#the sight of this child fills me with dread for reasons which are difficult to explain...

[arthur-barma]

oz vessalius

[lestwritewhilewaitingforajobcall]

The Odd Rumble of Thunder - Thor x Reader

(A/N)

Hey guys! I wanted to personally thank you all for the kind comments and messages, they really inspire me to continue writing more and the support truly means a lot! Also, I just found out how to access post replies, I apologize I haven’t gotten to reading them since my first story, I’m still trying to figure out the gist of things here on Tumblr! Anyways, recently I’d only been posting more on Poseidon, so here’s a special one for our Norse god of thunder (aka the god I simp for the most). This idea came to me while out on a camping trip, I hope you guys enjoy it! Feedback would really be welcomed and appreciated!

This is for entertainment only. Record of Ragnarok belongs to Shinya Umemura, Takumi Fukui and Ajichika. I also do not own you, the reader.

The Odd Rumble of Thunder

Thor x Reader

Even before the news spread like wildfire, Thor had become under the tyranny of a good habit to bringing his wife with him wherever he may go. It stood to reason that he would never be so careless to invite you over to danger, hence why, at a god’s ephemeral notice, he had stopped seeking direction for his combative side, but when, at last, he had to venture, he made much quicker work of it than when he would have otherwise.

Inarguably, if you’d wanted to lay down and rest instead, it was a surety you’d receive your meals in bed, unbothered. But for Thor there was no guarantee he’d ever have to worry about you, so the whole of Asgard knew by now he’d drop whatever he was doing to accompany you, uncaring about diplomacy in the first place.

Not that Odin nor Loki minded either; especially since the Allfather knew more about the concerns of a father expecting their first child. Moreover, Loki enjoyed shapeshifting into his cousin during days he was absent. It was much more fun to cause mischief legally, as he would say.

Today, Thor stood by his wife who sat comfortably in her rocking chair on the porch, allowing a full view of the hills that sloped gently down to the grand gardens. You were seven months along, approaching the eight month, the swell of your stomach now far more prominent.

At the very moment you had begun to show, you had a companion of whom would almost never leave your side, your husband’s absence in the kingdom gradually becoming more frequent, more lengthened, till at last his presence among his people became an exception. Despite your constant reassurances that you would be fine, Thor insisted on staying, casually sweeping aside your thoughts regarding his habitual sense of duty.

“I would only be gone for nine months to tend to my wife and child, they should fare well on their own lest they are more incompetent than I would’ve thought.” Thor had told you once before, and you’d decided not to question him further on that. You understood your husband’s concerns, to be truthful, you had a few of your own as well, so having Thor assist you alleviated some of the stress and worry concerning your child’s safety.

Especially now that you were nearing your due date. For instance, you were having the toughest time moving, suffering primarily from the weight in your belly and pains in your back and legs that made walking and even standing difficult. What made the physical strain worse too was your child’s eagerness to know you and Thor both, unable to stay long in one position, much like their father’s enthusiasm for battle.

“How are you feeling?” Thor’s question rested upon a rather precise calculation of the last time he had asked the same only a short moment before. It was quite visible in his actions that he did not want to cause any negative feelings if he could help it, though desiring you to avoid stress as much as possible.

You smiled. “Come close. You’ve been standing there for ages just ogling at me.” You opened your arms out wide. “Are you not tired?”

Truth be told, despite Thor’s constant need to remain close to his wife, he felt a real, undeniable fear of touching you, specifically, your abdomen. He closed the distance between until he was right in front of you, staring down at you with hard eyes. Longing leaped like a flame reaching out in his celestial yellow orbs.

“Love, I am always grateful for your concern for me. And I am feeling much better just knowing you’re beside me.” You raised yourself up, pushing against the chair to try to stand. Thor rushed forward, held you then put his hands under your arms to lift you up. Your child was growing fast. “But how about you? How are you feeling?”

You inched closer, your fingers playing with the locks of his hair that you could reach. “Aside from the stress of waiting, I’ve noticed that you have something else weighing on your mind.

“Tell me, what is it?”

At the sight of you through his warworn eyes, his mind was filled with bliss. For that loving glance of yours, he felt a divine presence and holy atmosphere that seemed to pervade everything around you. Having an inkling of what you were hinting at though, he broke your gaze, in an attempt to avert the guilt you conferred on him.

“Please. We’re in this together, I would want nothing more than to help you back as much as you’ve helped me.” Thor felt you shift in his arms, get more comfortable. He felt the bulk of your child across his legs, the weight no doubt pulling you down. Seeing you in pain like that, was sad and unbearable, and the gnawing feeling grew stronger. And since he knew you were always so full of strength and determination, always unrelenting in your attempts to make him feel better, he began,

“I am afraid.” Red eyebrows drew together.

“Afraid of what?”

“That I might accidentally hurt you and our child,” Thor took a deep breath in then let it out in a sigh while taking a step back. “I do not want that to happen, even if I want to be at your side at all times. And this frustrates me to no end.”

Thor did himself a favor by giving attention to anything other than his wife, refusing to be a witness on the sadness and any he may have caused. Dealing with his own disappointment was nothing new, but he had trouble dealing with the fact that he was the cause of yourpain. He wished he could take his troubles which escaped, hanging in the air, and all the bad feelings on himself and let things continue as they were, but he knew it didn’t work that way. You needed to know that he only wanted you and your child safe and protected, even from himself.

He could not understand how the cosmos could play such a cruel joke on the both of you: you, bore so much pain because of one of the greatest affairs of life, and him, the strongest deity in the Pantheon, was powerless against the natural laws of existence.

Strong shoulders slumped, head bowing as stray strands of red hair fell over Thor’s brow. Not again. He did not wish to be reminded of the cautious sympathy his father and cousin had approached him with. His stomach lurched whenever the subject of your frailty came up. Dread and a terrifying fear overwhelmed his soul for the first time, the thought of losing you−

“Hey,” Your voice which lingered on the gentle breeze brushed against Thor’s face, pulling him out of his stupor. He refocused, turning his gaze onto your sweet face.

How were you able to hold yourself up well despite your obvious pain and suffering? Did you not bear the same nervousness as he did? The answer was obvious, practically screaming in Thor’s ears but became deaf following his guilt and clouded instincts. For a long time since you’d first told him about the news, he bore these worries in silence; but when at length he’d been perplexed by your introspection−or seeming lack of it. Why, in fact, did you concern yourself with him at all? Compared to you, there was hardly any threat to his own life posed. Why had you always done more to make him feel better when you were the one who needed it most?

Cutting through the haze he found himself in was the shape of you, or maybe your hair billowing in the wind, a wisp of it across your face, and then suddenly the feel of your skin, the sense of your head on his chest. Even if it were fleeting, that alone brought him the possibilities of comfort that he’d so needed. Oh, how he missed this; you cupped his big callously marble hands around yours, caressing them so tenderly, as if he were fragile and might break, so short it could never be pulled back.

As he relished the warmth of the blaze you gave him for the winter of unease, he’d realized much sooner that the coldness that inched its icy fingers up his spine still threatened to battle your kind words, you, his very own wife, and he detested himself for being unsure whether or not it was of his own doing; was he pushing you away when you’d only wanted to offer your help?

Thor’s immediate impulse was to pull back from you, abruptly halted by your fingers which slipped between his now splayed hand. You wrinkled your nose in a delightfully unguarded manner that caused his breath to hitch in his throat.

“Do you remember the first time we said our vows?” If only you knew the way Thor perceived you: in his eyes, your radiant smile reflected the morning sunlight of Valhalla, for a split second picturing the moment you’d walked down the aisle, that headpiece on your head instantiating the paradox of mystery that once lifted revealed your beautiful face, marking it the best day of his long life. Something warm bloomed in his chest once again and spread its heat out through every vein in his body. He remembered the smooth feel of the veil against his cheek after sealing your promise with a kiss, his lips parting with a breathless sigh.

“Your hands caressed my fit of nerves with light, tender touches and then inspired me with hard, passionate embraces,” With effortless ease, you lifted your intertwined hands to your mouth and kissed his knuckle. Thor watched with great admiration your every move, the desire to distance himself was now but an afterthought. Nothing would ever separate him from you when all you’d ever done was pull him closer than ever.

Then, you sought out his hand, kissing his palm as he stroked your face. You clung onto his arms, gripped at his chest as if you were searching for warmth, as if you needed his touch, and much like him, couldn’t bear to be even an inch away. His mind was still slowing its racing to let him mutter something in response, so he allowed himself to be entranced by how smooth and sure of yourself you were, with nothing to mar the calm serenity of your features. Your smile seemed to be a natural adornment, the utter gentleness in your eyes, reminded him of every morning when he woke up, he would see you by his side, as well as your sleeping snoring face. Right at that moment, the silly scream finally made it to the deaf god’s ears:

He was your haven,

The place you called home and went to find peace.

As Thor immersed himself in your smell, your sparkling eyes, he felt the excruciating cold all melt away in your warmth. No more seeds of doubt with which to sow and seek his destiny. Slowly, he began to see his surroundings from a keener point of view, realizing, then appraising them: from the passing wind your hair messed which he pushed aside, tucking it behind your ear, to how his sash seemed to fit him better indeed, rather than cling onto his skin even tighter as brutally as it had done before. He noticed the minute changes since he’d last taken a good look at you months ago: a little flusher on your skin, lines around the eyes a little deeper, a little increase in body temperature.

He pulled you closer, his actions not arising from calculation instead led by instinct. You let him take more of your weight, your belly pressed against his stomach as you sighed, his fingers working wonders on massaging the muscles that had been much abused in carrying the baby’s weight. A sudden wrenching through his sash struck Thor’s heart and had him holding his breath.

The baby had moved, and he’d felt it.

Bending down, he buried his nose in your hair, closing his eyes as he drank in your scent. Your arms wrapped around his back as he connected in this loving embrace, feeling his heart beat in rhythm with your own.

“Our child would no doubt love to be enveloped in their father’s safe arms,” With a light, gentle touch, your fingers ran through Thor’s hair, making him shiver with delight.

On that day, only the beautiful gardens of Asgard became privy to nothing more than a moment in which husband and wife reached for the same comfort and their concerns met. These gardens were simultaneously the very same place where Thor had first avoided the problems that plagued his mind, but also became exactly the same place where he’d find solace in the arms of his lovely wife.

Resting his hand on where his child was, he recognized that familiar feeling turning up, but upon realizing the bittersweet irony of and within these gardens, the revelation came to him: happiness could also come from the very object of fear.

And as you had an unmovable trust in him, there was an unspoken mutual understanding that he too, should put his trust in you.

[lovely-angst]

single dad!dabi

a/n: i KNOW dabi’s cannonly(?) can’t cry, but let’s just ignore that fact in this fic :^) also ty for waiting patiently for me to post! <3

genre: angst

pairing: dabi x f!reader

summary: dabi had started a family with you, but when he suddenly becomes a single father, now what?

word count: 2.4k

06.29.21

-

The sounds of an infant cry filled the small apartment as the night grew on. The sun had long gone and the moon filled its place in the sky as the city fell into a slumber—it seemed as if the only ones up were Dabi and the small child in his arms. 

Her mouth opened wide as her powerful cries rang in Dabi’s ears as he tried cooing the young girl back to sleep. A bounce in his step as he paced around the small bedroom he shared with his three-month-old daughter, Aya. 

Dabi tried shushing her gently, attempting to soothe her, but to no avail. 

He felt as if he was going crazy. He had tried everything at this point—a warm bottle, a change of fresh diaper, heck, even some snuggles, but nothing seemed to work. 

Dabi could feel his eyes sting with upcoming tears as his frustrations grew and grew. Setting Aya down in her crib, her wails grew louder before Dabi turned around and slumped against the crib, defeated. 

Reaching over towards his nightstand, Dabi gently picked up the photo of you before bringing it closer towards him, his glossy eyes running across your familiar features before he brought his large hands towards his face.

And cried. 

He cried and cried and cried.

“I can’t do this, (Name),” he sobbed into your photo, his wails mixing in with those of his daughter’s. “I don’t know what to do anymore. I can’t help Aya, she needs you,” he stated, pulling back to stare at your photo once more. 

“I don’t know how to do this without you. You were supposed to be here with us—we were supposed to do this together,” his cries had died down, allowing him to wipe the photo dry of his tears. 

Leaning his head back on the crib, Dabi’s eyes roamed over the small bedroom. It was messy, just as messy as his life was currently without you. Picking up one of your shirts from the floor, Dabi let the fabric rest in his hands before bringing it up to his chest to hold. 

It still faintly smelled like you.

His daughter’s cried came back to his ears and Dabi stood back up, tucking the shirt in his young daughter’s arms before watching her cries gently soothe away from your scent. 

“Yeah,” Dabi started, bending down to pick his daughter up before bringing her towards the bed with him, “I miss her too.”

-

It felt like yesterday when you told Dabi you were pregnant. It came as a shock to him of course—he was just hitting his twenty-fifth birthday and he was about to become a dad?

He was never really the one to think about kids or even having kids himself—but that all changed once you came into the picture. 

“I know you’re scared, I’m scared too,” you say, grabbing hold of his hands before giving him the prettiest shy smile, “but if I’m honest, I’m really excited to become a mom. I love you so much, Dabi. I can’t wait to love our baby.”

You were so excited and he couldn’t help but anticipate the day his baby would be born. 

Dabi knew you would be a great mother. On the other hand, he was nervous—but if you were going to put in all this effort to love and raise this baby with someone like him, then Dabi knew he had to give it his all too. 

He’ll make sure that his child lives a better life than he ever will. 

He decided to cut his ties with the league, ending his time as a highly wanted villain. It wasn’t easy getting Shiggy to agree, but with a little bit of convincing and a little explanation about his tragic backstory, Shiggy finally agreed. 

If he was going to be a dad, he wanted to do it right. 

Everything was going great throughout the pregnancy. Dabi was there for you as much as he could, helping you, providing for you and his baby. Basking in those little moments of realizing that he was going to be a dad. 

Reality began to hit when you had gone into labor. It would have been fine if Dabi were a normal citizen, but Dabi was a villain and because of that, he wasn’t able to be with you when you were giving birth in the hospital. 

It crushed him more than you could have known—to have his unofficial wife alone during such a difficult, excruciatingly painful and life-changing journey. There were times Dabi wished he could be a normal citizen like you, and this was one of those times. 

It wasn’t until you got discharged a few days later when Dabi was able to see you again. It was also the first time Dabi had gotten to see his baby. 

You were finally back in the apartment, Dabi helping you up the stairs to the apartment as he eyes the little bundle in your arms. “You can hold her too, you know,” you say with a smile when you caught him staring for the millionth time.

“Her?” Dabi asked voice caught in his throat. “Welcome Aya to the world,” you say, placing her in his arms the moment the two of you sat on the couch together. 

His breathing stopped the moment Aya was placed in his arms. She was tiny. Dabi didn’t know that humans came this small. He was scared of accidentally breaking her, and from the way you laughed, he could tell you knew. 

Dabi watched you closely as you taught him how to carefully bathe her, change her, feed her, and even burp her. He remembered the times your laughter would fill the air whenever Aya spit up all over him, or even the times her little body was able to create such a smelly masterpiece for him. 

He always thought he would hate being a father, yet here he was. Sleeping soundly with his baby girl.

Three months into having his baby girl were some of the best days of his life. Sure they were tough and going off practically no sleep was rough, but he wouldn’t trade this domestic life for anything. 

It made him feel like a normal person.

But all good things come to an end.

As Dabi strolled along during one of his scouting missions, his phone rang and vibrated in his pockets before he reached in for it. He really only had the phone, so you could contact him if you were in some deep waters, which he hoped would never happen.

To his surprise, it wasn’t you who called, but Hawks.

“What? You better have a good reason for calling, or I’ll-”

“It’s about (Name),” Hawks cuts off, “you better come quick,” and with that, Hawks ended the call, leaving Dabi’s thoughts unanswered. A small ping resonating in the air as Hawks left him with a single address.

Though Hawks’ call was brief and left a lot for Dabi to figure out himself, he knew it bad news awaited him. He just hoped it wasn’t as terrible as his thoughts led him to. 

“What was so urgent?” Dabi asked as soon as he stepped around the corner of an empty alleyway only to find Hawks’ red wings filling his sight. “Where’s (Name)?” 

As soon as your name left Dabi’s lips, Dabi could see the way Hawks’ feathers shifted before the winged man himself, turned towards Dabi, finally giving him the view of what he most dreaded. 

There you lay—eyes closed and chest unmoving. Dabi’s eyes widened before he ran towards your body, where thankfully, it rested on Hawks’ thick jacket and not on some dirty alleyway like this. 

“(Name)? Hey, wake up, I’m here,” Dabi tried, gently shaking your shoulders and brushing your cheek with the back of his hand. 

“Dabi,” Hawks started, voice strained, “she’s gone.” 

Those words seemed so unreal that if Dabi blocked them out of his head, then it surely wouldn’t be true. Stared at your limp body in front of him, it was all just a bad dream.

“I...I was with her during her last moments. I found her while on patrol, it was a gunshot wound,” he informed, watching Dabi caress your cheek. 

“I made sure she left peacefully, I talked about you to her.” Hawks tried, “and she smiled. She told me to tell you to take care of Aya for her.” 

As Dabi turned around, his eyes quickly focused on Aya, who was sound asleep in Hawks’ arms. Taking a step forward, Hawks placed Aya in Dabi’s arms before Dabi began quietly sobbing while clutching his daughter.

Hawks had never seen Dabi look so broken and desperate before and it was quite painful to see. Villain or not, Hawks never wanted anybody to go through this. 

“I’m sorry for your loss, Dabi.” 

Though the two weren’t good buddies in any way, they both had you in common. As much as it hurt to see you go, Dabi asked Hawks to take you away and give you a proper burial as you deserve. And Hawks didn’t bat an eye at his request. 

Giving you one last final kiss goodbye, Hawks lifted you in his arms, ready to take flight. “Hey,” Hawks starts, catching Dabi’s attention, “if you ever need anything for Aya, just let me know.” 

Dabi couldn’t help the slight curl in the corner of his mouth at Hawks’ words. “I don’t want to owe favors.” 

Hawks smiled back at the man in front of him, throwing his visor on, “You don’t have to worry, she’s in good hands,” and with that, his large red wings spread and he took flight into the air with you. 

And it was the last time Dabi would ever get to see you.

-

It had nearly been a month since you left—Dabi doing his very best trying to raise Aya as a single father. It was hard. No, more than hard. Being a single father to a three-month-old with no mother was the most challenging thing Dabi has ever done. 

And he was starting to doubt his abilities as her father. He was running low on money to provide for Aya and himself, and there would be days where she just wanted you instead, which would break his heart. 

Dabi felt like a failure; to you and Aya. 

As he cradled a drowsy Aya on his chest, Dabi glanced over at the fridge that held up a little note with an address written on it—the location you were resting at.

Hawks had sent that note to him, but Dabi had never mustered up the courage to come out and see you. He didn’t want you to see him like this, struggling to his core. Because if you were here, he knew he wouldn’t be struggling like this.

But for some reason, that note was calling out to him. 

Walking into the bedroom, Dabi began searching the closet where Aya’s dresses were hung up. Holding her small body in one of his arms, he went through each little outfit with a slight smile on his face. 

You loved shopping for Aya, and all of these cute outfits were the product of that. 

Taking a dress off the rack, he held it up before glancing down at Aya, “Do you think your mama will like this on you?” His low voice vibrated through his chest and onto Aya, causing her to open her beautiful blue eyes up at him.

She glanced over at the outfit before making a face, tears filling her eyes and Dabi immediately out the dress back. “Your mama always did say I had bad fashion sense.” he chuckled before searching for a new outfit. 

And did he find the perfect one. 

Setting Aya down on the bed, he changed her into the outfit before smiling at her once he laid eyes on her fully dressed little chubby body. Boy, did you and him make a cute kid. 

“Okay, let’s go. Mama’s waiting.” 

Before making his way to you, Dabi bundled himself up well in his wind breaker, mask, sunglasses, and gloves. He took the less populated route, but he couldn’t avoid everybody. Thankfully, Aya was able to distract them from the fact that they were beside a wanted villain. 

Dabi followed Hawks’ instructions on the note before finding himself in front of your grave as he entered the cemetery. His heart fell from the reality of the situation—being here in person just made it all the more real that you were gone. 

Placing the flowers that he got you down in the little holder, he let out a heavy sigh, “I’m sorry it took so long to come see you, (Name).” 

His eyes continuously read over your name engraved into your tombstone as he sat down with a heavy heart, “It’s so hard doing this without you, you know? Aya really needs you.” 

Dabi didn’t want to seem like he was complaining to you, never. He had a lot on his chest, and simply, he missed talking to you. 

He went on about his days and the new milestones Aya has been hitting, telling you how much you would’ve loved to see her smile. “She looks so much like you, it’s crazy. Even though she’s just three months old, I’m glad she does.” 

It was weird to Dabi how much peace this was bringing him. Yes, he knew you were no longer with him, but talking to you like this, being with you like this, made it seem like you never left his side. 

With a final sigh, Dabi leaned over and pressed a kiss on your tombstone, bring Aya closer so she could also mirror his actions, “I love you,” he whispered, brushing his fingers across your engraved name, “we’ll be back soon.” 

It was quite an experience there, a healing one. Dabi knew his struggles and knew that he needed to reach out for help, and talking to you gave him the courage to do so. He didn’t want to seem weak, but building this strength to ask for help, made him stronger than anyone else. 

So, Dabi walked until he reached a familiar place and when he stepped inside and the eyes of his old comrades focused on him, his shoulders softened. 

“Thought you’d never come back,” Toga said with a toothy smile as she ran over to hug her old friend, “sorry to hear about (Name).” 

“So, this is what’s kept you so busy,” Kurogiri states as he glanced down at the little girl in Dabi’s arms. A hand landed on Dabi’s shoulder and he turned and noticed those bright red wings of the pro hero, “It’s nice to have you back. (Name) would be happy to see you like this.” 

Though they may be seen as criminals from the outside view, Dabi knew these would love and support his baby girl with their lives—and that’s all that mattered.

[girlwiththereapertattoo]

begin again - part one

Jax Teller x female!Reader

Summary: This part one of a maybe five-part series. Y/N’s keeping a secret she’s hiding from Jax…

Word count: 1,3k words

Warnings: bad language, it's angsty

💀💀💀💀💀

You stare blankly at the kitchen cabinets, contemplating your next move. You’ve left Abel with Gemma, all your belongings are packed and loaded into the trunk of your car, and in the bedroom is a handwritten letter for Jax to find when he comes home later tonight. You’re breaking up with him via a letter, a cowardice move, but you don’t feel confident enough to do it face to face.

You can’t bear to look him in the eyes as you break his heart. It was so difficult the last time, and you swore you’d never put yourself through that pain again. You know what you have to do, you’ve gone over the plan every day for the past two weeks, and yet here you are, feet cemented to the floor as you struggle to come to grips with your decision. You know it’s what’s best for you but that doesn’t mean you’re okay with it all.

Tears pool in your eyes, blurring your vision, and as your heart hammers against your chest, you can’t help but think of all that you’re walking away from as you leave Charming. You’ve told no one of your plans to escape, too afraid they’d talk you out of it, or worse, tell Jax who’d surely come after you. Maybe he should come after me, and maybe, just maybe, I can talk sense into him and convince him to leave Charming and the M.C.

You shake your head, expelling the thought. As tempting and ideal as the thought is, you’ve known Jax long enough to know that he would never walk away from the club. No, for your plan to work, for you to rehabilitate yourself from Jax and the chaos that is SAMCRO, you’ve got to run and never look back. Above all, Jax can never find out where you’ve run to because trouble is sure to follow.

As much as you love him, you now realize that your association with Jax and the club poses a threat to your life and that of your unborn baby. The baby. You place both hands over your belly and a faint smile tugs at your lips. This baby is the main reason for your escape. You’re only nine weeks along and already there’s nothing you wouldn’t do to protect this baby — including keeping its existence from its father.

It’s awful, and you wish you didn’t have to do this, you don’t want to do this. Jax’s an amazing father, you’ve witnessed it time and time again with Abel. You also know that there are no lengths he wouldn’t go to for his offspring, you witnessed it a few months ago when Abel was kidnapped. You know the same would apply to your unborn child. Jackson Nathaniel Teller would want to be a part of the child’s life, regardless of your feelings towards his chosen lifestyle.

Initially, you had planned on sharing the exciting news with your baby father. Starting a family together with Jax had always been in the cards for you, and despite his troubling past and your mother’s vehement disapproval, you entertained the idea of setting your roots in the small town. Not only do you have your mother close by, but you also have a decent job that pays the bills, and of course, there’s Jax.

But when Calvin the prospect was brutally murdered it forced you to reconsider your entire future. That night, you accepted the fact that you could never raise a child in Charming, not with Jax’s line of work and his affiliation with the club. The very next morning, you began plotting your great escape which has led you to this moment.

“Right” — you swipe your tears with the back of your hand — “it’s time to go.”

With a final glance around the kitchen, you grab your handbag off of the breakfast table and start towards the front door. You’re overcome with a sadness you know will take days to shake off, but the arrangements have been made, and a new life awaits you in Charlotte. As you lock the front door, you can’t help but relive the moment you first visited this house you now call home. So much has happened since then, so much has changed.

You scurry towards your waiting car. This is it, there’s no turning back from here. You clamber into the vehicle, the tears making it difficult to see, and with a shaking hand, stick the key into the ignition. You’re starting the engine when you catch the sound of an approaching motorcycle. Shit, shit, shit! Jax shouldn’t be home for at least another hour. Fuck. It’s your worst nightmare come true. Shit!

You’re filled with dread as you watch him park his bike in front of the house and walk towards your car. You do your best to fix your appearance, to hide the evidence of your crying, but it’s impossible to hide your red-rimmed eyes. He lightly taps on your car’s window and you hesitantly turn to face him and watch his face fall at the sight of you.

“What’s going on?”

Shit! You kill the car’s engine, your mind racing with thoughts and possible ways to handle the situation before you. You could always go with the lie, to protect you both, but then again, he deserves to know the truth and maybe he’ll see it from your perspective. You scoff at the thought, you’ve been here with him before, there’s no way in hell he’ll see this from your perspective. One thing is certain though — tonight, you’re leaving Charming.

You step out of the car, flinching away when Jax tries to reach for you. You can never think straight when he’s touching you. You fight to keep your voice sturdy as you tell him, “I’ve got to go.”

His brows come together in confusion. “What?”

“I’m leaving you.”

A sick feeling settles in your stomach as soon as the words are out of your mouth and when you see Jax’s confused expression, you wish you would’ve gone with the lie. He turns his head away from you, for only a brief moment, and when he turns back, his confusion is replaced by a pained expression.

“I can’t… I can’t do this” — fresh tears spring to your eyes — “I thought I could but I was only kidding myself… we both were kidding ourselves. I don’t fit into your life, I never did, and I hate that I constantly have to live in fear. Always looking over my shoulder. When does it end?”

Jax stands before you at a loss for words as an array of emotions flash through his eyes. You think he might yell at you, and maybe you want him to yell at you. Maybe you want him to be harsh, for him to hurl insults at you because then it would validate you. But nothing.

“I’m sorry that I wasted your time.”

“Babe, listen–”

“Don’t try to convince me to stay.” You sniffle, swiping your nose with the back of your hand, “And you’ve got to promise me that you won’t come looking for me after I’ve left.”

“Y/N–”

“Promise me, Jax!”

He says nothing and you suspect he never will.

“Goodbye, Jackson.”

You climb back into your car and start the car engine without giving it a second thought. Jax stands frozen on the driveway, watching you slip through his fingers for a second time, and as you drive down the familiar street, a heaviness settles on your heart.

“I love you, Jackson Teller.” You couldn’t bring yourself to say those words to his face, afraid you might succumb to the feeling and find yourself staying in Charming. “I’ll love you forever.”

