#It keeps me up at night cause of all the grief and sadness and mourning and guilt

[torchstelechos]

There's something really heartbreaking about the misunderstandings between Mirabelle and Siffrin, because at the start of the game Siffrin teases Mirabelle but gets real anxious and worried about upsetting her multiple times and even gets worried about Bonnie throughout the game. This being to the point that they keep the good lines in the script, even if they could feasibly stop caring about it. Then, during act 5, Mirabelle hits Siffrin with the fact that he's mean when he's teasing her but she doesn't let it get to her because she knows they mean well. Do you think about this? The thought of Siffrin being so self conscious of his own faults to the point they made sure the loops always were kind until the last one only to get slapped in the face by your families comments and hand. Like I think about this a lot. Obviously they knew they were mean but they also did everything in their ability to not hurt their family only to be told that they had multiple times and it was only because of his families trust and love that his family didn't take it to heart. Like fuck, fuck, I think id fucking go crazy. I think I'd isolate myself if that happened to me. Oh my gods. It really makes some of his next decisions really bonkers to me, but in a good way because yeah! Yeah that makes sense. Anyway post game I think Siffrin would probably not tease or poke fun at anyone for a good while in fear of hurting their families feelings.

[nhaaauyen]

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨ The Ghost of You ୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

"This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong // To love that well which thou must leave ere long." -William Shakespeare (Sonnet 73)

PART V: ‘CAUSE I CAN’T TAKE THIS PAIN FOREVER

zombie apocalypse sevika x reader au!: sevika was the super soldier; a killing machine driven solely by survival. you were nomadic, constantly searching for something in whatever was left of the world—till you met her.

series masterpost: part I // part II // part III // part IV

wc: 8.3k cw: smut (MINORS DNI!!!) author's note: thank you to everyone who read/comments + i see your tags on the reposts you guys make me gay and sappy with all your support tysm 💗 (also im so sorry if the smut is so mid I’m not a smut writer and it’s my second time writing smut ever smhhh)

Fifteen died. Including Grayson. 

Daylight is spent in a daze of cleaning up, tending to the wounded, and trying to process the magnitude of what's happened. People are trying to piece together what little they can salvage, but the damage is more than just physical.

As night falls, the community gathers for a final farewell. The loss is too great, too much to be exposed under the harsh light of day. The night offers a semblance of protection, a cloak under which everyone can mourn and where grief can be private.

Candles flicker in the hands of those gathered and the atmosphere is thick with sorrow. Families huddle together, some on their knees beside makeshift crosses, others standing in silent clusters. The candles illuminate their tears, turning them into tiny rivers of gold that glisten in the darkness.

You stand by Grayson’s cross, surrounded by those who knew and loved her. Vander, his broad shoulders tense and Ekko clutches his candle so tightly that the wax has begun to drip onto his fingers. Powder leans into Vi, who wraps a protective arm around her sister. Caitlyn stands close, her face a mask of composed grief, but her eyes are red-rimmed and distant. Ren holds onto your hand tightly, her small fingers interlaced with yours.

Your gaze keeps drifting to the shadows, searching for one face in particular.  

Then, as if conjured by your thoughts, you spot her. She’s standing under a tree, half-hidden in the shadows. The candlelight doesn’t reach her, leaving her face partially obscured, but you can tell it’s her.  She's motionless, almost statuesque, her expression unreadable.

There’s something in the way she’s watching the scene before her that sends a shiver down your spine. It’s almost as if she’s already a ghost herself, a spirit haunting the edge of the gathering. There’s an emptiness to her, as if the life has been drained out of her and what remains is only a shell, a figure standing over a world she no longer belongs to.

A heaviness resides in your chest, a deep, aching sadness that mirrors the grief of those around you. Grayson’s loss is a wound that cuts deep. She was the heart of this community, the one who held everyone together. And now she’s gone, leaving behind a legacy that feels too big, too important to carry on without her.

The vigil continues, but you feel a shift in the air, a quiet, unspoken understanding that it’s time to go, that there’s nothing more to be done here tonight. Slowly, people begin to leave, one by one, their footsteps soft on the grass. You hesitate, your gaze lingering on Sevika one last time. She hasn’t moved, hasn’t acknowledged your presence or anyone else’s.  

As your family and Ren head to a neighbor’s house, seeking comfort in numbers, you seek solace in solitude instead. 

The silence is almost deafening in your room. You close the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment as you let out a shaky breath. 

There’s a soft knock at the door, and for a moment, you think you might be imagining it. But then it comes again, and you push yourself away from the door, your heart pounding in your chest as you reach for the handle.

When you open the door, Sevika is standing there, but she’s not the woman you remember. There’s a hollow look in her eyes, a deep exhaustion etched into every line of her face. She’s hunched over slightly as if the weight of everything has finally broken through her defenses.

For a moment, you just stare at each other, neither of you knowing what to say. 

"What's going on?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Without a word, she steps into the room, her movements slow and almost hesitant.

"Sevika..." you start, but the words die in your throat as she looks at you. Her eyes, usually so guarded, are now pools of raw emotion.

"I could have lost you yesterday," she says, her voice cracking. "I almost did."

You step back and fall onto the edge of your bed, overwhelmed by the intensity of her gaze, the weight of her words.  

Sevika falls to her knees before you, burying her face in your lap. Her body shakes, hands clutching desperately at your clothes. The sight of her kneeling before you sends a shockwave through your system. This is Sevika, the woman who’s always stood tall, who’s never shown weakness. 

“Please…” The word escapes her lips in a raw, broken whisper, her voice laced with a desperation you’ve never heard from her before. “Please… I can’t take this pain forever.”

Your hands hover uncertainly over her. She’s seeking you, but you find yourself instinctively pushing back, your fingers gripping her shoulders to keep some distance between you.  The urge to comfort her wars with the part of you that’s terrified—terrified that if you let her in again, she’ll leave, and you’ll be left with nothing but this overwhelming pain.  

Why now? your eyes ask, the ache in your chest tightening. Why now, when I don’t even know if I can trust you not to leave again?

Sevika looks up, her eyes red-rimmed and filled with vulnerability. She reaches for you, but you flinch away, your body betraying your inner turmoil. I won’t, her eyes seem to respond. her hands clinging to you as if you’re the only thing keeping her from falling apart completely.

The push and pull become physical - Sevika's hands grasping at your clothes, trying to draw you in, while you resist, your grip on her arms keeping her at bay. You see the realization dawn in Sevika's eyes as she understands your hesitation. She doesn't speak, doesn't try to persuade you with words. Instead, she simply holds your gaze, her hands loosening their grip but not letting go entirely.

The tension between you is palpable, a living thing that fills the space between your bodies. You can feel it gnawing at you - the fear that she’ll pull away, that this moment will shatter like glass. 

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Sevika's resistance fades. She doesn't try to pull you closer anymore, but she doesn't move away either. She simply kneels there, her head bowed, waiting.

It's this surrender that finally breaks through your defenses. Your hands, which were pushing her away, now tremble as they cup her face. You tilt her chin up, meeting her gaze fully for the first time.

What you see there takes your breath away - it’s a steadfast devotion that silences your doubts. At that moment, you understand that she's not going anywhere.

Your hands finally move, your fingers threading through her hair and letting it fall from its ponytail. The moment you touch her, she lets out a shuddering breath, her body sagging against you as if the weight she’s been carrying has finally become too much.

Sevika sees the hesitation in your gaze, the lingering fear, and something shifts inside her. She surges up, pulling you into a desperate kiss—a plea for you to trust her.  The kiss is messy, frantic, filled with the need to feel, to connect, to hold onto something real amidst all this.

You respond immediately, your hands drawing her near—even though parts of you want to stop and shield yourself from the possibility of losing her again, you can’t bring yourself to let go.

Her lips are pressing against yours with a need that makes your heart ache, and you both finally give in to the emotions you’ve been holding back for so long. It’s not like the kiss you’ve shared before—this is different. It’s a commitment to each other that you’ve both been too scared to acknowledge until now.

You both fall back onto the bed, your bodies tangling together as you lose yourselves in each other. 

Your hands are never leaving her, your lips never straying too far from hers. Her bionic hand presses into your back gently, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you and you can feel the steady beat of her heart against your chest.

She suddenly pulls you onto her lap. One hand slides under your shirt, causing a shiver to run down your spine, while the other lingers on the small of your back. With a swift movement, she removes your shirt, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable under the moonlight cascading through the window.

A blush creeps up your cheeks at the sudden exposure. 

"You're beautiful." The moonlight dances in her eyes and her voice is filled with sincerity and adoration. 

Your breath hitches as she leans in and presses a kiss onto your chest, her lips travel lower and lower until she forces a nipple out of your bra.  Your gasp quickly turns into a moan as her lips wrap around it and her tongue is swirling, her teeth teasing and biting at the sensitive bud.  

Your hands find their way into her hair and shoulders, grasping at something to stabilize a desire that feels like it could push you over the edge.  As her lips dance across your neck, her tongue tracing the curve of your jaw, you feel your hips surge forward, seeking the friction that will bring you relief. Your hands, still fisted in her clothes, tug her closer, the fabric straining against the pressure. Sevika's fingers, still tangled in your hair, pull your head back further, exposing your throat to her hungry mouth. Her breath is hot against your skin, sending shivers coursing through your veins.  You grind into her fingers, a low, desperate moan builds in your throat, and you hear yourself repeating her name like a mantra.

"Sevika, Sevika, Sevika please."

Your legs tremble as you press into her, the thin fabric of your panties rubbing against her fingers, which are still wrapped around you. The pressure builds, a crescendo of need threatening to consume you whole. 

She teases you, her fingers occasionally dipping inside you before pulling back out to rub against your sensitive nub. Each time you’re on the brink of release, she stops and kisses you deeply, driving you crazy with need.

But finally, when you can’t take it any longer, she plunges two fingers inside you. Your fingers dig deep into her shoulder as she sets a steady pace with her fingers, hitting just the right spot inside you that has you writhing in ecstasy.

You’re panting at her touch, your hips bucking into her hand as she moves her fingers in and out of you, her thumb rubbing circles over your clit. Each touch sends jolts of pleasure through your body, making you crave more and more.  She whispers sweet words in your ear along with wicked promises that make you wetter than you could imagine.

You grasp the edge of Sevika's shawl, the delicate fabric slipping through your fingers as you slowly pull it away, exposing her bionic arm to you. The shimmering metal catches the dim light of the room, contrasting beautifully with your warm hands. You can’t help but admire the way it seems to glow, each curve and joint blending seamlessly into her skin. 

Sevika’s breath hitches at the sight of her exposed arm, and a flicker of vulnerability passes over her face. The vulnerability in her eyes makes you want to show her how incredible she is, and how every part of her makes you feel alive.  

You lean closer, your lips brushing softly against her bionic arm, feeling the coolness against your mouth as you press gentle kisses along the sleek surface. It’s smooth, almost soothing, and you feel her relax into your touch. Your breath quickens, merging anticipation and a hunger to worship every part of her. 

She changes your positions, laying you down gently on your bed till your head sinks into a plush pillow.  You can feel the heat radiating off of her body as she begins to kiss down your body. Her lips leave a trail of fire as they make their way down your stomach until they reach the waistband of your panties. She easily removes them and throws them aside.  She starts by lightly kissing and licking your inner thighs, slowly making her way towards your center. You can already feel the heat pooling between your legs as she gets closer and closer to where you want her most. Her gaze locks onto yours as her head hovers over your soaked folds.

“Just focus on me,” her voice comes out hoarse and commanding.

Sevika buries her face between your legs and you gasp at the sudden sensation, gripping the sheets tightly. She flicks and sucks on your clit while slipping a finger inside of you, matching the rhythm of her tongue. There’s a sense of urgency in the way she looks at you – a primal need that mirrors yours perfectly. 

Her fingers dig into your thighs, holding you down firmly.  You feel yourself getting close, but before you can reach your peak, she stops abruptly.

You whimper in frustration, but it’s quickly replaced with adoration as she climbs up to kiss you, tasting yourself on her lips.  

“You got such a pretty body,” She bites teasingly at your ear. “Prettier when it’s a mess for me.” 

A course of desire jolts through you at hearing her low and raspy voice whisper those words. Your fingers trace the curve of her shoulder, moving down her arm until you reach her hand. You intertwine your fingers with hers, feeling the coolness of her bionic hand.  Sevika blows a hot breath over your glistening mound and you instinctively close your legs around her head. 

The room immediately fills with the sound of heavy breathing and the soft, wet noises of skin against skin. Her finger curls inside you, causing your back to arch off the bed in pleasure. 

With each thrust and lap of her tongue, she pushes you closer to the edge. You can feel the tension coiling within you��she intensifies her rhythm, sucking and teasing in perfect harmony with your body's responses. The sensations build higher and higher until they finally explode within you.

You release with a loud cry, shuddering in ecstasy as the waves of pleasure wash over you, leaving you breathless and utterly consumed in bliss.

When you finally break apart, it’s only to catch your breath. Your bodies are still tangled together, a sticky, wet mess, but neither of you cares. Sevika holds you tightly, her face buried in the crook of your neck.

The room is bathed in soft, silvery moonlight filtering in through the window. The sounds of your soft breathing fill the space, mingling with the faint rustle of the sheets. Everything feels tender, and fragile, like you’re both holding on to something delicate and precious, something that could shatter with the slightest misstep.

