to sat down on the couch to watch your favourite show while eating the doorbell rang.

You huffed angrily and put the bowl down before walking towards the door. It was 11pm during a normal weekday, if it was your drunkard of neighbor again you’d probably hit him on the head with something this time.

Swinging the door open you expected everyone, hell even Wards in a unicorn costume but not him.

JJ.

You’ve remembered his name from when his friend called him. You had no idea what it stood for and you had no desire to figure it out.

The blue eyes looked at you in wonder and you were about to close the door in his face but something inside of you was pulling you towards him, stopping you from throwing the wood into his face.

“Hey,” he simply said and pulled the red cap from his head, giving you a crooked smile.

“What can I do for you?” you asked him, trying to sound indifferent but failing miserably.

“I was looking for you the past few days,” he started and shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “I wanted to apologize. Back at the bakery...I saw colors too. Still do.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut and you let out a small gasp, jaw clenching in anger a moment later.

“And you let me believe I’m a tragic soulmate? Wow, thanks for that. Fuck you,” you almost yelled at him and this time your arm would move, throwing the door close but he held his hand out, stopping it from closing shut completely.

“Please, let me explain! I’m begging you.” 

You didn’t want to listen to him, didn’t want to see him, didn’t want him around and yet, you opened the door again to look into his sad blue eyes. You didn’t want them to look so sad, wanted them to shine. God, you hated this.

“I’m a Pogue, I have nothing. You’re a Kook, I saw this right when we met. I thought maybe I could save you from a life with...me,” he immediately started as soon as you opened the door some more, taking the small chance you were giving him.

“For people like you I’m trash. Not worth anything. I was so scared you’d think the same of me or that we’d try it and you’d see that I’m not worth it, leaving me in the end just like a lot of people did. Giving up on me.That’s why I said that,” he kept explaining himself and you could see in his eyes that he was genuine in his words. You had no idea that normally, he wouldn’t tell this any person, would keep it locked down inside of him until it was eating him alive.

You had no idea he was feeling that strong pull like you did.

“What made you change your mind?” you asked him and opened the door even more, looking at him with a tear falling down your cheek. There was this tone in his voice, pain and anger and something else that you couldn’t put your finger on it. It was something that hurt you, it was almost like you’ve felt his pain.

“A chance at a future...with my soulmate.” You saw how he swallowed hard when he spoke those words to you, clearly afraid what your answer would be.

“I hope you know you’ve hurt me really badly. I thought I had lost my shot at this whole thing.” You gestured between you two as if you had any idea what exactly this was. “I’ve felt so lost these past days.”

“I really am sorry for this. I’m an idiot, a lot of times actually but I’d like to make it up to you.” He took a step towards you and you weren’t sure if you wanted to do the same or to take one back instead.

“And how are you planning to do this?” you asked him, not quite sure what to make of the situation.

He simply extended his hand and waited for you to take it. You hesitated for a couple of moments before taking his rough hand in yours. 

The touch took your breath away for a moment and his face told you he felt the same. A smile appeared on his lip, a smile that you wanted to see more often.

“You have such beautiful eyes,” he told you and you blushed, not letting go of his warm hand. It fit like it would belong there. “My name’s JJ and I’d like to start over.”

His words made your heart skip a beat and you couldn’t do anything else but smile back at him.

“I’m (y/n) and I’d like that too.”

[faeriescorpio]

Broken Glasses and Bonding Sessions

Erik Derekson & Dr. Iplier have a moment where Erik gets hurt and Dr. Iplier doesn’t understand how. Based off a personal experience no one can relate to at all lol. Placed on ao3 as well:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/28618878

“Dr. Iplier?”

The doctor turns around, smiling as he greets the other ego.

“Erik! What can I do for-” Dr. Iplier stops suddenly, catching sight of Erik’s face.

The younger ego shuffles his feet nervously as Dr. Iplier leaps forward, fingers tracing but not touching the large growing bruise on Erik’s face.

“Oh, dear! What happened!” Dr. Iplier gasps, examining the injury. The skin was not broken, but the bruise was fresh and painful looking.