You look up at the rearview mirror, a small part of you hoping to find Jax’s motorcycle trailing after you. It’s the same part that wants him to fight for you and your relationship. The same part that wants him to give up the club and his life in Charming to be with you. A life away from Gemma and her endless bullshit but that’s just wishful thinking.

💀💀💀💀💀

PART TWO

[xxdragonwriterxx]

🔥You Are Human, And Damn It, You Are An Important One!🔥

A/N: Hey everyone! I’m back! It looks like my tags finally decided to sort themselves out so I wanted to (finally) post a new story! I’m still working on requests though, so don’t worry, those are coming soon! I just wanted to post this in the mean time while I edit those and test if my tags are really fixed on one of my originals so that any requested fics will actually be seen later should an error occur. Thank you so much for your continued support and patience, you guys are so amazing! I hope this makes up for my temporary hiatus! This one actually has a bit of a heavier tone to it but I think I’m finally happy with it! Thanks again for the support, and don’t be afraid to talk to me! Shoot me a message or just spew random bullshit and I’ll still respond 😂. Enjoy!

(Warning: themes of non-con & abuse. This is set in a brothel, but there’s nothing explicit, it’s just mentioned or implied. Just wanted to put it out there! Viewer discretion advised!)

🐉Song Recommendation: “The Gardener” By: Sarah Sparks 🐉

Word Count: ~7k

~~~

It was that time of year. The time of year that Levi hated the most. The Underground Market Festival. It was the time of year in which merchants from all around would come down to the Underground City, away from the prying eyes of the Military Police, and sell anything and everything to the nobles who weren’t exactly looking for orthodox materials. The normally filthy, mostly empty streets would be filled with members of the wealthy, dripping in jewelry, cash, and lavish clothing as they paraded around the sorry excuse for a city, boasting of their wealth and privilege as they bought enough food and luxurious goods to feed three times the number of people in the Underground while sharing none of it.

The days were starting to blur together. Levi honestly couldn’t tell if it had been a day, a week, or a month as the drugs in his system continued to work just like the brothel owners wanted them to, rendering him practically inoperative and perfect for use. His head pounded, swimming with confused thoughts. His gaze was unfocused, warped, and his whole body felt suffocatingly hot despite his lack of cover, his legs shifting as his body instinctively searched for a relief he didn’t even want. But that was exactly how they wanted him.

The sound of his door being unlocked made him look up slowly, his eyes taking a few seconds to fully focus on the man standing in the entrance of his room, a wide, malicious grin on his face. Levi couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose in disgust. The man smelled of sweat and stale alcohol, and his unkempt appearance made Levi itch, even when drugged out of his mind.

“Oh, Levi…” the man cooed, making Levi shudder. “I have another customer for you.”

Even though Levi had been through this time and time again, even though he had been trapped in his filthy room since he was caught stealing from a merchant friend of the brothel owner at age twenty, even though the drugs in his system were making his body scream for what this new customer could give him, he still couldn’t help the wave of dread that washed through him, the fear. Levi didn’t fear much, having grown up on the streets of the Underground alone since he was abandoned by Kenny at the age of ten, but this? This he was scared of.

He thought back to the wretched old man that had abandoned him as a small child and wondered what he would think of him now. Would he be disgusted? Unsurprised? Angry? Not that it mattered. Levi knew he would never see him again. But even so, his brain couldn’t help itself from going down those roads, asking questions of “what if?” no matter how many times he reminded himself that it didn’t matter. He was just some bastard thug turned whore in the Underground. Nobody was going to even remember him, let alone care about who he was or who he may be in the future.

Levi was once again brought out of his daze when the pig in the doorway moved to the side, letting a noble woman saunter into the room. She had a wicked grin on her face as she approached him, ignoring the brothel owner as he slammed the door shut behind her, giving them some privacy. She was covered in glittering jewelry, and although the dress she wore was extravagant, it was very tight fitting and low cut, barely considered decent, her large breasts one breath away from spilling out over the top. Her hair was pinned up in a lavish braided style, twisting and coiling tightly, and held together with real gold pins that Levi knew must’ve cost a fortune.

“~Well, hello sexy,” the woman purred as she approached the raven-haired man.

Levi had to force himself not to grimace, even with the effect of the drugs, when she slithered her way over his thighs, her hands reaching up to cup his face. The smell of whatever custard perfume she had on was overwhelming, making his eyes water and his throat close up. Her hands felt clammy from all of the lotions and creams she had slathered over her skin to make it look shinier, making them feel like dead fish rubbing against his cheeks.

“Well? Aren’t you going to ask my name?” The woman demanded in a sickly sweet voice, making Levi close his eyes in barely suppressed agony.

“What is your name?” Levi asked in a low voice. He felt the woman preen above him at the sound of his voice, knowing she thought his deep tone was for setting the mood rather than the effect of his despair.

“My name is Lady Clarissa! What’s your name, hmmm?”

“Levi,” He said quietly.

“Oooh, Leevviiii, I like that,” Lady Clarissa practically moaned. “Say, Levi, you were quite expensive. That must mean you're really good at what you do. I can already tell that you fulfill my personal tastes in terms of appearance, so why don’t you convince me of the rest and give me a good time. Don’t make me regret spending my good money on you. Don’t make me punish you.”

Levi gritted his teeth when she ground her hips into him, trying his hardest not to fight back. He knew it would be difficult, the drugs making his movements and mental processes much slower, but at that moment, all he wanted to do was shove her off of him. Swallowing the bile in his throat, Levi reached for her as she leaned down to force her tongue into his mouth.

It was that time of year. The time of year that (Y/N) hated the most. The Underground Market Festival. It took everything in her to avoid groaning in annoyance as the people she was expected to call her friends dragged her down into the filthy Underground City for a day of “fun”. (Y/N) would much rather be back at home, reading a book in the library, or relaxing with the horses in the barn, or secretly practicing her sword fighting skills with the guards of their estate. But her father had forced her to go when her friends had shown up at the house, begging for her to come with them. He claimed she needed to get her priorities straight and actually present herself, show the honor and pride that came with being part of the (L/N) family. (Y/N) thought there was very little honor and pride in parading their wealth around like they owned the world, especially in front of people who constantly struggled to survive on a daily basis.

(Y/N) walked slowly down the worn cobblestone streets, suppressing the urge to gag at the sight of other nobles walking around, looking and acting as if they were rulers of the walls. She barely looked at anything, only stopping to occasionally buy food when she noticed the hungry children hanging around, looking for a scrap to steal. She could tell they were wary of her, but she never stopped trying, always offering them the food in some way, even if it meant leaving it in a secluded space for them to find later.

Her friends constantly tried to get her to engage, running up to her with crystal jewelry, silk clothing, and delectable foods, attempting to entice her, only to get pushed away. (Y/N) wanted no part in any of it. Even her attire spoke volumes about how little she wanted to be there. She knew that to the people of the Underground, the dress she wore would be considered something of utmost value, but when compared to the nobles around her, she looked underdressed and plain. She wore nothing more than a subtle red dress covered with a black leather jacket, paired with black combat boots and matching gloves, no jewelry to be found except for the simple white earrings she wore in her lobes.

Her father had been less than pleased with her appearance, but stopped arguing when she announced she was leaving, the lord just happy she had at least agreed to go to the festival. She knew he was disappointed in her, annoyed that she wasn’t like the other noble ladies who loved to flaunt their luxurious lifestyles and bend to the every whim of the lords around them, looking to marry early for money and power. (Y/N) wouldn’t be surprised if the entire reason her father wanted her here was so she could possibly win over the affections of a single lord milling about, one that was rich and influential. It was for that possibility alone that (Y/N) had originally thought to wear something that made her look underdressed, having to swallow the bile that rose in her throat at the prospect of catching some snobby noble’s attention.

“Yeah, her name is (Y/N)! She’s the one right over there, I think she could use a good time.”

(Y/N)’s head snapped up when she heard her name, her eyes shooting over to where her friends were standing in a group in front of a large building. All of them were looking at her, covering their faces with their hands to hide their giggles. Dread filled her to the brim when she saw the sign in front of the building, her face paling in horror.

“That one, eh? I think we can arrange something like that,” the brothel owner said, a smug smile on his lips as he stared at her, his grin only widening as her cheeks flushed a brilliant red. “Don’t worry, I’ve got one in particular that could give you a good ride. He’s expensive since he’s my most popular, but he’s worth it.”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to argue, her cheeks on fire as her brain fought to think of something, anything to get her out of this situation. She didn’t want to fuck some random stranger for no reason, but she especially didn’t want to have sex in a brothel. She found them vulgar, repulsive, and��horrible. The way they treated their “workers” was appalling. Just as the words finally reached the tip of her tongue, one of the girls she had come to the festival with cut off her impending argument.

“Damn, I’m jealous! If he’s that good I’m almost tempted to take him myself. But she needs this. She hasn’t loosened up the entire time we’ve been here and I think this might help. She’ll take him.”

The greasy man smiled and wrote her name down, happily accepting the roll of cash her friend handed him before getting up, supposedly to let the man know that he had another customer on the way. (Y/N) tried to escape when she could, but her friends rushed up and caught her before she could slip into the shadows, dragging her over to the brothel and shoving her towards an open door where the brothel owner stood, a creepy smile still plastered on his face.

“Guys! I don’t want this!” (Y/N) whispered frantically as she was dragged towards her doom.

“It doesn’t matter if you want it or not, you need it!” One of her friends said with a laugh. “Besides, you’re going to have a fun time. Don’t make us regret spending that money for you!”

(Y/N) was practically thrown into the room, stumbling as she fought to catch her balance, before the door was slammed shut behind her, the loud sound of the lock being latched reverberating around the room with the finality of a death toll. Huffing in anger, (Y/N) stood and brushed herself off, smoothing out her dress and straightening back up to her full height, fighting off the panic slithering up her spine.

A low groan of pain coming from behind her made her whirl around in surprise, her eyes landing on a shorter, pale skinned man with stunning silver eyes and raven black hair. Gods he looked pathetic. She could definitely tell he was attractive, it made sense now as to why he was a popular choice, but he looked sickly, his cheeks hollowed out, dark circles under his eyes, and a muscled yet neglected body starting to wear thin from years of hunger and constant overuse. The sight made her want to be sick. How could anybody be cruel enough to force themselves onto this obviously abused man? How could anyone willingly pay money to fuck him rather than help him?

“Um, hello,” (Y/N) said quietly. “W-What’s your name?”

The man raised an eyebrow, not used to the soft, kind, almost shy way she asked for his name. The women and occasional men he dealt with most of the time were demanding, controlling, and sadistic, knowing they paid for a man they could use, and their voices usually projected that. Yet, this woman looked as if she had been forced to do this, further supported by the way she had been nearly thrown into the room by whom he assumed was her friends.

“Levi,” he said quietly, waiting for the usual routine to start, no matter how much his gut twisted in disgust at the thought.

“Hi, Levi, I’m (Y/N).”

“(Y/N)...” Levi murmured softly, training himself to memorize it despite his swimming brain, knowing she would want him to scream it out later. Whether in pain or in pleasure, he wasn’t sure yet.

“Um…” (Y/N) was about to speak, her mind scrambling for something to say when her eye caught sight of a large bruise on his neck. Her eyes widened and suddenly started scanning his entire body, her stomach roiling more and more the longer she stared. Now that she was really paying attention, (Y/N) could see painful bites, hickeys, and splotchy bruises littering his neck, jaw, chest, and thighs. Her eyes narrowed on the long, bloody scratches running down the length of his chest and back, and she noticed blooming red patches of skin all over him that were raw and aching from being slapped hard and rough over and over again. 

He was wearing a loose pair of worn boxers as his only cover, and (Y/N) could only imagine what other horrors the thin cloth was hiding. Glancing down, she saw him shift uncomfortably, his boxers tented by his arousal. The sight made her growl in anger, knowing that to keep him going after he had already had so many customers for the day, a drug was being used to make him insatiable, forcing him past the point of pain and probably clouding his judgement and mental process as well. It made her want to go cut up the brothel owner and serve him to a pig.

Without thinking, (Y/N) rushed to him, reaching out to him, only to freeze when he flinched. She heard him curse at the involuntary movement, knowing it was his job to appear as unaffected and sexually appealing as possible, and it made her heart clench even harder, her hatred for this place and the people who ran it increasing tenfold.

Taking a deep breath, (Y/N) immediately slowed her movements, trying to appear as calm and unhurried as possible. Her gaze softened and glazed with unshed tears when he closed his eyes, his arms reaching out as he prepared for her to sit on his lap and have her way with him like she knew every other man and woman who used him did. Gritting her teeth against the fury she felt, she carefully slid her way across his thighs. She felt him force himself to relax under her as he leaned forward to let her kiss him.

When he felt nothing, and heard something click, Levi cracked open his eyes in curiosity, only to have them fly open all the way when he felt something cool and wet against his neck. Looking down at the woman in his arms, his lips parted in shock, watching in confused awe as she leaned back and soaked a small cloth in some water from a bottle, rinsing the fresh blood from the fabric. Looking to the side, he saw a small first aid kit by her feet, the container open to reveal a variety of medical tools inside.

(Y/N) leaned forward again, raising the towel to his neck to dab at his abrasions, washing them carefully, reverently, almost... lovingly. Levi opened and closed his mouth but no words came out as she continued to work on him, delicately cleaning his jaw and neck before carefully moving on to his chest. Was this some kind of strange ritual she always performed during sex? Did she just find him dirty and want to clean him up before putting her lips or her pussy on his skin? His mind was running a million miles a minute as she worked on him in silence, only pausing when he hissed quietly at the feeling of his gashes being washed.

(Y/N) frowned as she gently swiped the cloth along the red gouges in his skin. They were deep, most likely caused by the long, sharp nail extensions some ladies liked to wear, or the dull blade of a man with violent tendencies. It didn’t surprise her, a lot of the men and women who used people like this did have sadistic qualities, but it didn’t help to quell the now roaring fire in her blood, wanting nothing more than to fight against the injustice of this man.

“W-What are you doing?” Levi finally managed to ask.

“Cleaning your wounds.”

“Why? Is this some kind of-”

“Preparation? No. We aren’t going to do anything. I just want to help your injuries heal.”

Levi felt like his brain was full of static, like his mouth was stuffed with cotton. He wasn’t complaining, far from it, but he couldn’t get a reading on this woman. Why would she, a noble from the surface, want to help him, a hopeless whore from the Underground?

“Wha-”

“Before you ask what my intentions are, I’m just going to tell you that I didn’t even want to do this. I was forced to come to this festival because my father wants me to become more of a proper noble woman. But since I wasn’t too thrilled about having to be here, the people I came with thought I could use an opportunity to loosen up, and paid for me to do this with you in the hopes that I’d start having fun with them afterwards. But I have no intention of doing any of that. I hate how everyone in the Underground is treated like shit, and the last thing I want to do is take advantage of someone who obviously isn’t in control of his situation. I just want to help.”

Levi closed his mouth, all of his protests dying on his tongue. He still had questions, a lot of them, but he decided those could wait, her explanation making him feel surprisingly relaxed for someone who had trained himself to never take the word of a noble at face value. He had never met anyone like her. Even before he was forced to whore himself out, all he had ever known of nobles was their complete lack of humility and egotistical sense of self-importance. 

It was silent for a moment, but this time, the silence was more comfortable, both of them starting to relax a little as (Y/N) continued to patch him up. Levi felt himself loosen up a bit, his muscles unwinding as his hands settled on her waist, keeping her securely balanced on his lap as she worked. Pride swirled in (Y/N)’s chest as she felt his tense muscles soften, her eyes sparkling as she started to work her way towards earning his trust.

“What’s your happiest memory?” (Y/N) asked suddenly.

Levi quirked an eyebrow in suspicion, “Why should I tell you, brat?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” (Y/N) said, shaking her head and stifling a giggle at the nickname. “I only asked because I figured we may as well talk while we do this. Not only that, I feel like you could use some happiness right now. But I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, so if you don’t want to talk to me, you don’t have to.”

Levi was silent for a minute, the cogs in his mind turning as he tried to make what he believed to be the right decision despite the fog clouding his judgement. Just as she had promised, (Y/N) waited patiently, not pressuring him to answer, or even bringing up another question. She merely sat in silence, her clear (e/c) eyes narrowed on his injuries as she worked to make him feel better.

“There was a time when I was with my friend Farlan, a few years back. We were doing a job, trying to get rid of a troublesome merchant for a client of ours when we found out the merchant had a cat. We were hiding around the corner, waiting to strike when that damn cat jumped up onto Farlan’s lap. I’m fine with cats, but that was the day we found out Farlan had some kind of allergy to them. He was trying to hold back his sneezes but finally lost control right when the merchant came around the corner, and Farlan ended up sneezing really violently in his face. That merchant got so scared he must’ve jumped at least three feet in the air, and even managed to piss himself before he took off. We still had to finish him off later, but in that moment, when Farlan was mortified and our target was running for the hills because of a cat induced sneeze, I couldn’t help but laugh a little.”

(Y/N) had paused in her work to listen to him, and couldn’t help but smile when he finished his story. Going back to work, (Y/N) didn’t ask what happened to Farlan, not wanting to drag him back down after she had finally gotten him to talk to her, about something so personal no less.

“What about you?” Levi asked.

“Hmm, I think I’d have to say when I got my horse for my birthday,” (Y/N) said. “I was never around the horses, wasn’t allowed to be in the barn because it wasn’t “proper for a lady”. But I loved them, loved seeing them on the streets when other nobles would come visit my father or when the soldiers from the Survey Corps would come back from a mission. I couldn’t stay away, so no matter how much my father tried to squash my love of them, it just wouldn’t happen. My mother eventually convinced him to let it go, and surprised me with a little chestnut filly that I named Sashay when I was about sixteen years old. Now, she’s my best friend. We’ve been through everything together, and she’s the only one who doesn’t try to force me to be something I’m not. Aside from the royal guards, I guess. They learned a long time ago to stop trying to get me to sit still and look pretty when I beat all of them in the sword fighting ring.”

Levi’s brows shot up into his hair at that, his lips parting in surprise. “You know how to sword fight?”

(Y/N) chuckled. “Yeah, not what you were expecting, huh?”

“No,” Levi said. “I’ve never heard of a noble woman who could fight, let alone with a blade. Are you any good?”

“I tend to think so, but that all depends on who I’m up against,” (Y/N) said with a cheeky smile.

For some reason, Levi couldn’t help but smile back for the first time in years. His lips felt chapped and strained from disuse, but it felt good, a light feeling flooding his chest with warmth. “You said earlier that your horse’s name is Sashay,” Levi said, suddenly changing the topic.

“Mm hm.”

“That’s weird.”

(Y/N) giggled at his bluntness, making another fluttering feeling swirl in his chest. He had never met anyone other than Farlan who saw his language as something other than rude.

“Yeah, I suppose so,” (Y/N) said. “But I named her that because she is a sassy chestnut mare. I like to imagine that if she were human, she’d be someone you wouldn’t want to mess with, someone who wouldn’t take shit from anyone, but would do so with a spicy attitude. So I named her accordingly.”

Levi huffed a laugh at her response but almost immediately regretted it when the movement of his chest caused the rough gauze at her fingertips to brush against his injuries a little harder than before, the stinging sensation making him hiss in pain.

“Sorry!” (Y/N) said, quickly retracting her hands and holding them up, waiting for him to give her the signal to continue.

“Not your fault,” Levi mumbled, motioning that it was alright for her to get back to work. “Thank you, by the way. I don’t think I said that before.”

(Y/N) shook her head. “You don’t have to thank me. I want to do this.”

Levi wanted to ask her why but remembered what she had told him at the start of this and decided to trust her word, swallowing the question and instead changing topics. “Why do you even have this? Do you always just carry a first aid kit around?”

“Only when I come to the Underground. I want to have it available for those who really need it.”

“You do know that at least half of the people down here would kill you without a second thought to get to that medicine. Or they’d kill you if they thought you were pitying them.”

“I know, but I’d like to think I can handle myself a bit more than the average person. Even so, I usually keep it hidden unless I really want or need to use it on someone, and it’s only for quick patch-ups anyway. I can’t really fix anything major.”

(Y/N) finally finished with his front and carefully slid off of his thighs, moving slowly to begin working on his back. She made sure he was okay with everything she was doing before settling herself down onto the edge of the bed behind him, her hands reaching up to start her work once more.

Levi wanted to know more about her. He felt as if he could talk to her for hours, as if he had known her for years. He wanted to know what made her laugh, what made her cry, what her vision was for the future. It was insane, so much so that Levi idly wondered if he’d fallen off the deep end. But he couldn’t deny it. She was just too intriguing, so surprisingly kind, so genuine.

What was your childhood like? What are your favorite things to do? Do you come down here often? When will I see you again?

The questions continued to rattle around in Levi’s head as they once again lapsed into a comfortable silence but he forced all of them back, not wanting to seem either too desperate to get to know her, or be seen as coming on too strong.

After debating with himself for a while, Levi finally settled on, “You’ve mentioned your father a lot, and how he doesn’t want you to be yourself.”

(Y/N) tensed a little, her face twisted in a grimace behind Levi’s back. “Yeah… he used to be better about it, but ever since my mother died, he’s been like a tyrant. He’s upset he didn’t get a son in the first place, but now that he’s stuck with me for a daughter, he’s even more disappointed that I’m not someone he can easily make profits off of by marrying me off to someone. Not only have I been adamant about not allowing it, but no nobleman wants a woman who can think for herself. A woman who can ride a horse, go toe to toe with her soldiers, has an opinion, and is knowledgeable about current conflicts. They want someone who will dress up all pretty for them and be in bed, ready to satisfy them when they get home from gambling and drinking all day while sitting on their parents’ money.”

Levi scoffed and (Y/N) huffed in agreement. “I’m just not that kind of person. Every suitor that has ever met me has run away from my casual attire and sailor’s mouth.”

“Your father wasn’t like this when your mother was alive?” Levi asked.

“He was, but he wasn’t as bad. My parents were in an arranged marriage, but they got along alright. At least my father loved my mother enough to listen to her most of the time when she told him to lay off of me. I honestly think she’s the reason why I have such a strong fighting spirit.”

“I’m sorry she’s gone,” Levi said awkwardly, not used to providing words of comfort.

“Thanks,” (Y/N) said genuinely, a warm smile gracing her beautiful features.

“I didn’t know my mother that well,” Levi said haltingly, still unsure why he felt comfortable telling her about things he hadn’t even talked to Farlan about. “She died of a disease when I was four years old. She was a prostitute, like me, so I never knew my father. When she died, I was picked up by a man named Kenny, who I thought might’ve been my father for a short while, but as I grew older, I realized he wasn’t. I don’t have any proof, I just know. When he abandoned me at ten, I was alone for a few years before I met Farlan.”

“So… you didn’t get stuck doing this because of your mother?” (Y/N) asked carefully, almost afraid to ask in case it made him shy away from her.

“No,” Levi said slowly. “I was twenty years old when I was caught stealing from a rich friend of this brothel owner. I had made a mistake and there was no way out. He figured out who I was, a thug who was known at the time for carrying out favors for people, whether that meant stealing or killing depended on how much they were willing to pay. Unfortunately, this led them to Farlan, and he gave me a choice. Me, or my best and only friend.”

“And you chose to save your friend at the expense of yourself,” (Y/N) finished for him in a hoarse whisper, filled with horror and unbridled fury at what this man had been through. She figured she should’ve been alarmed, he had just admitted that he had blood on his hands. He was a thief, a thug, a criminal, a murderer. But (Y/N) knew those things were nearly requirements for living in the Underground and no matter how she thought about it, she couldn’t think of anything that would make this man deserve what he was going through.

(Y/N) opened her mouth to say something just as she put the last bandage in place when a loud pounding on the door startled them both. “Time’s up, you two!” The brothel owner shouted through the door.

(Y/N) shot up from the bed and rushed around to where the water and first aid kit sat, quickly packing up the little box of supplies and splashing her face with water, trying to make herself look sweaty enough to look convincing. Once everything had been packed away, (Y/N) stood and shrugged off her leather jacket, throwing it to him.

“Here, take this, it’ll keep your boss from seeing the bandages and trying to get rid of them. It’ll also give your injuries a little more protection from the bacteria in this room.”

Levi wanted to refuse, tell her he couldn’t accept a gift like this, even if it was temporary, but no words would come out as he watched the beautiful woman in front of him mess up her hair and swipe her fingers across her lips, trying to make herself look as wrecked as possible. When she finally looked the part enough to seem convincing, (Y/N) made her way to the door, turning one last time before she opened it to throw him a wink and a sweet smile.

“~Goodbye Levi, I hope we can see each other again soon.”

The lilt in her voice was fake, an act for anyone who may be listening on the other side of the door, meant to be taken as a sickly promise of more sexual endeavors to come, but he could feel the genuine emotion in her statement.

“I hope so too,” Levi said quietly after she had already left, the once comforting quiet of his room now making him feel lonely and empty.

The sound of pounding on his door woke Levi abruptly, making the raven-haired man growl in anger and annoyance. It was rare that the poor man got to sleep, not only because customers could come in at almost any time, day or night, but also because of the horrible insomnia that often plagued him. It made him even more irritable to be woken up, his body sore and his mind groggy as another round of pounding roused him further and prompted him to swing his legs over the side of the small cot he was provided when not busy fucking, and make his way to the door.

“What?” Levi snapped when he swung open the door, genuinely surprised that the pig who owned him hadn’t just burst into his room like he always did, raving about yet another customer for Levi.

“Get your shit, you’re going to the surface.”

Levi blinked. This had to be some kind of joke. The brothel owner never let anyone under his foot leave the brothel, let alone the Underground. Even the highest class noble women couldn’t request for him to come to them, the old man not trusting his prostitutes to be sent back. Especially Levi.

“Oi, your ears gone to shit now? Grab your pathetic bullshit and get out of my sight,” the man snarled, his small, watery eyes narrowed on Levi like he was the scum of the world.

Shaking himself out of it, Levi didn’t hesitate for another moment, rushing back into his room to grab the pitifully few things he had with him, including the leather jacket he had gotten from (Y/N), draping it over his shoulders to hide his healing injuries just in case it was a trick. The festival was still going on afterall, this could just be some ruse the old man set up to make the experience more interesting for the men and women who paid for him.

When Levi returned, the man pulled a gun from his jacket pocket and jerked his head, signaling Levi to follow him. Levi knew better than to risk running. In his full health he could’ve easily escaped from the man’s clutches, but with little more than a half hour of rest, his injured body, weak muscles, and the remnants of the drugs still working through his system, Levi didn’t trust himself to outrun a bullet, and knew the pig wouldn’t hesitate to fire, no matter how valuable Levi was to him. 

Even though Levi kept expecting the brothel owner to turn down a secluded street and lead him right into an ambush or trick of some sort, he never did, leading Levi right to the stairs exiting the Underground. When they reached the guards at the base of the stairs, the man took two slips of paper from the inner pocket of his worn brown coat and showed it to the guard. When he was cleared to continue on, the brothel owner turned and motioned for Levi to stay close as he stomped his way up the stairs, grumbling incoherently to himself all the while.

Breaching the surface, Levi brought an arm to his face, shielding his eyes from the intensity of the sun as it attacked his face with warm, bright light. He eventually got used to it, slowly lowering his arm and rushing to catch up with his boss, who was impatiently grunting for him to hurry up.