Your fingers trace the scar on Sevika’s cheek, the roughened skin contrasting the softness of her lips. She looks at you, her eyes searching yours as if she’s trying to read the thoughts that you’re too scared to say aloud.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you murmur, your voice trembling with emotion.

“You won’t,” she whispers back, her lips brushing against yours in the softest of kisses. 

“Promise me..” Your voice falters, struggling to grasp the idea of not being able to feel her, see her, or touch her like this again.  “I don’t know how to exist without you.”

“I’d spend the rest of my days searching,” Sevika replies quietly, her gaze unwavering.  “Even just for the chance of seeing you again.” 

She cups your face with one hand, her thumb brushing gently over your cheek.  “I’ll always find my way back to you.”

You rest your head on her chest, listening to the steady rhythm of her heart, the sound soothing in a way you hadn’t realized you needed. Your fingers trace gentle patterns on her skin and a quiet peace settles over you, a sense of calm that you haven’t felt in what seems like forever.

As you lie there, holding each other in the darkness, the world outside seems to fade into insignificance. You close your eyes, letting yourself finally rest, knowing that she’s here with you, that you’re both in this together. It’s a fragile peace, but it’s yours, and in this moment, it’s more than enough.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩

One Year Later…

The kitchen glows in the warm light, sunlight streaming through the window and illuminating the marble countertops. The sweet aroma of cinnamon and vanilla fills the air as you stir a pot of rice pudding on the stove.

Ren bursts into the kitchen, twirling in her new outfit - a pretty blue dress with matching ribbons in her hair. "Look!" she exclaims, eyes shining with excitement.

You smile warmly. "You look beautiful, honey. Are you ready for dinner at Vander's?"

Ren nods enthusiastically. "Can I go over early? Please?"

"Of course," you reply, giving her a quick hug. "I'll see you there in a bit."

You watch her go, a fond smile lingering on your lips. Ren has become such a central part of your life, switching between living with you and Sevika, and some nights, staying over at Vander’s with the rest of your family. Dinners at Vander’s have also become a tradition, starting as a semblance of normality for the kids until you realize that sometimes everyone just needed a family meal too.

You turn back to your work, carefully measuring out the sugar to add to the pudding. You’re so focused on getting everything just right that you don’t notice when Sevika slips into the kitchen. She moves quietly, her steps almost soundless as she approaches the stove. It’s only when you glance up and see her broad back that you realize she’s there, her figure blocking the light from the window.

"Hey, you're home," you start to say, but then you spot the spoon in her mouth. "Sev!" you exclaim. "I'm not done with that!"

Sevika turns, the spoon still between her lips. "Tastes good," she mumbles around it, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“It’s supposed to taste good when it’s finished,” you retort, gently pushing her away from the stove. 

Suddenly, you feel Sevika's arms encircle your waist, her body warm against your back. She nuzzles into your neck, placing a soft kiss just below your ear. "Mmm," she hums, "doesn’t taste as good as you, though."

“Don’t think you can sweet-talk me into letting you try more,” you say, trying to stay focused despite the distraction she’s providing.

She chuckles again, her deep voice rumbling against your back. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

You smile, the familiar banter easing you into a comfortable lull. The gentle pressure of her arms around you, the way she’s so casually affectionate now, fills you with warmth. 

"Hey, did you bring home any fruit for the pudding?" you ask, turning in Sevika's arms.

You feel her tense slightly, her smile faltering.  "We’re having a bit of a dry season," she says, her tone careful.

The words hang heavy in the air. You know the reality - supplies have been tight lately, with produce struggling to grow and the scavenging teams venturing further each time.

Before you can dwell on it further, Sevika leans in to kiss you, clearly trying to change the subject. But as she does, you catch a whiff of something less than pleasant, and you instinctively pull back, wrinkling your nose.

"Babe, you fucking stink," you blurt out.

Sevika's eyes goes wide in shock, then narrows playfully. "Oh, really?" she growls, trying to pull you closer.

You dance out of her grasp.“Go start a bath,” you say between giggles. “I’ll join you in a bit, okay?”

She lets out a noise of disapproval but obeys regardless. “I wasn’t that bad,” she mutters as she turns toward the bathroom.

“Yes, you were,” you call after her, still grinning as you watch her go. “Go on, I’ll be there soon.”

With Sevika finally convinced, you head to your bedroom to grab some towels.

The bedroom has changed over the past year, becoming more of a shared space than it ever was before. Sevika's red shawl drapes over the back of a chair, while your jewelry glitters on the dresser. The wall above the bed is adorned with colorful drawings - Ren's artwork, depicting your entire makeshift family, the sight of it never failing to warm your heart.

It had started casually enough - a few items of clothing left behind after hurried encounters, a toothbrush appearing in the bathroom. You and Sevika were sneaking around, stealing moments together whenever you could.

When you finally told your family about your relationship, they celebrated, of course.   It wasn’t a surprise to them—they had seen the way you and Sevika gravitated toward each other, the looks you reserved solely for one another.  You found yourself practically living at Sevika's, though neither of you had officially acknowledged the change.

Then came the day you noticed the difference in her dresser. The already sparse drawers had been reorganized, creating a dedicated space just for you. Your scattered belongings were neatly arranged, claiming their place in Sevika's life.

You remember standing there, staring at that drawer, your heart swelling with emotion. It was such a small gesture, but it spoke volumes. Sevika, always more comfortable with actions than words, had found her way of saying "stay".

A small smile forms on your lips at the memory as you close the closet.  Gathering the towels, you head towards the sound of running water.

You settle onto the stool beside the bathtub, watching Sevika relax in the warm, soapy water. Her broad shoulders peek out from the bubbles, her head tilted back slightly as she rests, eyes half-closed in contentment. The sight of her—this tough, unbreakable woman— soaking in the bath like she has nowhere else to be, makes you giggle.

"You look adorable."

Sevika cracks one eye open, giving you a playful glare that’s nowhere near as intimidating as she probably hopes it’ll be. "I’m not adorable," she grumbles.

You reach for a washcloth, gently running it over her back. Your fingers work out the knots in her muscles, and you feel her relax under your touch. The bathroom is quiet except for the soft lapping of water and Sevika's contented sighs.

"Don't get me wet, Sev," you warn as she shifts in the tub.

“I thought I always did,” she shoots back with a sly grin, and before you can react, she splashes a handful of water at you.

The warm water hits you square in the chest, soaking your shirt. You let out a small gasp, and Sevika just laughs, clearly pleased with herself.  

“Now I’ve got no choice but to join you, huh?” you say, feigning annoyance as you peel off your damp clothes.

Sevika's arms wrap around you as you settle between her legs, your back pressed against her chest. "No funny business," you remind her. "We've got dinner later."

She groans, burying her face in your neck. "Do we have to do that?"

You intertwine your fingers with hers, squeezing gently. "Yes, we all need it. Even you, Miss Grumpy."

Sevika huffs, but doesn't argue further. It's rare to see her act so petulant, and you can't help but find it endearing. You lean back further into her embrace, savoring the warmth of her skin against yours.

A chuckle escapes you as a memory surfaces.

"What's so funny?" Sevika murmurs against your ear.

"I'm thinking about us," you reply, still grinning. "Remember the first time you came to family dinner?"

Sevika groans again, this time in embarrassment. That first dinner had been spectacularly awkward. Sevika, sitting at Vander’s table, towering over everyone, her presence so imposing that no one knew how to break the ice. You could feel the discomfort radiating from the others as they tried and failed to strike up conversation. Sevika, never much of a talker herself, hadn’t made it any easier. 

"I thought Caitlyn was going to have an aneurysm trying to make conversation," you laugh.

"She kept asking about the weather," Sevika recalls. "As if we don't all live in the same damn place."

“But my family loves you now.”

Sevika raises an eyebrow. “They’re still nervous around me though.”

“True,” you admit, chuckling. “But now they know you’re not going to kill them if they say the wrong thing. Well, most of them know that, anyway.”

”I like to keep them on their toes.” Sevika smirks, her lips brushing against your neck. “Can’t let them forget who I am.”

You turn in her arms, facing her now. "I don’t think they would be as afraid if they saw you in a bubble bath right now."

She narrows her eyes at you. "I’m still scary."

"Is that so?" you challenge, your faces inches apart. 

Instead of answering, Sevika closes the distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss. You sigh into it, brushing a damp strand of hair behind her ear.

You're nestled against Sevika, the warm water lulling you into a peaceful state when a sharp knock shatters the moment. 

"Who the hell..." She's about to call out, likely with some choice words, when a familiar voice filters through the door.

"Sevika? You in there?"

It's Ran. Sevika's expression immediately hardens. 

She gives you an apologetic look as she carefully extracts herself from the tub, wrapping a towel around her body.  You remain in the bath, straining to hear the muffled conversation. Snippets reach your ears—"Silco... needs to see you... scouts..." 

By the time you've dried off and dressed, Sevika is already changed, her face grim. She's heading for the door, and you follow.

Out on the streets, the usual bustle of Zaun seems subdued. Sevika turns to you, her eyes softening slightly.

"It's just a quick meeting," she assures you, though her tone lacks conviction. "I'll be back, okay?"

You look at her, worry evident in your gaze. She must see it because she adds, "Family dinner is still on. I promise."

You watch Sevika disappear down the street, her words echoing in your mind. Despite her assurances, you can't shake the feeling of unease that settles in your chest. Instead of heading home, your feet carry you to a familiar path.

The old target practice area comes into view, untouched since Grayson's passing. The targets are weathered now, the paint faded and peeling. You moved the practice area after... after everything, but this place still holds a piece of history you can’t forget.

You settle onto the worn bench, you could almost hear Grayson's patient voice, the sound of gunfire. Now it's quiet, a ghost of what it used to be.

Lost in thought, you barely notice the approaching footsteps until a shadow falls across you.

"Quite the view from up here, isn't it?"

A man’s voice cuts through your reverie. You look up to see him, his usual sly smile in place. 

"Mind if I join you?"  He doesn't wait for an answer before settling onto the bench beside you.

“What do you want, Finn?” you ask, your guard instantly up.

“Just wanted a place to admire Zaun,” he replies. "It’s getting a bit crowded down there.”

You remain silent, wary of engaging. Instead, you’re both gazing out over Zaun—The community sprawls below, a patchwork of light and shadow.

"You know," Finn begins, his voice casual, "I used to come up here sometimes, watch Grayson train the new recruits. She had a way about her, didn't she? A real vision for what Zaun could be."

You nod, unsure where he's going with this.

Finn continues, his tone thoughtful. "Things have changed a lot since then. More people, less space. Resources getting tighter." He glances at you sideways. "Makes you wonder what Grayson would think of it all."

There's something in his voice that puts you on edge, a subtle challenge. You choose your words carefully. "Grayson always believed in Zaun's potential."

"Ah, but potential for what?" Finn leans in conspiratorially. "It looks like things are starting to fray at the edges. People are getting restless, hungry. And when that happens… well, who knows what might come next?" 

You feel a surge of anger, but you keep it in check, refusing to let him get under your skin. “Zaun’s strong,” you say firmly. “So if you’re trying to stir up trouble, you can take it somewhere else.”

Finn holds up his hands in a placating gesture. "Of course, of course. I'm just thinking about the future, you know? But hey, I'm sure Silco's got it all figured out."

Finn stands, brushing off his pants. "Give my regards to Sevika," he says lightly. 

"Tell her... we're all counting on her to keep us safe."

⁺˚⋆｡°✩

You and Sevika walk side by side through the bustling streets of Zaun, the rice pudding cradled carefully in Sevika’s arms. As you approach the door, you can already hear the sounds of laughter and chatter from inside. Before you can even step over the threshold, a blur of blue barrels into view. 

Just as Powder rounds the corner, she nearly collides with you, her eyes wide as she skids to a halt. “Oops, sorry!” she exclaims, a sheepish grin spreading across her face as she steadies herself. “Sorry, double for last time,” she adds with a knowing look.

It had been a few weeks ago, when Sevika was trying to grow out her hair, a fact she was oddly self-conscious about. You guys were standing in the courtyard, watching as Powder excitedly showed off her new contraption, a slime trap shooter she cobbled together from spare parts. 

The demonstration started off well enough, but suddenly a glob of viscous slime shot out wildly, landing with a wet splat right in Sevika's hair.

Powder's enthusiasm instantly turned into fear as she realized what she's done.The look on Sevika’s face had been priceless—a mix of surprise and horror as she reached up to touch the mess clinging to her hair.

“I’m gonna kill that kid,” Sevika grumbled, her voice low and menacing.  “My hair looks like shit.”

You’d barely managed to suppress your laughter when it first happened, but now in Vander’s bathroom you couldn’t hide your amusement. 

“So, that’s a no on having kids, then?” you joked as you reached for a pair of scissors to help trim the slime-covered strands.

Sevika had turned to look at you, her expression one of shock and something else—something deeper that neither of you had wanted to confront. It was just a small joke, but it carried the weight of a conversation you hadn’t yet had, and might never have. Sometimes,  you couldn’t avoid the fact that this was it for you two.