“It was an accident,” Erik says, twitching away from the doctor’s touch. “I was wondering if you could fix my glasses. Dr. Iplier’s eyes grow wide as Erik holds out his glasses, completely snapped in half. Dr. Iplier reaches out and takes them gently and examines them, surprised.

“You snapped these perfectly in half,” He says, holding the symmetrical pieces in his hands. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling: awe, maybe? Shock? Erik isn’t the type to break his glasses on purpose, but surely such an even break, combined with a bruise, couldn’t have been an accident?

“Did someone break these on purpose?” He asks, voice low and gentle, trying to calm Erik down from his anxious state. Dr.Iplier hopes that no one has been bullying Erik, but if one of the egos were, then he would alert Dark without any hesitation. But Erik only flushes, face bright red, and avoids eye contact.

“It was an accident,” he mumbles, twisting his yellow cloth in his hands nervously. Dr. Iplier frowns, eyes drawn to the movement, and catches sight of small bruises on Erik’s hands.

“What’s this?” He asks, reaching out and gently taking Erik’s hands. Erik twitches, like a suppressed flinch, but lets the doctor take a look at his hands.

“It’s nothing,” Erik says, but the doctor only frowns. The bruises were minuscule compared to Erik’s face, and fainter too, so there is nothing for the older ego to do. He lets go of Erik’s hands reluctantly. He glances at Erik’s face, but there was little he could do there, and Erik looks a little panicked, eyes fixed firmly on the floor, so the doctor slowly returns his attention to the glasses.

Ignoring the fact that the glasses were entirely snapped, in the center of the nose bridge, the glasses would seem fine, intact save for small scrapes. But certainly, now unusable. And beyond repair.

“These will need a new frame,” Dr. Iplier says reluctantly. “Would you like to make sure your prescription is up to date before we make new ones?” Erik thinks about it, then nods, so Dr. Iplier takes out an eye chart and some of Erik’s old glasses. Over the years, the doctor’s equipment had grown to fit the needs of the various egos, as they seemed to think that they wouldn’t need any other doctor as long as they Dr. Iplier, but the fact was that Dr. Iplier was good for checkups, some emergency room action, and therapy. He did not start into existence specializing in Dark’s broken back, he did not know the optometry needed for The Host’s eyes or Erik’s glasses, and he did not memorize every mental illness available or how to cure Wilford of his obvious insanity. No, all of Dr. Iplier’s much-needed knowledge came from hard studying, late nights, and The Host’s help. The doctor sighs and calls out loud for the Host, confident that the blind ego would know he was being asked for, and what the powerful ego could do to help.

Surely enough, not a full minute passed before the equipment appears in the doctor’s office. Erik startles slightly, but Dr. Iplier only thanks The Host with an easy smile. He gestures for Erik to step forward. As Dr. Iplier leans forward towards Erik’s face, he catches sight of a thin red line across the bridge of Erik’s nose and frowns. It was just where Erik’s glasses sat, skin red and angry but unharmed. The ego in question only watches Dr. Iplier with a curious and nervous expression.

“Were you wearing your glasses when they broke?” The doctor asks, worried.

“It was an accident,” Erik repeats. Dr. Iplier frowns, creases on his forehead growing deeper. He couldn’t see how falling would’ve broken the younger ego’s glasses like that, unless, perhaps, he fell on something. The idea of Erik being bullied seemed more like a possibility, and Dr. Iplier finds himself growing angry. Erik catches sight of the doctor’s expression and looks slightly afraid, but offers up another piece of information.

“I fell.”

Dr. Iplier frowns, acknowledging his other idea besides bullies.

“On something?” He asks, and Erik flushes again, and Dr. Iplier recognizes it as embarrassment.

“Into a corner.”

Dr. Iplier makes a worried noise.

“Into a corner?” He repeats, and reaches out to Erik’s head, searching for any bumps under the younger ego’s hair. He finds nothing, to some relief, but Erik pulls himself out of the doctor’s grasp.

“I just stood up too fast,” Erik says, shifting in his chair uncomfortably, and Dr. Iplier pauses, confused.