Passing through what appeared to be a busy market square, Levi followed the brothel owner along the lively cobblestone streets until they reached a quieter part of the town, stopping along the edge of a beautiful flower field, the grassy meadow filled with colorful blossoms that secretly took Levi’s breath away.

The sound of horse hooves caught his attention, and Levi looked up only to have the air fly from his lungs when (Y/N)’s bright face came into view, the stunning woman seated astride whom he assumed to be Sashay and flanked by two armed men.

“Right on time,” the brothel owner grumbled, his little pig eyes narrowing when he saw her passive aggressive smile.

“Of course I’m on time, this is my deal, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the man growled. “Are you sure you want this one? He’s my most popular, I’d hate to lose him.”

“Yes, he’s the one I want. Besides, I believe the money I’ve paid you has far exceeded the profit you have earned from having him around. I’m sure you will be able to manage.”

The man sneered at her but didn’t respond, using the muzzle of the gun to push Levi forward and digging in his pocket to fish out the same pieces of paper he had shown the guards on the stairs, handing them to (Y/N).

“Thank you, sir. I believe we are done here.”

The brothel owner slunk off, casting dark looks at her but refusing to argue as he hunkered off to head back down to the Underground, where he would continue to rot like the rat he was. Levi watched him go before turning to (Y/N), surprised by the bright smile she flashed him when he met her gaze.

“(Y/N)? What’s going on?”

(Y/N) smiled even wider and held up the pieces of paper she had been handed. One of them was the file labeling him as a slave to the brothel owner, keeping him from escaping, and the other was a bill of sale. His eyes widened when he saw her signature on the bottom of both pages, officially registering her as his new owner. He opened his mouth, about to speak when she took both pages in her hands and ripped them in half, letting the torn pages float onto the street below, forgotten, useless.

“There, you’re free now.”

Levi was at a loss for words, his mouth gaping open. “(Y/N)? What-”

“Before you ask me what my intentions are, I’m just going to tell you that I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I couldn’t stop thinking about your life, your sacrifice, your pain, and I decided I could do something about it. You are human, and damn it, you are an important one! I couldn’t just leave you there. Now, you won’t have to work for anyone but yourself. You won’t have to cater to anyone else’s needs and you can fulfill whatever dreams you have.”

“But, that must’ve cost you a fortune, to cover more than the amount of money he’s made off of using me? What about-”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Levi. I want to use my funds for good, put them towards the people who need it the most. That includes you. Especially you. I couldn’t bear the thought of you having to stay in that shit hole for even a second longer than necessary.”

“What do I do now, then?” Levi asked, trying to focus on keeping his voice steady.

“Well, you can do whatever you want now. You’re a free man, you can find a house and settle down somewhere, or you can go back to the Underground and pick up your life where you left off. You can join the military, or you can start a small business here in the square. It’s anything you want. You get to choose your life now.”

“And what if I don’t want to do any of those things?”

(Y/N) couldn’t help the smile that flashed across her face then, her heart filling with warmth. “Like I said, it’s your choice, you can do whatever you want, carve your own path, but if you want to come with me, you’re always welcome to.”

Levi’s lip twitched and he took a step forward, reaching up to pat Sashay’s muzzle as he got closer. “Alright, I’ll follow you.”

(Y/N) beamed before turning around to nod at each one of her guards, dismissing them. When they had left, presumably returning to (Y/N)’s family estate, she reached down for him, her hand extended for him to take. Placing his rough palm into her warm hand, he allowed her to help him up into the saddle behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist to keep himself secure as (Y/N) kicked Sashay into an easy canter. Sighing blissfully, Levi let himself relax, his chin coming down to rest on (Y/N)’s shoulder as they made their way home, together.

Levi had never expected to see the day when he would willingly go with a noble, but then again, he never thought he’d ever meet a noble like (Y/N). Now, as he felt her warmth soak into his chest, he knew he’d made the right decision.

Levi finally felt the remnant effects of the drugs in his system fade away as the sun beams broke through the fluffy clouds in the sky, leaving his mind clear. He was making this decision all on his own, nothing left to impair his judgement, and no matter what, he knew he would never regret the path he chose to take just so long as (Y/N) stayed by his side.

[guardianofrivendell]

The Odd Ones Out

Kíli x OC (platonic)

Summary: Tullaina and Kíli were best friends from day one. Getting into a fight to the death together tends to do that to you. Of course, it wasn’t actually to the death, but Kíli kept insisting it had been a close call. This is the story of how their friendship started.

Warnings: bullying, young Kíli (Tullaina and Kíli are 34 and 33 in this one, which is the dwarven equivalent of a young teenager)

OC: Tullaina, you can read her character sheet here

A/N: My first oneshot with Tullaina! A big, massive thank you to @lathalea who helped me find the motivation to finish this and gave me the nudges and the kick to my butt that I needed to keep going! I love you!  Also a thank you (and maybe an apology too) to @anjhope1 and @laurfilijames because they had to hear me nag and complain about this story over and over again :)

Kidizbuhâ. Friendship.

What exactly is friendship? What defines it? It’s something Tullaina always wondered about.

According to one of master Balin’s many books, it can be described as a state between two or more individuals, a mutual affection that is strictly platonic. 

Your best friend is even more than that. They are that one special person who sticks with you no matter what. You talk about anything and everything, have fun together, comfort each other, and you accept one another with all their flaws. It’s almost like finding your One, but without the romantic love. 

Tullaina had often dreamed of finding that one true friend...

Born and raised in the mountains of Ered Luin, she had a pretty normal childhood as a pebble.  With only a few friends and a loving family, she was as happy as a young girl could be. 

When she grew older, her friends’ appearance started to change. 

They grew wider, more muscular and their facial hair started to grow out. Each of them turned into perfect examples of how a sturdy dwarf or dwarrowdam should look like. 

Tullaina however stayed exactly the same. She grew in height, but kept her lanky figure. She filled out the appropriate places, but not as much as her friends or peers. Her freckles became more pronounced and the increase of birthmarks started to raise questions among those so-called ‘friends’. And on top of that, as if she couldn’t be ridiculed enough already, she lacked the pride of every Dwarf… facial hair. A fine layer of down hairs where her sideburns should be was all she could grow, and it was barely even visible.  

There was no denying that she looked different than your average Dwarrowdam at that age. 

And that’s when the teasing and bullying began. 

One by one, she lost her friends, none of them wanted to be associated with the ‘elf child’ or khathzith, as they started calling her. 

Everywhere she went, she could hear the dreaded word, whispered among the people of the Blue Mountains. And after a while, Tullaina started to believe them. Maybe she wasn’t a Dwarf after all?

No matter how many times her parents had tried to convince her she was of full Dwarven descent, a proud Longbeard, she never stopped asking whether what they said about her was true. 

Maybe she was a late bloomer, like her mother sometimes said in an attempt to comfort her. When Tullaina’s tears had dried up, she usually told her daughter the story about her late auntie Marthosia whose beard only started to grow after she turned 30, and it turned out to be the most glorious beard of them all. The Dwarrows stood in line to ask for her courtship.  And every time Tullaina would simply roll her eyes and thank her mother. 

By the time she turned 30, there was still no trace of a beard or proper sideburns. Not that Tullaina had expected anything, but she couldn’t deny that there was a tiny sliver of hope left that maybe, maybe she was like auntie Marthosia after all. 

Her mother eventually stopped telling the story and Tullaina had given up all hope. She started to isolate herself more, hardly leaving the safety of her home, losing herself in books and her own imagination.  

The only time she would leave the house by herself was to visit the mines and bring her father his lunch when he forgot to bring it with him. Which happened a lot more than you would think.  Tullaina suspected her father did this on purpose to get her out of the house more often, but she never said anything about it. 

It was on one of those trips that she ran into Kíli for the first time...

*

Tullaina hurried through the small, slippery streets of the mountain city, her shawl wrapped securely around her head and neck, head down and eyes fixed on the ground. 

She was on her way back from the mines having delivered her father’s lunch, but she’d dawdled when the baker’s cat had crossed her path. It wasn’t her fault she absolutely had to pet it, right? 

So now she was in a hurry to get home. And she would have been there in a matter of minutes, if her ears hadn’t picked up the teasing laughter coming out of one of the dead-end side alleys.

On any other day she would have tucked her scarf a little tighter around her, bowed her head a little deeper to avoid any unwanted attention, and definitely walk a little faster. 

But it turned out today wasn’t like any other day…

There could be many reasons as to why she felt the need to investigate further. Some would call it being adventurous, fate, maybe even Mahal’s will if you want. But for Tullaina it was her sense of injustice that drove her to the alley. 

There was something familiar about the laughter that made her suspect this wasn’t just some friends having fun. She tiptoed towards the corner of the building and peeked around the corner.

Her curiosity often got the better of her and her mother used to warn (okay fine, she guaranteed it) that it would get her into serious trouble one day. Who knows, maybe her mother was right after all...

At the end of the dead-end alley she could see three dwarves, at first sight probably not much older than she was. It was almost comical how they were all so different but clearly looking like they were up to no good: you had the short one with flaming red hair, the muscles and then one who was fairly normal at first until he grinned and Tullaina could see he was missing a front tooth. These three dwarves practically screamed trouble. 

They were all looking at a boy who was standing in the middle of the trio. 

The boy had shoulder length brown hair with no braids. He was taller than the others and had a slender build. He was wearing a simple dark blue tunic and black trousers, and his unruly hair framed a kind face with large brown eyes. No beard.  

And that’s precisely what they were bullying him about...

Tullaina could hear the insults they were throwing at him, she flinched because she knew them all too well - having heard them many times before - and something in her snapped. Before she realised what she was doing, she called out to them.

“Oi!” 

All four heads turned towards her. 

Well, that’s what you get for calling out to them, she thought. Now what? Quick, say something so they’ll know you mean business! 

“Leave him alone!”

Oh wow, she thought, almost rolling her eyes at herself. Great choice, that’ll make them tremble with fear! 

The boys started snickering, excited about the prospect of another victim. One of them grabbed the beardless one by the shoulder and pushed him forward. 

The Muscles came up towards Tullaina and it took all her restraint not to take a step back. 

“Aww Kíli, look at that, your girl is here to save you!”

“I said, leave him alone,” she repeated, trying to look confident by straightening her back and balling her fists at her side, but her voice gave her away. It earned her a chuckle from the dwarf in front of her.

“No, this can’t be his girl,” he sneered, removing her scarf, “Look at her face, not a hair in sight! It’s the same babyface as our dear Kíli. Who would’ve thought there were more of you khathzith?” (young Elves)

Oh, he should not have said that! 

The familiar insult triggered something in her and her hands moved on instinct. She placed her hands on his chest and pushed with all the strength she had.

It took him by surprise, he didn’t have the time to brace himself and he fell on his back in the dirt with a grunt. Mistake number one.

One of his companions, the one with the flaming red hair lunged forward and pushed her in turn. Tullaina didn’t stand a chance with the force he was using against her lanky figure and immediately fell to the ground. She cried out when her arm scraped against a small rock. Mistake number two. 

They started laughing at her, until the one who was holding Kíli cried out in pain.

When Tullaina looked up she saw him clutching his nose with both of his hands, tears springing in his eyes. 

Before she could figure out what had happened, Kíli threw himself on the redhead with a loud cry of “Du Bekâr!” and something about not laying your hands on a lady. Or... that he shouldn’t have handed him a baby? 

It wasn’t her fault that it was difficult to understand him with all the shouting and the curses being thrown around. If her mother was near she would’ve covered her ears. Luckily for Tullaina she wasn’t, at least now she could learn a thing or two for future use!

But this actually was the moment she should have decided it was time to go. Mistake number three.

They were all distracted and not paying attention to her whatsoever, the short one was still busy crying over his nose, the redhead was wrestling with Kíli and Muscles just stood by and watched it all happen for some reason. Really, what was stopping her from running? Her more reasonable side was yelling at her to go home. Let the boys fight it out themselves! 

But she couldn’t leave this Kíli to himself now, could she? After he so valiantly defended her? No one ever stood up for her before, and here he was literally fighting for her honor. 

No, she couldn’t leave him…

When Muscles finally noticed Tullaina was still there, he came towards her with a loud roar - or what should’ve been a roar, it was more a gargle really - and the decision was made for her. She was going to fight. 

Well… It seemed her mother was right after all. Her curiosity got her into trouble. 

*

One of the last things Dís had expected to see when she opened her door was a pair of young Dwarves, battered and bruised. Well… half of the duo was her youngest son, so their disheveled state shouldn’t come as a big surprise.  

“Amad, this is Tullaina,” Kíli introduced his new friend with a wide smile, wiping a drop of blood off his chin with the back of his hand like it was the most natural thing to do. His left eye was a little swollen and starting to bruise. And still he was as chipper as ever.

Tullaina waved timidly, getting a bit uncomfortable. She had recognized the dwarrowdam as soon as she opened the door and suddenly it had clicked in her head who Kíli was. She knew how this might look and the last thing she wanted was to get in more trouble. Typical of her to befriend a prince of all people…  

“Nice to meet you, Tullaina.” Dís smiled kindly to let her know she wasn’t angry. It seemed to relax Tullaina a little, her shoulders slacked and she returned her smile.  

After the introduction Dís switched into full mother hen mode and ushered the two inside, so she could take care of their injuries and hopefully get some answers to the many questions that flooded her mind. For one, who Tullaina was. As far as she knew, she hadn’t seen the girl before. And Dis took pride in knowing everyone in Ered Luin. 

But getting the information out of these two turned out to be a lot harder than Dís had initially thought. 

She told them to sit down at the dinner table while she got everything she needed to clean their wounds. 

At first sight it was only Kíli’s busted lip that needed attention, their bruises would heal on their own. 

When the only daughter of Thraín asked her youngest how he and his new friend got their bruises and Kíli his busted lip, he only shrugged his shoulders. 

Kíli clearly didn’t want to talk about it. 

And that worried her, because if there was one thing Kíli liked to do, it was talking her ears off about what he had done or discovered while out with Fíli or by himself.

She guessed he probably stood up for Tullaina and had valiantly defended or even rescued her, in which case Dís wouldn’t hear the end of it. So the silence of her youngest was rather alarming, to say the least. 

In the end, it was Tullaina who reluctantly explained to her that she stumbled upon Kíli and a couple of other young Dwarves, who felt the need to mock the young prince. 

Dís’ eyes widened and her hand that was cleaning the dried blood around his mouth, froze midair. The cut on his lip had finally stopped bleeding, and it looked a lot worse than it actually was. 

“Kíli, that is still no reason to start a fight! And certainly not in the presence of a lady.”

Kíli straightened his back at the scolding of his mother, but didn’t contradict her. 

“He didn’t start the fight, Lady Dís, I did,” Tullaina answered before Kíli could stop her.

The large Dwarrowdam frowned, and she absentmindedly started stroking her beard. She was happy Kíli seemed to have made a friend who was not Fíli, but if she turned out to be a troublemaker…

Her sons definitely didn’t need help in that department.

“Now why did you do that, nadanê?” she asked her. (my child) “Amad, please just let it go,” Kíli said before Tullaina had the chance to explain.  “I wasn’t asking you, Kíli.”

Tullaina hesitated. What if lady Dís blamed her for his injuries, or getting him into the fight in the first place?

Her new friend obviously didn’t want his mother to know about the bullying and she understood that better than anyone. Tullaina herself had kept a lot from her mother, the things she had to go through, all the insults, the name calling, the laughter… 

But she also knew her new friend needed someone he could talk to. When it gets too bad, you need to vent, let everything out. And since she wasn’t sure she’d be welcome again in Lady Dís’ house after today, it might be better to tell his mother what had happened. 

“They were teasing and bullying him about stuff they used to bully me for as well,” she finally caved. 

“And what might that be?”

“Our lack of dwarven features,” Tullaina answered, as she lowered her eyes. “I’ve been bullied and made fun of for years because I don’t have a proper beard, and don’t look like most other dwarrowdams… So you see, my Lady, I couldn’t just stand there and watch. But they would not listen! So I pushed one of them and started the fight.”

“I see,” Dis hummed, before she placed her hands on Kili’s and Tullaina’s knees. “You did what you felt was right, and that is very admirable. Nadanê, never let anyone make you feel inferior. No matter what you look like, what you have or do not have. It’s what’s inside that matters. You’re both courageous, headstrong and maybe a little reckless too, but that’s alright. That sounds like a true dwarf to me.”

Tullaina smiled in return.  It wasn’t a lot different from what her own mother would say when she tried to comfort her, but somehow when Lady Dis said it, it added more weight to it. 

“Now tell me about the fight?” Dis smiled, trying to lighten the mood. 

Kíli’s head shot up and his eyes sparkled, and Dis knew that look all too well. Now she was going to hear every single detail about their little adventure. 

“So I found myself surrounded by, I don’t know, ten, maybe twelve other dwarves-”

“Three. There were three Dwarves, Kíli,” Tullaina interrupted with a straight face.

“It’s not like I was counting them!” he said to Tullaina, before he turned to his mother again. “I was too busy fighting for my life!”

“I bet you were,” Dís chuckled. 

Kíli explained how he was trying to find a way out so he could run home, but they wouldn’t let him. 

“And then Tullaina showed up and she came to help me, Amad. She gave the biggest one a shove, can you believe?! But then one of the other dwarves pushed her to the ground! You and uncle always told me I should treat all dwarrowdams with respect, right? But I don’t think his parents told him, because why would he do that? Anyway, then Tullaina hurt her arm,” Kíli paused his rambling and grabbed Tullaina’s arm to show the scratch she got when she fell, but she immediately pulled her arm free and muttered something like ‘i’m fine, it’s nothing’. Dís made a mental note to clean it later. 

“So I had to defend her honor! Fíli will be so proud of me when he hears about it, I punched that atnuzab right on the nose!” (prick)

“Then how did you get your lip cut and your eye so bruised?” his mother asked him, already knowing the answer, but playing along. It was better to let him continue his story, but it was Tullaina who cut in. 

“It turned out the atnuzab knew how to hit back,” she grinned.   

“And that’s when the fight really took off,” Kíli continued enthusiastically, a wide smile on his face. 

While Dís took care of Tullaina’s arm, he explained everything in detail, waving his arms in excitement, while the girl filled in the blanks or corrected him, which happened surprisingly often. 

Dís chuckled every time it happened. It was refreshing to see Kíli being reprimanded for not telling the truth or exaggerating by someone his own age. Who knows, maybe Tullaina will turn out to be a positive influence on her son and his vivid imagination?

“And then he ran off, crying about his bloody nose,” Kíli cackled, holding on to Tullaina’s shoulder to keep himself up since he was laughing so hard. 

“Which I believe you gave him?” Dís commented. 

“I did,” he said proudly, wiping a tear away. “A true warrior I was!”

“Or tried to at least, did you forget you tripped over your own feet? Twice?” Tullaina laughed, recalling both times she had to help him up before the bullies could get to him.  

“I was creating a diversion!”

Tullaina raised an eyebrow at that in disbelief, but decided to let it slide. 

Dís shook her head at their friendly banter and left for the kitchen, taking the bowl and the dirty rags with her.

Tullaina watched her leave and smiled to herself. Isn’t it strange how one hastily made decision had changed her entire day? It had been ages since she laughed this much, it was amazing how quickly she felt comfortable in Kíli’s company. Was this what true friendship felt like?

When she looked back at Kíli, she caught him already staring at her.

“What?” she asked with a frown. 

“Thank you,” he said. “You came to help me and I’ll never forget that.”

Tullaina felt her face flush at how sincere he was, his big brown eyes looking at her intently.  

“Don’t mention it,” she grinned, playing with her fingers in her lap.

They sat side by side in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, their hands tucked away under their thighs before Tullaina spoke up again.

“You know, I need to thank you too,” she said, bumping her shoulder against Kíli’s.

“Me? What for?”

“Defending my honor.”

Kíli gave her a broad smile and puffed out his chest. “It was the right thing to do. And I would do it again in a heartbeat.” He placed his hand on his heart to emphasize his words. 

Tullaina believed him. Kíli seemed that kind of person who would rather follow his heart than his head, someone who would act on impulse before thinking about the possible consequences.   

“Besides, friends take care of each other right?” he continued, pushing himself off the table. 

Dís returned from the kitchen with two slices of cake in her hand. 

“I believe you’ve more than deserved this,” she smiled. “A good fight works up quite an appetite.”

The two new friends eagerly accepted the treat, and while they were eating Dís watched them carefully. She had noticed how these two interacted with each other; as if they had been lifelong friends, even though they met mere moments ago. Yes, this wouldn’t be the last time she saw Tullaina. Dís was sure of it. 

That reminded her of something…

“How come I haven’t seen you around, Tullaina?”

“I like to stay home, inside, where it’s safe,” the girl looked down in embarrassment and whispered. “There... there are no bullies there.”

“Then why were you even out there in the first place?” Kíli wondered.

“Kíli!” Dís chided him. She gave him a stern look but he didn’t even falter and looked at her expectantly. 

Tullaina chuckled. She kind of liked Kíli’s cheekiness and lack of filter when he spoke. It was a nice change from the usual harsh words and sneers she had to hear from others. 

“It’s fine. My adad works in the mines and I sometimes bring him his lunch,” she explained to Kíli. 

“He does? I know where that is!” he said enthusiastically. “You know what? Next time you have to go there, I’ll go with you!”

“That’s a great idea, Kíli,” Dís agreed, she couldn’t be happier that her youngest had found a new friend. He was starting to get lonely now Fíli spent more time with Thorin. Tullaina might be exactly what he needed to stay out of trouble. 

But Tullaina shook her head. “No, I can’t ask that of you! I’m-I’m sure you have much more important things to do.”

“Nonsense,” Dís waved her concern away. “You’re always welcome here, Tullaina.”

When Tullaina said her goodbyes - her mother will be worried sick by now - she had to promise Dís to come back the next day.

Kíli caught her off guard a bit when he hugged her, squeezing a lot harder than she expected him to.  

“See you tomorrow,” he said, and then his eyes lit up and a face-splitting grin appeared. 

“What?”

“I can’t wait for you to meet my brother!”

.

Kíli taglist: @elles-writing @sxperncturalimpala67

Permanent taglist: @roosliefje @kata1803 @entishramblings @artsywaterlily @sleepy-daydream-in-a-rose @marvelschriss @aduialel @anjhope1 @kumqu4t @myrin1234 @moony-artnstuff @dark-angel-is-back @the-fandoms-georgie @lathalea @xxbyimm @sokkasdarling @katethewriter @aredhel-of-gondolin @leethology @thepeanutcollective @elvish-sky @emmapotato88 @kirenia15 @vicmackeybullshxt @hey-its-nonny @moarfandomtrash

If your name is scratched through, it means I couldn’t tag you! You might want to check your settings ;) 

[chunhua-s]

Tendou in an enemies to lovers situation 🥺

wew chile, eye— this was longer than i originally planned and that’s due in part to me switching from writing on mobile and my bad word vomit tendencies said ✨start the cameras✨ i originally had a bit of trouble coming up with the solid plot itself while i was losing myself on concepts (nothing new :D just my regular clown shit y’know?) and my sweet goddess @bootylikepeachy was there to tickle my braincells with this “got paired together with your enemy for a class assignment” idea!! bb thank you for brainrotting with me on this, honestly 🥺💖 i dunno if i could have made a final decision if it weren’t for you and your sexy ass brain. i decided leave the ending a bit open?? one to prevent myself from going over 5k words (cause wow, i really hit the slow burn on this one) and two because i kinda like the ambiguity of their relationship after the reader comes to her turning point. since it’s an enemies to lovers type of scenario, i figured it would be better to let things kind of trickle off instead of having it all happen on the same day?? or so it doesn’t feel too rushed or force and i really hope i was successful in doing it justice. i hope you guys will have as much fun reading this as i did writing it!! let me know your thoughts, okay? and as always, thank you for reading!!

SUNSET AND MIDNIGNT ➽ SATORI TENDOU x READER

genre: fluff, slowburn

au: enemies to lovers

warnings: uhhh slowburn? word vomit, ramblings..... that’s about it

tendou is the fall from an ocean cliff. he’s the feeling of the wind sweeping past your body, of your breath disappearing from your lungs and vanishing on the whisps of a blue sky. he’s the dread that wraps around your heart like a vine, the heavy rock that drags you closer and closer to a dive you can’t remember taking. and you, with your heart racing against your ribs so hard that it scars itself with blue and purple bruises, you’re terrified. you’re terrified of heights, of blue waters that run to the deepest parts of the earth and what they don’t show to you. you’re afraid of the heat that comes from a blazing fire and the embers that fly from it on red hazes. it’s the fear of that unpredictability that keeps you away, the fear of being burned and left for dead that leaves you feeling as if you’re walking on egg shells around him.

to you, he’s a variable that you can’t ever be prepared for. a step added to a dance you’d already learned by heart, he messes up your rhythm and throws off your tempo until the melody becomes something you can’t recognize anymore. he leaves you guessing about what comes next — it’s like a game of roulette that he’d dragged you into by a thin chord, wrapped so tightly around your throat that it makes it hard for you to breathe. you hate the feeling of it, hate the way he so easily turned your world on its head and cast the familiarity of monochrome into a scenery of blinding colour. 

you’re pouting, a frown etched across your lips as you methodically stir over your pot, head cocked to the side and one hand resting akimbo on your hip. it’d been well over 30 minutes since you’d started boiling the ingredients over a low flame, and you were beginning to tire from stirring constantly; your arm ached and your shoulders were beginning to feel stiff as you tried rolling them to relieve some of the tension. frustration makes a loud groan slip from your lips as you throw your head back. normally, you’d consider yourself a patient person, yet that very same patience was beginning to run as thin as the liquid that should have been thickening by now. you couldn’t understand why it was taking so long, however. you’d done everything by the book! mixed each ingredient in the order that it’d said to, set the flame on the right level, measured everything correctly, so what was wrong?

you hear a snort come from somewhere behind you, but you don’t turn yourself to look at the red-headed male who sits comfortably atop the other side of your counter, well intent to ignoring him. you had neither the time nor the energy to entertain him right now, but your companion didn’t seem to understand that from the cold shoulder you’d been giving him ever since you two began working on your project together.

“you know you don’t have to keep stirring it, right?” tendou hums between bites of chocolate that slightly muffle his words. you don’t see the way his eyes close and his smile widens on delight for the sweet flavour that melts on his tongue. “you can leave it for about a minute before you have to check up on it again.”

you stubbornly roll your eyes, a huff coming from under your breath that disturbs the strand of hair dangling in front of your face. “that’s not what the book says.” your voice comes out evenly, though there’s nothing you do to cut the edge from your tone as you sigh immediately after. the frown on your lips only deepens with the next few seconds that pass you by.

“and that book was released in 2015.”

it’s invasive in its arrival, the question of why that spits on bitterness and undiluted anger. why were you so unlucky to have been paired up with the one person you couldn’t bear to be around? he was everything that dug under your skin, the symbol of chaos in a place where you’d rather solace and routine. he stands on the opposite end of the colour spectrum; where your life molds with deep purples and blues of a dark midnight, he’s the flaming oranges and reds of a burning sunset. your worlds meet on a collision, a burst of light that would consume entire dimensions and leave nothing but bones and ashes in its wake. 

there’s a pettiness in your hatred for him, a one-sided scorn that bears its fangs on dark poisons that trip like ink. it tells its tale of irrationality in your law of reason, and, you consider, perhaps that was why you hated tendou. perhaps it was the way his voice could so easily insight the burning taste of anger and annoyance on the back of your tongue, where it forms on a large ball that stops inside your throat and makes it hard to breathe without feeling as if you would implode. it’s something you can’t understand, but you despise the feeling it leaves you with when your eyes meet his.

hot, as if you’d been cast into the open arms of hell. 

“well,” you force behind gritted teeth, hearing the noise of them grinding in the back of your head. “i’m gonna stick to what the book says until it gets revised.” 

there’s absolutely no reason for you to be so insistent on something that’s clearly not working, you know that. you’re sure tendou is thinking the same, if the long, drawn out sigh he lets out is anything to go by. it isn’t difficult to imagine his expression, lips pursed together, brows furrowed as his narrowed eyes burn holes into your skin. you’re not sure what exactly is pushing you to be so stubborn, but you blindly let it control your thoughts; you run on impulse and immature decisions that have no place in your life. 