But you quickly brushed it aside, focusing on the task at hand. As you carefully trimmed the damaged hair, you leaned in close, whispering in Sevika’s ear, “You’re sexy already. No amount of slime will change that.”  

That had earned you a reluctant smile from her in that moment.

"No harm done.”  You tell Powder, inconspicuously kicking Sevika’s feet to agree.

“Yeah.” She grunts, and you hold in a snicker at the obvious grudge she held. 

As you enter the kitchen, you're greeted by the sight of Vander attempting to wrangle a massive pot of stew.  

“There you two are,” Vander says, looking up from his cooking. “Thought you might’ve gotten lost on the way here.”

“Not a chance,” Sevika replies, setting the rice pudding down on the counter with a grin. “This one would never forgive me if I missed dinner.”

“Damn right,” you reply. “You need any help, Vander?”

“Nah, we’re about done here,” Vander says, wiping his hands on a towel. “Just need to get everything into the living room. You know how these animals are when they’re hungry.”

You laugh, grabbing a tray of bread rolls while Sevika grabs a platter of roasted vegetables.  She follows you out into the living room, where the rest of the group is already making themselves comfortable. Ekko is lounging on the floor, watching Powder and Ren as they buzz around him. Caitlyn and Vi are chatting quietly in one corner, Vi’s arm casually draped over the back of Caitlyn’s chair.

“Hey you two,” you greet, setting the tray down on a table near the center of the room. “Food’s here.”

Vi reaches for a roll, and Caitlyn swats her hand. "Wait for everyone, you brute," she says affectionately.

"Come on, cupcake, I'm starving!" Vi whines dramatically.

Soon, everyone settles in various spots around the room, grabbing plates and piling on food. Vander passes around mugs of ale, the rich, amber liquid sloshing slightly as he hands it to the adults. 

Sevika sits down beside you on the floor, her back against the couch, and you hand her a plate, watching as she loads it up with a bit of everything. Powder's regaling everyone with a tale of her latest explosive experiment, complete with dramatic reenactments.

"You guys won't believe what I made today!" She exclaims, barely touching her food as she launches into her story. "So I took some wires from that old TV we found, and I connected them to a car battery. Then I rigged up this pressure plate..."

"And then - BOOM!" she exclaims, throwing her arms wide and nearly knocking over Ekko's plate.

"Watch it, Pow," Ekko grumbles, but there's no real annoyance in his voice.

The two of you eat in comfortable silence for a while, the sounds of laughter and conversation filling the room around you.  As the meal winds down, Powder's eyes light up with a new idea. She bounds over to you and Sevika.

"Hey, hey! You guys wanna play Nerf guns with us?" she asks, her eyes wide and pleading.

Sevika raises an eyebrow. 

"I modified them. They shoot further now, and I added a cool light-up feature, and-"

"Modified?" Sevika interrupts, looking slightly alarmed, she was already thinking about the last mishap with Powder’s “modifications”.

You laugh at the expression on Sevika's face, she couldn’t hide the suspicion and concern written all over it. "Come on, Sev," you nudge. "Could be fun."

Powder's practically bouncing now. "Please? Pretty please? I promise there’s no slime this time!"

Sevika sighs. "Fine." she concedes.

"Yes!" Powder cheers. "You won't regret it!"

Powder herds you, Sevika, Ekko, and Ren onto the couch, squishing you all together as she stands before you, eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Alright, listen up!” Powder announces, pulling out a set of nerf guns. The colorful plastic weapons are covered in stickers and doodles, clearly customized to her liking. She hands one to each of you.

Sevika takes hers with a skeptical look, turning it over in her hands. “You can’t shoot shit with this,” she mutters, the derision clear in her voice.

“Oh, yeah?” Powder smirks, clearly prepared for this. She whirls around, aims at a water bottle perched on the windowsill, and fires. The nerf dart flies across the room and smacks the bottle dead center, sending it tumbling to the floor with a satisfying thud.

Sevika raises an eyebrow, impressed despite herself. 

“Now that we’ve established these aren’t toys for babies,” Powder continues, pacing in front of the couch. “here’s the game: upstairs, there’s a crown stashed somewhere by Vi.  The goal is to retrieve the crown and bring it to Vander downstairs. Upstairs is a no-shoot zone, but downstairs, if you’re hit with a dart, you’re out.”

She claps her hands together, clearly relishing her role as the game master. "Now, we need to split into teams," Powder continues. "Sevika and Ekko, you're one team. And-"

You all glance at Ren, the youngest of the group at just eight years old. There's a moment of awkward silence as everyone tries to figure out how to handle this diplomatically.

"You should take her," you say sweetly. 

Sevika’s eyes narrow playfully, already sensing where this is going. “The kid likes you more."  Despite being dubious of the game at first, you could tell Sevika’s competitiveness was taking over.

“I thought this was just a kids’ game?” you tease, leaning in slightly with a raised eyebrow.

Sevika gives you a sheepish look, clearly caught between her competitive streak and her soft spot for Ren. 

Feeling a bit guilty, you suggest, "Why don't we let Ren pick?"

Ren beams up at both of you, clearly delighted to have the choice. "I wanna be on your team!" she exclaims, pointing at you and Powder.

“You’re gonna be our secret weapon,” you whisper, wrapping an arm around Ren’s shoulders.

“Alright then,” Ekko chimes in, finally managing to free himself from the couch. “Let’s do this.”

Everyone grabs their nerf guns and heads outside. You can't help but chuckle at the sight of Sevika, usually so intimidating, clutching a bright orange plastic gun with a determined look on her face.

"Alright, teams start at opposite ends of the house," Powder instructs. "When I give the signal, the hunt begins!"

You crouch behind a bush with Powder and Ren, all of you trying (and failing) to look serious with your toy weapons.

"Ready?" Powder calls out. "Set... GO!"

And with that, you all come barreling into the house. Powder darts ahead, her movements quick and erratic. You follow, trying to keep an eye on Ren while scanning for potential ambush spots.

As you round a corner, you come face to face with Sevika. For a moment, you both freeze, nerf guns pointed at each other. 

"Sorry, babe," you say, not sorry at all as you pull the trigger.

But Sevika's reflexes are faster. She ducks, the foam dart whizzing over her head, and returns fire. You barely dodge, and you take the moment to sneak onto the stairs.

Upstairs, you quickly begin your search, darting in and out of rooms, peeking under beds and behind curtains for any sign of the hidden crown.  Ren’s small size gives her an advantage as she slips into tight spots that you and Powder can’t quite reach.

But despite your efforts, it was nowhere to be found. "How?" you mutter, bewildered.

Powder's eyes narrow, scanning the area. "Ekko," she hisses, pointing to an open window. "He must've climbed up from outside!"

Quickly, you formulate a plan. Ren is dispatched to keep watch with Vander, ensuring Ekko can't make a sneaky victory while you and Powder hunt down Sevika and Ekko.

With that, you guys head back downstairs, moving quietly as you scan the house for any signs of the other team. As you move through the house, you and Powder eventually decide to split up, hoping to cover more ground. 

It doesn’t take long before you spot Sevika, her broad frame moving stealthily through the hallway. She hasn’t seen you yet, and you quickly close the distance, pressing yourself against the wall to remain hidden. When she finally turns the corner, you’re right there, catching her off guard.

“Drop the gun,” you command, your voice low and teasing as you pin her against the wall, your body pressing into hers. Sevika’s eyes widen in surprise, her hands instinctively going up in mock surrender, though there’s a glint of amusement in her gaze.

“And what if I don’t?” she murmurs, her lips quirking into a playful smile.

“Then I’ll have to make you,” you reply, your tone equally flirtatious as you lean in closer, the game momentarily forgotten.

"Ewww, get a room!" Ekko's voice breaks the spell. You spin around to find Ekko aiming at you, the crown tucked under his arm. 

But before you can react, Powder emerges from a doorway behind Ekko, her nerf gun raised and ready. Without missing a beat, she fires a dart that hits Ekko square in the back. “Gotcha!” she shouts triumphantly.

Ekko’s eyes widen in shock as he instinctively drops the crown, clutching his back where the dart hit. “Hey, what the fuck, Powder?!” he exclaims, his tone incredulous.

“Language, Ekko!” Vander’s voice booms from the kitchen, echoing through the house.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Sevika quickly knocks the nerf gun out of your hand. But before she can fully capitalize on her victory, you kick the crown down the hallway, sending it skittering toward the kitchen.

“Move kid!” Sevika barks as she grabs Ekko by the arm, dragging him behind a couch. Ekko, still nursing his mock wound, yells out dramatically, “Man down! Man down!”

There's a moment of tense silence, then Ekko's voice pipes up again. "I'm getting healed by a health kit!"

“What the hell?” Powder says with a look of utter disbelief. “There’s no health kit in this game!”

"Yeah, 'cause I took it!" Ekko retorts, popping up from behind the couch and unleashing a barrage of foam darts.

The living room erupts into chaos. You dive behind an armchair, Powder taking cover behind another couch. Foam darts fly in every direction, peppering the air with colorful streaks.

You peek out, catching Sevika's eye across the room. She winks at you before ducking to avoid a well-aimed shot from Powder. 

"Cover me!" you shout to Powder, making a dash for the hallway where the crown disappeared.

Ekko leaps over the couch, trying to intercept you. "Oh no, you don't!" he yells, unleashing a volley of darts in your direction.

You slide across the hardwood floor, narrowly avoiding his attack. Sevika provides covering fire for Ekko, keeping Powder pinned down.

As you scramble to your feet at the kitchen entrance, ready to grab the crown and make a triumphant dash to Vander, you freeze. The crown is gone.

A throat clears behind you. You turn to see Vander, sitting calmly at the kitchen table. Beside him stands Ren, a victorious grin on her face and the crown placed neatly on Vander's head.

The chaos in the living room dies down as everyone realizes what's happened. Ren's giggles fill the sudden silence.

"I believe," Vander says, his eyes twinkling with amusement, "that we have a winner."

For a moment, you're all too stunned to speak. Then Powder bursts out laughing, followed quickly by Ekko. Soon, you're all in stitches, the absurdity of the situation hitting you all at once.

As you catch your breath, you feel Sevika's arm wrap around your waist. "Can’t believe we were outsmarted by an eight-year-old," she murmurs in your ear.

You lean into her, watching as Vander lifts Ren onto his shoulders, parading her around the kitchen as the victor. Ekko and Powder are already arguing about a rematch and new teammates for next time.

As the excitement of the game winds down, Vander glances at the clock. "It's getting late." 

You nod in agreement, glancing over at Ren. “Do you want to stay at Powder’s or with us tonight?” 

Ren's eyes light up. "Stay with Powder!" she exclaims without hesitation.

Before you can even respond, Powder and Ekko are already shepherding Ren up the stairs, their voices a jumble of excited plans for a sleepover.

Caitlyn and Vi exchange a knowing look. "Ooh, you two are finally getting some alone time," Vi teases with a wink.

You feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment, but Sevika seems unfazed. 

"So, how are those new recruits doing on the walls? Getting the hang of things?"  You ask, trying to get the attention off you.

Caitlyn's face does a complicated dance between diplomacy and honesty. "Well, they're... enthusiastic." 

Vi snorts, unable to contain herself. "Come on, cupcake. Tell 'em the truth."

Caitlyn's facade cracks. "Alright, fine. Their aim is absolutely atrocious. I've never seen so many missed targets in my life. We had one recruit who managed to shoot his own hat off."

You all burst out laughing, the mental image too ridiculous to resist.

Vander shakes his head. "Everyday I’m thankful that’s not me, I'm getting too old for that kind of headache."

Sevika raises an eyebrow at him. "Not too old to keep experimenting with your homebrews though, are you?"

You all laugh at that. It's true - besides overseeing the community's agriculture, Vander's taken to crafting various meads and ales in his spare time.

"I'll have you know that my brewing skills only improve with age, unlike my patience," Vander puffs up his chest in mock indignation.  “And I'm taking back the ale from tonight, can't have you lot disparaging my other talents.”

Vi grins. "C'mon, Vander. You know the community needs that alcohol. How else are we supposed to cope with Powder's 'experiments'?"

This sets off another round of laughter, but your conversation is suddenly interrupted when Ren comes downstairs, looking shy and hesitant. 

"What's wrong, sweetie?" 

Sevika seems to understand before you do, her voice softening as she reaches out to Ren. “Come on, kid. Let’s get you tucked in.”

The three of you make your way upstairs, the house now quiet as the night settles in. Ren leads you to the bedroom she’s sharing with Powder and Ekko. 

Sevika moves to the bed, pulling back the covers and helping Ren climb in. Ren looks up at you both, her eyes wide and a little sad, as Sevika tucks the blankets around her snugly. “Can you get it?” Ren asks quietly.

You follow her gaze to the small play tent in the corner of the room, where she likes to spend her time during the day. You walk over, crouching down to peer inside, and that’s when you see it—peeking out from under a pile of toys. Your breath hitches as you recognize it instantly: Grayson’s yellow armband.

You carefully pull it out, the fabric worn but still vibrant, and bring it over to Ren. She takes it from you, her small hands wrapping around the band as if it’s the most precious thing in the world. “I miss her,” she whispers.

Your heart breaks at the sight of her holding onto that small piece of Grayson. You kneel beside the bed, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “I know, honey,” you say softly. “We all miss her. But she’s always with us, in here.” You gently place a hand over Ren’s heart, offering her a comforting smile.