“You just stood up too fast.” He repeats, and Erik nods. “Like vertigo?” Erik doesn’t have vertigo.

But the sweater-wearing ego nods anyway, and the older ego narrows his eyes.

“Describe the experience.” He commands, and Erik looks worried but complies.

“I stood up, took a couple of steps, and my vision went black,” Erik starts. “I was in the middle of the hallway, I think, I couldn’t see, but King asked if he could get by, so I tried to step to the side even though my balance felt weird, and the next thing I know, I’m on the floor and my glasses aren’t on my face.”

Dr. Iplier looks at Erik. There was no way that was vertigo.

“Erik,” he says slowly, “That sounds like you blacked out for a moment. You don’t remember falling?” Erik shakes his head.

“I was standing and then I was on the ground and my face hurt.”

Genuinely concerned now, the doctor reached out and checked Erik’s head again, making sure he didn’t miss any bumps last time, but the result was the same. Quickly, the doctor grabbed a pen and held it in front of Erik.

“Follow with your eyes,” he commands, and Erik does so. Nothing. The doctor holds back a growl of frustration and worry.

“Have you felt nauseous? Head hurts?’ He asks, but Erik shakes his head, acting like everything is fine. He doesn’t seem to regret shaking his head either, which the doctor notes.

“Only my face hurts, here,” He gestures to the bruise, and Dr. Iplier nods.

“You got a nasty bruise there,” he agrees. He frowns. He didn’t seem to have a concussion, which is both relieving and worrying. What had caused Erik to blackout?

“You said King was there?” Erik nods. “Can you go get him?”

Erik nods and stands with ease. He leaves the room steadily, and Dr. Iplier watches him go.

“Host,” he says slowly, “I think I need to give a blood test to Erik.”

The equipment appears by Dr. Iplier’s side quickly, a blood-stained note accompanying it.

“Do you need help diagnosing him?” It says in a sloppy scrawl, and Dr. Iplier bites his lip.

“I might,” he admits.

King and Erik enter the room a second later, and Dr. Iplier gestures them to sit.

“King,” he greets. “I don’t suppose you can tell me what you saw when-”

A flash of cold enters the room, and out of the corner of Dr. Iplier’s eyes his spots a black blur. He turns to face Dark as the grayscale ego enters with The Host in tow.

“I hear someone was injured?” Dark says gruffly, glitching sporadically in a way that suggests nervousness.

“I’m sure King’s story will catch us all up,” Dr. Iplier says, turning back to King, who looks paler as he realizes that something might be wrong.

“What happened when Erik fell?” The doctor asks, ignoring the two most powerful egos behind him.

“Sure,” King says, looking worried as well. “I entered the hallway, and he was just standing there at the other end, staring off into the distance, or so I thought. I asked if I could get by and he didn’t reply. He just stood there for another moment and then just fell over.”

“He just fell over,” Dr. Iplier repeats, and King nods and stands up to demonstrate.

“Yeah, he was like this-” King stands stiffly with his arms at his sides and legs together- “and then he just fell forward!” King leans forward, letting gravity pull him forward until he automatically sticks a foot out to steady himself. “Except he didn’t catch himself. Just fell, like a statue knocked over.”

Dr. Iplier looks at Erik carefully, noting the tight grip the youngest ego had on his yellow cloth.

“Thanks, King,” he says finally. “That’s all.” King stands reluctantly, glancing at Dark and Erik before Dr. Iplier catches his eyes. He tries to smile reassuringly at King, but the truth is, he is worried. He doesn’t know what’s wrong. He must do a good job at hiding it, though, because King seems to relax and darts out the door.

“What is it?” Dark asks, voice low, and the doctor could only shrug.

“I need to do a blood test,” he says, admitting his confusion. He turns to grab a needle.

“The Host will repair Erik’s glasses,” The Host declares, and turns his back determinedly as Dr. Iplier draws Erik’s blood. Honestly, the number of egos afraid of needles in this mansion was staggering, and not at all helpful for the doctor’s job.