a silence blends with the sounds of your bubbling pot when he doesn’t respond, insighting an urge to glance around and see why he’d suddenly stopped talking that you force away from your mind. the quiet would give you some semblance of peace, you consider decisively: if he’s decided he would no longer disturb you with pointless musings, then what reason would you have to complain?

there’s a touch on your shoulder that causes your heart to latch inside your throat and rushes on uneven beats of a two-second fright that has you freezing on yourself. on instinct, your body turns to meet red eyes and a bemused grin as tendou’s fingers wrap around your wrist, catching the hand that held the mixing spatula you’d been using in your pot. “relax, will you?” he murmurs, a chuckle on his breath — the taste of his mint breath clouds your mind like a ghostly fragrance — as he pries the instrument from between your clenched fist. with narrowed eyes and your guard put up on a weak barrier, you watch closely as he gently sets the spatula against the counter before he finally releases your arm; it falls lifelessly to your side while the feeling of being burned slowly spreads across your skin. “just trust me on this.” 

there’s a hidden promise on his voice, a teasing grin that pulls at his lips and leaves your curiosity ignited on hesitance and uncertainty. you glance at your still bubbling pot, though your gaze isn’t allowed to linger for long as tendou shoves his face into your line of sight with a light chime of “ah-ah-ah.” it was as if he was scolding a child, the thought quickly comes and goes before you can dwell on it — there’s not much chance for you to think about it when tendou’s steering you to your island counter by your shoulders. “sit down for a sec, alright?”

a scowl forms on your lips as he shoves you down into a seat, and you open your mouth to protest when you’re suddenly pacified by the sweet taste on your tongue. slowly, you begin chewing, letting the confusion you feel be washed away by the quickly melting chocolate that fills you with a sense of appreciation. 

“better?”

it’s reluctant, but you give the red haired boy a nod and a small smile, all which he returns with his familiar grin. “i set a timer for one minute,” he informs you, lifting his phone screen to show the seconds counting down from 50. his actions are carefree and relaxed, with his arm resting on the edge of the chair and one of his legs folded beneath him, red hair tousled and flopping over his forehead just like he wears it on campus. he’s attractive, you won’t deny, though you wouldn’t let yourself ever say it out loud. helplessly, you sigh, your shoulders dropping to release the tension from standing for so long and you lift a hand to sheepishly run over your neck as you avoid his gaze.

“fine…”

tendou’s smile widens as soon as you relent, a pleased hum leaves him as he further leans back into the chair. “so,” he begins on a cheerful tone, and your eyes curiously watch him as he opens conversation. “what’re your plans after you finish the course?”

a short moment passes you by where you glance away from him, eyes drifting to the pot on your worry. was it really okay to leave it alone? “uh,” you mutter out on your distracted tone before you center yourself. you take a deep breath and let it out on a soft puff that has your cheeks pushing out slightly before you give your answer. “i wanna open up a coffeeshop.” 

“oh?” when you meet tendou’s gaze, there’s a spark of interest in them, a sheen of gold that lights vermillion red on the afternoon sun. it causes you to become self-conscious suddenly, your hands tangle together in your lap as you avert your eyes almost as quickly as they’d met his. 

“yeah,” you affirm softly. “i’ve always thought that it’d be nice, you know? and i’d be able to relax in a place like that.” 

another hum comes from the man next to you, a low sound that dwells on pondering as he takes in your response. “you do seem like the kind of person who would work in a coffeeshop.” he muses, and his word leaves your mind on pause as the alarm goes off, the soft ringing of a song you don’t know disrupting your thoughts and prompting you to stand up. however, there’s a hand on your shoulder that hurriedly pushes you down before you’re at your full height. “no,no—” tendou urges you, “i’ll do it, you just sit there and rest.” 

you’re not given the chance to argue as he breezily saunters over to your stove, reaching for the spatula while humming that same song from his alarm. it’s not one you’ve heard before, and it’s another thing that leaves you curious as you watch him stir over the bubbling liquid. you notice the way he holds his hand at a weird angle that leaves his elbow jutting out, the way his tall frame has to hunch as if to see the contents better. doesn’t he wear glasses? you’re lost on the thought as you try and recall whether or not you’d seen him wear a pair before. when he turns back to you, his smile is wide and triumphant, a show of all teeth as he moves himself to the side and just barely tilts the pot with his free hand. “would’ja look at that?” he sings, a telling smugness to his tone as he looks at you. you have to lean over the island counter to see the white liquid has thickened considerably more than when you’d been stirring it. “told you to just let it sit for a while and it’d do it’s own thing!”

unable to help the smile that spreads across your lips, you huff and wave a hand across your face in dismissal, harmlessly rolling your eyes at him. “alright, no need to rub it in now,” you chide as he replaces the pot and skips over to your side, large steps that have him swinging his arms back and forth like an excited child. there’s no hiding the glee in his expression when he sits down again and immediately turns to face you, as if he was waiting for you to admit something. and maybe that’s what he was waiting for, but you’re still stubborn when it comes to him, so you only turn your eyes away from him and cross your arms with a false pout. “just set the timer again, will you?” you grumble, and you’re rewarded with laughter that rang as pure and innocent as the sound of trickling water. it leaves you stunned for a moment, echoes in your mind and finds a home inside your chest so that it plays back for you to hear. it’s a beautiful sound, you think; there’s a part of you that wants to hear more. it horrifies you. 

“what about you?” you shake your head as you lean your elbows on top of the counter top, eyes focused on your fingers wrapping around one another rather than to meet vermillion red. the cool feeling of the marble does very little to ease the warmth coursing beneath your skin. “what’re your plans after finishing the course?”

tendou’s laughter dies down like the wind comes to a pause, where the leaves stop rustling on an easy rest as he sighs long and full, his chest rising with the action as he leans backward ever so slightly. “i was thinking of making chocolate,” he tells, tilting his head and lending his gaze to the scenery outside your window. it gives you the courage to look back at him, at the sight of his figure bathed in sunlight where the gold bounces off his skin like a gem. with his expression set on pensive and his eyes bearing a wandering glint, he looks nearly ethereal inside your kitchen, a picture of immortality that you’ve never bothered to look at before now. he glows under a melting light, the picture of him robs you of air and leaves you gasping, desperate for your blood to start flowing the way it had before. 

it’s when his eyes find yours that you relearn how to breathe.

his gaze is half-lidded, touched by a visual of content that makes him look at peace, nearly drowsy as his hand supports the weight of his head. the smile on his lips is slight, the kind that quirks the corners of your lips and tells you a story of effortless charm. 

“is there any particular reason?” you hate that your voice comes out weak, that it breaks on it’s departure and tumbles out of your lips like white feathers flutter from the sky. the onslaught of emotion leaves you reeling, your center of gravity cast from your body and you struggle to find your footing over uneven ground, all while he watches you, red eyes picking you apart and leaving bear to him the parts of yourself you’ve never seen. a boyish smile settles over his lips as he turns his head to fully face you, leaning forward ever so slightly, but it’s enough so that you’re once again able to taste peppermint on his breath. it washes over your skin like an autumn wind, leaves a chill that reminds you of the first signs of snow on the throws of a mid-summer’s heat.

“not really,” he confesses with a shrug, carefree and unbothered while he leaves you as the perfect image of flustered. his voice is low, like a whisper. it’s hushed, and you’re able to hear something of a sigh on his words that leaves you to wonder about the way the sunlight reflects off of pools of red, how the golden hue makes them appear like the butterscotch candies you’d snack on between classes. “i just… like sweet things.”

“oh.” 

you’re reminded of the taste of caramel when you think of tendou. it comes as a surprise when you take the first bite into a chocolate bar, an unexpected drop of golden sweetness that makes you pause for, if only, just a second to properly let its flavour spread across your tongue. he’s the warmth of sunset that embraces your body, the feeling of the waves that brush against your toes, the sand that fills with water and wraps around your feet. you’re left on the shoreline to watch in awe as flames of orange and red dance on the ocean’s surface, where the blazes and embers of a passion unimaginable to your midnight moon leave traces of ethereal gold in its wake. 

there’s a sudden thought that invades your mind, slow like molasses and just as bittersweet; you want to sink beneath those burning waters, to let them cover you from head to toe and consume all that you are. until your heart learns his melody and your body falls to his tune.

there’s a part of you that yearns after satori tendou, and the realization if it scares you. 

you’re the first to look away when the timer sounds once more, your face burns and you purse your lips together while your hands tangle together on your lap. beside you, tendou arises wordlessly to saunter over to the pot, humming once more to the tune that continues to play from his phone. it doesn’t sound like a typical alarm, and it leaves you intrigued by it’s upbeat melody.  “what song is that?” you curse the way your voice breaks, clearing your throat and hoping that he didn’t pick up on it. why were you suddenly becoming such a mess? 

tendou answers you a bit distractedly while he tilts the pot from side to side, his head cocked in contemplation and his expression pensive. “it’s called circus,” he glances at you from over his shoulder and uses his free hand to gesture you forward before reaching for the pair of yellow, sunflower-themed muffins you left to sit close-by. “bring the chocolate for me, would’ja?” you meet him just as he’s moving your pot to sit on your counter, the plate of chopped up chocolate bits in your hand while he moves to the side to let you dump them into the mixture. “i found it on this playlist from youtube and i kinda got obsessed with it.” 

you take in his words over the light-hearted melody that plays from his phone, enjoying the sound of it before it cuts off and sets to snooze since tendou hadn’t turned it off. it leaves you wanting to hear more, and you wish it would have played on for a little bit longer as you set the plate to the side. “can i look it up?” you ask; the thought that it was silly to ask for his permission rings in your head before you can stop it, and you feel your face heating up when he looks up from mixing the chocolate to you, his eyes alight with amusement and his smile teasing. 

“go ahead,” he chuckles, giving his attention back to the pot after casually waving a hand in the air. “mind bringing me the setting tray?”

it doesn’t take you too long to open up the youtube app, your fingers typing in the name of the song before you pause and glance over to your partner. “is it the one by showmore?”

“yup!”

soon, the familiar intro bleeds into your kitchen space, filling up the absence of conversation between you and tendou as he bobs his head along to its sound. you’re left to lean against the counter, your hands folded beneath you while he pours out your chocolate mixture into the little cube shapes in the tray. what you feel is a comfort, a type of quiet happiness that calms your breath on the sound of drums and the piano that blends with the singer’s voice. “it sounds nice,” you mutter quietly, unable to help the way your head nods in time to the melody. 

tendou shoots you an excited smile. “it does, right?? i’ve been listening to it nonstop ever since i found it.” his enthusiasm draws a laugh from you, a grin stretches across your face as you watch him sway side to side. it’s an adorable picture of him dancing and smiling so brightly, and when he looks up at you with excitement in his eyes, you feel your heart skip a beat. 

“wanna dance?”

“huh?”

the question catches you off guard, leaves you to stare wide-eyed at his back as he pops the tray into the freezer before turning back to face you. his grin widens and becomes almost teasing when he sees your stunned expression. “c’mere!” he urges you with an eagerness, his hand waving you over.

“tendou, i—” you avert your gaze, feeling your skin warm up once more as you murmur your answer. “i can’t dance…” 

he makes his way over to you in a sequence of movements you can’t hope to describe — it’s almost like a prance, where his steps are exaggerated and his shoulders lift up in a kind of rocking motion while he’s snapping his fingers to the beat. “that’s fine!” he grins at you just as he reaches out for your hand, pulls you to your feet and coaxes you from behind your island counter. “i can’t either!” 

for a moment, you’re caught between amused and hopelessly confused while the man before you lifts your arms like wet spaghetti, letting him swing them between your bodies as if you were a puppet, and he the puppeteer. he’s beaming at you so widely that it’s almost ridiculous, but he seems so vivid and joyous while he maneuvers your limbs, and it causes broad laughter to bubble up from your chest as your body doubles over. it’s a pure, weightless type of laughter that leaves you, like the chiming of bells on the summer wind. it echoes over the music, and when tendou joins in with you, there arises between you both a new kind of song, whose story is found at the evening time when the world holds her breath. it’s a harmony that’s carefree, like the fall from an ocean cliff, like the breath that vanishes from your lungs and cries on laughter beneath the blue sky. it’s the feeling of your fears melting, and when your body finally plunges between those fireset waves, you’re wondering why you were scared in the first place. 

“that’s it!!” the excitement in tendou’s voice is infectious, his smile as bright as the sun itself when your fingers intertwine with his and your body finally moves on its own. here begins a dance between you two where he pulls you in closer, and when you pull away, your hands remain intertwined. an irresistible force that you can’t help being drawn to, that spins you around his fingers and wraps you in his arms, all while eyes of the sweetest sunset promise you gold on your midnight sky. the feeling inside your chest is warm, sets through your body like a quiet buzz and it leaves you wanting more, so that the yearning you feel would only ever be satisfied by him.

your hand in his feels like a slow burning flame, and as the both of you are laughing with a song you create with each other, you realize that you’re no longer afraid of its heat.

taglist: @aiiishiiiteru @bootylikepeachy @tsumue @waitforitillwritemywayout @mixxfi @shnnn

send an ask to be added or removed!! (also pls lemme know if i’m forgetting anyone? i think i got you all but just in case)

[sanchosammy]

oh shoot! sorry i’m dumb HA! it was the general section but if it could be a lil more angsty thatd be amazing! sorry again!

Note: Thank you so much for requesting! You were my first request so I’m very excited for this. I hope you don’t mind but all of my fanfics have a happy ending. I did make this angsty until the very end, I hope you like it!

Word Count: 1,988

Warnings: Angst, some lies? Nothing really here to worry about!

Prompt: “I won’t hurt you.” & “Are they really ‘just a friend’?”

Requested by: Anon

You followed close behind him as you strolled through the planet’s market. Throughout your partnership with the Mandalorian, you’ve become like his shadow. That’s how he liked it though, you’re always close by and safe under his watch. 

It wasn’t difficult to be a partner to the man you’ve come to know over several months, but it was a confusing relationship nonetheless. 

It’s hard not to fall for a man who has saved your life countless times before. It did feel a little foolish to love someone who you’ve never seen without a helmet. That didn’t stop you from becoming fond of him though, but the relationship had never been officially talked about.

Din had taught you so much over time. You hadn’t shot a blaster before until Din required you to learn in case something ever happened, that was a part of his agreement if you were to stay by his side to raise the child.

Some may not believe it because of his cold exterior, but he was a careful man. He never wanted to place you in a position where you’d find yourself uncomfortable by his actions, and so he treaded lightly in his ways with you.

He was not familiar with friendships that he had to maintain each day, which is the reason Din attempted to show his care for you in small subtle ways. Like the time he came home with a new pair of boots for you and left them on your cot without a word. No comment on why he did so, but he was satisfied with himself when he saw you wearing them everyday afterwards.

You stepped forward to his side instead of following behind him, looking over at him as you asked.“Do you think we could stop somewhere to eat this time?”

His helmet turned towards you in acknowledgment of the conversation, a pause of silence before he responded. He hated to stop anywhere and always had. He couldn’t enjoy a meal publicly, so there was never a reason for him to stay in a place longer than necessary. However, he had to make compromises when it came to you and the child.

“Yeah, I know a place here.” He finally agreed.

You found yourself in a little spot no less than ten minutes later. Normally, Din would handle business nearby if you were enjoying a meal safely tucked away in a corner somewhere, but he had no bounty to hunt today.

The bone broth was hot and fresh when it was served. The smell filling your nose, a reminder of how far you’ve walked throughout the day to create such an appetite. You didn’t mind the silence from Din as he waited beside you while you enjoyed your meal. It was normal in your routine together to be in a comfortable silence.

“Excuse me… Din?” A woman caught the attention of both you and him.  You awkwardly looked at her mid-slirp of the dish.

Your mind finally processed what she said.  It wouldn’t have been weird that she knew Mando, but no, she said Din. A name that felt almost too intimate to say outside of the Razor Crest. You learned of his birth name one quiet night under the stars.

He looked at her at the same time as you. No emotion was shown through the visor of his helmet, but you watched the way his body stiffened at the sight of the beautiful woman in front of you. And that was confirmation enough that he must know her after all.

“Rann?” He responded, seeming as shocked as her by the encounter. 

“I can’t believe you’re here…” Hurt flashed across her face momentarily before she brushed it off and continued. “What are you doing back?”

“I needed supplies.” His comment is simple and short. Much like Mando with everyone.

It appeared the both of them forgot you were sitting at the table before her eyes trailed towards you. She cleared her throat awkwardly with her hand out to shake yours. “I’m Rann… And you are?”

The question seemed innocent enough, but the way she said it rubbed you the wrong way instantly. You put on a smile and shook her hand, “(Y/N), Din’s partner.”

She looked between you and Mando, an uncomfortable energy surrounded all three of you as no one knew where to go next. Her shoulders straightened and she stepped back, her eyes solely on the man in armor. 

“Well, consider coming to see me sometime, alright?” She left him with a soft smile on her face, and then she was out the door.

You found yourself watching Din. His silence that was once comforting now brought in some uneasiness for you. That was weird, right? And since when did Din start telling others of his name? You thought to yourself. They seemed to know each other a little too well. 

“How do you know her?” You couldn’t catch yourself from asking, the words falling past your lips as the worry increased in your face.

This time his helmet didn’t turn. His view remained locked in the direction of where she once was. His hand stiff on the table and he was uncomfortably sat in the chair. No longer attempting to relax in his spot like he usually would with you.

“An old friend.” He comments. His voice that once made you melt now seemed to bring a feeling of queasiness instead. You knew something wasn’t right here, and it was only a matter of time that you found out.

+

You stirred awake without a reason. The Razor Crest wasn’t moving, which meant you never left the planet like planned before. Your heart screamed at you that this wasn’t right and there was something to be concerned about. You could feel a form of adrenaline shooting through you and you had no reason to be this anxious.

Your feet touched the cold metal of the ship. Now out of your cot, you noticed Din nowhere to be found. It’s a ship, there aren't many places to disappear to after all. The door sealed shut with the lock activated and nobody but you and the child left inside. 

That was a relief, at least you knew he was where he was supposed to be. Safe and sound asleep in his little closed off spot. Tucked away from the dangers in the world, how it should be for a child.

Though the nervousness didn’t fade in the slightest. Din was nowhere to be seen, and he had never left without telling you before. This isn’t who he is and that wasn’t how your relationship worked. You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of the door opening now. He seemed just as surprised to see you awake as he entered from the outside.

“You’re awake.” He comments, his voice quiet and reserved. As if he wasn’t a personal friend of yours. You nearly shivered at the coldness of his tone.

“Yeah… You left?” You asked cautiously. Why did you feel the need to walk on eggshells suddenly?

“Yes,” He said as if that was the end of his answer. No hint of him willing to provide any other information. Din has always been a man who kept to himself but this was ridiculous and out of left field.

He walked past you and attempted to ignore your heavy watch on him. Heavy guilt weighed on his shoulder and started to eat away at him slowly.

It’s hard to listen to your gut feeling when it is telling you everything you don’t want to hear. It’s much easier to pretend you didn’t notice that small voice telling you the unmistakable truth. However, you weren’t one to choose easy paths anyway.

You found the confidence to ask the question even if you dreaded it. “Where were you tonight?”

He paused at the ladder in front of him. Din could’ve ignored the question and climbed into the cockpit without a word, but he couldn’t be that cruel to you. However, he still couldn’t find it within himself to answer the question. He knew he could’ve easily lied of his whereabouts, what proof would you have against him in doing so? Even then he couldn’t bring himself to do it though so he remained silent instead.

You looked across the room now. Your stare remained firm from afar even if you couldn’t see his eyes behind the visor. The both of you held eye contact for a moment.

Much like earlier in the day, a familiar sickened feeling washed over you again. This time with a more certainty behind it. A small saddened laugh left your lips, a sound brought out as your body attempted to not break down in stress. You knew where he was deep down and every part of you screamed her name as the answer. Her face flashed through your mind and her voice repeating the name she introduced herself as earlier. Runn.

“With her?” You smiled, a soft smile at him. A smile forced on your face, though not by choice, but by survival.

His silence shouldn’t have been an answer and somehow it was. When he looked away from you, it was an answer enough. Jealousy was a stupid emotion to cry over but jealousy brought something much worse with it, and that would be the devastating feeling of heartbreak.

“Are they really ‘just a friend’?” You chewed on your lip for a second to gather up the courage to continue. Your voice quivered as you did so “She was something more, wasn’t she?”

You didn’t want to continue this conversation that was clearly one-sided. You shook your head as you turned around back to the cot. His quiet ways were speaking for him and it wasn’t doing him any justice in the matter. 

Footsteps followed behind as his softened tone called out your name once.

“No!” You nearly screamed, your emotions getting the better of you. “No, I’m not doing this. You see who you want and do what you want because I’m done.” 

He watched carefully at your outburst. What could he say to make this better?

“I take care of you, I spend all my time with you and the child, and I’m not the one you choose? Maybe I shouldn’t be here because all you bring is pain, Din.” You speak full of bitterness towards him.

“I thought I wanted her,” His voice finally caught up with his thoughts. He had blurted out the words, but they remained sure. He continued now that you watched him with an unsure and hurt expression. “I thought I wanted her. That’s why I went to see her, but I was wrong.”

You looked away from him, “What do you want, Din?”

“You.” 

He walked the few steps to stand in front of you. Emotions weren’t his strong strong-suit. It was probably the only thing he found himself struggling in, but he continued in an attempt to save the only thing he needed in life. 

“I’ve messed up, but I know now that I need you. This won’t happen again, I won’t hurt you again.”

You looked at him. For once you wished you could see behind the helmet. To know what he looked like in his confession. To know if he was speaking the truth, and that he wanted you over everyone he could choose from in the galaxy. Instead you leaned into his arms to feel them wrap around you without hesitation, a small squeeze that provided a comfort you didn’t know you could feel from such a simple action.

In the sudden high of your embrace, the words that he only meant to think to himself had slipped out instead. In a quiet voice that caught you off guard, you heard the words “I’m sorry it has taken me this long to realize I love you.”

[bookstantrash]

A/N: First of all, I’d like to thank everyone who left a comment, reblogged or liked Part One of this fic. It made my day ❤️

I hope this chapter reaches your expectations. I’m still knew at writing multi-chapter fics, so I apologise if it’s too long or too boring. I want to let you guys know Kaelin better and also show Nesta’s (and Cassian’s) journey. But enough blabbering. Please give a warm welcome to Part Two!

In which she makes a friend, Part Two

Nesta remained frozen beside Kaelin’s body for what seemed an eternity. Seconds that felt more like hours went by until her mind finally snapped back to reality.

She could not give herself the luxury of freaking out right now. She needed to be practical. She needed to help Kaelin.

The sky was beginning to get dark and Nesta knew they had to get out of the forest fast. She recalled Cassian’s warning the first day she had arrived.

To never wander in the forest at dark, for the beasts which roamed them at nightfall made Hybern’s monsters at the war seem like child’s play.

“Kaelin. Listen to me. I’m going to help you” Nesta said, and Kaelin only whimpered as another wave of pain came “But we have to leave”

“It hurts” the young girl managed to say, tears streaming down her face “I can’t— can’t move”

Nesta eyed Kaelin’s figure. She was way too skinny for a thirteen year old standards, even if she’d been having regular meals for the past month.

But Nesta didn’t think she’d have the strength to carry her.

She had not eaten a proper meal in months.

Did not exercise.

You’re too heavy.

The memory of herself trying to raise another body from the ground came to mind, and she gritted her teeth to avoid screaming.

Once again, she was powerless.

This time, however, she would not lay on the ground.

She would rise. Even if her miserable bones broke beneath Kaelin’s weight.

“I’ll carry you, but you’ll have to help me” Nesta slowly sit Kaelin up, and looked straight in her eyes “Can you be strong for me now? I need you to move just enough to get on my back”

Kaelin nodded weakly and, panting, did what she was told.

Grabbing the girl’s legs in a firm hold, Nesta bit her cheek and got up, her knees screaming in protest.

“Okay ” she breathed, silently praying her body could hold on long enough to make the ten minute walk back to the cabin “I’m going to move now, so brace yourself”

She took a step forward and had to muster all her strength to not fall down with Kaelin. She remembered giving piggy back rides to Elain when she little — before her mother had deemed it unladylike and punished her. A long time had passed since then. She had been stronger and Elain did not have wings to add to her weight as Kaelin had.

But Nesta focused on the action of putting one foot after the other, her breaths coming in pants, willing her legs to keep moving.

‘Almost there’ she thought as she slowly made her back ‘Just keep moving. It’s not that far’

She repeated that over and over in hopes to distract her body. Her arms were trembling and her tights burned, yet she kept her pace.

After what seemed an eternity, Nesta finally spotted the cabin’s familiar rooftop. She almost sighed in relief.

Awkwardly opening the door and closing it shut with her foot, she went to her room, trying to lay Kaelin down on her bed as smoothly as possible.

She tried to regain her breath. Cauldron, how her back hurt.

Kaelin had curled up again, and was clenching her stomach so hard Nesta wondered if she was actually trying to claw her way into her own body so she could rip her ovaries out.

“I’ll be right back” Nesta said, smoothing some hair from Kaelin’s forehead.

She went to the kitchen, searching for something that would calm the poor girl’s pain. Nesta had not had her period as a fae yet —the huge amounts of alcohol and lack of food in the last year were probably the reason why — but remembered how it was when she used to be a human. She’d get horrible headaches and just lay down all day waiting for the pain to go away. She could only imagine how dreadful the experience must be for the fae.

Getting hold of some ginger, she put water in a kettle to prepare some tea, hoping Kaelin would be able to at least drink it. After that, she went into the shared bathroom between her room and Cassian’s.

And stopped right in front of the bathtub.

She still had trouble taking baths.

Had grown used to her old and deplorable bathtub back in her shabby apartment in Velaris.

And when she had arrived and came face to face with a bathtub big enough to accommodate wings, its dark stone a stark reminder of the Cauldron... she had frozen up. Refused to enter it. Even now, after months living in Cassian’s cabin, she could not stomach the ideia of doing it.

So she waited until Cassian left for his training and took a bucket to wash herself. It was a long process and rather difficult to wash her hair, but at least she could stay clean.

Yet, she could not do the same with Kaelin. The girl was sweaty and dirty with blood. And Nesta knew that a hot bath would do wonders to the cramps, relaxing her.

Raising her chin as if battling an invisible enemy, she got near the bathtub for the first time, turning the faucet and letting it be filled with hot water. Her heartbeat quickened as the water rose and rose, her powers a volcano in her veins, and she had to close her fists tight enough to hurt to not shatter the whole bathroom.

‘It’s not the Cauldron. It’s not the Cauldron’ reaching a tentative hand, she dipped it in the water to check the temperature ‘This water is hot. The Cauldron’s was cold. They are not the same’

Nesta turned the faucet off, and some tension eased off from her shoulders. Looking around the bathroom, she located the camomile oil Cassian kept. She had once heard it helped ease the soreness of the muscles after extensive training.

Putting it in the water, she found herself feeling a bit guilty for using it. It was not hers. Nothing in that house was. But Cassian was not here, and she doubted he’d notice that the little flask was missing some of its content.

She went back to her bedroom, and helped Kaelin take her leathers and tunic off, as she did with the band the girl had wrapped around her breasts, as small as they still were. Only thirteen, the period in which her body was slowly maturing, yet she was going through those body changes alone. The danger of being found out hanging around her neck like a rope.

Nesta tried not to flinch at the sight of the purple bruises along Kaelin’s back and ribs. A girl training the same amount as an Illyrian boy.... she must be very strong to take it all.

Kaelin wobbled towards the bathroom with Nesta’s help, breathing a sight of relief when her body came in contact with the hot water. Letting her soak for a while, Nesta stripped down some clean linens and left them on the bed.