Ren nods and she clutches the armband tightly, her grip strong for someone so small. Sevika’s expression is unreadable, a mix of emotions flashing across her face as she watches the scene unfold. 

After a few moments, Ren’s eyelids start to droop, exhaustion finally taking over. You lean down, pressing a gentle kiss to Ren’s forehead. “Goodnight sweetie,” you whisper.

You and Sevika quietly bid Ekko and Powder goodnight as well, sharing a few last words before heading back downstairs. The house is much quieter now, the energy from earlier having dissipated into a peaceful calm. You say your goodbyes to Vander, Caitlyn, and Vi, thanking them for the evening.

As you step out into the cool night air, the streets of Zaun are mostly quiet. Sevika’s hand finds yours, her grip warm and comforting. “You okay?” she asks.

You nod, though your mind is still on Ren and the armband. “Yeah,” you say softly, squeezing her hand. “It’s just… it’s hard sometimes, you know? Seeing how much she misses Grayson.”

Sevika doesn’t respond right away, but you feel her thumb brushing gently over your knuckles, a silent gesture of understanding. “She’s a tough kid,” she finally says.  “She’s more resilient than we think.”

You wordlessly agree, falling into a comfortable silence as you guys listen to the hum of the surrounding houses and your footsteps on the pavement.  For a while, neither of you speak, simply enjoying the quiet together.

You find yourself stealing glances at Sevika, admiring her profile in the dim light. She catches you looking and raises an eyebrow, a small smirk playing at the corner of her lips. You playfully bump your shoulder against hers, and she returns the gesture, a bit harder.

You smile, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as you bump her again, just to see what she’ll do.

Sevika doesn’t say anything, but you can see the corner of her mouth twitching upward, that almost-smile that she gets when she’s trying to keep her cool but failing just a bit. She bumps you back, a little more firmly this time, and you laugh, the sound light and carefree in the stillness of the night.

You nudge her again, and this time, she stops walking altogether. Before you can react, she grabs your hand, pulling you toward her with a gentle but firm tug. The sudden movement catches you off guard, and you stumble slightly, your hands instinctively reaching out to steady yourself.

But Sevika’s already there, her strong arms wrapping around you, holding you close. There’s a brief moment where you just look at each other, the playful teasing of earlier fading into something softer, more intimate. The distance between you disappears, and you feel the warmth of her body against yours, the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathes.

She doesn’t say anything—doesn’t need to. The look in her eyes, the way she’s holding you, it says it all. 

Without a word, she leans down, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss. It’s sweet and gentle, and it fills you with a warmth that spreads through your chest, making you feel like you could stay here forever, wrapped up in this simple, perfect moment.

You melt into the kiss, your hand sliding from her shoulder to the nape of her neck. 

When she finally pulls back, it’s only by a fraction, her forehead resting against yours as she breathes out a soft sigh. You can't resist leaning in to place another quick kiss on her lips, delighting in the way it makes her smile.  

"What was that for?" you ask softly, not that you're complaining.

"Do I need a reason?" she asks, her voice husky but tender.

You shake your head, smiling. "Definitely not. Feel free to do that anytime."

She chuckles softly, pulling you close as you resume your walk home. Her arm wraps securely around your waist, and you lean into her, feeling safe and cherished.

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@levilvrr @theacedragon0w0

[mononijikayu]

die with a smile — geto suguru.

As you were washing up after dinner, Suguru spoke, his voice hesitant. "You know, I never thought I’d let anyone into this place. It was supposed to be… just for me." You looked at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his tone. "What changed?" He didn’t answer right away, drying the dishes in silence before finally turning to you. "I guess… I got tired of being alone." There was a raw honesty in his words that made your heart ache. "I know the feeling too well, I suppose." you admitted, your voice soft. "I didn’t realize how much I needed this—needed someone—until I found you."

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!;

WARNING/S: nsfw, fluff, angst, romance, hurt/ comfort, post - apocalyptic world (zombie take over), isolation, hurt, physical touch, illness, loneliness, sadness, pain, pining, getting together, unhappy ending, character death, depictions of apocalyptic world, depiction of mourning, depiction of isolation, depiction of apprehension, depiction of romance, depiction of illness, depiction of chracter death, depiction of taking one's own life, mention of apocalytic world, mention of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of loneliness, mention of pining, mention of character death, mention of taking one's own life.;

WORD COUNT: 7.5k words

NOTE: i wrote this a long long time ago, but i feel like now it's seeing the light of day and im just excited for you to read it. i'll be working on plans for my first ever kinktober and other ideas i have in between. i hope that you're always well and that you enjoy this!!! love you <3

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if you want to, tip!

┌────── ∘°❉°∘ ──────┐

IT WAS SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST NOW. The world had become a wasteland, overrun by the dead. Every day was a fight for survival, every night a battle against the darkness that crept into the mind as much as the world around.

You had been on the move for what felt like an eternity, traveling alone, scavenging for food, and fighting off the relentless hordes that had once been people. You had become a ghost in your own skin, haunted by memories of a time when the world was alive.

It was by chance that you stumbled upon the compound—a fortress of steel and stone, hidden deep within the woods, far from the crumbling cities and the walking dead. Exhausted and on the verge of collapse, you approached cautiously, knowing that desperation made even the living dangerous. The compound's walls were tall and unyielding, and it seemed impossible to breach. But desperation drives people to do reckless things, and you need safety, if only for a moment.

You had barely stepped into the clearing when you heard the unmistakable click of a rifle being cocked. You froze, heart pounding, every muscle tensing as you slowly raised your hands in surrender.

"Don’t move." The voice was low, firm, and edged with the kind of cold precision that came from years of surviving on instinct alone. You turned your head slightly, just enough to see him—a tall figure, half-hidden in the shadows of the trees, with a rifle trained directly on you. His eyes, dark and unreadable, never wavered as he took you in, calculating, deciding.

"I’m not here to cause trouble." you managed, keeping your voice steady despite the fear tightening your throat.

"That’s what they all say." His words were clipped, distrust lacing every syllable. He took a step closer, still keeping the rifle leveled at your head. "Turn around, slowly."

You did as he ordered, moving slowly, deliberately, until you were facing him fully. He was closer now, close enough that you could see the weariness etched into his features, the hardened lines of someone who had seen too much, lost too much. But there was something else, too—something in his eyes, a flicker of recognition, as if he saw a reflection of himself in you.

"How long have you been out here?" he asked, his voice rougher now, less controlled.

"Long enough." you replied, your gaze locked with his. "Long enough to know when I’ve met someone who’s been through the same hell."

He frowned, his grip on the rifle tightening as he studied you, weighing your words against the danger you might pose. But then, slowly, the suspicion in his eyes gave way to something softer, something that looked almost like… understanding.

"What’s your name?" he asked, the question coming out more gently than you expected.

You hesitated for a moment before answering. "Does it matter?"

"It does if you want to live." His tone was blunt, but there was a trace of something more behind it—a quiet offer, a tentative step toward trust.

You swallowed the weight of the past weeks, months, pressing down on you. "I’m just trying to survive."

He nodded, a slight, almost imperceptible motion. "So am I." He let out a slow breath, lowering the rifle slightly but not entirely. "Suguru. Geto Suguru."

You didn’t dare move, watching him carefully as he took another step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "You’re lucky I found you before the dead did."

"Maybe." you said, your voice barely more than a whisper. "Or maybe you’re the lucky one."

He raised an eyebrow, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "We’ll see about that." Then, after a long pause, he sighed, finally lowering the rifle completely. "Come with me. But if you try anything, I won’t hesitate."

You nodded, relief washing over you despite the lingering tension. "I won’t."

As he turned and motioned for you to follow, you could sense the caution in every step he took, the way he moved with the fluid grace of someone always prepared for the worst. And yet, there was something else—a strange comfort in the fact that, for the first time in a long while, you weren’t alone.

He took you in, but it was clear that trust was not something he gave easily. The compound was his sanctuary, built with his own hands, and he guarded it with an intensity that bordered on obsession. The first few days were tense; you were wary of each other, moving around each other like predators unsure of whether to fight or flee. He was quiet, watchful, and kept his emotions locked away behind a wall of suspicion.

But you were no stranger to walls, and slowly, brick by brick, the two of you began to dismantle them. It started with the small things—shared meals, the exchange of supplies, moments of silence that were less about fear and more about understanding. You discovered that beneath his tough exterior, Suguru had a passion for music. In the evenings, when the world outside grew too dark to bear, he would pull out an old guitar, his fingers strumming out melodies that spoke of a time before the end.

You, too, had your own love for music, and in those quiet moments, the two of you found a connection. The songs you shared became a language of their own, one that spoke of loss, hope, and the fragile bond forming between you. Music was your refuge, a reminder that there was still beauty in the world, even if it was buried beneath layers of fear and grief.

The days began to blur together, a steady rhythm of routine and survival. Each morning, you would wake to the faint light filtering through the thick curtains of the compound, the sounds of the outside world muffled by the walls that separated you from the chaos beyond. The danger was always there, lurking just beyond the gates, but within the safety of Suguru’s compound, life had found a different pace.

At first, your interactions with Suguru were brief and cautious, a necessary coexistence born out of mutual need. But as the days turned into weeks, the initial wariness between you began to fade, replaced by a tentative friendship. The man who had once held a gun to your head now greeted you each morning with a nod and a hint of a smile, a gesture that brought a surprising warmth to your otherwise cold and uncertain world. His presence, once a source of tension, had become something you looked forward to, a strange sense of peace in the midst of madness.

One of the few luxuries you both shared was a love of food—a small pleasure in a world where every meal had become a fight against starvation. In this new reality, the art of cooking had taken on a different meaning. It was no longer about indulging in flavors or crafting elaborate dishes, but rather about survival, about making the most of what little you could find. And yet, even in this, there was comfort.

Together, you would scour the surrounding areas for supplies, salvaging whatever you could from the abandoned homes and overgrown gardens. It was a slow, careful process—one wrong move could attract unwanted attention, and resources were scarce. But the shared task brought a sense of camaraderie, a quiet understanding that neither of you had to face this alone.

In the evenings, when the world outside grew dark and foreboding, you would gather in the small kitchen, working together to prepare your meals. The ingredients were humble—canned goods, dried beans, the occasional fresh vegetable from a patch of land Suguru had managed to cultivate—but it didn’t matter. The act of cooking became a ritual, something that grounded you both, reminding you that life was more than just surviving day to day. 

Suguru was surprisingly skilled in the kitchen, his movements efficient and precise as he chopped vegetables or stirred a pot over the fire. He had a way of turning the simplest ingredients into something comforting, something that made the compound feel more like a home. You would watch him sometimes, marveling at the way he found solace in such a small task, and slowly, you began to join him, contributing your own skills to the process.

"How did you learn to cook like this?" you asked one evening as you worked side by side, your hands busy preparing a stew from the last of the potatoes you had found.

Suguru glanced at you, a small smile playing on his lips. "Necessity, mostly. My parents weren’t around much, so I had to fend for myself. Turns out, I’m pretty good at making something out of nothing."

You nodded, stirring the pot as the aroma of the stew began to fill the room. "It’s a useful skill, especially now."

"Yeah, I suppose." he agreed, his tone softer now. "It’s one of the few things that still feels normal."

The meals you shared became more than just a way to stave off hunger—they were moments of connection, brief respites from the harshness of the world outside. As you ate together, you found yourselves talking more, sharing stories of the lives you had left behind, the people you had lost, and the hopes you still held on to, however fragile they might be. These conversations, once stilted and brief, grew longer, more personal, as the walls between you crumbled bit by bit.

Each meal was a small victory, a reminder that despite everything, you were still alive, still human. The warmth of the food, the sound of your voices filling the silence, and the flicker of the firelight against the walls—all of it made the world outside seem a little less bleak. And in those moments, you realized that within the confines of the compound, you had found something precious: a sense of normalcy, a connection with another person that transcended the mere act of survival.

One evening, as the sun dipped low in the sky, you both sat by the fire in the small living area. Suguru was strumming his guitar, the soft melody filling the space between you. The sound of the music was soothing, a rare comfort in the chaos that surrounded you. You found yourself watching him, the way his fingers moved deftly over the strings, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Where’d you learn to play like that?" you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Suguru glanced up, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Picked it up a long time ago. It helped… before all this." He gestured vaguely to the world outside, the unspoken horrors hanging heavy in the air.

You nodded, understanding what he meant without needing more words. "I used to play too, back when things were different." The memories were bittersweet, but they didn’t hurt as much as they used to, not here, not with him.

Suguru looked at you with a hint of curiosity. "What did you play?"

"Mostly piano. But I messed around with the guitar a bit too." You shrugged, trying to sound casual, but there was a lingering sadness in your voice that you couldn’t quite hide.

"Maybe you should give it a try again." he said, holding out the guitar to you.

You hesitated, your fingers itching to touch the instrument but also afraid of what it might bring up. Suguru noticed your hesitation and added softly. "It’s okay if you don’t want to. I just thought… maybe it would help."