As soon as Dr. Iplier sets up the machine, the Host turns around again, holding Erik’s glasses, now intact. The Host offers them to the youngest ego wordlessly, and once they are taken back, the Host turns to the machine.

“The machine hums, finishing its diagnosis, and begins to spell out the results,” The Host narrates, and Dr. Iplier realizes the Host is speeding up the results.

“Can you not tell what is wrong with Erik using your narrations?” Dark snaps irritably and The Host frowns in Dark’s direction.

‘The Host does not want to risk narrating wrong and giving Erik a second problem on top of what is wrong with him now,” The Host snaps back, and Dark steps back a little, the closest thing to an apology that the demonic ego would offer right now, and the Host turns back to the machine wordlessly. Enough time spent with the blind ego grants the doctor the knowledge that the Host has forgiven Dark, but Erik glances between the two worriedly, so Dr. Iplier pats his shoulder in silent reassurance.

The machine beeps to announce its completion of analyzing Erik’s blood, and the tension in the room ramps up. Dr. Iplier leans forward and reads the results, making a noise when he sees what’s wrong.

“Low iron,” he says out loud, and some of the tension dissipates. The doctor reaches into his cabinet and pulls out some iron supplements.

“Take two a day, and no more, or else you’re going to get badly sick, and no less, or you’re going to keep passing out.” The doctor instructs and frowns less. “And drink more water. I noticed your hands were rather dry.”

Erik takes the supplements with no small amount of relief and then exits the room quickly, leaving the other three egos behind.

“The Host is glad it was not something worse,” The Host says finally.

“Low iron is still pretty bad, you know how he looked,” Dr. Iplier counters and The Host shrugs slightly, shoulders tense, and the doctor accepts the apology for what it is. Dr. Iplier takes the health of all his family seriously, no matter how easily fixable, and The Host knows this.

“If I could grow gray hair, this would’ve given me quite a few,” Dark grumbles, voice less glitchy than before. He runs a hand through his hair, looking suddenly exhausted.

Our family can be so stressful,” The doctor commiserates. He pokes Dark for emphasis, unafraid of the eldest ego. “Like you. Get some sleep.”

The powerful ego only sighs, a moment of weakness reserved for the pair of older egos. 

“Maybe I will,” he allows, and then glitches away, hopefully teleporting to his room.

“The Doctor will need a bigger office if he is going to keep all of this equipment,” The Host notes, and Dr. Iplier nods in agreement.

“Definitely,” He agrees, then hums and pats the chair next to him. “While you’re here, you should get your bandages changed.” “Absolutely not!” The Host yelps, making his way towards the door. “They aren’t that filthy yet!”

Dr. Iplier watches him scramble off, annoyance growing.

“It seems my job is never finished,” he complains to no one, and a fond smile threatens to tug his lips up, but he pushes it down.

“Oh well.” He grabs a clean roll of bandages and leaves the room, turning the light off as he goes.

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

Right there

Summary: Love stories aren’t always grand, sweeping epics. Sometimes they come soft and slow, made up of a million different things, and you may not even recognize what you have until it’s right there in front of you. This is one of those stories.

Characters: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Brief mission related trauma. Oreo thievery and dirty bubblegum. Mostly just buckets of fluff.

A/N: Hello Tumblr friends! I’ve been in a writing drought lately and it feels like forever since I posted anything, so here’s a short, fluffy fic while I try to Stella my groove back. My plan was to make this snappy and snarky, but it went full scale mush by the end. Guys, I just really love Bucky Barnes. ♥️

Want to find all my stories? Search #bitsmasterlist or try the link in my bio!

*****

“Right there. Do you see?”

The murmur is low in your ear. Smoothing the folds of emerald green satin, you follow Bucky’s glance down and see the tips of your freshly painted toes, clad in sparkly sandals and peeping from beneath the evening gown. Nothing out of the ordinary, until you notice one thing.

“Gross. What the hell is that?” you whisper.

Stuck like glue to the front of your right shoe, curling over the edge and dangerously close to your bare skin, is a piece of neon blue bubblegum.

Keeping one eye trained on the crush of inebriated party goers, searching out the mission target for the evening, you try a few options.