Now the only matter were the clothes.

Nesta had brought few clothes with her, and most of them did not go along with the ruthless Illyrian weather. She eyed the lower drawer of the dresser. The one which she had not dared to touch.

She had been stubborn and refused to accept any more charity from her sister and her mate, sticking with her old dresses and overcoat instead. It was not as if she left the cabin long enough to die of frostbite.

Yet even if Kaelin was used to Illyria’s harsh weather, wearing warm clothes would make her more comfortable. Nesta was not as ruthless as to lend one of her thin run down dresses.

Sighting, she opened the drawer. And almost took a step back in surprise. For there lay clothes not in Night Court’s colours or the typical winter clothes one would find selling in Velaris.

No, they were Illyrian clothes. And not just leathers.

There were cotton sweaters, leggings, tunics and soft pants that Nesta would have never thought of wearing. And the colours.... Gods the colours. There was a range of colours from grey to auburn, burgundy, royal blue and forest green. The kind of colours that Nesta could imagine herself in.

She was so marvelled by them that she almost missed the small note on top of one sweater.

‘These are for you. I took the liberty of buying them, but if you prefere another clothing style feel free to tell me — Cassian’

He had bought her clothes. He, not her sister. And Cassian had kept quiet about it. Had not said a word before his trip about how she had never opened that drawer.

Had given her space. A choice.

Had she perhaps misunderstood his apparent cold behaviour? Was he perhaps giving her time to get used to her current situation? Was he distancing himself so it was her choice when the time to talk came?

Picking some clothes for Kaelin and laying them on the bed, Nesta tucked that information deep inside herself, feeling an annoying warmth in her heart she had not felt in a long time.

~•~

“What did you say?”

“You heard me perfectly clear or have you become deaf with your age?” Nesta replied to the camp lord in front of her, the mask of a bored and mighty queen mastered to perfection.

“I was not informed about this” Devlon said, anger lacing his every word.

“You were not notified because it was not necessary” she spat back, a cold fury settling in her veins “So let it be known that Kaelin will be staying with me for the time being to help in an important and secret matter, none of which are for you to worry about”

“How dare—“

“Have a good day” cutting Devlon off before he nagged at her some more, Nesta left him standing at the training area.

She heard Devlon bark an order for the Illyrians to get back to training, the sound of swords clashing against each soon rising again. She tried not to flinch at the sounds, keeping her mask up until she was safely back at the cabin.

Once inside, Nesta let herself rest against the door, sighing. She was tired. The events of yesterday and today’s morning had taken a tool on her. It had been a while since she had worn the unfeeling ice queen mask. She didn’t recall it to be so tiring.

But rest would have to wait a little bit. She had to check on Kaelin. And demand an explanation.

The night before, after Kaelin had gotten out of the bath and was dressed, Nesta had given the ginger tea and coaxed her into drinking it all. Not long after that, the poor girl fell asleep.

Nesta, on the hand, stayed awake for the better part of the night, dozing off in a chair near the bed, waking up whenever she heard Kaelin move.

When the birds had started to sing in the early morning, Nesta had came up with a plan. Leaving a tray with light food and tea in the bedside for Kaelin, she dressed herself and braided her hair neatly, preparing to go after Devlon. She had to make sure that Kaelin could stay away from training during her cycle and that her secret kept being a secret.

But the Illyrian had some gaps to fill in.

“Nesta?” she heard a soft voice calling from her room, and taking a deep breath, moved from her position.

“Good morning” Nesta said, finding the girl awake and less pale than yesterday “How do you feel?”

“Better” Kaelin was slowing making her way through breakfast “But, training...Devlon....how—”

“It’s been taken care of off” taking her position from the past night, Nesta squared her shoulders and took a business like voice “You have a story to tell”

Kaelin, noticing how the air had become serious, lost no time and, stopping sometimes when the cramps returned with full force, told Nesta everything.

Kaelin’s mother, as she said before, had a fragile health, made worse by the heavy workload imposed on the females. Add that to a difficult pregnancy, you have the recipe for an early labour.

Right in the middle of the heaviest snow storm to have ever befallen on Illyria. Which lasted for four days and four nights.

Making it impossible for a midwife to get there.

Mikael, her father, aided his wife, Selin, all on his own.

A warrior born to kill. To reap lives.

However, for her he would bring life. He would do everything he could.

It was not enough.

He was not able to stop Selin’s internal bleeding. Or her death.

And so, thirteen years ago, on the day Illyria bled white while Selin bled red, a healthy little girl was born.

Yet after the blizzard stopped and Mikael buried his wife, a boy was announced to have been born.

“Protect her” Selin had whispered with her last breath “Let our daughter be free and strong. Let her know no fear. Let her be as wild as Sanuur, the Mother of all forests. As ruthless as the old Illyrian warriors. As wise as our matriarchs.”

Mikael kept his promise. He raised Kaelin as a boy in secret as best as he could. Until he was killed in the Hybern War.

And Kaelin was alone.

An orphan who nothing deserved to have, save for a duffel bag with whatever she could grab before she was kicked out of her childhood home — a one room wood cabin, built by her father after years of hard work — in the mud.

After the rumours that a Witch now lived with the General, Kaelin had a mad plan: she’d give anything, even her soul, to avoid getting what would raise a red flag to her secret.

“I starved and ate herbs that were said to make one avoid getting periods” Kaelin said, looking down at her empty cup “But those things made me far too weak. I was falling behind training. I am at the age boys grow like trees and start to get buffer. I needed a quick solution”

And Nesta had been feeding her.

Oh, she was going to get sick. Had she doomed Kaelin while thinking she was saving a poor orphan?

“From now on,” Nesta announced “I’ll be the one to keep your father’s promise. You will live with me”

It did no good to dwell on what could have been. What had been done was done.

For the first time in five months, the fog inside Nesta’s mind seemed to lift.

“You will live with me. And I will train with you”

Because never again would she be weak. Never again would she be at someone’s mercy.

Nesta Archeron was going to show Illyria just how much she should be feared.

•

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[duxhess-kryzewan]

Will you ever write a sequel of the Braxton Hicks story you wrote a few months ago? I just can't get the idea of Obi-Wan panicking and maybe almost missing the birth out of my head. Btw, I love your writing, keep at it!

- hicks, pt.2 - 

​The pain was blinding.

Everything was screaming in agony with each passing second, as if the baby was trying to tear her apart from the inside out and she can vaguely recall the mid-wife telling her that she would know the difference between Braxton-Hicks and the real thing. The woman was right, these are so, so much worse than anything she could have imagined.

"We're going to transfer you to the medical wing, your grace." One of her guards - the pain was too much for her to remember which - had told her.

"Obi-Wan." She says, "Where is Obi-Wan?"

There were only a handful of people within Sundari palace that knew the true parentage of her unborn child; a decision that both she and Obi-Wan had made when they first discovered she was pregnant in order to provide plausible deniability should anyone she didn't outwardly trust get questioned. Even with the hopeful outlook that the war would be ending there was till always the threat of someone seeking to harm her Jedi Knight, and he had sworn that they would never be collateral for his actions.

She had her own reasons too, of course. While Mandalore was prospering with it's new dawn of peace, there will always be those that won't forget that bloodshed between their people and the Jedi.

"We'll track him down ma'am," A nursemaid told her, "We'll send for him to meet you in the delivery room immediately."

Delivery room.

Delivery room.

Delivery room.

The baby was coming for real this time, and Obi-Wan was nowhere to be found.

----

"You're seven centimeters dilated, Satine." The doctor had told her shortly after another wave of pain crashed over her, "We won't have you push until you reach ten."

"I can't-" She pauses and sucks in a ragged breath as the most recent contraction makes itself known, "I can't have this baby without Obi-Wan here."

The doctor looks at her, both sympathy and amusement written across his features, "I'm sorry to say that they tend to come out when they please. But you have some time between now and then, he very well could get here before you have to start pushing."

When he leaves she's overcome with the crippling fear of loneliness. How could she ever manage to do this without him? All those nights they spent together, discussing the possibility of what would happen if he wasn't there when she went into labor was suddenly a reality, and the sadness that it brought was so heart crushing.  

They both had known of course that this was always part of the reality; that he may be off saving the galaxy somewhere else while she tries to bring their child into the world. But how she had hoped that the stars would align in their favor just this once.

And oh, she dreads how much guilt that he will carry around if he were to miss this. There would never be a harsher critic of Obi-Wan than Obi-Wan himself.

The door to the room opens, and for a moment she's filled with delight only for it all to be taken away from her when she realizes it's not him, but simply the mid-wife.

"Your grace," She says with a slight bow, "We've contacted Senator Amidala as you requested, she said she will send word to Master Kenobi as soon as she tracks down his location."

Satine nods solemnly, "Thank you. Please send word if you receive a response. I want updated no matter what the news is."

The young girl nods obediently and scurries out of the room. Yes, surely Padme would be able to track him down. She almost always knows where Anakin is, and where there is Anakin there's normally Obi-Wan not too far behind.

She thinks back to their conversation from the night they had thought she was going into labor, when they had gone back to bed after the scare of the Braxton-hicks had worn off.

"Oh, I’m petrified. But I’m more afraid of not being here when you actually do go into labor. The baby being born tonight would have been a bit unexpected, but at least I would have been here to go through it with you. The thought of you going through labor alone-”

“I want you by my side. Always.” She tells him, “But that is not the way we have chosen to live. If you are off saving the galaxy, then I will make sure our child knows that.”

“You are extraordinary.”

The pain subsides for a moment when she thinks of that night; how he had held her until she finally slipped back into a dreamless sleep. It was one of the rare occasions that he had been there for more than a single days time. He had been called away on a mission not long after, and had only just returned yesterday according to Padme.

He smiles and rubs his hand up and down the length of her stomach, “Wearing you out already.”

She reaches up and presses a lazy kiss to the corner of his mouth, “Well, they are your child, I would expect nothing less. You certainly like making my life difficult.”

He rolls his eyes, “I’m not even going to humor you with a response.”

A soft laugh escapes her just as her eyes begin to flutter close, “Next time you’re here they better be real.”

“Next time."

She grips the bedsheets tightly in her hands as another contraction blindsides her, and it wasn't long until the doctor and an assortment of nursemaids flooded the room, one of the younger ones holding her hand gently as the pain begins to subside and force does she wish that it was Obi-Wan's hand more than anything right now.

"You're at nine centimeters," the doctor informs her, "One more centimeter and you're going to start pushing."

​Everything inside of her hurts, from the aching in her chest from Obi-Wans lack of a presence to the baby that was trying so desperately to come out of her. It's the most overwhelming thing she's ever experienced and she vows then and there that he was never, ever going to get her pregnant again.

"Have you picked out a name?"

She stares blankly at the doctor, thrown off by the sudden inquisitiveness.

"A name?" The contractions were more frequent than before, one after another and she could hardly think straight.

"For the baby," he says, "Talk to me Satine, it'll help distract you."

She wants to laugh and tell him that she doesn't think anything can distract from this, but she doesn't have the energy.

"We've discussed a few," She says, letting out a slow and measured breath, "It all depends on what if they're a boy or girl. We wanted-" She pauses and takes in a deep breath, "To wait and meet them before choosing a name."

One of the nurses wipes at her forehead with a cool rag and smooths her hair back and out of her eyes.

"Are you hoping for a boy or girl?" The doctor continues, flashing her an encouraging smile.

"I'm hoping for a healthy baby." She says, because it's true. While the idea of having a daughter who she could dote on as she got older was certainly appealing, having a mini version of Obi-Wan running around in a son warmed her heart just as much. In the end, all that mattered was that they were healthy and here with her.

"We're going to find out very shortly." He tells her, "You're fully dilated. You're going to have to start pushing."

The urge to cry over takes her; partly due to the pain, partly in anticipation to finally meeting the child she had carried for 9 months, and partly because she would have to have this baby without Obi-Wan.

"I can't." She tells him, gripping the nurses hand even tighter.

He looks at her with sympathy and she can only imagine the state she must be in, "I'm sorry Satine, but it's time. I need you to push."

She doesn't want to do this without him, but she knows they're at the point of no return. She was going to have to have this baby.

"Push." He instructs her.

The pressure in her shifts, and it suddenly feels better and worse at the same time. The rapid contractions hurt worse, but she was so exhausted and she's certain that she just didn't have the strength to do it.

"Push."

She shuts her eyes tightly and focuses all her energy on trying to push. She's gripping the nurses hand so tightly she's certain she would snap the poor girls fingers if she put anymore of her strength into it.

"Push."

But then the hand holding hers suddenly lets go and is replaced by another. One so familiar that it causes her eyes to snap open.

​"Obi-Wan."

He smooths her hair back with his free hand and smiles lovingly at her, "I was on my way here when I received Padme's distress signal. I wouldn't have dared missed this."

For the first time since her contractions started she smiles and thanks whatever omnipotent force is there looking after her.

"Keep pushing Satine." The doctor instructs.

She grips Obi-Wans hand as tight as she can manage, his presence providing her with a newfound strength and she pushes with everything she has in her.

A cry fills the room.

---

When she wakes up hours later, she finds that the last few hours of daylight had came and went, leaving only the white light of the moon to illuminate the room.

Obi-Wan stands in front of the window overlooking the city, swaying gently as he stares at the bundle in his arms. A warmth spreads through her at the sight; an overwhelming wave of love so strong that she's certain it'll bring her to tears at any moment. Nothing would ever compare to watching the love of her life cradle the blessing they made together.

"Obi-Wan." She says softly.

He turns and looks at her, smiling adoringly before glancing back to the sleeping infant.

"I was wondering when you'd wake up," He says quietly, coming over to sit on the edge of her bed, "You've been asleep for a good while now."

"Giving birth does tend to tire the body out," She says with a soft laugh before focusing her attention on the infant, "She's perfect,"

He shifts their daughter into her arms without question., She feels complete; as if this was the piece that shes been missing in her life all these years.

"She has your hair," She says, brushing her fingertips over the soft auburn fuzz that decorated her head, "I was hoping she'd be a redhead like you."

He leans down and pressing a kiss to Satine's temple before coming to fully lay down beside her. She wastes no time pressing herself into his side and dropping her head on his shoulder. This was what she had always wanted, a family with the man she loved. It wasn't lost on her how lucky she was, that they very well could have lived out their separate lives and never have created something so beautiful and wonderful as their daughter.

"I love you, Satine."

This time she can't stop the tears from welling up in her eyes.

"I love you too, Obi-Wan, More than you could ever possibly know.", She looks down to her daughter, "And I love her more than I thought possible."

He nuzzles her hair with the tip of his nose, "We only had one name for a girl we both agreed on."

Satine nods, "So it's decided. Jinn Kenobi-Kryze."

He kisses her then, the first time he's been able to do so in upwards of two months and it reminds her just how much she misses him when he's gone, and how she only loves him more each time he comes home.

"She's perfect." He affirms.

And for the first time in forever, she knows everything is going to be alright.

[hopelikethemoon]

Weed (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: Weed Rating: PG-13 Length: 4600 Warnings: Potential triggers if you have toxic family members and/or triggers difficult child hoods. Also recreational marijuana use and fluff!  Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set November 2nd 1998.  Summary: Reader goes to therapy and Javier tries something new.

@grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes @thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow @plexflexico​ @readsalot73 @hdlynn​ @lokiaddicted​ @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale​  @roxypeanut​ @snivellusim​ @lukesrighthand​ @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts​ @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @exrebelshocktrooper​ @awesomefandomsunited​ @ah-callie​ @swhiskeys​ @lady-tano​ @beskar-droids​ @space-floozy​ @cable-kenobi​ @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes​ @findhimfives​ @pedrosdoll​ @frietiemeloen​ @arrowswithwifi​ @random066​ @uncomicalhumour​ @heather-lynn​ @domino-oh-damn​ @cyarikaaa @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​ @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl  @yabby-girl @xqueenofthecraziesx​ @punkass-potato @coredrive @pascalesque @theduchessofkirkcaldy @queenquazar @sabinemorans @buckstaposition @holkaskrosnou @yespolkadotkitty @fleetwoodmactshirt @seeking-a-great–perhaps

“I was quite surprised to hear from you again.” Nancy remarked as she shuffled papers in her notebook, peering up at you from the rim of her eyeglasses. “When last we met, you seemed to be well on your way.” She took her glasses off and sat them on her desk, “Have we had a setback?”

You chewed on your bottom lip as you stared across the room at her, “I wouldn’t necessarily call it a setback.” 

“What would you call it?”

“I was doing really well. After everything with the articles, Javier and I went on vacation together and things felt…” You sighed. “I felt like I had finally hit my stride. You know?”

“Perhaps you should elaborate.”

You and Javier had already decided that Nancy was a safe space to discuss your elopement. It wasn’t like she could tell anyone about your sessions. Not to mention the fact that you had discussed your aversion to the whole concept at length in previous sessions.

But it still felt wrong to tell her. 

“Well,” You drew in a deep breath before exhaling slowly. “Javier and I got married.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” You smiled, picking a piece of fuzz off your leg. “It was perfect. I finally realized I had reached this point in my life where I wanted that. I wanted this thing that was just ours.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“I mean, you know that Javier and I are private people. Having our lives splashed across newspapers was daunting. Which… that’s actually why I’m here.”

“Your marriage?”

“No. My mother.”

Nancy’s brows rose upwards and for the first time she seemed shocked by something you had to say. “Your mother?”

You rubbed your lips together and nodded a little. “She showed up this weekend. Halloween.” You laughed quietly, staring at a spot on the floor. “Seeing her again… it brought up. A lot.”

“Would you like to discuss what it brought up?”

“That’s why I’m here,” You retorted, before you sank back against the sofa, raking your fingers through your hair. “For a few fleeting seconds I let myself actually believe that maybe she had changed. That maybe rehab had cured her. Finally. But… then I was thirteen again. I felt so small and… scared.”

“Scared?”

“I’ve worked very hard to make sure my girls have a safe, loving, harmonious life. I even came here. I recognized I had a problem after Sofía and I… handled it. That’s what I do. I handle things.” You swallowed thickly, feeling a knot form in the pit of your stomach. “This isn’t new. We’ve talked about her before.”

Nancy flipped through the pages of her notebook, “Yes. I recall our lengthy conversation about her addiction. You made a lot of progress, grappling with those difficult emotions that grew from a difficult situation. How did this encounter make you feel?”

“I don’t think I’ve slept since Friday night.” You shrugged a shoulder, “Javier’s been great. He’s… always been understanding.”

“But you’ve never fully discussed the details with him, have you?”

You bit down on your bottom lip and shook your head. 

“Why do you think that is?”

“Because it’s a lot. We used to talk about it… before we were together. It’s come up before.”

“You once referred to her as a shadow on your life. Does it feel like that shadow returned?”

“Yes.” You rubbed your hands together, leaning forward on the edge of the sofa. “That’s exactly how it feels. She’s gone — I hope she’s gone — but I still feel…”

“Small?”

“She pulled all the same tricks. She tried to make Javi think I was crazy. She pulled the tears and the blaming and… I genuinely don’t think she realizes how traumatized I was as a child.”

“What stands out?”

You laughed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “God, I don’t even know. There was so much.” 

“I would like to try something, if you’re open.” Nancy suggested, “Would you be comfortable laying down?”

“Sure.” You kicked off your shoes and stretched out lengthwise on the sofa. “Is this the whole… introspective breathing exercise?”

“Yes.”

You dragged your hands over your face, trying to will yourself to relax. “Alright. I’m ready.” 

“Focus on your breath. In and out. As you feel the air rushing into your lungs, I want you to think back to your childhood.” Nancy advised you. “Pinpoint a moment. Just one.”

You closed your eyes, focusing on your breathing just as she had told you to. You pictured your lungs filling with air and deflating as you exhaled. How many times had you used breathing exercises to manage anxiety?

You let your mind wander back — at first you thought of Javier. Those were easy memories to reflect on. Safe memories. The way he’d held you this morning, the way he tried to chase away all of the bad memories that had returned with your mother. But you weren’t sitting on Nancy’s sofa to think about Javi.

“What do you see?”

“The house I grew up in,” You answered, digging your teeth into your bottom lip as you settled into that memory. “We lived in one of those one-level post-War houses. It was identical to the one next to us, except… we had a blue front door. She painted it when she was high, it was… It was poorly painted.”

“Who painted it?”

“My mother.”

“How does that blue door make you feel?”

“I used to dread it. Every time my dad would bring me back after a weekend with him…” You sighed heavily. “It wasn’t a welcome sight.”

“And what was beyond that door?”

“The place I lived. It was never home. It was just the place I lived.” You weren’t sure if you’d ever really had a home before Javier and the girls. They felt like what home had always looked like in books and movies. 

“If I was coming back from dad’s house, I knew I was going to be met with hostility. She treated me like a traitor every time I came back to the house. If she had gotten high while I was gone, she was usually passed out on the sofa — that was the best time to come back.”

“Tell me about your room.”

“There was a mural on one of the walls. A butterfly.” You shook your head slowly as you pictured the poorly drawn butterfly. “I used to pretend I was the butterfly, that I could just fly out the window and never look back.”

“Did you feel trapped?”

“Always.” You shifted on the sofa, trying to find a more comfortable position. “I never felt safe.”

“Why?”

“There were always people in our house. Strangers — a lot of strange men.” 

“Were you ever harmed?”

“No. I’m certain I’m lucky in that regard. I slept with a chair in front of my door. My dad told me to do that. Even though he wasn’t there, he tried to protect me.”

“Do you think these experiences have played a part in how you approach your life?”

You laughed bitterly, “Every day. Not even consciously. These things are so hard wired into who I am.”

“How so?”

“Before Javier and I were together, I was terrified that my daughter would be brought up into a life like my own. Torn between two people who couldn’t get along. I knew Javier was a good man, but I still feared that. It makes life very confusing for a child.” 

“Let’s touch on those fears. It’s very common in adults who have suffered from upbringings like your own — they fear repeating the cycle. Is that something you find yourself faced with?”

“All the time. Everything that happened with Sofía’s birth brought up a lot of those emotions. I was afraid it would be the trigger. I had never felt that way before. I felt like a stranger in my own body.” You focused on your breathing again, trying to push aside the panic you felt. “Seeing her again this weekend, definitely brought those emotions back to the surface. Javier tried to reassure me. He was great — so great.”

“What emotions?”

“She got under my skin.” You admitted. “I have worked so hard to provide everything for my family. We have a home, we love each other, the girls are safe and loved.”

“How did your interaction with your mother go?”

“She showed up Saturday night. We had plans for Josie — a school Halloween party. I let Javier handle it because I just didn’t have the emotional bandwidth. I guess she said some shitty things to him, I’m not surprised. She skirted around it with me on Sunday.”

“Why did you speak to her on Sunday?”

“Javier had to reason with her. To get her to leave, you know?” You swallowed thickly. “So she came back on Sunday and we talked. She made excuses, she blamed me, she lashed out. I was thirteen again.”

“Why thirteen?”

You opened your eyes, turning to look at Nancy. “What?”

“You mentioned thirteen twice. What happened when you were twelve?”

“Oh,” You rubbed at the spot between your brows. “My mother and her boyfriend — I think it was Greg… there were a few at the time — but, they had this party…” You closed your eyes again. “Drugs everywhere. My mother was drunk, on top of whatever she’d snorted… she hadn’t even bothered to make dinner for me. So I was in the kitchen, it was in the back of the house, and I was trying to make something to eat. There was this woman who was there and I guess she had wandered away from the rest of the party—” 

“Take your time.”

You covered your face, “She was nice. Obviously very high, but she liked my shirt. It had a butterfly on it.” You pressed the heels of your palms against your eyes. “She sat down at the kitchen table and she… nodded out and then she made this sound.” You sat up slowly then, pushing your fingers through your hair. “It was like a death rattle.”

“Did she die?”

You nodded, “Right in front of me. I tried to call 911, but…” You looked at a point somewhere beyond Nancy. “My mother threatened me. She said if I told anyone what happened, she’d make sure I never saw my father again. I couldn’t sleep for weeks.”

“You have gone through a considerable amount of trauma at a very young age,” Nancy surmised, closing her notebook as she leaned against her desk. “Yet you have overcome it. You have a healthy relationship with your partner, you put tremendous consideration into your relationship with your daughters. But I do think there is more work to be done. You are not an island. You are no longer isolated.”

You pressed your lips together and nodded slowly as you weighed her words. “I know I’m not. And I do talk about these things with Javier. I always have.” 

“It is okay to let go of the past. You don’t have to carry that baggage with you.” Nancy smiled at you kindly, “This is a minor setback, that you cannot let affect the progress you’ve made.”

You chewed on your thumbnail nervously, “I know. And I am aware that I’m a work in progress. We all are.”

Nancy nodded, “Exactly. Focus on today, on the here and now. Don’t let yourself get trapped in this moment. Your mother has no control over your future.”

“I tell everyone that it’s okay to cut toxic people out of their lives, but when it came to my own mother I hesitated.” 

“We all want to believe the best in someone. But some people aren’t wired to be their best. There’s no shame in disconnecting. Focus on your own family.”

You smiled back at her, “Thank you. I do think I’m going to start having sessions again. I want to get through this—“ You gestured to your chest. “I have a lot of pain that I’m still carrying. I would like to work through it with you.”

“I’m here for you. And, of course, Javier if he decides he’d like to join us.”

“I’m sure he will,” You laughed softly. “He was willing to come today if I needed support.”

“Our regular appointment time is still open. Feel free to call and get yourself back on my books.”

“Thank you.”

 ——

 Talking about your past hadn’t necessarily managed to cure your mild malaise, but it has helped to an extent. You felt lighter. You didn’t feel afraid that you’d see Rebecca standing outside of your house when you got home. 

Maybe a few more weeks of talking with Nancy — before you packed up the car to head to Laredo for Thanksgiving — would do you good. 

You peeled off your coat as you walked through the front door, hanging it on the hook. “Should I be afraid? It’s awfully quiet.” You called out, glancing around the empty family room. 

“In the kitchen!” Javier called out and you followed his voice. “You got home sooner than I expected.”

Your brows rose upwards as you looked at the bags of chips sitting on the counter. “Are we having a party I was unaware of?”

“No,” Javier grinned at you, shaking his head. “Connie’s keeping the girls another night. She’s off today.”

“Oh?” You tilted your head to the side. “Bags of chips, no kids…” 

He sat a familiar box down on the counter between the two of you, “I’m finally ready to bite the bullet, baby.”

You couldn’t help but cover your mouth and laugh, “Javier!” You moved around the counter, wrapping your arms around him as you continued to laugh. “You really don’t have to try weed, just because I’m having a shitty couple of days.”

“But I want to,” Javier ran his hand down your back. “You said before that it helps with stress and… I think we’re both pretty stressed right now.”

“I agree with that, but you really don’t have to try something you don’t want to. I know how you feel about it.”

“I had a really long conversation with Nadia about it at the party Saturday night. She laid it all out pretty clearly,” He rocked his jaw as you pulled back to look at him. “I can see the merits of smoking occasionally.”

You smiled up at him adoringly, “And here I thought I couldn’t love you anymore than I already do.” You rose up and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Better watch out,” You teased, cupping his jaw. “I might have to marry you.”

“Did you tell her?”

“I’ve never seen her so surprised.” You told him as you ran your thumb over his bottom lip. “It was a good session. I think I’m going to start going again.”

“Good.”

You ran your hands over his shoulders as you leaned against him, “I can’t believe you’re willing to smoke. Finally. God, I hope you love it.” 

“I like the prospect of being pain free for an evening.” Javier leaned down and rested his forehead against yours. “How are you doing?”

“I’m here.” You curled a hand around the back of his neck, playing with the hair there. “A lot of bad memories got dredged up.”

“I know you didn’t sleep last night.” He pressed a quick kiss to your lips, giving your hip a squeeze. “You gonna fall asleep on me if we smoke?”

You snorted, “Probably.” You watched him as he moved back to the grab the box off the counter. “Don’t you have class tomorrow?”