His words, spoken with such gentle understanding, made something inside you soften. You took the guitar from him, your fingers awkwardly finding the chords, the muscle memory slowly returning. The notes came out shaky at first, but as you continued, the music began to flow more naturally, filling the space with a warmth you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Suguru watched you, his expression unreadable but his eyes soft. "You’re good." he said quietly, and for a moment, the world outside seemed distant and unreal, like a bad dream you could wake up from.

You smiled, a real, genuine smile that felt strange on your face after so long. "Thanks. It’s been a while."

He nodded, leaning back against the wall, his gaze still on you. "It’s nice, having someone to share this with." His voice was low, almost as if he was speaking more to himself than to you.

You met his eyes, something unspoken passing between you. "Yeah, it is."

With each passing day, the bond between you and Suguru grew stronger, weaving a tapestry of shared moments and growing intimacy. The days, once filled with routine and duty, now held a deeper meaning. You found yourself eagerly anticipating his presence, whether it was during the long, often monotonous hours patrolling the perimeter or in the quieter, more serene moments spent together in the kitchen.

During these patrols, the silence between you was no longer uncomfortable but rather a comfortable companion. You’d exchange glances and smiles, the unspoken understanding adding warmth to the cool, night air. These simple interactions became a cherished part of your day, a reminder that even in a world fraught with danger and uncertainty, there were small, precious joys to be found.

Cooking together was a ritual that both of you cherished. Every meal you prepared was more than just sustenance; it was a shared experience, a small victory over the harsh realities of the world outside. Suguru, with his surprisingly deft culinary skills, brought an element of surprise and delight to these moments. His laughter would fill the kitchen, mingling with the aroma of whatever you were preparing, creating an atmosphere of warmth and camaraderie.

These cooking sessions were more than just about the food. They were about the small, tender moments that punctuated your days—Suguru's playful teasing as you fumbled with ingredients, the quiet, shared satisfaction of a well-made meal, and the deep conversations that flowed as easily as the spices you mixed. Each meal was a testament to the connection you were nurturing, a symbol of your growing closeness.

In these shared moments, whether in the midst of patrols or while cooking, you found solace and joy. The simple act of preparing food together became a grounding ritual, reminding you both of the warmth and safety you had found in each other’s company. Through the laughter, the shared tasks, and the quiet companionship, your relationship deepened, finding strength in the everyday moments that brought you closer together.

As you were washing up after dinner, Suguru spoke, his voice hesitant. "You know, I never thought I’d let anyone into this place. It was supposed to be… just for me."

You looked at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his tone. "What changed?"

He didn’t answer right away, drying the dishes in silence before finally turning to you. "I guess… I got tired of being alone."

There was a raw honesty in his words that made your heart ache. "I know the feeling too well, I suppose." you admitted, your voice soft. "I didn’t realize how much I needed this—needed someone—until I found you."

He stepped closer, the distance between you shrinking until you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. "We’ve both lost so much, you know?" he said quietly. "But maybe… maybe we can find something here. Something worth holding on to."

You looked up at him, your breath catching as you saw the way he was looking at you—like you were something precious, something worth protecting. "Suguru…" you began, but the words caught in your throat, the intensity of the moment overwhelming.

He reached out, his hand gently brushing against your cheek, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "You don’t have to say anything." he whispered, his voice filled with a tenderness that took you by surprise. "Just… stay with me."

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes as the world outside seemed to fade away. "I’m not going anywhere, Suguru." you promised, your voice barely more than a whisper.

And in that moment, as Suguru’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, you knew that despite everything you had lost, you had found something here—something real, something worth fighting for. The world outside was still a nightmare, but in his embrace, you felt safe. You felt… home.

The fire crackled softly and the scent of a simple stew filled the air, you sat together in the small kitchen. Suguru’s hand brushed against yours as he handed you a bowl, the brief contact sending a jolt through you. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. There was no fear, no death—only the warmth of his gaze, the unspoken understanding that had grown between you.

You reached out, your fingers gently grazing him, and this time, he didn’t pull away. The kiss that followed was soft, tentative, as if testing the waters of a new reality. It wasn’t born out of desperation or fear but something genuine, something that had been building between you since the day you met. In that moment, you realized that amidst the ruins of the world, you had found something worth fighting for—each other.

Suguru was still the survivalist, still cautious, still guarded. But with you, he was different. He let you in, allowed you to see the man behind the walls, the one who had survived not just the apocalypse, but the loneliness that came with it. And in return, you gave him the one thing he had lost faith in—hope.

In the silence of survival, you and Suguru found a new life, not just as survivors, but as something more. The world outside was still a nightmare, but within the walls of the compound, there was music, there was food, and there was love. And that was enough.

┌────── ∘°❉°∘ ──────┐

THE WORLD CHANGED IN A BLINK OF AN EYE. The years passed, and in the midst of the crumbling world, you and Suguru had found a fragile but undeniable happiness together.

Despite the constant fight for survival, the fear, and the uncertainty, you had managed to carve out a life within the walls of his compound—a life filled with small moments of peace, warmth, and a deep bond that had grown stronger with each passing day.

The two of you had become each other's anchor, weathering the storms of the world outside and the storms within yourselves. There were still fights, of course—heated arguments born out of the stress and the pain that never quite left—but they always ended the same way: with apologies, with understanding, with the reassurance that no matter how much the world tried to tear you apart, you would find your way back to each other.

You wanted to stay together, no matter what. The future was uncertain, but you had each other, and that was enough.

Or at least, it had been. Until the day you found out.

The sickness began as a dull ache, a persistent discomfort that you initially attributed to the everyday strains of fatigue or stress. You tried to dismiss it, telling yourself it was just a part of the routine hardships you faced. But the pain didn’t relent. Instead, it began to spread, a creeping malice that invaded your very bones, draining your energy and will.

As the days turned into weeks, the ache evolved into a relentless torment. Tasks that once seemed trivial became monumental efforts, and the weight of the pain became increasingly unbearable.

It was as if every step you took, every breath you drew, was a reminder of the encroaching shadow that threatened to envelop you. Eventually, the denial you clung to was no longer tenable. The truth, harsh and unyielding, crashed down upon you with the force of a relentless storm.

The diagnosis was a devastating blow—terminal, with no hope for a cure. It felt as if your world had crumbled, leaving you in a hollow space where hope once resided. The words of the doctor reverberated in your mind, each syllable a brutal reminder of your fate.

You struggled to process the enormity of what was unfolding before you, your mind overwhelmed by the realization that the future you had envisioned with Suguru was slipping through your grasp.

The dreams you had nurtured—of a shared life, of enduring together through the hardships of this cruel world—were now tainted by the bitter reality of your diagnosis. The vision of growing old side by side, of finding solace in each other amidst the chaos, seemed like nothing more than fragile, shattered illusions. The life you had carefully built, the hope you had cherished, were being torn away by a fate you could not escape.

Each day became a battle, not just against the encroaching illness but against the crushing weight of despair. The future that had once seemed so vibrant and full of promise now appeared as a distant, unreachable horizon. Your heart ached with the knowledge that the time you had left was no longer measured in hopes and dreams, but in the stark reality of counting down to an inevitable end.

In this bleak landscape, the love you had with Suguru became both a source of immense comfort and profound sorrow. It was a bittersweet reminder of what you were losing and what you still cherished.

And as you faced the unbearable truth, you clung to the moments of shared love and companionship, knowing that while the future was uncertain and fleeting, the bond you had forged with Suguru was a source of strength in your darkest hours.

Telling Suguru was the hardest thing you had ever done. When the moment came to share the news, you felt a heavy weight pressing on your chest. Each word felt like it was tearing apart the fragile fabric of hope that had been woven between you. You struggled to find the right words, but the gravity of the situation rendered you almost speechless. Finally, with a deep, shuddering breath, you uttered the truth.

As you spoke, you could see the light in Suguru's eyes dim, his once-vibrant gaze becoming clouded with an overwhelming sense of despair. It was as if your words were a heavy fog rolling in, obscuring the clarity and warmth that had once defined his expression. The impact was immediate and devastating. The hope and dreams you had shared seemed to drain from him, leaving a hollow, heart-wrenching emptiness in their wake.

Suguru’s reaction was one of stunned silence. He didn’t say anything at first. His gaze was fixed on you, but it was distant, almost as if he were looking through you rather than at you. His expression was frozen, a complex mix of disbelief, shock, and profound sadness. It was as though the words you had spoken were so unfathomable that he struggled to process their meaning, as if accepting them was too great a burden for his heart to bear.

The silence that followed was heavy, laden with unspoken words and emotions. You could see him grappling with the reality of what you had just revealed, his mind racing to comprehend the magnitude of your situation. The anguish etched on his face was a mirror to your own, reflecting the profound sense of loss and heartbreak that had suddenly become your shared reality.

"No." he finally whispered, his voice cracking. "No, this can’t be happening."

You reached out, your hand trembling as you took his, squeezing it tightly. "I’m so sorry, Suguru. I wish there was something we could do, but—"

"But there has to be." he interrupted, his grip on your hand tightening almost to the point of pain. "There has to be something. We’ve survived so much… we can find a way through this too."

You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. "I wish that were true. But this… this is different. There’s no fighting this."

He pulled you into his arms, holding you so tightly that it almost hurt, as if he could keep you with him through sheer force of will. His breath was ragged against your hair, and you felt the way his body trembled with the effort to hold back his tears.

"We were supposed to be together, baby." he choked out, his voice thick with grief. "We were supposed to make it."

"I know, I know." you whispered, your own tears spilling over. "I wanted that too. I still do. But…"

"But what?" he demanded, pulling back just enough to look at you, his eyes desperate. "We can’t just give up."

"I’m not giving up, Suguru." you said, your voice trembling with the effort to stay strong. "But we have to face the truth. This is happening, and we can’t stop it."

The devastation in his eyes was almost too much to bear, and you saw the way he struggled to keep himself together, to be strong for you even as his world fell apart. "What do we do now?" he asked, his voice small, almost childlike.

"We keep going." you said, trying to sound more certain than you felt. "We make the most of the time we have left. We keep fighting, but… we don’t fight each other. We spend every moment we can together, and we make them count."

He nodded, though the movement was slow, reluctant, as if he still couldn’t quite accept what you were saying. "I don’t want to lose you, baby." he whispered, his voice breaking. "I can’t lose you."

You cupped his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing away the tears that had started to fall. "You won’t lose me, Suguru. Not really. I’ll always be with you, even if… even if I’m not here."

His eyes squeezed shut, and he pulled you close again, his grip almost desperate. "I love you. I love you more than anything in this world." he whispered, the words heavy with all the emotion he had been holding back. "I love you so much."

"I love you too, my love. My Suguru." you replied, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you wanted to say but couldn’t find the words for. "I always will."

And so, in the midst of the overwhelming sorrow, you held each other, finding solace in the warmth of each other’s embrace. The world outside still raged on, but in that moment, you had each other, and that was all that mattered. You would face the darkness together, hand in hand, and whatever time you had left, you would make it count.

┌────── ∘°❉°∘ ──────┐

BY THE TIME SPRING CAME, EVERYTHING UNRAVELED. The sickness had steadily worsened, each day stealing more of your strength and vitality, chipping away at the life you had fought so hard to hold onto. The once-manageable discomfort had evolved into a constant, gnawing ache, a relentless companion that shadowed your every move.

The pain was unyielding, a dull throb that seemed to seep into every corner of your existence. Alongside it came a profound exhaustion, a weariness so deep it felt as if you were weighed down by a leaden blanket, sapping your energy and spirit.

As the days passed, you became acutely aware that your time was running out. The inevitable reality of your condition loomed ever closer, and the thought of leaving Suguru behind was almost unbearable.

The idea of him witnessing your slow decline, of watching you waste away, was a source of deep, unrelenting sorrow. It was a burden that neither of you should have to endure, and the thought of him bearing witness to such suffering made the situation all the more poignant.

One evening, as you sat together in the small, dimly lit living room, the fire crackling softly in the hearth provided a stark contrast to the heaviness of the moment. The flickering light danced across the room, casting warm, gentle shadows, but it did little to ease the weight of the decision that loomed over you. You glanced at Suguru, his presence both a source of comfort and a reminder of the pain you were about to inflict.

The warmth of the fire seemed to mock the cold reality you faced. Each crackle of the flames was a stark reminder of the life that was slipping away from you, a life that you had shared so intimately with Suguru. The room, once a sanctuary of shared joy and quiet moments, now felt suffused with a profound sadness. You could see the concern and love etched into Suguru’s face, and it made your heart ache even more.

You knew that making this decision was necessary, even though it would hurt him deeply. The thought of continuing in your current state—becoming a burden rather than a partner, an encumbrance rather than a companion—was untenable. The inevitable end was approaching, and you could no longer ignore the fact that your suffering was taking a toll on both of you.

As you faced Suguru, your heart felt like it was shattering with the weight of your decision. You had chosen to speak the truth, to acknowledge the unbearable reality of your situation. It was a choice made out of love and respect, even though it meant confronting the deep, painful truth of your own mortality and the heartache it would cause Suguru.

In those quiet moments by the fire, the decision was clear, but the pain of it was profound. The love you had for Suguru and the desire to protect him from further suffering guided your choice, even as it tore at your own heart. The warmth of the fire contrasted sharply with the chill of the reality you faced, a reminder of the fleeting nature of the life and love you both had cherished.