Scrape the edge of the shoe on the marble floor. Pointless.

Give a couple stealthy stomps. Useless.

Try to wipe it on Bucky’s trouser leg. Bucky sighs heavily and sure, that’s entertaining.

But no matter what you try, this appears to be the superglue of all gum. Bucky stares straight ahead, eyes roaming the crowd, but you see him periodically glance over, gauging your progress.

There’s no real harm, you can fix it later, but every time you shift your weight, the tacky feel of it sticks to the floor and makes a small snick sound. Like a parasite, the dirty, chewed up wad creeps further up the shoe, so close to defiling your pristine toes, and the whole thing is driving you bananas.

“Pay attention to the mission,” Bucky whispers sternly, but as of immediately, there’s a new mission in town. So, when your revolutionary idea arrives in a wave of brilliance, you take immediate action.

Nestled snug against Bucky’s lower back, hidden beneath his tuxedo jacket, sits his favorite knife. Without a thought, you reach up and tug it from the sheath, turning to face the back wall, balancing on one leg and gripping his forearm for support.

And then, frozen in shock, Bucky proceeds to watch you use his favorite knife - the one he sleeps with under his pillow, the one he keeps beside his morning Cheerios, the one he painstakingly sharpens after each and every mission - to dig at the dirty blue bubblegum fused to the bottom of your shoe.

“Disgusting,” you mutter. With a twist and flourish, it pops free and you fling it away, sending it flying into one of those tacky potted ferns by the bathroom. Smothering a laugh, you shoot Bucky a challenging look - and then slide the sticky knife back in the sheath.

You slide it back in the sheath without cleaning it.

Bucky grinds his teeth so hard his jaw locks up.

There is no earthly reason you should still be alive after this sacrilegious approach to basic knife protocol, but when he subtly leans over to voice his intense displeasure, he has the sudden desire to laugh.

“Everything okay, Barnes?” you ask under your breath, resuming your scan of the crowd. An insanely devilish grin tugs at your lips, and he huffs at the playful nudge of your elbow.

“Just fuckin’ peachy,” he mumbles drily, and then he marvels at the thought that follows.

Because right there, Bucky Barnes decides that maybe that proper knife etiquette isn’t all that important.

As long as he can see you smile.

*****

“Right there. Do you see?”

Bucky stands stoic at the open kitchen cabinet, pointing at the top shelf, his furious glare driving daggers into Sam’s heart.

“Dude, I swear I didn’t touch them.”

“You’re a lying liar who lies, Wilson.”

“Dude, I fucking swear. Get over yourself, damn.”

Sam stands with his arms crossed, an equally exasperated sneer on his face. Sitting on the couch, buried under a mountain of blankets, you watch with interest. Back and forth they trade barbs, a verbal tennis match full of snarky comments, childish quips, and the occasional mention of each other’s mom. Finally, Sam throws his hands up and whirls away.

“You’re fucking impossible, asshole.”

Bucky bangs the cabinet door shut and stomps over to you, plopping into an armchair to sulk. Smiling in commiseration, you stay silent, furtively trying to swallow. You’re so close to success, but then it happens.

No matter how hard you try, the crinkle of an Oreo package is too obvious.

At the sound, Bucky’s head snaps up.

“What was that?” he asks, suspicious. Eyes wide, you shrug in silent innocence. Bucky scrutinizes your pile of blankets, realization dawning. “Was that - did you steal my Oreos?”

Another silent, vehement shake of the head. You’re close, so close, just one more swallow -

“Okay,” he says slowly. “Prove it. Whistle for me.”

Damn.

When you purse your lips and blow, nothing comes out. Well, nothing except flecks of black Oreo crumbs. Swallowing the rest of the cookie, you fish out the bottle of milk hiding under the blanket and wash it all down, smacking your lips.

“Oh, sorry. Were these your Oreos?” you ask sweetly.

Bucky bites the inside of his cheek and tries to be mad, he genuinely tries really hard, but it doesn’t work. Launching himself from the chair, he bounces onto the couch next to you, sending your milk sloshing and you squawking in faux anger.