“I’ve assigned it a research day. They’ll be working on the proposals.” He answered smoothly. “They need the time to work anyways.”

“I’m touched that you did all of this, Javi.” 

He shrugged, “I wanted to do something that would cheer you up, baby. You were pretty out of it last night.”

“Last night was rough,” You admitted as you took the box from him, “Grab the chips.” 

Javier followed you into the bedroom, sitting the chips down on the foot of the bed as he watched you open the windows to let some fresh air in. 

“What should I expect?”

You paused, hands on your hips as you turned back towards him. “It’s different for everyone, but for the most part… You’ll feel like you’re drunk, without feeling drunk. Warm and fuzzy.” You shrugged. “I just know it makes me feel really calm.”

He pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek as he nodded, “This can never get out. They won’t let either of us teach.”

“Marriage, pegging, and weed. Our three dirty secrets.” You wiggled your brows at him as you moved to join him at the foot of the bed. 

You sat the box on your legs, opening it and pulling out the neatly rolled joint from the last time you’d taken a hit. “It’s a lot like smoking. Same in and out.” You explained, sitting the box aside and holding the lighter out to him. “The key is that you have to let go and enjoy it.”

Javier dragged his teeth over his bottom lip and nodded, “I think after the year we’ve had, I can let go and have fun.”

“And that’s growth.” You laughed, before tucking the joint between your lips. He flicked the lighter on, bringing it to the end of the joint and lighting it for you. 

You pinched it between your fingers, drawing in a deep breath before exhaling slowly. This was exactly what you needed. You could already feel the first tingles as it settled. 

“Ready?” You questioned, holding the joint out between you. “You don’t have to, Javi. I don’t mind smoking if you just want to lay here with me.”

He shook his head, taking the joint from you. “I’m willing to try it, baby. I wanna see what all the fuss is about.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Of course you do.”

Javier brought it to his lips, tagging a drag off of it before passing it back to you. “What am I supposed to feel?”

You snatched it from him and took another breath, “Just let it happen. Don’t overthink it.” You held the joint up, smirking as he leaned forward and wrapped his lips around it. 

He had really nice lips. 

Javier rubbed his lips together thoughtfully, “I feel a little tingle.” He admitted, taking it back from you after you took another hit. 

“Just sink into it,” You advised him as you took the little ashtray out of the box, leaving it on the bed as you rose to your feet. 

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere.” You gave him a look as you sat the box down on your nightstand, before returning to him to take another drag off it. “I’m just making more room.”

Javier laughed as he exhaled. “More room for what?”

You shrugged, “I was thinking a pillow fight.”

“Oh really?” He laughed again, watching you as you picked up the bag of sour cream and onion chips and sat them on the nightstand too. “Why a pillow fight?”

“Because it sounds fun.” You plopped back down beside him, taking the joint from him and take another hit off it, “Javier Peña is smoking weed.”

He rolled his eyes, “I’ve been corrupted.”

“Corruption looks good on you,” You told him, brushing your knuckles against his cheek. “I miss the hair.

Javier grinned around the joint tucked between his lips, “I didn’t let it go until you got your wish.”

You leaned over and kissed his cheek, ruffling your fingers through his hair. “You look good when you’re getting fucked.”

“So I’ve been told,” He said as he exhaled a puff of smoke between you, before passing it back to you. “I haven’t got a bad word to say about it.”

“Good.” You scrunched up your nose and laughed. “You’re so good to me.”

Javier beamed, “Have you met you?”

“I don’t know if I have.” You tucked your leg beneath you as you angled yourself towards him. “Tell me more.”

“Well,” He offered you the joint again. “I do feel tingly!” Javier snorted, “Is this what it feels like?”

“I don’t know. How do you feel?” You questioned, toying with the third button of his shirt. “I feel warm.”

“I feel warm too!” He clasped his hands together, looking towards the open windows. “I feel good.”

“That’s all I want,” You admitted to him, sitting the smoldering joint in the ashtray. “You know what?”

“What?”

“You’re hot.”

He laughed loudly, sinking back against the bed, his legs still draped over the edge. “Yeah?”

You nodded emphatically. “I remember… my first day.” You swept your hands through the air dramatically. “I walked into the office and saw you and just thought — hot!”

“Oh, was that your first thought?” 

You laid back in the bed, settling into the crook of his arm, “Mhm.” You sighed happily. “And then I quickly realized what a dick you were.” You pressed close to him, nuzzling at his neck. “That’s how I knew I was screwed.”

Javier laughed, rubbing his hand down your arm, “We were both screwed.” He hummed, his lips still drawn into a smile as he stared up at the ceiling. “Do you remember New Years?”

“Like eleven months ago?”

He shook his head, “Before Josie was born.”

Your brows furrowed as you tried to focus on the specific moment he was referencing, “I broke my wine glass.”

“Yeah!” He nodded, tilting his head to look at you. “Steve’s a funny guy.”

You shoved him playfully, “Are you going to rhapsodize about Steve now?”

“No! No.” Javier made a sound that very nearly sounded like a giggle. “He swears he didn’t know that we were orbiting each other.”

“Orbiting each other.” You mocked, sitting up to grab the joint, taking another hit as you laid back on the bed. 

“He swears he didn’t really know just how bad we had it for each other—“

“Bullshit!” You called out dramatically and you both started laughing. 

“He knew. Of course he knew. That jackass.” He took the joint from you and took two puffs off it. “But that night — son of a bitch — he told me I was holding you back. That as long as I acted like I had feelings for you, you weren’t going to ever look for someone.”

You frowned, “He wasn’t wrong.”

“Made me feel like an asshole, baby.” He rubbed his hand over his chest, like he’d been injured. “It's why, I…”

“Was that’s why you wanted to drive me home?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged, “He made it sound like I needed to set you free and…”

You dropped the joint back into the ashtray and cut him off before he could finish. You planted your hand over his mouth and scrambled to straddle him. “No. We’re not doing sad.” You warned him. “Wanna know a secret?”

He licked the palm of your hand. 

“Javier.”

He nodded. 

“I wanted to go home with you.” You confessed, leaning forward so your nose brushed against his. “I got myself off thinking of you.” You slowly pulled your hand away, “I was so certain 1992 was going to be a shit year. They were thinking about leaving and everything was falling apart but, I thought — I didn’t fuck it up with Javier, I’ve still got him.”

His hands went to your hips, “And you do. I could never up and leave you, baby.”

You leaned in and kissed him, “If we weren’t married, I’d marry you all over again.”

“Yeah?” Javier grabbed at your hips and you shivered, you loved how much more every little touch felt like. “I can’t wait to tell pops.”

You grinned as you laughed, “He’s gonna be so fucking excited.” You nipped at his bottom lip. “I hope we run into Lorraine at the toy store again.”

“Jesus Christ.” Javier groaned, “Why bring up her? I’m feeling good baby.”

You bumped your nose against his, “Because I’m vindictive.” You grinned down at him. “And I love proving people wrong.” You traced your finger down his nose. “But I know the Javier that no one can see.”

“You do.” He parted his lips as you ran your finger over his lips. “We both know the real us.”

“I really like us.” You mused, “I think we’ve done really well for ourselves.”

Javier nodded his head, “I do too.” He played with the hem of your sweater, “Didn’t you say you were warm, baby?”

“Trying to get me undressed?” You questioned, giggling as you let him peel the sweater off your body.

“Maybe.”

“Turnabout, babe.” You quipped as you wrestled with the buttons of his shirt until it fell open. 

“You know… my knees aren’t hurting.” He pointed out, running his hand over your bare arms as he looked up at you. “But I can’t tell if I want to fuck your or just hold you.” Javier laughed and you couldn’t help but join in on the pure joy that was in his laughter. 

“It’s funny isn’t it?” You questioned, playing with the hair that fell against his forehead. “Am I horny? Or do I just want to be held?”

“What do you want?” Javier questioned, running his hands over your skin anywhere he could reach. Which you definitely enjoyed. 

“As tempted as I am to take advantage of your very exuberant self,” You leaned down to kiss him, playing your tongue over his bottom lip. “I just want to be held. Right now, at least.”

“Whatever you want, baby.” Javier promised you, leaning up to meet your lips again. 

Somehow he managed to maneuver both of you up the bed with you still on his lap, while you clutched at the ashtray so you could stick on the nightstand. 

You rolled onto the bed beside him, staring up at the ceiling as you sank into the warmth of the high buzzing through you. Your eyes felt heavy, but you ignored it — you really did need to sleep tonight. But it wasn’t tonight yet. 

“Do you like it?”

“It’s different.” He held his hands up in front of his face. “I feel like there’s this… space in between me and me.”

“Weird, right?”

“And my pops does this?”

You nodded, “Your body gets used to it after awhile. You’re still high just not quite as… tingly.”

“It’s nice though.”

You rolled onto your side and draped your arm over his chest. “I want you to feel good.”

“I do.” He brushed his fingers over your hair. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you too.” You grinned, meeting his gaze before you both descended into laughter. “You’re so dorky.”

“Who me?”

“Yes. You’ve got this dorky face thing going on.” You gestured to his face. “You’ve taken five years off. At least.”

“Mmm, that could work in our favor.”

You swatted his chest and snorted, “Please. No. I can’t believe she even insinuated that! What a bitch.”

“You were incredible yesterday.” He told you warmly, stroking his fingers through your hair. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you.” You sank into his side. “I’m just… if I rest my eyes for five minutes will you still hold me?”

“I’ll hold you until the end of time, baby.”

“That sounds like a long time.”

“Yeah? Well, it’s forever.” He kissed your temple. “Relax, baby. Just sleep. And then we can… I’m a little tired too. Hungry and tired.”

“That’s nice.” You mumbled, pressing your face into the crook of his neck, before two sleepless nights got the better of you. 

[the-shy-shrimp]

Well, hello! I am one of your readers from the AO3 and I just wanted to say that I enjoy your lotr related works very much! And since you allow asking for commission, there is one thing I would love to see if you ever felt inspired and that is Elrond Peredhel being hurt in a fight.

Adding in the rest of the ask because this came to me in three parts:

It seems that since he is a healer in most stories it is quite rare for him to get physically hurt – which is understandable of course... But I would love to see that written by you, as you are quite good at portraying this amazing hurt/comfort stories.

The floor is all yours, but maybe it would be nice to see how his family would react to that? Or any Imladris inhabitants. But you know, it’s just an idea, no pressure. Thank you very much! And whether you decide to use this idea or not I hope we will meet in some lotr-related work. Have a nice day! :D (And sorry for sending three asks - I am not used to Tumblr :c)

So here you go! Sorry it took forever, but I made a bad decision (very, very bad) when scheduling an exam that my entire career relied on me passing, so I was pretty brain dead for the two weeks after I got this ask... But here it is! Enjoy!

...

Pain is the first thing that registers when Elrond wakes, pain and the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that comes from fighting for one’s life.

Strange, he can’t remember being in a fight, not recently. Yet here he lays, sprawled out on the floor of his study, exhausted and aching for no clear reason. Attempting to move proves to be unwise, bringing dizziness and nausea with each shift, but the alternative of lying prone until someone finds him seems even more unsavory.

He goes slowly, first turning onto his side as he tries to deduce what has happened. His face and his jaw hurt the most by far, though the rest of his body is not far behind. But his jaw had been tightly clenched for several days now, likely the result of stressing over his third child’s imminent arrival, and so he finds it difficult to relate that symptom with the rest of what he feels. His hands wander over his body in a search for injuries. While he does not discover anything new, he does find his shoulder to be red and hot, the small puncture wound he sustained in a skirmish over a week ago now open and weeping. He groans internally at the finding.

It should have healed long before now, and that knowledge fills his gut with dread. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

The simple act of using the corner of his desk to pull himself upright leaves him shaking, and the idea of forcing himself to walk down the hallway to find Erestor is daunting to say the least. But it must be done. He presses onward, putting one foot in front of the other, desperately clutching whatever furniture seems sturdy enough to lend some support as he shuffles toward the door. Once out in the corridor there would be little to hold onto, unfortunately, but it was only a few yards between the doors to each of their workspaces. He would have to manage.

After fumbling with the doorknob for a moment, he breathes a sigh of relief upon finding the hallway to be entirely empty. The last thing he needs to be gawked at in his present state.

His movements are slow, but determined, as he makes his way along the wall, eventually coming to a stop in front of Erestor’s door. He attempts to knock before entering, but the sound is weak and piteous, barely heard over the sound of his own breathing. He has better luck with the doorknob this time around, and with minimal struggling, he tentatively steps into his friend’s space.

“Elrond? Is something the matter? You don’t look well.”

Erestor is at his desk, several papers in his hands and concern written across his face. He seems to be debating between getting up to rush over, and letting Elrond speak first.

The Peredhel swallows thickly, then gives an almost imperceptible nod, taking one, then two steps beyond the doorway. When he opens his mouth to speak, however, the ache that had thus far been sitting quietly in his jaw crescendos into a roar that races down his neck and back and into each of his limbs as pain engulfs his entire body.

A strangled cry is the only sound he makes, and Erestor’s cursing is the last thing he hears before the world goes dark.

-

“You really are the worst, you know.”

Erestor’s chiding is soft, lacking its usual barbed timbre, and is accompanied by the warm weight of a thick blanket settling over his body. The Peredhel gives him only a quiet sigh in return, blinking until the image of his friend comes into focus. He is not sprawled across the floor of Erestor’s office, as he halfway expected to be, but is instead tucked into a cot in the middle of an unfortunately familiar room. He groans, feeling even worse now than he did before, every muscle in his body wound tight as a bowstring, unable to relax no matter how much he ached.

It doesn’t take more than a minute before Elrond decides that he does not like being the one in the sickbed, and much prefers to stay within his role as a healer.

“Why didn’t you have the wound looked at when you returned? If one of your sons had pulled the same stunt you would have had their head on a platter.”

He can see the poorly veiled concern in Erestor’s expression, creeping through every time Elrond fails to suppress the violent shivers that come in waves almost too intense to bear.

“T-T-T’was only an, an, arrow…”

His voice is weaker, shakier than he would like it to be, stuttering as he tries to keep the shuddering at bay. His advisor only scowls down at him, looking more hurt than angry.

“Yes, only an arrow with a rusted head. If you were fully elven you might have been able to ignore such a detail, but you aren’t, Elrond! Now the poison is already in your blood, and it might just kill you. Andûnél says that it probably won’t, but there is still a chance.”

“I’m s-sure I’ll, I’ll be f-f-fine.”

Erestor leaps to his feet at that, sending the stool he had previously occupied flying back to clatter against the floor.

“Fine? You think this is fine? You cannot take risks with your life like this! What if you don’t make it, hm? Everyone in this valley depends on you, son of Eärendil. Your family depends on you. What if this is what does it? Would you leave your children to grow up fatherless, leave your people leaderless? You are all we have left, Elrond. They don’t have a high king to follow anymore, no one is going to step in and take care of things if you perish.”

He turns on his heel, disgust written on his face as he slams the door shut behind him.

Silence descends on the tiny room, and Elrond finds himself whimpering as the next wave of shivering hits him full force. He knows he isn’t alone, not truly. Someone will be around to check on him eventually. But for the moment he cannot help but feel abandoned. He wants Erestor to come back, but he will need time to sulk. He wants Celebrían, but he knows she won’t be back in Imladris for another week. Perhaps shamefully, he finds he wants Maglor most of all.

Maglor who had done his best in spite of circumstance, who made sure their needs were provided for. Maglor who held him when the tears didn’t seem to have an end. Maglor who sat with him late in the night when sleep wouldn’t come because of nightmares or insomnia or the disturbances that had come when his foresight finally began to manifest. Maglor who was the closest thing to a father he had ever really had.

It wasn’t until Andûnél knocked and entered that he realized there were tears in his eyes.

“Now, now, none of that.”

She sighs softly and dabs at the wet spots on his cheeks before anything else. He is grateful for the way her touches are nothing short of professional, devoid of the almost motherly tenderness they held when he and Elros were just young things being brought to her with scraped knees and sprains and broken bones. He already feels small and broken enough without being coddled.

Was it because Erestor had yelled at him? Probably. Being reminded of everything, everyone, that relied on him had left him feeling grossly inadequate. There was no high king. No one was around to supervise him and yank him out of his stupidity anymore. Ereinion couldn’t come to his rescue. Galadriel might, but not because she actually cared for him. She would come out of responsibility, and likely regret allowing her daughter to marry him as a result. Just a stupid, half-blooded fool who managed to survive long enough to reproduce in spite of his own idiocy—

“Elrond? Look at me, Elrond.”

He hiccups twice while trying to blink away the tears, and it takes several more minutes of dabbing at his eyes before he can actually see her face as more than just a wet blur.

“That’s better. Now, are you weeping because you are in pain, or because you are upset?”

“Pain.”

The single syllable is rasped out, barely louder than a whisper. The look in her eyes tells him that she knows he is lying, or at least telling only half the truth. Maybe the pain was a part of it, but Andûnél clearly knew it was just as likely a combination of the two.

“Alright. I can do something about that, at least.”

She leaves his line of sight immediately. If his neck didn’t ache so badly he might have tried to watch her, but he could barely move at all with how tense he was. He settles for staring at the ceiling and trying to breathe evenly. At least he could hear her moving about the room, and so he knew she hadn’t left him. Not like Erestor had.

Another whine escapes him at the thought.

“Hold on, I’m coming.”

He doesn’t get the chance to feel any more sorry for himself before she pries his lips apart and sticks a dropper full of bitter medicine in his mouth. It tastes foul, as all her tinctures do, but it works quickly, dulling the ache in a matter of only a few tense minutes, and for that he is grateful.

“Better?”

“Better.”

Elrond sighs, relaxing against the bed beneath him as the pain is driven back for the moment. He hadn’t noticed just how much the tension in his body was bothering him a moment ago, but with it now under control, its absence leaves him feeling weak and jittery.

“Unfortunately, there isn’t much we can do outside of managing the pain that comes with the muscle spasms.”

Andûnél’s voice feels far away, even if vaguely registers that she now sits beside him in the stool Erestor had previously discarded. She smiles down at him, looking tired above all else.

“There isn’t an antidote or any effective treatment for it. You’ll just have to wait it out until your body rids itself of the toxin.”

The idea sits poorly with him, although there isn’t anything he can do to change things, not now. The healer is quick to remind him, of course, that had he gotten the wound treated sooner, properly cleaned and bandaged as it should have been, he might have avoided this unpleasantness altogether. She says he ought to know better, and he knows she is right. But she takes his silence as exhaustion rather than the moping that it is, and mutters something about the two of them being the sole purpose someone came up with the adage that “healers make the worst patients” before tucking another blanket around him and getting up to leave.

“I will send Camaenor in to sit with you while I take care of some other things that need my attention. He will probably be so engrossed in whatever book he brings with him that you’ll hardly notice him, but at least he’ll be present if you need him.”

Elrond is asleep not long after Andûnél latches the door behind her, snatching up what sleep he can while he has the option. He’s seen this sickness before, in mortals wounded by pieces of old metal, and he knows that it is likely to get worse before it gets better.

When it does get worse, either Andûnél or her reedy apprentice are always present, ready and waiting with another draught for the pain and muscle spasms that make his limbs cramp and his back arch off the bed. The Peredhel is grateful that it is only the two of them who see him like this. Not that he doesn’t trust the discretion of the other healers, but he knows that Andûnél will not gossip, and Camaenor has been so absorbed in his studies that he is likely to follow his master’s trend.

The days all blend together, a cycle of sleeping until he is awoken by excruciating pain and downing more medicine until he can once again rest comfortably. More than once he wakes in the dead of night, due not to the constant muscle contractions, but instead because the apprentice perched nearby is struggling with his reading, stumbling over some new term or another and attempting to sound it out.

The first time this happens, it leaves Elrond confused and disoriented, wondering if the apprentice is trying to speak to him and his brain is simply failing to interpret the words. Eventually though, after hearing several similar sounding terms in a row, he realizes what is happening, and rasps out an answer.

“Parenchyma.”

Camaenor nearly jumps out of his skin when his charge suddenly speaks, but quickly recovers and nods his thanks before asking if he would like some water, or if he was in pain. Elrond decides then that the boy will make a good healer, someday, and resolves to help him study during his precious moments of wakefulness and clarity. It is the least he can do.

He loses track of how many days and nights he’s been bedridden, knowing only that it has been long enough for him to grow tired of it. The only break in routine comes when Erestor returns to his previous position, constructing a nest of bookwork at Elrond’s bedside to keep himself busy while he sits with him. He says nothing of the outburst that resulted in his several-days-long absence, but instead chatters on about all the things going on in the valley that he’s missed since this all started. Profit margins for new trade routes. Personal correspondences that need attention. Setbacks in planting a new section of the orchard.

His chief advisor says nothing of Celebrían’s whereabouts, and so he assumes that she has either not been informed of his current state or has chosen to remain with her parents until this has all blown over. Part of him hopes for the former. This pregnancy has already been hard enough for her, and it has only just begun. She doesn’t need the added stress.

It comes as a surprise, then, when the soft morning light brings him toward wakefulness and he is assailed not by the whole-body ache he has come to expect, but by the soft velvet of her lips on his. He sighs, thinking it must only be the remnants of some very pleasant dream, but the gentle brush of her fingertips over his eyelids tells him otherwise.

“Wake up, my love.”

A weak smile finds its way to his face, the first in days, as he slowly pries his eyes open. His silver queen is waiting for him, her soft expression framed by the wild platinum curls of her unbound hair. She kisses him again, more fiercely this time, and though his attempts at reciprocating are sloppy at best, it still fills his heart with joy.

They still cling to each other, even after Celebrían finally stops nibbling at his lower lip and stretches out on the bed beside her husband. Neither of them says a word about what happened, about what Elrond has suffered through in the past week, or about the fact that they are celebrating their reunion here instead of the quiet intimacy of their bedroom. None of it matters, though, at least not to the Peredhel.

The presence of his beloved is like a balm on his aching soul, and in her strong arms he is reminded of what it feels like to belong and be loved. He sighs, burying his nose in the tangled nest of her hair and breathing in the scent that is undeniably hers, causing her to giggle and throw her arm over his bared chest and drag him closer.

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mr. Self Destruct 2

Part One

Warnings: Bucky’s a bastard, control, PTSD and other lovely mental issues, noncon (forced masturbation and oral)

This is dark!Bucky Barnes and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary:  Bucky has been left by his closest friend. With no other choice, he works for Stark Industries in the name of both Stark and Rogers but before he can begin his new position, he is mandated to attend counselling. With you, the company’s resident therapist.

Note: This is gonna be a three-parter because I’m a goddamn liar, y’all. But I hope you guys like this. Love y’all.

Anyway :) Please like, reply, and/or reblog if you read.

Bucky

Bucky liked to watch her squirm. She tried not to but the little tic in her finger and the way she scrunched her brow gave her away. It was amusing to watch her try to act like it was all normal. Naked and vulnerable in her chair.

She was resistant that day. Their first session after his first mission, she’d been compliant. So shocked she couldn’t think to fight him. Now she’d had time to think but not long enough. Her blouse was torn on the floor beside her chair, the rest of her clothing strewn around it. She shivered as she slumped over the notepad rested on her crossed legs and listened.

“I leave tomorrow,” He said pointedly and she sat up. She used her notepad to shield herself.

“For a mission?” She asked.

He nodded. “I know you’re thinking of trying something, why wouldn’t you? But this is your warning, there will be consequences.”

“Bucky, I’ve only ever tried to help you.” She shivered and sat straighter. “Why are you doing this?”

“Aren’t you supposed to figure that out?” He stood. “Those little notes, isn’t there some explanation?”

“No, you’re supposed to work with me through these issues, not against me,” She watched him near. She winced as he stopped before her. There would be bruises where he’d grabbed her.

“You got something to cover yourself up?” He asked as he reached out to touch her neck. She drew away from him and pressed herself to the back of the chair. “Cause I know you’re a shit liar.”

“I’ll figure it out,” She brushed his hand away and her eyes widened and flicked away from him. He was hard. She could see it. He only just realized it, how painful it was. He backed away. “Can I get dressed now?”

“We still have a few minutes,” He checked his watch and she shifted in her seat. He chuckled quietly and turned back to her. “Ask me nicely this time, doc.”

“May I please get dressed?” She said stiffly.

“Good girl,” The words slipped out and her face tensed. “Yes, get dressed.”

She set aside her notepad and gathered her clothes one at a time as she pulled them on. Her blouse had no buttons left and she kept her blazer closed. She frowned as it did nothing to hide her bra.

“Next time, listen,” He remarked as he turned and walked along her desk.

He reached down to rub his aching crotch. He pulled his hand away and played with the paperweight on the corner, shaped like a crow. He stared at the desk and thought of pushing aside the papers, the little decorations, the pens. Pictured her, for just a second, bent over it. He set the paperweight down.

“Just know,” He crossed the room and took his jacket from the rack. He turned back as she shoved her feet into her heeled boots. “If you do decide to get smart, I will find out.” He pulled on his jacket and flicked the lock of the door. “This…” He swirled his finger in the air, “...can get so much worse for you.”

-

Reader

Ten minutes after Bucky left, you took your jacket from the rack and did it up to your chin. He was your last appointment but you were expected at a support meeting that night. You dialed the number and waited for an answer.

"Hey, Mr. Hogan, yeah, no it's fine. You're going tonight? Okay, tell Ron I'm sorry, he's gonna have to walk through the meeting himself. It's nothing, just an appointment I forgot. Yeah, I have such a full calendar…"

You barely heard Happy as you recited your lies. You just didn't have the energy. Or the strength. To be entirely honest, you were terrified. Bucky terrified you. Staring at him, entirely bare to his predatory gaze, no escape in sight, your heart raced and you felt the world collapse around you.

You were also embarrassed. Not just by what he made you do but that you'd lost your control as his therapist. You didn't run the sessions anymore, he did. You'd broken your professionality and even your own integrity. Bent so easily to his will and all because your own fear.

He hurt you that day. You hung up the phone and grabbed your bag as you replayed the scene. He told you to undress. You refused. He repeated himself once and promised he wouldn't again. You still didn't. His hand was at your throat in an instant, the tear of fabric jerked your body and filled the air. He shoved you back and you fell into the chair.

You undressed then. He circled you. Got close enough to touch at one point but didn't. When you were naked, he sat and bid you to do the same. You took your notepad and waited for him to start.

You trembled as you hailed a cab. In your head, you weren't out on the New York pavement but still trapped in that office. With him.

You paid the driver and hurried up your walk. You locked the front door behind you and looked around your small townhouse. It was a habit now. You inspected everything, locked every door and window them second checked them.

Worse was that, no matter what you did it wouldn't keep him from following you. From getting in if he wanted to. The realization came and went over and over but you never truly forgot. Bucky Barnes grasped your life in his fist. At a whim, his vibranium fingers could crush you.

You slept on the couch that night. Unintentionally. You dozed off as the tv glared and hummed. You didn't think you'd be able to sleep at all and your rest was shallow and periodic.

He was leaving that day. He was probably already gone but that only started the timer until his inevitable return.

-

Four days. You heard of Bucky’s return in passing at the tower. You skirted away to your office, half expecting to find him there. It was empty and your second appointment of the day was due in five minutes.

They arrived shortly after and you welcomed them in with your usual courtesy but the rest of the session was spent, peeking over at the door. Waiting for Bucky to burst in and tear the walls down. But he never came. Not during or after. Your third appointment went by just the same and you hesitated to leave for the day.

Should you wait for him to come and terrorize you? Now that was inane. You should go before he decided to drop in. Go home and hide under your covers like the child you felt. How was it that he made you feel so small when he wasn’t even there?

Bag in hand, coat slung over your arm, you rushed down into the mid-autumn chill and hailed a cab. You procrastinated to get a new car since your old one had sputtered out. It wasn’t that you didn’t have the money but work had got ahead of you and life had fallen behind. Excuses. Your worst fault. You always had a reason why not and yet your job was to hold others accountable. How ridiculous.