"Suguru, my love." you began, your voice weak but steady, "I need to ask you something."

He turned to you, concern etched in his features. "What is it? Do you need something? More water? Some painkillers?" He was always trying to do something, anything, to ease your suffering, even when there was little that could be done.

You shook your head, reaching out to take his hand. "No, it’s not that. It’s… I want you to help me end it. When the time comes, I don’t want to… I don’t want to linger."

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. For a moment, Suguru just stared at you, his eyes wide with shock. Then, he pulled his hand away, his expression hardening as he shook his head violently.

"No, baby." he said, his voice firm and almost angry. "No, I’m not doing that. I’m not giving up on you. We’ll find something—there’s got to be something out there that can help. We’ll go out tomorrow, search the surrounding towns. There has to be something… anything…"

"Suguru, my love. Please. Understand me." you interrupted gently, your heart breaking at the desperation in his voice. "We’ve tried. We’ve been searching for months, and nothing has changed. You know it as well as I do—there’s nothing left to find."

"I can’t!" he snapped, his voice rising. "I can’t lose you like this! We’ve survived so much together. We can get through this too. I’ll find a way, I swear."

You reached out again, this time cupping his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze. "Suguru, my love." you whispered, tears filling your eyes. "I’m dying. We both know it. Please… don’t make this harder than it already is."

He broke then, his shoulders shaking as he crumbled before you. "I can’t live without you, baby." he choked out, tears streaming down his face. "You’re all I have left. If you go… if you leave me… I don’t know what I’ll do."

"You’ll keep going. You must." you said softly, your own tears spilling over. "You’re strong, Suguru. You’ve always been strong. You’ll find a way to survive, even without me."

He shook his head, his hands gripping yours tightly, as if he could anchor you to the world through sheer force of will. "I don’t want to survive without you, baby." he whispered, his voice breaking. "I don’t want to live in a world where you’re not there."

You pulled him into your arms, holding him close as he cried against your shoulder, his grief tearing through him like a storm. "I know. I know that." you whispered, your own heart shattering with every sob that wracked his body. "I know it’s hard. But you have to promise me you’ll try. Promise me you’ll keep going, for both of us."

He clung to you, his breath ragged as he tried to pull himself together. "I don’t know if I can." he admitted, his voice small and broken. "I don’t know how to do this without you."

"You can, my love." you insisted, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. "You’re stronger than you think, Suguru. You’ve already done so much. But before I go… There's something I want to do. Something that will give meaning to all of this."

He frowned, confusion flickering in his tear-filled eyes. "What do you mean?"

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest as you gathered the courage to say the words. "I want to marry you, my love." you said, your voice trembling. "I want to be your wife, even if it’s just for a little while. I want to give meaning to this life, to what we’ve been through together. Please… let’s do this, Suguru. Let’s make it real."

He stared at you, his eyes widening in surprise and disbelief as if trying to process the gravity of what you had just said. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken fears and raw emotions. You held your breath, the weight of his potential rejection pressing down on you. The thought that he might find the idea too painful to accept was almost unbearable, adding to the already intense sorrow that filled the room.

But then, as if struggling to come to terms with the inevitable, he began to nod slowly. The initial shock in his eyes gave way to a profound sadness, and his expression softened, becoming a mixture of resignation and tender understanding. The lines of his face, once tense with disbelief, relaxed as he reached out to you.

With gentle, deliberate movements, he cupped your face in his hands. The warmth of his touch was a stark contrast to the cold reality of the situation, a soothing balm against the sharp edges of your sorrow. His hands, though trembling slightly, were steady in their tenderness, conveying a depth of love and acceptance that words alone could not express. 

As he held you, his gaze locked onto yours, searching for reassurance and finding it in the depths of your shared experiences and unspoken bond. The moment was both heart-wrenching and profoundly intimate, a testament to the strength of your connection and the pain of facing such a difficult decision together.

"Okay, baby." he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Okay. We’ll do it. I’ll marry you. We’ll do it right here, right now."

Tears filled your eyes as you nodded, a small, trembling smile breaking through the sorrow. "Thank you, my love." you whispered, your voice cracking. "Thank you, Suguru."

He pulled you into his arms again, holding you close as you both cried, the weight of what was to come hanging heavy over you. But in that moment, you were together, and that was all that mattered. You would marry him, give meaning to your lives, and in the time you had left, you would make every moment count.

Even as the darkness closed in, you knew that you had found something beautiful in the midst of the horror—a love that would last beyond the end, a bond that would never truly be broken.

┌────── ∘°❉°∘ ──────┐

IT WAS SUCH A NICE DAY FOR A WEDDING. The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm, golden glow over the room as you and Suguru prepared for the day that would be both your wedding and your farewell. It was a day you had both dreaded and longed for, a day that would bring a bittersweet end to the journey you had shared together.

Suguru had spent the early hours of the morning in the kitchen, determined to make this day as special as he could. He cooked you the best meals he could manage with the limited supplies you had, pouring his heart into every dish.

The aroma of roasted vegetables, tender meat, and freshly baked bread filled the small compound, a testament to the love and care he had poured into every bite. He even brought out the best wine he had been saving in the cellar—a bottle that had survived the apocalypse, waiting for a moment just like this.

When he returned to the bedroom, he found you dressed in your best—an old dress you had found while scavenging, simple but elegant, its soft fabric hugging your frail form. Suguru had dressed in his finest as well, his dark shirt and trousers clean and pressed, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The sight of him took your breath away, and you smiled, despite the sorrow that weighed on your heart.

"You look beautiful, baby." he whispered as he approached, his voice thick with emotion.

"And you look handsome, my love." you replied, your voice trembling as you reached out to straighten his collar.

The two of you stood there for a moment, taking in the sight of each other, committing it to memory. Then, with a deep breath, you took his hand, and together you made your way to the small living room, where the morning light streamed through the windows, bathing the space in a soft, golden glow. There were no guests, no officiant, no flowers or rings. It was just the two of you, standing together in the light, your hands clasped tightly as you exchange your vows.

"I, Suguru, take you, my love, to be my wife." he said, his voice steady but full of emotion. "In this life, and whatever comes after, I promise to love you, to hold you close, to cherish every moment we have together. No matter what happens, you will always be my heart."

Tears welled in your eyes as you repeated the words, your voice trembling. "I, take you, Suguru, to be my husband. I promise to love you, to be by your side, to find joy in the little things, even in this broken world. You’ve given me a reason to keep going, and I will carry that with me, always."

With that, you both leaned in, sealing your vows with a gentle kiss, a promise made under the watchful eye of the morning sun. When you pulled back, there were tears in both your eyes, but there were also smiles—small, fragile smiles that spoke of a love that had endured the darkest of times.

The day passed in a blur of quiet joy and melancholy. Suguru insisted on dancing, and you found yourselves swaying together to the soft, nostalgic notes of Vera Lynn’s "We’ll Meet Again," playing from an old record player Suguru had somehow managed to keep running.

The song filled the room with its haunting melody, a promise of reunion in a world beyond this one. You held each other close, moving slowly, savoring every second, every touch, as if by doing so, you could make time stop.

As night fell, the reality of what was to come settled over you both. There was no turning back now, no more delaying the inevitable. You returned to the bedroom, where the bed had been carefully made, its soft blankets a welcome comfort against the cold that had settled into your bones. You climbed into bed, and Suguru followed, sitting beside you, his hand resting gently on yours.

You turned to look at him, your heart aching with the knowledge that these were your final moments together. "Suguru, my love." you began, your voice barely a whisper. "I want you to live. Even after I’m gone, I want you to find a way to keep going. Please… promise me you’ll try."

His grip on your hand tightened, and he shook his head, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "What sort of life is that without you?" he whispered, his voice breaking. "You’re everything to me. I don’t know how to keep going if you’re not here."

"You’re stronger than you think, my love." you whispered, reaching up to cup his face, your thumb brushing away the tears that had begun to fall. "You’ve always been strong, Suguru. You’ve saved me so many times… now, you need to save yourself. Please… for me."

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch, his breath shuddering as he tried to hold himself together. "I don’t want to let you go, baby." he admitted, his voice barely audible. "I don’t know how."

"You don’t have to let me go, my love." you replied, your own tears slipping down your cheeks. "I’ll always be with you. In every memory, every moment we shared. You’ll carry me with you, no matter what."

He nodded, though it was clear the idea of life without you was unbearable. "I love you, baby." he whispered, his voice filled with a depth of emotion that words could barely contain. "I love you so much."

"I love you too." you whispered back, your voice trembling. "Now… let’s make this last moment count."

With that, he leaned in, kissing you gently, as if trying to pour all the love he had for you into that one moment. You kissed him back, holding him close, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the steady beat of his heart—a rhythm you had come to know and love, a sound you would carry with you into the dark.

When the kiss ended, you settled back against the pillows, the familiar softness providing a modicum of comfort in the midst of your pain. Suguru lay beside you, his arms wrapped around you with a tenderness that spoke of his deep, abiding love. Together, you both faced the uncertain future, finding solace in each other's presence as the night stretched on.

The silence of the room was broken only by the soft sound of your breathing, a gentle rhythm that seemed to anchor you both in the present moment. Despite the gravity of what lay ahead, you felt an unexpected sense of peace settle over you. In those final moments, the relentless tide of fear and pain receded, leaving only the pure, unadulterated essence of love.

There was no longer any room for fear or anguish—only the profound understanding that you had found something truly beautiful amidst the horror. You had loved deeply, and you had been loved in return. That realization, though bittersweet, provided a profound sense of fulfillment. It was a reminder that, even in the face of the inevitable, the love you shared had given meaning to your time together.

As the night deepened, you clung to each other, savoring the last precious moments of closeness. Suguru’s presence was a comforting embrace, a final refuge before you slipped away. The world outside seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the cocoon of your shared love.

When the end finally came, Suguru was left with a heartache so profound it felt almost unbearable. He gazed at your lifeless body, the weight of your absence crashing over him like a tidal wave. Tears streamed down his face, each drop an echo to the depth of his grief. He struggled with the harsh reality of living without you, the very thought of continuing without you seemed inconceivable.

In a final, tender gesture, he brushed the hair away from your face, his fingers lingering in a gentle caress. A faint smile touched his lips, though it was laced with sorrow.

“I’m following you soon, my love. Forgive me.” he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. He lets out a smile against the tears.

He takes a look at the drink you drank, laced with laudenum and whiskey. A last hurrah took you away. And he wants that too. He wants to be with you. He stands up to take it and tells himself that it would be okay. Soon, you'll be together again. He gives himself visions of paradise, where you aren't sick anymore. A paradise where you could enjoy life together.

He smiles again, wiping his tears with his free hand and drank the same drink. He puts away the glass and lays down beside you. Everything was going to handle itself somehow, he knew that well enough.

His left hand lingers against the tips of your hair, brushing them as he would have when you were alive. He would be doing that for eternity in the afterlife. Like he always wanted.

For the last moments of Geto Suguru's life, he catches a glimpse of the shine of his wedding ring and yours. As though the light leading him to the other side. He closes his purple eyes slowly for the final time and feels everything be in its place for the first time in a long time.

Years later, when survivors find your bodies lingering in the eternal warmth only both you could provide, they read words on a small card on a coffee table.

"Leave us be on the graveyards we chose. Let us live eternity like this together."

And they do. They leave you be. Because the smile on your faces was enough to know this was where you belonged. Together.

[neteyamslovrr]

RETURN - PT 1

summary: five years ago he left you. left you alone with nothing but memories of your love. so how dare he come back now?

contents: 1.5k words, fem!omaticaya reader, angst, swearing

authors note: AHHHH first chapter i'm so excited to post this guys!! thankuu to all my mooties that helped me brew this series

next

Nothing could ever surmount to the despair you felt that day. The day he looked into your weeping eyes, looked right into your aching soul, and told you he was leaving.

Leaving. You begged him to take you with him. Pleaded with his pained expression to let you stay with him. To take you with him. To walk every journey together.

But he didn’t. He shook his head, pursing his lips that have kissed you for the last time. Crossing his arms that embraced you for the last time. He said no. One simple word that crushed your entire self.

“It won’t be safe, I can’t take you from the forest, this is your home.” No. No he was your home! He was your everything. The last face you look at when you say goodnight to the day left behind you. The one you would run to, so you could tell him everything good and bad. The man you imagined your entire life to be with.

That same man who was running from his home, to never return back to you.

You pleaded with him, crashing onto your knees, wrapping your arms around his torso. Crying into him as you begged to accompany him. How could he leave you? How could he have the heart to tear out yours.

“Y/N…let go.” His deep voice ring deep in your ears. You knew he was talking about your physical grip on him. But it felt so much deeper. Let go. Let go of us. Let go of everything we ever were. Let go of me.

You shook your head desperately, hands still clinging to his body. The rough soil beneath you cutting into your knees but no cut would ever be as deep as the one he had laid into your soul.

It was as if the hands he took to pry your frail body off him were the daggers that were slicing up your heart. Leaving wounds so deep they would never heal. How could you ever heal from this?

You looked up at him, tears letting his cheeks dampen, his face showing nothing but grief as he met your hurt eyes.

“I have to go…Y/N you know I have to.” You did. You knew you had no say in this. Your words were insignificant to begin with.