“You dirty little thief,” he deadpans, snatching away the package. Shoving three cookies in his mouth, he steals your bottle of milk and chugs it down. When he finishes, a white milk mustache is painted above his lip. It turns this dark man, someone with decades of gunpowder on his fingers and bloodstains on his soul, back into a young boy. Carefree and innocent, brimming with happy laughter. Swallowing hard, you reach over and carefully wipe it away with a firm brush of your thumb.

And right there, Bucky Barnes discovers the simple beauty of cookies and milk and the feel of your cool fingers on his skin.

*****

“Right there. Do you see?”

No. You didn’t. And that’s the problem.

Every blow of your fists unleashes something inside.

Smack, smack, smack.

Harder and faster, the punching bag absorbs all the pent of anger and lingering fury of a failed mission.

Smack, smack, smack.

It was so close. It was right there. You should have seen it. Should have remembered the bad guys never play nice, and the price of hesitation is a life. Memories trigger memories, sparking through your brain like a circuit board of bad decisions, lighting up one after another. Bucky stands on the other side of the bag, silently watching you pummel those demons trying to burrow into your skin.

“Talk to me,” he says quietly, and you frantically shake your head.

Smack, smack, smack.

Tears spill over. They blur your vision, turning the punching bag and the tall soldier holding it, into shapeless blobs. Blinking them away, wiping your runny nose on tape covered hands, the salt of tears and sweat drips into the busted-up gashes across your knuckles. It stings, a vicious reminder of what was lost. The scent of blood fills your nostrils and there are those memories again, a tsunami of pain barreling through.

Smack, smack, smack.

“Go away, Bucky. Leave me alone,” you snarl, aching arms still swinging at the punching bag. He ignores the request, a stalwart statue. It infuriates you in an unexplainable way and you spit the words in his face. “God dammit, fuck you, I don’t want - I don’t need - I don’t - I mean it. I fucking mean it. Please, just” smack “fucking” smack “go.”

Smack.

Like a booming clap of thunder, your last punch is so hard, it explodes the fragile wall holding the tears at bay.

Knees buckle. Shoulders slump. Fists slam the floor. You go down hard, and the result is devastation.

Ugly, wrenching sobs claw up your throat, stuck behind your clenched teeth until you open your mouth and howl. It hurts to cry this way, to let everything loose and accept the consequences of your failure. You will never save them all, and that clarity is a special brand of destruction.

Bucky says nothing. No words can solve this pain. No one knows that better than him.

Instead, he lays down on the sweat drenched mats beside you. Without a word, he wraps you into a hug, tucking you against his chest. Even if you don’t deserve this comfort, you cling to it. Clutching his shirt, the only lifeline you have left, you cry until that bottomless well of pain and misery finally runs dry. It takes hours, but Bucky is patient, never ceasing the comforting strokes up and down your spine.

And when it’s done, when your exhaustion leaves you unable to open puffy eyes, he simply lifts you up and carries you to your room. Places you gently on your bed and pulls the blankets over you.

“Bucky. Don’t go. Please don’t leave,” you beg hoarsely, and the misery in your voice breaks him. The bed dips as he climbs in beside you, wrapping you in his arms once again and you feel his lips brush your forehead.

The night bleeds into a dreary grey dawn, and right there, Bucky Barnes sinks into the comfort of a dreamless sleep, with you cradled tight in the heat of his arms.

*****

“Right there. Do you see?”

Eyes closed against the shining sun, you offer a sleepy hum. There’s a rustle of movement, and something soft tickles your cheek. It runs across your nose, touches your eyelids, sweeps light as a feather over your lips.

Eyes struggle open, and there you find Bucky watching, a little purple flower held in his long fingers. The look on his face is unreadable. He does that sometimes, looks at you like he wants to say something more, but he always hesitates, the words stuck in confused silence.

The petals wave faintly in the breeze and you smile.

“Pretty,” you say.

“Just a weed,” he shrugs.

“Still pretty,” you say. “Hand it over.”

Bucky places it in your outstretched palm. Gives a wry shake of the head.

“You’re the only one I know, who thinks weeds are beautiful.”