Front door, locked. A small reassurance to your growing paranoia. You twisted the latch behind you and dropped your coat on the table just inside the table, your bag disposed atop it lazily. You kicked your shoes off and flipped on the lights. You held your breath as the front room lit up. Empty. Another relieved sigh.

You walked carefully around the furniture, as if scared to attract the attention of the beast who wasn’t there. It was difficult at first, almost as if it wasn’t your home anymore. As if your entire existence was being wrenched from you by his metal fist.

You cooked your supper in silence. The clink and clatter of dishes the only noise, the occasional running of water, too. You ate in front of the television, eager to kill the eerie quiet. Some mindless game show, the answers you couldn’t think of but were sure you knew.

You finished and rinsed your dishes before you returned to the couch, shielded by a thin throw, eyes observant and straying. You were almost in a trance. Dread clouded around you in a haze.

You didn’t know how late it was when you found the strength to get off the couch. You climbed the stairs and swept through your bedroom to the closet like bathroom attached to it. You cranked the shower so that it quickly filled the space with steam and undressed as you stared at yourself in the mirror.

There was a fear in your eyes you’d never seen before. A weakness. You weren’t this person. You worked hard for years to achieve your position, you were never one to wilt beneath anothers glare.

You should have filed a report that day; with the company, with the police. But then you closed your eyes and saw Bucky’s. Heard his promise echo in your head. Lined pockets and badges hadn’t stopped him before and the heroes who had, were gone. And you surely were no match for him.

The rivers ran over your skin and diverged along the peaks and values of your body. You barely felt them. The cleansing you hoped for did not come. You still felt terribly filthy, entirely helpless as you turned off the faucet and shivered in the aftermath. You rubbed dry your hair and wrapped your body in the soft linen.

You had left the door slightly open, the steam dispersed quickly as you pulled it the rest of the way. You nearly stumbled and caught yourself on the door frame as you crossed the threshold to your bedroom. He was there.

His broad shoulders faced you as he stood beside your bed. His dark head was lowered as he stirred around in your night table. Your breath caught and you glanced at the door which led to the hallway. Then at your barely covered body.

“Busy day. Missed you at the tower.” He said without looking back at you. “Sit down, will you?”

You didn’t move. He huffed and raised his head. He leaned back and pushed his shoulders apart.

“You know I’ll make you sit, so just do it.” He warned.

You neared the bed and turned. You sat on the end of the bed and waited, listening to him snooping around in your drawer. Your skin was on fire. You knew what was in there and he’d no doubt found it by now. He was toying with you.

“Lose the towel,” He said as he spun around and you felt him get closer.

You stood to pull the fabric from beneath you and he tugged it away from you swiftly. He rounded you and stopped before you. You kept your eyes on the floor. You wanted to cover yourself but that had grown futile by now. He’d seen your body; human and flawed.

He brought his hand up before your face. Your eyes almost crossed as you looked up at the small silver device in his hand. You blanched and blinked at your hidden pleasure. Your little vibe, ‘bullet’, it had said on the package. How appropriate that was the one he chose.

“I want you to use it.” He said plainly. You heard his smirk but didn’t look up at it.

“Why are you doing this, Bucky? It’s not going to solve anything. You’re only making it worse. This is escapism, not resolution.”

“Use it,” He took your hand from your lap and shoved the toy into it. “I thought we were trying to open up to each other, doc.” He slowly backed away. “So go on, open up.”

You turned the toy between your fingers. Your thumb ran across the small black button at its base and you chewed the inside of your lip. Your legs were like stone, heavy and hard to move. Bucky’s breaths, quiet but deafening amid the silence, urged you on.

Your hand shook as you rested in on your thigh and forced your legs apart a little at a time. You bit down painfully and tasted the blood. Your vision blurred but you wouldn’t let the tears fall. You slid the toy along your thigh and clicked the button. The whir of the tiny motor buzzed against you.

You crept up and felt as if your body would give out. As if every muscle would split and you’d be left in a heap before him. But that didn’t happen and when the vibe traced along your pelvis you inhaled sharply. You slipped it just along your lips and froze. Mortified at the sudden rush of heat to that one spot.

“A woman you’re age should be married, shouldn’t she?” Bucky’s voice shook you, the toy just above that sacred bud. “Or have somebody?”

You stopped and looked up at him. His gaze was focused between your legs. Eager and expectant.

“Divorced. Just...didn’t work out.”

“And did you buy those before or after the divorce?” He asked.

“Some before, some after,” You replied.

“Go on,” He nodded. “Don’t stop ‘til you’re done. Understood?”

You looked down again. Humiliated. “Yes.”

You pressed the metal tip between your lips and braced the mattress with your other hand. The vibrations radiated from your clit down your thighs. You breathed out your nose loudly and lowered your chin to hide your face. Out of habit, you swirled the vibe around your bud and your entire body tense.

Was it better to resist and hold onto to your integrity or fold and have it done and over with? You struggled against yourself. It wasn’t long before you were wet. Before the tide grew unbearable and overwhelming. You were ready to drown in it, your nails dug into the blanket and your legs quaked.

You sensed a shadow, felt the cold fingers on your chin. Bucky forced your face up and you squeezed your eyes shut. “Look at me.” He demanded.

You reluctantly obeyed and met his startling blue irises. Your lips parted and your hand worked without thinking. Almost there. You choked on the moan that rose and snapped your mouth shut. The ripples flowed and left you trembling. His hand dropped down to your throat and tightened as he held you in place, watching you fall apart before him.

The vibe slipped from your fingers and you grasped his wrist. As the after waves twisted and turned, he released you and tore his arm away. You fell back on the bed and pushed your legs together. You crossed your arms over your chest and slowly curled into a ball. Reality fell down like hail around you and battered your skin.

“Think we should have a session tomorrow doc?” He paced around the end of the bed. “Hmm? Noon work for you?”

You stayed silent and covered your face. You could barely think. Barely focus on his taunts.

“If it doesn’t,” He came around and dragged your hand from over your face as he bent over you. “Make it work.”

He dropped your arm and turned away. You closed your eyes and listened to his footsteps pass through the door, fade down the hallway and along the stairs. You didn’t move. You weren’t sure you could. You just languished, numb and yet feeling all at once.

-

You cancelled your meeting with Ron at noon. It was a simple walk through of the next support group and as of late he'd been content to run them on his own. And you were content to let him. So forgetful that your calendar was the only order left in your life.

He didn't knock. He entered and lock the door as he had the last two times. You looked up from your desk as he strolled in and plopped into the chair across from you.

"Are we going to talk today, Bucky?" You challenged.

"You really think that's still going to happen? That it would help?" He scoffed and leaned back, his knees wide as he planted his feet.

"I do think it would help."

"Did it help Steve?" He asked pointedly. "Did he tell you he was leaving?"

"I wasn't his therapist. Besides, if I was, confidentiality would preclude me from--"

"You weren't his therapist?" He tilted his head and smirked, just a little. "Something else?"

"We were colleagues. I helped him set up support for those left behind." You explained evenly. "Our relationship was professional."

"Maybe you should've been his therapist." Bucky mused.

"Steve didn't think there was a place for him here. He was wrong but you must know he wasn't very good at admitting that." You set down your pen. "There's a place for all of us."

"Jesus, do they teach you these little bullshit platitudes in school or are you really just that stupid?"

"The hardest part of dealing with our issues is admitting we have them at all. Steve didn't want to face this world anymore, didn't want anymore challenges. And you--." You paused and tapped your fingers nervously on your open notepad.

"I what?" He urged.

"You think taking control, too much control, will make up for your loss of control in the past. You don't want to slow down and let the world, let time, do its work. You don't want to admit that you're afraid."

"Neither do you," He countered. "Hmm. You sit there, you chew on your lip, you hide your face, try to hide your body, and you think I can't see that your scared."

"Does it make you feel better? Truly? What you're doing?" He stayed silent and his smirk disappeared. "Does it remind you of what they did? A role reversal maybe? You try to control my body like they did yours."

"Enough!" He kicked the desk suddenly and you jumped. "I'm not trying to control you, I am."

"Bucky--"

"I told you I didn't want to talk." He spat.

"Then what do you want?"

His metal fist balled and his other hand slipped to his thigh. His fingers crawled upward and he palmed his crotch and shifted in his chair.

"I want you on your knees." He snarled.

You cringed and sat back in defeat. "It's not too late to stop this...to try."

"You can get on your knees or I can hold you down and fuck your face until you puke all over that pretty little blouse." He undid his fly and slid his hand in his jeans. "I'm done playing your game. You're gonna play mine."

You wrung your hands for a moment before you caught yourself. He didn’t miss the hint of your anxiety, the drawn line of your lips as you held back a sneer. Your fear mixed with a sense of anger. You weren’t an angry person but you felt the unusual creep of red in your chest.

The standoff ended quickly. You rose, hands on the desk to steady yourself, just a second before you stood on your own two feet. You rounded to him as he watched. His gaze never strayed, his victorious leer followed your every move. Every single step of your surrender.

You stopped before him, closed in between him and the desk. You looked down at him as he pulled apart his fly and guided his cock out from the denim and cotton. You lowered your head and your shoulders dropped.

“Bucky…” You pleaded.

He leaned forward and grabbed your hand. He stretched his vibranium palm across your hand and jerked you closer. You were forced to bend as he pressed your hand to his hardened length. You flinched and he pushed your fingers taut around his shaft.

“It is too late,” He said. “I made up my mind a while ago.”

Your knees buckled and you almost swayed. You stared at your hand and knelt before him. You were forced between his legs as the desk was close behind you. He drew his hand away and gripped the arms of the chair.

“Go on. I trust you know what you’re doing...unless that’s why the marriage didn’t work out?”

You recoiled and he growled. You glared up at him defiantly. “Don’t.” You warned him.

“Don’t?” He grinned. “What are you going to do about it?”

You stared back at him darkly. He leaned forward and grabbed your head with both hands. He pulled you close and your hands clapped against his thighs as he forced your head down.

“Open up that damn mouth before I break your jaw. I’m tired of listening to it.”

His cock pressed against your lips and he didn’t relent. You couldn’t turn your head away, couldn’t escape his vibranium grasp. So you opened your mouth and he pushed you down entirely. You gagged as he shoved himself down your throat. You grabbed his thighs desperately, unable to breathe, as he held you there.

You kicked your feet behind you and he finally eased up. Just enough for your to pull back but keeping his cock in your mouth. You gasped around him and he forced you back down.

“Don’t you go passing out now. That won’t stop me.”

You shuddered and let him guide you. He was big enough that your jaw began to throb in pain and your throat felt shredded from his repeated intrusion. You never quite caught your breath as your saliva dripped down his dick. You felt sick. Disgusted by him, by yourself, by your weakness.

His groans rose and chilled you. Added to the nausea as it boiled in your stomach. The salty taste of him made you gag again but he only delighted in the contraction of your throat. All you could hear were his treacherous growls and the revolting gulping of your mouth.

“You don’t know how much you’re helping me, doc.” He said. You almost stopped as his voice startled you but he kept you going. Faster, faster. Your entire head swelled in agony. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

His fingers rubbed circles along your scalp, still tight around your skull, ready to crush it at one misstep.

“I already feel better. More in control. Clearer.” He purred. “I see the world before me and it’s all thanks to you.”

Your eyes watered as he sped up again and gave you no chance to keep up. Your head spun with each descent along his thick cock.

“I see you bent over that desk. On the couch. On the floor.” He rasped. “I see it all. My hands around your throat as I use you so easily.”

He sighed and shivered.

“I’m in control again. I’m myself again.” He grunted suddenly and squeezed your head between his hands.

The warmth filled your mouth and choked you as it slid down your throat, his cock pounding his cum deeper and deeper. Then he stopped. He pulled you off of him and dropped you like a forgotten doll as your body crumpled beneath you. You coughed and spat his cum onto the floor with a heave.

You got to your knees and crawled around the desk blindly. You stood as you heard a zip, sensed his shadow as he stood and you felt your way into the small bathroom just along the wall. You nearly fell inside and caught yourself on the sink. You retched into the porcelain, your entire body spasmed as it revolted.

“Don’t forget to tick the box, doc,” He called from the office. You looked over as he pulled the hem of his tee straight. “Think maybe we should see each other more often. Since we’re making such good progress.”

“Get out,” You pushed yourself away from the sink and turned to slam the door. You locked it and backed away dizzily. You fell down onto the toilet and gripped your temples. You could feel his hands still, slowly caving in your skull.

“I know you got a full schedule tomorrow,” He said from the other side of the door. “Maybe we can arrange an after hours session again.” He chuckled and you heard the small taps as he walked his fingers down the door. “We should...fit something in before my next mission.”

You didn’t answer and waited for him to leave. You listened to his ominous footfalls in your office, the open and close of the door, the frightful silence that followed.

You looked down at your shaky hands, spittle and cum dried along the front of your blouse. Your stomach churned and you stood to grip the sink again. You didn’t stop until you were empty and weak. As hollow as the shell you’d become.

[alottanothing]

Left to Ruin: Chapter Eight

Summary: With no better plan, Nouke risks returning to the palace of her youth, hoping her friend is still the kind boy she remembered. 

Previous Chapters

Word Count: 5853

Warnings: Some slight aggression because Kahmunrah is a piece of shit, other than that it’s mostly lighthearted fluff.

Tag List: @xmxisxforxmaybe​, @r-ahh-mi​, @theultraviolencefan​, @hah0106​, @rami-malek-trash​, @diasimar​, @sherlollydramoine​, @flipper-kisses​, @ivy-miranda-2390​, @txmel​, @sunkissedmikky​, @concentratedsassandcandy​, @babyalienfairy​, @edteche2​ (Let me know if I missed you, or if you would like to be added to the tag list)

A/N:  The reunion chapter is finally here! I hope you guys enjoy this one--it’s one of my favorites of the whole story. As always, thank you all so SO much for the likes and reblogs and the comments. Your comments fill me with so much motivation and I cherish the hell out of all of them. 💕 Again, as a disclaimer, I am not an ancient Egyptian expert and google only knows so much. So yeah, I took so historical liberties while writing this to make my life easier, but tried to keep it as “authentic” as possible

The next morning, Nouke woke on the rooftop with an odd sense of calm for the first time in what felt like years. When she found sleep in the few hours before the dawn, the rest that greeted her was dreamless--a blissful contrast from the haunting images that had plagued her slumber in the recent weeks. And Nouke chose to see that pleasant void of rest as a sign her foolish idea wasn’t actually so foolish. The majority of the day passed as normal. She went about her chores on the farm as she usually did—with diligence and a finesse that came with years of hard work—stealing glances at the sun. Every hour it sank lower into the horizon, was another step closer to what she hoped would be a solution. That day, while her mother worked at her side, Nouke found Maketaten’s spirit akin to what it once had been: another sign Nouke took to mean her reckless plan was the right thing to do.

Maketaten still struggled to finish the food on her plate in the evenings, which served to remind Nouke of the necessity of her plan—never mind any apprehension she felt of her own well being.

After their meal, Nouke helped her mother to bed once she cleared away the scraps of food left on the table. With a steady grip, she easily anchored herself to Maketaten’s side and guided her to where they slept in the adjoining room. 

“I think I’m going to take a walk before bed,” Nouke mentioned.

Maketaten smiled, “I pray you find peace on your venture.”

Her mother made herself comfortable on the sleeping mat as best she could and Nouke kissed her on the forehead. She took a moment to memorize everything about the woman who had given her life: her graying hair, the lines on her face, and the impossible kindness in her eyes despite all the years of hardship. Every tiny detail Nouke kept in her heart incase her plan ended poorly.

“I love you,” Nouke murmured.

“I love you, my sweet girl,” she smiled back. “Now go, and be safe.”

Nouke promised not to be gone long—praying her words not be a lie and cloaked herself in a hooded robe before making her way to the palace.

The path to the West Garden wall was not one she had trekked before—at least not from her farm. Nouke did, however, have dozens of memories of playing on the banks of the Nile with her friend to steal directions from. All she needed to do was follow the mighty river, and her feet would carry her to familiar shores.

She wove through Waset’s market streets with practiced ease, through the city's center and down to the docks were the waters of the Nile glistened like a thousand gems in the moonlight. Her feet were already aching by the time she reached the docks with half a journey still to venture. Nouke stopped only a moment to rub the sores of her calloused feet before venturing on.

Every moment north she strode along the banks Nouke spent fretting over every conceivable way her plan could go awry. By the time she came to the palace wall, her heart was pounding and the ache in her feet no longer mattered.  

Logic and reason were both screaming vehemently in her skull—one at war with the other. Logic pleaded she turn back and think of another way to help her mother, while reason instilled her with imprudent motivation.

That reckless commitment didn’t begin to ebb until she found all the stones on the wall perfectly in place and immediately, her stomach churned at the thought that maybe their secret passage had long ago been sealed.

How fitting, she thought. It only made sense that his world was closed off forever; their paths split even further apart. 

Nouke wasn’t sure how many stones she pushed until one finally gave away, and when more began to fall, a wave of relief brought a smile to her face. Part of her was thrilled the plan was working, while a larger part was thrilled with the prospect of seeing her friend again after so many years. She had to remind herself there was no guarantee Ahk would still be the kind boy from her youth—the boy who always helped her when she needed it most.

Nouke prayed salvation would be waiting within the walls of the palace. The only promise, however, was the one Kahmunrah left with her family the day she’d been cast out.  

“That doesn’t matter,” she told herself firmly, ignoring logic and siding with reason. She had come too far to back out.

The fit was tighter than she remembered, but Nouke managed to squeeze through without too many scrapes. Only when her feet settled in the soft soil of the West Garden did realization strike with a flurry of emotions she was not prepared to combat. After years of living in exile, she was standing in a place her adult self only dreamed of stepping foot in once more.

The garden was quiet, and with a surveying glance, she found herself alone. A sigh broke past her lips, both relieved and disheartened. Things would have been so much easier if Ahkmenrah was already in their oasis.

Nouke lingered, hidden in the lush greenery lining the towering walls, taking the time to gather herself before she went further. Every one of her senses filled to the brim with nostalgia; memories flooding into her mind faster than she could comprehend them. Nouke's heart raced with fear and fervor. Tears threatened to fill her eyes with happiness despite the looming danger.   

All at once, Nouke was overcome with the wonton need to lay in the plush patches of grass and wade in the fountain the way she had countless times as a child. Everything was still as serenely beautiful as she remembered it to be--it had weathered time far better than she had.

Nouke forced her eyes shut and shook the memories out of her mind's eye; she was there for her mother, not for herself. With a deep breath, she tapped into the same reserve of determination that helped her through the break in the wall moments ago, lending her the motivation to step into the empty garden.

The stones were cool beneath her feet as she treaded lightly out of the emerald oasis and into the gilded corridors of the palace. Almost instantly, her momentum stilled. The halls were always like a maze, but in her youth, she had mastered their secrets; yet as Nouke stood openly in the glow of torchlight, she had no idea where to begin her search for the pharaoh. 

Quickly, she filtered through all the possible places one would be able to find the king. There was the throne room, the council chamber, as well as his private chamber; most of which were off-limits to servants without a summons. The likeliness she would find him in one of those forbidden rooms was high, and she took a moment to decide which one she would search first. The throne room was closest.

Nouke’s feet moved keenly along the polished floors—foolish and brazen to a degree—with the hope she would simply come upon the one person in all of Egypt who could help her on a whim. When voices or the cadence of footfalls echoed near, she ducked behind statues and columns until it was safe to venture once more—a sort of dance Nouke garnered more thrill from than she knew was wise. Her smile was difficult to quell every time she evaded passer by’s; each time her heartbeat more unbridled adrenalin through her veins making the threat of the pharaoh's brother less of a concern.

As she turned down another empty hall, the sound of voices met her ears and Nouke skillfully took cover behind a wide column etched to the ceiling with hieroglyphs. A group of palace guards marched by without ever looking her way, fueling that rush that kept a grin on her face. The moment they were out of sight, Nouke boldly stepped back into the hall colliding with another human being.  

Before she could utter an apology, she looked to find Kahmunrah staring down at her like a beast who had just captured its prey.

The surge of adrenalin that had filled her with thrill, was suddenly the only thing keeping her from panicking. Her heart all but stopped as dread closed in around her, and immediately shifted her focus to the floor so her hood fell to hide her face from his scrutiny. Nouke kept her breaths steady, knowing it would be better to stay calm and not draw unnecessary attention. She could feel the heaviness of his leer as he sized her up and felt the irritation that was undoubtedly twisting onto his face.

She wanted to scream and curse him for what he had done to her, but Nouke kept her eyes averted at all costs.

A snap split the silent air, echoing in the hall, causing Nouke to jump hearing the sudden sound, and again her body jolted when hulking men descended upon her. Like Kah’s men years before, they held her by her arms with an iron grip that stung, tightening with even the slightest of her movements. Kahmunrah said nothing as he turned on his heel, chin arrogantly pointed forward as he waved over his shoulder for the men to follow.

The moment his cold eyes were no longer baring upon her, Nouke risked a glance forward to take in the man strolling several paces ahead. Time had not changed Kahmunrah for the better; he still carried himself with an air of hubris unbefitting of his title. A prince he may have been, but he walked as though he were pharaoh. The sight drove her hatred of the man who’d caused hardship to befall upon her family even deeper.

For a single moment, Nouke considered her odds of wrangling free and making a run for it. She was thin, but working day after day had put some muscle on her bones. Surely the men restraining her underestimated her strength, but would she be quick enough? Possibly; but if she ran and was caught, her situation would not be made better. Nouke wasn’t about to accept defeat, but she also was wise enough to play the game as long as the outcome remained in her favor. 

Nouke was ushered into a chamber she’d never seen before; there were shelves of rolled papyrus, a desk with stools, along with a few other pieces of ornate furniture: an office of some kind. The wooden doors shut behind them with a baleful thud that made her jump again, and with a few more deep inhales Nouke willed herself to keep her composure wound tight.

Her eyes followed Kahmunrah with predatory focus. His ability to destroy her was the furthest thought in her mind; instead, Nouke continued to weigh the likeliness of escaping to freedom. Finally, Kah turned to face her, smiling the same sinister smirk she hated.

“It’s not often a common thief makes their into these walls.” The indifference in his tone allowed some of Nouke's apprehension to lesson—he didn’t recognize her.

“It’s an impressive feat,” he chided, and Nouke couldn’t tell if he was mocking or being genuine. “How did you manage it?”

Nouke didn’t reply, much to his displeasure, and kept her focus far away—just to be safe.

“Perhaps you didn’t hear me,” Kah’s tone rapidly lost its indifference, shifting into one seething with irritation. “I asked, how you managed to sneak in here past the guards.”

Again, Nouke kept her focus trained on the floor and her lips sealed. She wasn’t about to give up the location of the passageway in the garden.

“Speak!” he shouted, his short fuse already at its end.

Kahmunrah ripped one of the small idols off of his desk and threw it across the room when she refused him a third time. His temper spilled into the room like a thick fog, stirring fear within her that she valiantly fought back. Angry words tumbled from his mouth coated in venom as he banged his fists on nearby surfaces, scolding his men for letting a thief—a woman no less—get past them.

Her silence and her reluctance to look at him only seemed to fuel his anger, which would have been comical if she wasn’t trespassing and in the presence of a man who had promised to kill her.

“Look at me!” he growled, crossing the space separating them in a couple of wrathful stomps.

“I want you to look at me!” Aggressively, Kahmunrah grabbed her by the throat, squeezing just enough to make breathing difficult, forcing her focus to meet his.

Tears brimmed her eyes, a result of the pain and her struggle for air. He pulled her face close to his, eyes black with fury.

“You will tell me how you got in, or I will throw you into the Nile and let the crocodiles do my work for me.”

Kahmunrah’s piercing eyes bore into her own; his features twisted into a snarl like a rabid beast. At that moment, a flicker of faint realization softened his gaze—his fiendish expression shifting as his memories stirred. And for the first time, Nouke felt genuine fear writhe in her gut.

Before his memory could piece everything together, the doors behind her flew open with another loud noise that caused everyone to jump. 

“Kahmunrah, what is the meaning of this?” a deep and powerful voice called out.

The men who’d been ordered to restrain her suddenly dropped to the floor into a kneel, lending Nouke the evidence she needed to figure out who had entered.

“Who is this?” the pharaoh asked, an authority to his voice that made Kahmunrah’s demeanor crumble slightly; no longer was he the man with the most power in the room.

“Release her,” the king demanded and without hesitation, Kahmunrah’s hand fell limply back to his side.

Nouke choked, sucking in the unrestricted air too quickly, and her palms rubbed away the phantom feel of Kah’s fingers until her skin was almost raw. It took everything in her not to lunge forward and tackle the pharaoh’s brother to the ground, overcome with the need to strangle him. The beaten dog expression Kah’s face held, however, was satisfactory enough.

“She’s a thief, little brother. I was dealing with a criminal, as criminals are to be dealt with,” Kah explained with a bravado that seemed to challenge his brother’s grand title.

After Nouke regained her composure and steady breaths that no longer choked her, she looked upon the boy from the garden for the first time in years. 

In a word, he was beautiful.

Ahk was regal draped head to toe in finery that complemented his olive skin. The black Kohl around his eyes was a vivid chiaroscuro to the swirling blue-gray of his irises. Her fingers twitched at her side, yearning to reach out and run them along his sharp jaw; he was breathtaking.

Despite his presence awakening dormant longings, Nouke reminded herself risking her life by stepping back into the palace was not for her own benefit, but her mothers. She pulled the laces of her composure a little tighter, compelling herself not to lose sight of why she was there.

Ahkmenrah offered a fleeting glance at first, one with only mild concern but mostly indifferent. His heedless gaze should not have dismayed her the way it did, but the sharp pang of disinterest was too poignant to ignore. And again, Nouke had to remind herself she was there for her mother, not herself. It didn’t matter whether or not Ahk still held her favor, she just needed him to still be kind enough to help.

Nouke moved her focus away from Ahkmenrah, both glad and disheartened the brothers had not recognized her. Kah’s reasons rambled from his tongue in a continuous barrage and arrogant tone that the pharaoh looked utterly bored by. In that boredom, Ahk’s focus shifted, finally meeting her gaze.  

Almost instantly the mask of indifference melted away as realization consumed his features in a show of varying expressions. Nouke swallowed a sudden nervous lump and smiled faintly, with a single nod, reassuring him that she was who he thought.

Bafflement coupled with joy and mixed with unbridled excitement on his stately features—Ahk’s smile almost blinding to behold. He quickly masked them, however, to keep his brother from noticing.

The pharaoh raised an open palm and a moment later, the trail of word's spilling from Kahmunrah’s mouth came to an abrupt end.

“Enough, brother,” he said with his kingly bravado. “You did well seizing this thief. Leave me now so that I may ask her why she was foolish enough to trespass here.”

Nouke watched Kah’s face shift between his brother and herself as a puzzled expression cemented on his boorish features. It seemed like hours passed between those glances, every second her heart was pounding against her ribs in fear that his ignorance would run out, and he would know her. She watched him as best she could without truly looking; if there was any suspicion as to who she was, it was buried under the questioning furrow he wore. 

 “This is a trivial matter, brother—too much so to concern a king,” Kah proclaimed.

“On the contrary,” Ahk recanted. “This is a matter that concerns my people—nothing trivial at all.”

Kahmunrah frowned, eyes growing narrow with suspicion and after a cumbersome silence, he folded. He left with a forced bow to the pharaoh and a snap of his fingers that called his guards to follow him out.

The arduous quiet remained after the wooden doors shut with another leaden sound, stretching far longer than both cared to let it, though, neither knew what to do or say in their newfound privacy. There was so much lost time, where did they even begin?

Nouke's avid heart thrummed in the silence, leaping from her chest to her throat as she tried to piece together words to say. She couldn’t even bring herself to look at him, knowing her pulse would surely quicken embarrassingly so if she did. Still, from the corner of her eye, she caught the gleam of torchlight glinting brightly against the gold of the crown fitted to Ahkmenrah’s head. 