His figure crouched down in front of you. Wiping the salty tears that stained your cheeks. He saw the way your chin quivered as he caressed your beautiful face.

A salty, sweet kiss was the last one you ever shared with him. A kiss you both cried into, gripping onto each other knowing it was the last time. It was bittersweet. To share a moment so close together only to be ripped apart.

All that connected you both was memories. Memories that now serve you nothing but hurt.

Five years had passed. Five dreadful years.

You were now a 20 year old woman. Adorned with your bow and the physique of a fit warrior. Though no amount of time could ever heal the cuts he left so deep in you.

For the first year, you were nothing but a shell. Never eating, never sleeping. You simply existed. Which was a chore to do without him.

You wished nothing but to stop existing. To stop experiencing every bit of sadness, every bit of grief. To stop mourning the loss of the only man you could ever love.

Tears were your most worn accessory, no one ever daring to tell you they looked bad. Too scared to send you spiralling even more than you already had.

Though, those times you spent rocking in your hammock. Looking at the stars that lit up the night sky, those cuts that ran deep within you, the cuts that caused so pain. They started to seep.

Started to seep blood red rage.

How could he ever have left you? Was he so selfish to not think of the effect this would have on you? Did he simply not care?

How was the one time he decided to act selfishly be the time wounded the one who loved him most? To be so selfish, to claim he would be keeping you safe.

Safe to what? The sky-people that reigned free through your planet. Constantly on the verge of war to aliens that had no consideration for your people. Just like he had no consideration for your heart.

You wanted to hate him. You wanted to hate him so bad, that every memory of him would fade into a blood red image of evil. That every memory would turn into a disgusting thought of a disgusting man.

You wanted to hate him with every fibre in your body. But you couldn’t.

Maybe that’s when everything stopped looking so blood red. When everything dulled out. Nothing mattered, he would never come back.

So with a tainted heart and an aching soul, you accepted that you would never experience the love of your mate every again. Never feel his touch, hear his voice, smell his scent, taste his kisses. You would never be with him.

That’s were Va’tep entered into your life. Barging into your knocked down walls and building a crappy foundation.

Va’tep, Tarsem’s younger brother. One year your elder. A fierce warrior, a man who refused to lose, a man who claimed what was his. And to him, you were his.

Your parents always longed for status. To be high up in the clan. You were their golden ticket, finding your way into the heart of Toruk Makto’s eldest son. They rejoiced in your heart’s residence, rejoiced in the fact that you fulfilled their one wish. They were your number one advocate. Pushing you to train for your rite of passage ever since you became closer with the boy. They worked every inch of their being towards the union between the pair of you.

But the hard work washed away as fast as the waterfall plunged.

Washing away all your dreams, your happiness, your meaning. It washed away your parent’s status, Va’tep being the life guard that pulls them out of the strong currents.

Nothing could ever amount to him though. Your heart resided with someone else as your body laid with his. You felt yourself fill with shame every time you shared a touch. A shiver of disgust running down your entire body. Breaking the vow of your love towards the boy who broke you.

“Where’s your head at beautiful?” That was what he called you. Beautiful. His voice would never be as sweet as his. Never send the right shivers through you.

Va’tep’s calloused hands caressed your cheek, so rough it felt as if he was dragging you with his touch. Everything he did was rough. Rough like the soil you pleaded on.

Maybe this was Eywa laughing in your face. Giving you a man so opposite to the man you craved so desperately. Even after 5 years, Eywa would never let you forget those memories.

Shrugging his hands off your body, he let out a low hiss. One that showed his offence towards your actions. A hiss so quiet, it would only be heard if you cared. But you didn’t. Something else was clouding your mind, taking your attention away from him. And it wasn’t just your past lover.

You made your way towards the growing crowd of people that formed around the entrance of High Camp. Va’tep’s calls after you were silenced by the gasps and whispers of your people that were creating confusion that bubbled in your stomach.

Pushing yourself to the front of the crowd, definitely stepping on the feet of others. You looked for the source of the commotion. Ears perking up and eyes squinting to find the one thing people were gawking at.

Though now as you look towards the source, you wish you minded your business. Everything was coming back. Every emotion, every curse, every thought, every tear. They all fell on top of you, crushing your soul as you let out a small whimper in fear.

The source was making its way towards you. No. No. NO. This can’t happen. This cannot be happening. Feet stumbling as you paced backwards, avoiding looking straight ahead.

Dread filled your entire being. Filling it from your toes until it felt as if it would spill out of you, gurgling in the pits of your stomach. No. No. NO.

Crashing into the back of a person, you were forced to halt your escape. Frozen in shock as you looked at the man who had broken your heart and given it back to you.

Lips quivering, tears pooling in your eyes. He reached his hands towards you. How could he come back? Why was he back? This is all some sort of sick dream. A nightmare.

“My beautiful girl.” His voice was deeper, still so sweet it would cause a cavity. It enticed you. You had been without his voice for so long.

So long…because he left you. Because he was cruel and selfish.

Shaking your head profusely, just like you did that dreaded day. Your hands shook as you pointed at him, an accusatory finger aimed at him as your mind swirled.

“I’m here now.” He should have never left, he should have NEVER left. What a sick fuck. To come back expecting open arms when all you wanted was to never have your arms leave him. “Beautiful? What is it?”

“I am not your beautiful, Neteyam.”

tags: @8resa @ilovejakesullysdick @neteyamsblog @live-laugh-neteyam @reyalvr @trashfox @darkacademictrash @scntfrhs @dreamyescapesfromreality @fanboyluvr @neteyamzmate @oceanstar19 @sharkybabe9

thankyou sm for reading lovelies!! reblogs + replies sososososo appreciated ilysm ily ily

[damianbugs]

Hello✨👋. What's your favorite era of Batman? What's your favorite costume? I love reading your thoughts on everything. What do you think caused the writers to decide to make Batman darker even though at the time he had stories that touched on interesting themes. If you were a writer what characters would you develop and in what direction? Are there any underrated characters you love?

HI !!! this is so sweet, thank you for asking so many things! i would love to answer :]

my favourite batman era was the 90s !! i think it's more honest to say there's not been a single era i didn't like entirely (even the infamous new 52 had its good stories) — but when i add up all my favourites, a large majority of those comics are found in the 90s! it was a time for those darker stories to thrive without relying on ridiculous plot-twists and unnecessary violence for a shock factor.

just to name a vew of my all time favourites from this era: Batman Venom (1991), Tales of the Demon (1991), Batman Night Cries (1992), Batman The Ultimate Evil (1995), Batman Prodigal (1997), Batman War on Crime (1999), Batman & Dracula Trilogy (1991-1999) OKAY ILL STOP HERE BUT BASICALLY IT WAS ALL FANTASTIC

on that note, i think the turning point for a Darker Batman was in the 80s, and there's many reasons for it! one of the main ones i think is that for comics as a whole, the 80s was a chance to START exploring explicit adult themes in comics — due to indie titles! despite popular belief, back then the big 2 of comics weren't churning out nearly as many comics as it seems like on paper, with much more maturer and 'gritty' independent titles gaining popularity. i think batman writers noticed and were keeping up with that was becoming interesting in the meta. then of course the 90s was all dark and gritty and everyone wanted a chance to revitalise the accepted picture of batman. after all, everyone remembers a sad story.

then of course, probably the biggest turning point was... jason todd's death. i truly do think it was this event that changed batman as a character, an idea and a story forever. the comics that followed ADiTF were written with this young ghost perpetually in the background, bruce's grief heavy in the pages whether or not jason was explicitly mentioned — so the stories had to be, in turn, dark and mournful.

my favourite costume is blue and grey with yellow symbol batman suit, especially by the artists neal adams and norm breyfogle :) bruce looks so good in this style and the blue reminds me of such wonderful stories. it might seem like a weird detail, but the other than the satisfying cape dynamics, i love the way they draw his legs and boots for this costume!!

if i was a writer i would sink my claws into stephanie brown and never let go. EVER. the role she could have in gotham as a vigilante closely tied with a community would be literally fantastic for her character and backstory. if i could, i think i would write her leaning towards the Huntress route compared to the Batman route, but still keeping her ties to cass, tim and babs (and bruce, i say tentatively). i would also bring back her adorable relationship with damian IMMEDIATELY!!!

and last but not least, the most underrated character of all time ever, JACE FOX. my batman. i love him. i have literally fantasised someone with a darker and less 'deserving' backstory, growing as a person, reforming and learning from their mistakes to become batman AND HE DID. HE DID THAT. no matter what people say, i think jace fox is a character who encompasses everything you need to be batman, including all the flaws that come with that mantle. one day i hope we get to see cass and jace bond and grow, reforming a duo ready to succeed bruce.

THANK YOU FOR ASKING THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN TO SHARE !!!!

[fcrgedinpain]

if  there  was  ONE  thing  that  dean  had  learnt,  it  was  that  there  really  was  no  OUT  of  the  hunting  life  -  not  really,  and  the  past  year  he'd  been  fighting  against  the  inevitable,  trying  to  fit  himself  into  a  world  he  didn't  feel  he  could  truly  blend  into,  not  when  he  knew  what  was  out  there,  not  now  he  had  a  FAMILY  to  protect.  he'd  been  a  mess  -  NO,  he'd  been  worse  than  a  mess,  and  lisa  had  to  pick  up  the  pieces  that  had  been  left  behind,  trying  to  piece  him  back  together  and  make  him  WHOLE  again.  the  sleepless  nights,  the  terrors  that  plagued  his  sleep,  it  was  the  life  no  one  saw  behind  the  smiles  as  he  tried  to  mow  the  lawn. then  a  case  fell  into  his  lap,  finding  out  sam  was  ALIVE  and  had  been  for  a  year  had  been  the  first  thing  that  sent  his  blood  boiling,  that  it  had  been  kept  from  him,  that  apparently  everyone  knew  other  than  him,  just  ASSUMING  he'd  been  living  this  perfect  life  when  it  had  felt  like  the  longest  year  he'd  ever  lived.  but  again  he  had  to  think  of  his  new  family,  something  he  couldn't  leave  behind  as  it  left  his  heart  feeling  like  it  was  TORN  in  two,  taking  them  to  the  one  place  he  knew  they'd  be  safe  so  that  he  could  go  back  to  hunting,  and  maybe  finally  find  a  way  to  truly  leave  the  hunting  life  behind  him. arriving  a  bobby's  he  didn't  expect  anything  unusual  as  he  introduced  lisa  and  ben  to  him,  ruffling  the  boy  that  had  become  more  and  more  like  a  SON  to  him  that  he  could  have  ever  imagined,  it  was  one  of  a  few  things  that  caused  warmth  to  spread  in  his  chest,  along  with  a  twinge  of  worry  -  worried  about  if  he  could  keep  them  safe,  or  if  it  would  end  up  being  the  same  story  as  everyone  else  he'd  ever  cared  deeply  about. ❛   thanks  for  doing  this  bobby  -  it  shouldn't  be  for  too  long,   ❜   dean  spoke,  grabbing  a  beer  from  the  fridge,  assuming  that  it  was  bobby  that  had  entered  the  kitchen  space  now  that  he'd  gotten  lisa  and  ben  settled  upstairs  so  that  they  could  talk  things  over,  but  as  he  closed  the  fridge  and  turned  the  beer  from  his  hand  suddenly  fell,  smashing  against  the  floor  by  his  feet.   ❛   are  you  fuckin'  kidding  me  ??   ❜ the  last  person  dean  had  expected  to  see  was  allie  stood  there,  staring  right  back  at  him.  all  he  could  see  in  that  moment  was  the  exact  second  she'd  died  right  before  his  eyes,  the  GRIEF,  the  MOURNING.  he'd  never  once  spoken  to  anyone  about  how  he'd  felt  about  allie,  not  about  the  feelings  that  had  crept  into  place,  not  about  the  admiration,  the  way  he'd  wanted  to  be  the  person  to  hug  her  instead  of  sam,  how  he'd  wanting  something  MORE  but  knew  it  would  never  be  -  and  then  it  had  been  too  LATE  anyway. dean  hadn't  spoken  to  lisa  about  her,  throwing  the  weight  of  his  grief  onto  the  loss  of  his  brother,  never  once  daring  to  face  the  turmoil  in  him  that  was  connected  by  a  fine  thread  to  allie.  but  now  facing  her  it  all  came  back  to  him,  only  SADNESS  had  been  replaced  with  nothing  but  an  ANGER  that  made  his  heart  hurt,  like  being  gripped  in  a  vice  that  had  his  hands  trembling  at  his  sides.  hadn't  it  been  bad  enough,  hadn't  everyone  kept  enough  from  him  -  the  answer  seemed  to  be  NO. ❛   so   -   you've  been  a  part  of  it  all  too  ??   ❜

[scariusaquarius]

I wrote this last night when i wasn't feeling too well. Love yourself.

Tw: suicide mention

Let me put a disclaimer: I'm not actively suicidal. I idealize suicide more than anything; generic thoughts of tragedy that I romanticize in hopes that I might finally feel loved from the pain my death would ultimately cause, no matter how short that grief is.

People are equilibriums of peace and hell; of hope and failure; of tragic incompetence and idolized worth that gets determined by whether or not your past was equivalent to that of a disgusting worm wriggling up from the earth to find a moment to breathe in fear of drowning too soon or a boat sailing free at sea; not a storm in sight because you were taught to ride the waves and watch the sky since you could smell the salt within the humid air.