The small blossom sits thoughtfully in your hand and you hold it up, squinting to the sun.

“Just because something has a bad name, doesn’t mean it isn’t beautiful.”

There’s a peculiar hope in Bucky’s face as he considers the statement. He likes those words. He likes them a lot. Wants to believe they might even include him too. But nervous silver fingers pick at the threadbare edge of the picnic blanket, and you see a shadow of self-doubt flit over his handsome face.

“Sometimes a weed is still a weed. Even pretty words can’t change that fact.”

The reference is clear. You know exactly what he means, because the list of negative metaphors Bucky uses to describe himself has grown extensive and colorful over the years. Rising to your knees, you shuffle closer until you’re facing him.

“Hey,” you say gently. Careful hands cup his face, the scratchy feel of his beard on your palms softer than you expected. “You better not be calling yourself a weed, Barnes. I’d hate to kick your ass out here in public.”

The shimmer of unshed tears in those blue eyes makes you ache for him. But when Bucky sees the determination in your face, he blinks them away. And like the little weed in your hand, a tiny smile begins to bloom.

He clears his throat.

“Kick my ass, huh? I’d really love to see how that goes.”

“It’ll go my way,” you say confidently. Picking up his heavy hand, you turn it palm up and peel his fingers back. Laying the purple flower in his hand, the vivid color glows against the bright silver. “See? Beautiful. Just like you.”

He stares at the flower. Looks up.

It happens right there, in the sun-soaked summer fields of Central Park; Bucky Barnes feels his heart stop at the taste of your kiss.

*****

“Right there. Do you see?”

Lost in thought, Bucky startles at the question.

Following the line of your arm, he sees you pointing into the infinite ocean of blue-black. Stars are speckled through the heavens, patterns of constellations and figures that you always manage see, but he can never seem to find.

Stuck in the middle of nowhere, the two of you walk along, miles from civilization. The first hint of winter settles all around, hard frost covering the tips of the grass, coating the pebbles edging the abandoned road, turning your breath to thick white clouds. It should make him anxious. Bucky hates the frost, despises the frozen blue that weaves maliciously through his worst nightmares.

But on this cold, moonlit night, with you warm by his side, he finds he doesn’t mind so much.

“What am I looking for?” he asks.

“Shooting star,” you say breathlessly. Tilting your head back, you go still, a beacon of patience awaiting a cosmic miracle. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

Bucky peers up at the sky, but as the minutes click by, he knows he’ll never find what he needs up there.

He turns to look at you instead. Watches you watch the sky, his chest burning with contentment at the sight of your profile in this moonlit night.

“Sure,” he says. “So beautiful.”

Gloved fingers find yours, and you turn your gaze from the infinity of space, to this man beside you, solid and real and here on Earth. There is nothing in the world but the two of you, nothing else matters as you move impossibly close.

“Such a sap,” you murmur, your mouth a mere breath from his. The tip of his nose is icy against your cheek, and you can feel him smiling as he returns the kiss with a shiver.

The world is funny. Because this - this is your love story.

Built on blue bubblegum and stolen Oreos, blood-stained bandages and purple flowers, shooting stars and an endless night sky, this love bursts with highs and lows and a million variations in-between. Wrapped up in the delicious comfort of your kiss, Bucky wonders what in the world he ever did to earn this.

This perfectly imperfect life. Here. With you.

There’s no real answer, of course. Love is like that sometimes.

So instead, he dusts off those three words from another life, ones he’s stored away for decades, and he hands them over, because they’re the one thing he can always see, no matter how dark his world becomes.

“I love you,” he whispers. “More than anything.”

The words are drenched in happiness, syllables shaped with a quiet joy that glows brighter and fiercer than every constellation hanging above. And in the space of a single second -

Your heart skips.

Your breath catches.

You swear you could fly.

Because this is it, this is the moment. This is the big one.

And that right there is when you return those three words, the ones Bucky Barnes has been missing his whole life and the ones you’ve held close, since the night you found that blue bubblegum tacked onto your shoe.

The words are perfect. You kiss him again.

“I love you too, Bucky.”

*****