All at once, the realization settled: she was in the presence of a son of Ra, a god-king: Pharaoh of Egypt. Her heart leaped again, this time out of fear of offending, and without another thought, Nouke fell to her knees, bowing her head.

“Your majesty!" she husked out. “Please forgive my intrusion. I’ve come to speak with you.”

When he didn’t immediately reply, Nouke’s breaths stilled and her stomach churned. She didn’t move, but she listened, hearing the light scuff of his sandaled feet moving along the stone floor as he approached. The pharaoh knelt, and with a gentle touch, his fingertips tilted her chin so that her eyes met his own.

Nouke was sure time stopped at that moment while she searched his stormy eyes for the compassion and goodness that was a staple of his character when she knew him years ago. Before she could finish, a smile unfurled slowly at first, until finally, it consumed his entire face—there’s the boy I remember.   

 “It’s you…” he murmured with wonderment that spread visibly across his features, affirming her hope. His tone was airy, light enough to be swept away on the most insignificant of breezes, as though he could hardly believe she was real.

Nouke let her held breath escape her lungs in a sigh of blissful relief.

Ahkmenrah’s hands found hers, taking them warmly as he guided her to stand. His pale eyes never left hers, shining like the waters of the Nile under the moonlight—glistening like faceted gems as he marveled.

“It is…” Nouke’s words flowed the same as his—light and billowy—her words making Ahkmenrah’s smile grow impossibly wider.

“Nouke.” The sound of her name falling from his lips after so many years was like the sweetest of melodies. She smiled finally as the shock began to ebb. He was really there.

“Ahk…” It felt so good to say his name, so natural. “…Or should I call you, my king, now?”

He shook his head, biting his bottom lip as he grinned through a chuckle, “No, just Ahk.”  

When silence fell around them again, it was not marked with unease or emotional strain; what remained was uninhibited wonderment that made both of their heart's race. They both drank in the sight of the other, taking that moment to memorize the changes in the other’s face. Time was kind to her prince; his features were regal and sharp but not without the softness she admired. The years, Nouke feared, had been less forgiving to her.

Her skin was darkened by hours in the sun, making every line across her face twice as visible. There was no softness to her that she could tell, just a work-worn face perpetually covered by sand and grit—hands riddled with thick, scratchy callouses. Ahk’s hands were so soft in hers. The lightness of his skin a contrast to her own, screaming the different paths they tread—a thought that stole the smile from her lips.

Ahk noticed her shift in demeanor and gave her hands a gentle squeeze before leading her to a nearby bench. He never relinquished her touch, and the eagerness she found twinkling in his eyes was that of the boy she grew up with, making her heart swell. 

“I’m so happy to see you,” he beamed. “I want to know everything that’s happened since your family decided to leave the palace.”

Suddenly, the wonder left her features, and her brow creased into a heavy furrow.

“Decided to leave?” Nouke asked. “What do you know of my family's departure?”

Ahk’s smile faded as he read her confusion, his own uncertainty mixing into his expression.

“I only know what I was told,” he admitted. “My mother said your family left of your own accord. I thought it strange, but I didn’t question it. Should I have?”

A hint of anger began to boil inside Nouke, anger from the pain of that day so many years ago and what became of her family since. None of it was Ahk’s fault; in fact, some of that anger was for him and his mother—someone had lied to them. She reigned that ire back, however, deciding there was nothing to be done about it. 

“We didn’t want to leave, Ahk. We were cast out—my father was almost executed. We were all almost executed for a crime none of us had anything to do with.”

His big eyes grew impossibly wider, his mouth hanging slightly open from shock.

“What? How?” 

Nouke did not like to think about that day, nor the emotions doing so always stirred, but Ahk deserved to know the truth—not whatever his brother told them. With a sigh, she built up the resolve it would take to tell her friend of that fateful day, from the beginning.

She started by explaining the way she and her family were brought to Kahmunrah in the throne room, the case of the missing tablet, and how her father was condemned without real cause. 

“…there is nothing more frightening for a thirteen-year-old then almost being put to death.” Nouke swallowed the lump in her throat as she spoke.

The shock on the pharaoh’s face slowly shifted into anger the likes of which Nouke had never thought imaginable for her kind prince to possess. Still, he was strangely calm when he spoke.

“What happened next?”

“The council managed to talk him out of executing us given there was no proof,” she shrugged. “We were given the choice to live in a cell until there was proof or banishment. Kah promised us if we ever set foot in the palace again he would see to our punishment himself, which isn't hard to guess what he meant.”

“Did he know you just now?” Ahkmenrah asked as some of the anger faded to fear on his face.

Nouke shook her head, “I don’t think so.”

As quickly as it had come, the fear faded from his features.  

“Good,” he breathed, giving her hands another warm squeeze, brushing the soft pads of his thumbs across her skin. “My father would never have let that happen to you—I never would have let that happen to you.”

“I know,” she said without hesitation.

Nouke got lost momentarily in his presence, feeling her grasp on reality slipping the longer he looked at her so fondly. It was so easy being with him again—so natural.

“Was your tablet ever found?” Nouke asked suddenly, blinking back to reality, too stubborn to let herself fall under his spell. You are not here for yourself!

“The day my father and I returned to Waset, Kah told us it was found,” Ahk said with a nod and a look of skepticism that Nouke’s features mirrored.

The entire ordeal always felt suspicious; the knots in her stomach kept Nouke wondering if Kahmunrah was somehow behind the whole thing—stealing it, framing her family. However, she pushed that particular speculation from her mind. It was not her place to accuse members of the royal family of crimes.

She sighed, suddenly displeased and defeated.

“I’m so sorry all of that happened to your family,” Ahk said, his voice only an octave or two above a whisper. “The years were kind, I hope?”

The sincerity in his tone crashed against her with such genuine benevolence Nouke wanted to lie. The truth would surely pull away the soft smile on his features, and she didn’t want to leave him with any second-hand guilt over what had become of her and her family.

With a steadying inhale, she cast him a smile even though she knew it lacked the joy often found in such a gesture, and she nodded. When his smile stretched further, urging her to tell him of her life, Nouke chose to filter out the pieces that could steal his grin away.

She told him of their farm, the evenings she spent in the market, and the city’s center—how it reminded her of their West Garden. Nouke never mentioned the nights they went hungry, or how they were hardly surviving now with no one to help plow their entire fields. She couldn’t burden him with such knowledge. 

“And what of your parents? Are they well?” he asked.

Nouke couldn’t keep her frown from twisting onto her features; even after so many years, her grief was still palpable.

“The gods took my father four years ago,” she said quietly.

She felt the tight affirmation of Ahk’s hands around hers once again, and it was enough to soothe some of the sorrow that stirred from the memory.

“I’m so sorry, what can I do to help?” he asked. “Anything for you.”

Nouke’s lips ghosted into a smile hearing the compassion she’d always adored.

“Actually, that’s why I’ve come—to seek your help.”

Ahkmenrah scooted closer, his attention all hers. 

“Tell me,” he implored.

“My mother,” Nouke began, willing her voice to stay even. “She’s ill. After what happened with my father—the money we have is not enough to pay for a healer's skill. I-I didn’t know where else to go.”

Nouke hung her head to keep him from seeing the tears welling in her eyes as the familiar inkling of helplessness loomed. She did not want to cry in front of her pharaoh, but her emotions were betraying her.

Ahk lulled her gently, tilting her chin so he could look once more at her face—the kindness in his eyes soft and overwhelming.

“What are the signs of her malady?” he asked. “I will consult my healer's first thing tomorrow so that we can make sure your mother maintains her health.”

Nouke listed them as best she could, describing the severity of each, and she could almost see Ahk file every detail away safely in his memory to call upon come the dawn.

“Please do not worry,” he gently begged. “Your mother was kind to me. I am honored to be given the ability to help her.”

The sweetness of his words crushed part of her composure, prompting one of the tears she’d been fighting to restrain to spill over. Whether it slipped down her cheek out of relief she had finally found a way to help her mother, or because of the compassion and kindness Ahkmenrah offered so freely, Nouke wasn’t sure. Nevertheless, she struggled to fight the urge to lunge forward and yank him into an embrace so tight he might have feared she was trying to crush him.

Instead, Nouke pulled her hands from his grasp and slid off the bench into a kneel, unsure how else to show a pharaoh the level of her appreciation. Before she could make it to the ground, however, Ahk stood, pulling her back to her feet with him.

“You never need to kneel to me,” he promised.

His hands lingered on the bare skin of her arms where he’d gently guided her to her feet. His thumb swept back and forth so tenderly until he reached to tuck stray hairs behind her ear. Goosebumps prickled in the wake of his feather-light touches—so familiar but so much more intimate than she remembered, and without reason, Nouke stepped closer to him. 

Ahkmenrah was intoxicating—his warmth, the kindness in his eyes, the way his fingers felt like wisps of satin across her skin. The thick velvet of his voice captivating to her ears. Nouke would have known true happiness trapped in that moment forever, yet every flickering gleam she caught dancing in the shine of his crown reminded her she could never have him.

Before long, she would lose him again. Destiny dictated that he would remain within the palace to rule, and she would slink back to her farm where they would walk their separated paths until the gods claimed them.

Nouke smiled only to keep from frowning, but the sadness in her tone was something she couldn’t mask.

“Thank you,” she told him, stepping out of his grasp before her heart grew anymore attached. “I need to get home. I've already been away much too long.”

Although she wasn’t looking at him, she could feel Ahk’s eyes watching her tentatively, as though he were trying to decipher the doleful expression hidden in her smile.

“Then I will escort you.” 

He held out his arm with a charming side smirk, dripping with a playful arrogance that made her heart flutter—a remnant from their childhood together. Such casual intimacy would make her miss him all the more, but she quickly wound herself around him, causing his grin to grow.

Kamuzu was waiting outside the door of the chamber and Nouke found herself smiling, having almost forgotten Ahk’s personal Medjay. He was just as stoic as she remembered, with an underlying kindness that always made her admire him.

Kamuzu said nothing, looking to both, raising a brow in silent question.

“Kamuzu, you remember Nouke?” Ahk reintroduced with a grin.

“I do,” Kamuzu said, a faint upturn to his lips, and he bowed his head respectfully. “It is good to see you, lady Nouke.”

“You too.”

Kamuzu fell behind them as Ahk guided her through the halls of the palace almost proudly. The palace was quiet given the lateness of the hour but several guards passed by, each one kindling Nouke’s paranoia that one of them would be Kahumunrah’s men. Ahkmenrah pulled her closer to his side, as though he’d sensed her apprehension, and wanted to reassure her he would never let anything happen to her.

When they reached The West Garden it was alive with the soft sounds of insects singing in the silver cascade of moonlight as the desert breeze rustled the leaves in time with their somber symphony. Ahk easily found his way through the line of foliage, and to where the passage out of his world waited. His eyes wandered to the hole in the sandy wall, a slight quirk to the corners of his lips.

“I suspected this was how you managed to get in without the guards noticing.”

He grew quiet as his eyes stayed fixated on the break in the stones, and slowly his upturned features became heavy with an expression akin to regret.

“I thought about running away through this wall so many times to find you...I should have.”

Nouke wanted to ask what stopped him, but she felt she already knew the answer. Like her, he knew his place and the responsibilities therein. For him, running away was more than abandoning his family, running away meant abandoning an entire nation. Ahkmenrah was too good to be greedy.

She stayed quiet, unsure she could conjure a reply that wouldn’t make her heart ache more than it was already beginning to. Whatever was growing between them: infatuation, desire. Nouke needed to keep it from blossoming further to save them both, and she untangled herself from his hold—abruptly empty on account.

The look of hurt that flashed over his features was difficult to miss even though the pharaoh worked to hide it quickly. She felt it too—the loss of his touch was excruciating.

As they lingered, neither looking at the other, both not wanting to say good-bye, the silence grew poignant.

“Thank you,” Nouke said finally, making haste to leave before her emotions got the better of her.

“Wait,” Ahk stepped to block her way, his words sounding desperate.

His hands gripped the upper part of her arms to stop her before gently sliding to take her hands in his.   

Logic screamed at her to pull away from his tender touch, in order to spare her a lifetime of heartache, but it was a battle Nouke was hastily losing. She met his eyes, matching their intensity.

“Meet me here tomorrow as the sun is setting,” he implored. “The council will think I am at prayer—no one will question my absence. I will have your mother’s medicines by that time.”

Ahkmenrah’s muted excitement was contagious, and Nouke grinned despite her better judgment.

“Is that a demand, my king?”

Ahk’s features burst into a brilliant grin.

“Yes.” He pulled her into a tight embrace.

Nouke’s breath caught as she fell into him, enveloping herself in his presence, squeezing back just as snugly. Her eyes even drifted closed and when Ahk laid a kiss to her cheek, allowing it to linger long enough to make it more than a friendly gesture, Nouke knew she was falling into a path she couldn’t tread.

“Tomorrow?” Ahk asked again as he pulled away to meet her eyes.

Nouke grinned, unable to keep hope from ruining her.

“Tomorrow,” she murmured.

Next Chapter-> Chapter Nine: What We Have

[meteorstricken]

Sephiroth Week, Day 4 Prompt: (Free Day: Home)

“Hometown”

Nibelheim stood as one of the more strategically isolated locations on the planet, tucked away in the embrace of its namesake mountains. Only the expanse of mostly uninhabited flatlands to the southwest served as a reliable outlet. Silent as it stood, it seemed almost abandoned--exactly the variety of locale Sephiroth would expect Shinra's failed industrial secrets to disturb the wildlife.

But people did live here, and those secrets were of the utmost sensitivity, rating his presence specifically.

Rainy hours had passed in the truck crossing the plains to reach to the secluded town--time spent mulling over his uncertain future, humoring Zack's excitement, and attempting to ignore the occasional retching coming from the motion-sick cadet, Cloud, who the former had befriended. Apparently, Nibelheim was Cloud's hometown.

The concept of a hometown pricked at Sephiroth's mind, raising curiosity and a heavier feeling he couldn't name. Growing up stationary in one community, with the same family, neighbors, friends, and foes--he understood it only conceptually. Some supposedly longed for it; others considered it a prison they couldn't wait to escape. The best he could do was tangentially identify with the latter, but…where he grew up lacked any sense of having been a home or place of origin. It was merely where he was made to exist and become what he was raised to be.

As they'd closed in, one of the area's green dragons had accosted them during the heaviest downpour, granting a temporary reprieve from that troubled line of thinking. The beast's aggression and extra-territorial wandering were no doubt a result of the local reactor's malfunction. He'd cut it down it quickly nonetheless; there was little time to waste.

His discomfort returned immediately upon their arrival. He'd never stepped foot in Nibelheim before, but one glimpse down the dusty, half broken road at the town's well, and a whiff of the earthy, chilled October dusk gave Sephiroth pause. The pungent mako smell veiled it, but it remained a familiar enough undertone to stop him at the entrance. Creeping dread descended into the pit of his stomach, though there was no reason for it he could pinpoint. His objectives here promised few foreseeable complications--he was to thin the monster population and perform triage on the reactor's problem until a security-cleared crew could be dispatched. He'd traveled to numerous like-places in the past. Perhaps that was why he recognized the scent.

Why had it caught his attention and unsettled him this time?

Words playing on the fringes of his mind escaped him seemingly of their own will: "How does it feel? It's your first time back to your hometown in a long time, right? So how does it feel? I wouldn't know because I don't have a hometown…"

Cloud lifted his mask and helmet for a moment. His voice trembled slightly when he spoke. "Ummm…how 'bout your parents?"

Sephiroth clenched one hand. Outside of muted professional consideration, Cloud's life was none of his concern, nor vice-versa, but it was too late to evade in full. He had brought this upon himself. "My mother is Jenova. She died right after she gave birth to me. My father…" A laugh leapt up from bitter apprehension roiling inside of him, and he shook his head. This subject was entirely too absurd to pursue any further; a scandal unworthy of his acknowledging it publicly. Yet…there was no way Cloud would know that. "What does it matter...?" he excused himself. "All right, let's go."

They marched ahead to the inn, outside of which a nervous young local caught up with Zack and verified who they were. Her shoulders slouched after he'd informed her. She left visibly disappointed, as if they were beneath her expectations. Perhaps Shinra had earned some enemies here as well. Monsters, malfunctions…and now, possibly insurgents or other resistance factors. The human element had not been part of the briefing he'd received, but it wasn't surprising. Shinra had polluted their natural environment and filled it with monsters. When it had finally spiraled sufficiently out of control, they gave no answer but to send SOLDIER. If it was there, the anger wasn't misplaced.

Considering how Shinra had propagandized his image, Sephiroth wondered if the townsfolk might associate his face with those ills. It would be difficult to disassociate himself from the company in the eyes of normal people if he chose to leave, but if he were pushed to counter unexpected fighters, it would make the effort all the more difficult.  

Normal people. He breathed out a small sigh and cast a wandering gaze, taking in the sights of the town's empty center and the houses beyond. Was it possible for him to seek out a quiet life in a place such as this?

While he looked on, a small child of maybe five years scrambled out the front door of a house off to the right, chortling mischievously. A woman--his mother--ran after him.

"Hey, get back here! You know it's too dangerous," she chided him. "What have we talked about for when the big weird uniformed men come?"

"But. They're just standing there. There's no monners. See? They're just standing there," he argued, mispronouncing 'monsters' in child-speak and repeating himself, distrusting that his mother had accurately assessed the situation.

The mother remained predictably unconvinced, grabbing the boy by his wrist and pulling him back toward their home while he continued to ramble, and eventually, started to cry.

Under their neighbor's porch, two boys chattered quietly. Their eyes dodged his, but he knew they'd been watching him. Were they brothers or friends? What was that like? Inwardly, Sephiroth winced--he thought he'd come to understand one of those rather well until recently.

What was it like to leave a place like this for years, and then return to expectant family?

The dread that had plagued him moments ago redoubled its efforts on his insides, but Sephiroth straightened his stance. There was no time for that. Not for him. He was…outside of such things. Unwelcomed. All of this--it was not his world…

"We leave for the reactor at dawn. Make sure you get to sleep early." he commanded Zack, Cloud, and the others with them. It was best to keep them out of sight to avoid exacerbating tensions. "All we need is one lookout, so you others, get some rest." He turned his back on the town and reached for the inn's door, but stopped. Cloud was notably not an outsider by any definition. Sephiroth forced himself to swallow the ball of resentment that had formed in his throat and glanced over at the small cadet.  "Oh, that's right...You may visit your family and friends."

This had nothing to do with him. Nothing.

He slipped indoors then, hurrying upstairs before anyone noticed him. Zack could take care of any arrangements with the front desk. He needed a moment to think, and think he did, staring out the second floor's window. It wasn't simply that Nibelheim smelled familiar; the scenery was far from alien to him as well. He knew these mountains, these buildings, the well in the town center. He knew the Shinra Manor, he knew what he might expect to see if he visited it, and---and he stopped himself, overcome with the notion of having trespassed somewhere forbidden.

He was in trouble again, and here again...

For a split second, he remembered being small and having infuriated Professor Hojo over…something. Yes, there had always been something with that man…

But why did he know this place? What claim did Nibelheim have on him, all while he couldn’t pretend to call a single sliver from one of its houses or a tiny speck of its streets' dust his? He was a stranger here, but it remembered him. As the sun faded behind its peak, he had the uncomfortable growing sensation that Mt. Nibel itself was looking back, calling…

Tomorrow, Sephiroth determined, they would complete this mission with the utmost efficiency. There might be something to research here, but he needed time to prepare. He needed to understand the nature of long term operations Shinra had conducted in Nibelheim first; what he ought to look for in particular. He suspected with an almost oppressive conviction that whatever he turned up would be the final straw he was searching for--the one that justified his leaving the company.

After that...nothing would be the same.

[graysistance]

we can share the bed.    /    @aniimvs  (with an appearance by @darkestshadeofgrey)

rey isn't sure where the nightmares come from, but every night they’re usually the same.

always, always, there is her and the desert. what she does in the desert is the only element that changes. sometimes she is swallowed by sinking sands, screaming with a mouth that can make no noise despite her best efforts. the dry silt fills her mouth and she wakes gasping and clutching her throat. sometimes she watches as figures she is running to are blown away by a sandstorm or face the same fate she does. as they scrabble for purchase on the unmerciful dunes, she cries and cries for them to be saved. the figures and their faces rotate, but she always knows them. she wakes up the most terrified after seeing kylo or elias reaching for her as she runs, yet can never reach them in time. sometimes her feet do not seem to move at all. and sometimes, on better nights, she watches in seething rage as her old slave master is sucked down and out of sight. an outstretched hand hovers above him, seeming to push him deeper without ever touching him. rey thinks it's her hand. it doesn't seem like it could be anyone else's.

tonight the only face she sees is kylo's. there is the customary desperation as she sees his feet sinking, but the tide changes when rey is able to reach him just before the sand reaches his arms. her dream fingers grab onto his dream face, shaking so badly that it's difficult to hold on without him slipping through. starving from loss and sick with despair, rey presses her forehead to his. they're running out of time.

                  ❝ don't leave me, ❞  she can hear herself plead like a child through tears, through the rasp of collapsing sand.

kylo merely smiles at her, and so bitterly.

                  ❝ you have to let me go. ❞

                  ❝ no! ❞  the shame hits her within an instant, but the denial does not ebb. ❝ no, i can’t go on without you. i don’t want to! stay, please would you stay. ❞

his grip on her wrists loosens and she cries out.

                  ❝ kylo, a little longer. i don't want to be alone again so soon. ❞ it’s less of a girlish whimper now and more like a command, her voice digging deep to try and find the fortitude being a jedi is supposed to impart.

the dune she is splayed across gives a final groan and kylo sinks down to a depth almost out of sight. the last words he gives her are  ❝ you know i can't. you know we can't. ❞  they are a death sentence that hangs ringing in the air. wailing for him to come back is futile.

so as he goes, rey shrieks her rage and her grief into the wind instead, not content to simply sob. hands that scrabble against the sinking sand do nothing but trap her in the glittering mess, yet she cannot stop. if rey stops fighting she dies, too. if she cannot scream then she has nothing left. 

behind her, from a place she cannot see, comes another scream that sounds exactly like elias.

by the time rey gasps herself awake, chest heaving around a final wheeze of  ❝ no! ❞, the tears on her face have dried three times over.

an hour hemorrhages away second by granular second, only managing to drive rey more mad. tossing and turning is no balm for the feelings of dread that wriggle in her chest. it's been too dark to see her chronometer since before sleep overtook her, but rey doesn't spare a glance for the time when she sits up on her cot. if she can't sleep alone, best to do a cursory check of kylo's welfare. the remaining vestiges of fear in her mind insist it can't hurt. it’s the same fear that the jedi masters are so intent on expunging from her psyche (or so it feels) but how bad can it really be when all it drives her to do is protect?

padding down the halls to his room is a dance she's had well choreographed for many months, but there's always something darkly exhilarating about each tender step. anyone might spot her if she's not quiet enough. keeping pressed to the wall and muffling her presence with the force work as well as anything else, and agida propels her quickly to her destination. love and fear twist around each other like a net she must push through every second she’s hasn’t reached the source of his signature yet.

it must be said that rey does not intrude upon friends or loves alike unless absolutely necessary. using the force to unlock a door on a distressing night feels absolutely necessary. it’s hardly the first time she’s felt this way.

but to her surprise, on her arrival the door isn’t locked.

easing it open reveals a predictably shadowy and spartan space and rey can only just pick out the inky blob that is kylo’s cot. atop it, she is relieved to see what she can only assume is his half-curled form, though that in itself sparks confusion. drawing closer to his sleeping body reveals an important part of the scene rey ought to have sensed much earlier.

something in her chest unravels so suddenly. so sweetly. all attempts to mask her presence drop in the face of relief and just a little bit of surprise.

kylo is wrapped in a gentle curve around elias’s slightly smaller figure. both are on their sides, breathing so softly that rey hardly sees their chests moving in tandem at first. a moment of the sharpest terror passes until she convinces herself they aren’t dead. not terrified and not about to die. not like in her dreams. 

no, she is very much awake and overcome by a creeping sense of fondness.

this......thing, this bond between the three of them had not come from nowhere. what it had come with was hesitation (mostly on the boys’ parts, as rey didn’t have a shy bone in her body. or if she did, she was yet to find it) and intense curiosity. was it truly possible to love more than one person at once they way she loved kylo? it was hard enough keeping the bend of her heart hidden from the masters, so how much harder would it become trying to balance her feelings?

thus far she’d found no reason to regret any of it. while it was strange to be cared for by so many, and strange to....share kylo, although that wasn’t really the word for it, rey looked down at kylo and elias seemingly at peace and knew she’d made the right choice in reaching for them both. they all had.

it’s with a small start and no warning that kylo wakes. even his jolt is so subtle that rey has to stop and wonder if he was ever truly asleep in the first place. before rey can do anything except gape his half-open eyes have sought out her silhouette and pinned her, sucking her in like a gravity well. ( they always do, no matter where she happens to be. the weight of years bear down through his gaze -- many more than the few he has on her. ) no need to reach out his hand and stop her as if she was an intruder. which….well, rey can admit she is.

instead of a stronger reaction, kylo simply blinks at her. long moments pass and she blinks back, slowly succumbing to regret and embarrassment. was this the one time she’d overstepped, the one night she wasn’t welcome? 

but before rey can turn tail and run, accept that more of her private battles had to stay that way, the drowsy gravel of kylo’s voice seems to wash over the embers of her discomfort.

                ❝ you too? ❞

a stunned pause. 

                 ❝ what? ❞

                 ❝ nightmares. ❞

shoulders slump and she looks away, teeth digging into her bottom lip. so they’re all having them. kylo’s she’d known a little of, maybe elias’s in passing, but all together? all the parts of her bruised heart reserved solely for these two fellow padawans of hers begin to sting. she nods. 

                 ❝ yes, nightmares. ❞  a gamble. ❝ you. the desert was trying to take you away again. ❞

his eyes don’t widen, but rey knows they detect so much more than she wishes they did. yet she cannot do anything but stand and be scanned like a patient in the med center without the option to retreat. and she doesn’t want to. she wants to stay and guard someone she loves and make sure nothing can ever hurt them or take them away from her. she wants so much she aches.

then kylo moves just a little, twisting rather uncomfortably to check the space at his back. there’s a small amount of cot left even with the two boys taking up most of it. both of them are tall and slender already, though rey is still a wiry slip compared to them. which means there’s enough room for her, but only just. 

                  ❝ come on. we can share. ❞

it’s a full body effort to repress a whimper of relief and her body shudders with it. for all the times kylo has seemed so imperious, so drawn and dour, rey remembers every moment of his kindness to her. remembers when the ways they reached for each other became too tender and too big for her body to contain. every new occasion to experience it brings her to her knees when he isn’t looking. but rey wastes no time in doing as she’s told, slipping into the thin ribbon of free space and molding herself to kylo’s back eagerly. all at once she can feel so much of her fear slink away and back to where she stuffs it out of sight. one hand seeks the thump of his heartbeat, weaving around to his front where her fingers can rest against his chest, greedy for reassurance. something about her fingers becoming trapped between both elias and kylo makes her smile. as she wriggles her way to comfort, she can’t help but press the smile into kylo’s shoulder. the muscles below her mouth twitch, but that only makes her cling tighter. eventually she’ll let go of the space at his heart and seek out elias’s arm somewhere in the parallel tangle of their bodies, but for now she is more than content.

with the warmth of kylo’s robes against her lips, his heart at her fingertips, hers at his back, and elias near enough to touch, rey feels mysteriously….happy. even with the poisonous dream so recently faded and her fear biding its time, she is at home. this is home. close to the people she loves, ensuring they’re protected. making certain they are safe. 

it doesn’t take long for shadows to spread across her vision and pull her gently into sleep. no dreams and no panic greet her when she succumbs at last. 

all is well. for once, it truly is.