An innate instinct to live that governs all creatures, and yet, I am an outlier. I, rather than have an instinct to live, have an instinct to die.

In my world, dying and living are different.

Living means that I am perfectly imperfect; that I am wealthy and comfortable; that my worries are none other than what designer shoes to match to my Vogue-Magazine persona given to me by tv models and ambitious mothers with tape measures and jewelry as whips and chains. Living means that I am free to fall apart and I am commended for my bravery for continuing onto my world-wide stage, listening to the chants of my family as I am crowned.

Dying means that I am imperfectly pitied; that the knots in my hair mean I am disgusting, not because I am depressed; that the oil within my skin means that I am lazy even though I can't stand to roll out of bed to look at myself and mourn the bags under my eyes from sleepless nights and the grief; that the mud beneath my nails are not from a day of hard work, despite working hard to keep crawling out of this grave my mind has dug for me over and over because god forbid, i heal and lose the attention my sadness gives me that I so desperately crave like the drugs within my veins; that my worries and pain and suffering is caused by my own actions and I am at fault and I must survive because what about your mother? What would she think? Don't you know it's selfish to live for yourself?

My heart beats despite the crushing crescendo of my mind that whispers and begs and pleads 'stop for me, I'm not brave enough to do it'. It beats and beats and beats despite the prayers to a God I'm uncertain even exists yet I pray to pity and kill me anyway. Even with death, I am weak and cowardly and pathetic that I dare not take my feet from the ledge because I so desperately wish to finally fly; to feel free from this gripping pain in my skull.

I am sad, I am sad, I am sad.

My god, am I sad.

Yet, I do not take the steps. I don't open the pills. I don't grab my knives because while I hate being alive, I know there is more to it than this, and I have chosen I am not done yet. I am not done proving my point, I am not done surfing the waves, I am not done with my makeup, I am not done with my morning routine. I am done with life, but I am not done living.

Intrusive thoughts haunt my mind like the ghosts of nostalgia that remind me of the child inside who did not deserve it; who tried hard to be loved by her father, who just wanted a glass of water that night of September at 10pm in 2005.

So, for her, I live. For her future, I prove that we continue on despite the weight of Atlas broadening our shoulders. I show her that we grow around this unending sadness and that despite the things we go through, we still love because we know what it's like to fall short; to be left behind.

It's okay that we are sad. We are sad, we are sad, we are sad.

My god, we are sad.

But I'm happy we are sad....if i were to be happy all the time, i wouldn't know what it meant to truly feel. I am blessed with this sadness and grief and pain because I am reminded that I am surviving and learning to live and gracing myself with the validation that it's okay I am alive that little girl deserved all those years ago.

Let me put a disclaimer: I'm not actively suicidal. I idealize suicide more than anything; idealize generic thoughts of tragedy that I romanticize in hopes that I might finally feel loved from the pain my death would ultimately cause, no matter how short that grief is.

[jarjaross]

Hey so I saw this and ended up inspired. I have no clue about the etiquette on tumblr (I only have an account so I can hunt down the other half of stories people post, because so many people post a single piece and not the rest or algorithms ignore the less popular parts)

I have no idea if this is accurate to the character’s actual backstory but it was the image in my head when I read the description. 

(I don’t know why I assume the Lunar is the one who knows how to use a sword, I think its a Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade thing where the simpler weapon implies more skill)

***

She stood in the ashes of her village. The last survivor. The only survivor. She expected to feel grief or sadness. There was none. Instead there was only a great yawning emptiness, a void beneath her feat to which any emotion fell. Yet even as it was nothingness it was heavy, a weight upon her body and soul, keeping her from taking even a single step.

As the gentle breeze blew through the burned buildings the ash swirled and moved. By the rising of the full moon a man was revealed. He wore a simple blacksmiths apron and not much else. His deep brown skin was unmarred by the light of sun or forge. His curly hair was mostly black but was peppered in with small signs of greying near the roots and was tied in a tight bun to keep it out of the way of the fire. His eyebrows were missing replaced with what might be small burn marks. 

He stared at her a moment before realizing she wouldn’t move and walking towards her. She wasn’t fully grown yet but she could tell he was huge. At least double her height with arms as thick as tree trunks. 

“Child,” he said not gently but without the harshness one would expect from his stature, “what happened here.”

“There was a lady,” the girl said feeling even smaller, “she was passing through.”

“Yes.”

“The Elder, he wanted to impress her so he showed her the sword,” she said. Her voice sounded wrong. It was missing something. 

“A sword? I know a thing or two about swords,” the black smith said raising his hand to show a blade she vaguely recognized, “like this one, its mighty fine work to have survived the fire. Why would showing her a sword cause this?”

“It’s an old artifact, made of fine Jade,” the girl said. It was as if someone else was talking. Just using her knowledge to explain the situation. “The lady wanted it and when the elder said she couldn’t have it she started burning everything.”

“And where were you?”

“I hid in the cellar,” she said, “mom told me to hide in the cellar.”

He stared at her for a few moments rubbing his chin. Then he knelt down before her before asking, “do you have parents? Perhaps family? Somewhere I could take you away from this place?”

“Everyone’s gone,” she replied, “they aren’t coming back.”

“So there is no one for you to go to?”

“No they’re all dead.”

“But you survived.”

“They’re all dead.”

“You survived,” he said again, placing a hand on her shoulder, “and now you have to live.”

With the last word he dropped the sword into her hands. The sword her father trained her to use. The sword her aunt made her. The sword her mother taught her to care for. The sword her brother was jealous of. The sword that survived the fires with her, despite her not having it in the fires. 

The familiar weight did something. It struck something like a hammer blow, but not her body. The chains holding the nothingness to her shattered at those words. All the emotions, all the fear, all the anguish, all the sorrow came rushing up from the depths all at once. Tears streamed down her face seeming to bite her cheeks in the cool night air. Her body shook, the raging emotions within her trying to claw their way out. 

She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out. Then something did. A mournful cry of the dozens of screeching ghosts that passed this day. But as it went on it changed. From the mournful sorrowful wailings of grief, the hateful rage filled howls of rage. 

And as it changed so did she. Her body shifting from a human form to something else. A wolf, a bear, a deer, a fox, an eagle, an eel, a crow, no form held her for more than a second until one did, one that was truly who she was. The something that she was raced off into the forest. She would carry this moment for the rest of her life, but she would live it. 

A dragon of fire with a stolen blade, a child of the moon with the last remnant of her village.

One of these people knows how to handle a sword. The other does not.

[littlenastieswewhispered]

on why spike absolutely and truly loved buffy in season five:

people often attempt to point to one concise moment that proves spike did love buffy pre-soul, and a lot are compelling. his commitment to keeping dawn safe after buffy is dead is pretty clear. his willingness to let glory kill him because he couldn’t live seeing buffy in the pain that losing dawn would cause her is too.

“is there something i can do?,” the quiet space he makes for her, “every night i save you,” the way he shows himself only to her, “you glow,” the numerous times he plainly and honestly tells her he loves her… the journey to his soul. all of these do say love. they’re lovely moments.

for me, one thing stands above them all, the moment i can point to and say, definitively, spike is in love with buffy. it isn’t lovely. it’s terrible. it’s heartbreaking. it’s when spike’s heart broke.

the gift 5.22

first of all, this is one of the most perfect marriages of page and performance in the series. the words alone are so evocative, you can feel exactly how he does with just that brief phrase. but we’re blessed with it being a script, so we get to see it acted out, and it’s done perfectly.

spike walks up after the others, he’s been injured a lot over the last few days, including being stabbed and brutally thrown off the tower in the final fight. he’s limping, holding himself, hiding from the sun that’s already risen, but seeing her body knocks him down more than all of that.

collapsing in wretched sobs. there’s no delicacy and no modesty. he doesn’t care if anyone sees it or what they think. only he and buffy’s dead body exist right now anyway. it’s the worst thing he’s ever seen, and he covers his face from it.

collapsing in wretched sobs at his failure. he knew what would happen if he didn’t save dawn, but nothing could prepare him for seeing buffy. he feels personally and entirely responsible.

collapsing in wretched sobs at his failure, at the death of his love. his love. buffy. his love has died.

it’s true that in the past james marsters played spike more sympathetic than he was written. he admits it. he says he always played him like he had a soul. he was always a little more enamored with dru, and a little less annoyed with her. he cheated, because the spike role was temporary and so he didn’t have job security. he wanted spike to be adored by the fans, to be complex and layered, and to stay around.

but that was season two. season five spike is a series regular. his acting has already influenced the writing and direction they’d taken the character in, for two full seasons. he isn’t going anywhere. this isn’t james marsters being sneaky and pretending spike is in love with buffy. this is him playing spike as he’s written, in love.

we previously saw spike sad that drusilla left him. he was drunk, and he was pathetic because he knew nothing outside of her. he cried and he hurled himself back and forth between rage and melancholy. he was desperate to have her back and resigned himself to make that happen. he was miserable, but he didn’t mourn.

but now, because buffy is gone, spike is heartbroken.

there is no intellectually honest way you can read this scene, these facial expressions, these sobs, as someone who only had a sick infatuation and is upset he won’t have a chance at having sex with the girl he’s obsessed with now because she went and died. this is a man feeling very real grief, because his love is dead, and because he failed at preventing it.

the vampire, the soulless monster, the slayer of slayers, is heartbroken.

“it seems to me, that if we love, we grieve. that’s the deal. that’s the pact. grief and love are forever intertwined. grief is the terrible reminder of the depths of our love and, like love, grief is non-negotiable.” - nick cave

[yiminsuu]

Bittersweet Dreams

Pairing: Dream/Morpheus x F!Reader

Warnings: Angst with fluff, strained mother/daughter relationship, Morpheus and reader are bad at love, mutual pining, mentions of Calliope, reader is a medium, Death is the best.

Author’s Note: Gosh I absolutely loved The Sandman, I wish for a 2° season soon!

The sky cries shiny drops of water, illuminated by the full moon that seems to ignore all possible ways of hiding behind clouds. Laying on my bed with a blank expression, I woke up from another nightmare, a dream in which I was too cruelly suffering my worst feelings. No one came to help, no one came.

Did Dream forget about me...?

My heart ached, and I felt so overwhelmed by that thought alone that I couldn't help but fall to the ground when I tried to stand. So I stayed where I am and waited, and waited, and waited...

My nails felt cold, goosebumps appeared on my skin rapidly as someone translucent, someone that looked young, did their best to help me stand up. I don't know them, and they didn't let me see them either as if afraid of my reaction. However, they always appeared whenever I thought of him with sadness, and whispered so softly to not lose hope. I received an unwelcome letter not many days ago, with no address or sender, but it struck me so profoundly I couldn't breathe.

Calliope is beautiful, a daughter of Zeus, the love of Morpheus and the mother of the child they both lost. Grief and mourning reuniting ex-lovers are common and understandable, and I wish for nothing more than Dream to be okay, but I know... I know that I have nothing to do with it.

I felt my heart break, and a small whisper caught my attention, a whisper so mild and sweet it sounded familiar. Deciding to push myself through that person, I walked to the kitchen in complete darkness. They were gone, perhaps disappointed at my actions. Hell, I'm disappointed too, for thinking about him, for remembering every second, minute, hour and day I spent with him, helping him be the King of Dreams again...

And... That time we almost...

The sound of the microwave stirred me from daydreaming. I took the coffee and for an unknown amount of time I stood in place, glaring slightly, I watched the light of the kitchen blinking until it broke, and shards fell to the ground.

The stars never shined as bright as this type of night, then again, it's always like this whenever I'm visited by a form that should've crossed the other side a long time ago.

Death promised.

She promised she would take my mother away to the other side, but I can't blame anyone, mom was always the one that never let me live... Not without regrets, guilt, and hatred. Chuckling half-heartedly, I took a sip of my hot coffee and burned my tongue, hardly caring that tears fell down my cheeks. I am against drinking my problems away, and I am not good with human relationships, not since my last job. A job in which I was fired for not having sex with my boss. "Took you long enough, she's been annoying me for the last 4 hours." I muttered with a hint of exasperation. If I can see the dead then of course I would feel Death strolling around.

She didn't say anything for some time. "Your mother is... Stubborn. I didn't think she would escape just to see how you are."

"She wants to see me as depressed as ever, maybe this is the last time I see her and I feel incredibly uncomfortable. She stinks of poison." Death didn't take long in taking that woman away, and she came back 20 minutes later to sit in front of me, the cup of coffee long forgotten. Once more, we were alone, and I know what she wanted: To speak about me... And Dream.

"Death--"

"Let me speak." I shut my mouth closed. There was a small smile on her lips, and the kindness in her eyes is evident, but her tone is... Anything but friendly. "You cannot keep doing this, (Y/N). Guns and knives aren't the only cause of death in the world, and you, you that is so willingly sensitive to the other side... It's possible to die of a broken soul. A broken heart." I know how right she is, damn if I know how much this is mentally consuming me, but Dream is... Out of my reach. His everything will always belong to her. "I know... But I can't."

"You can't? Or you don't want to?"

"I can't, AND I don't want to. It won't matter in the end, I'm not immortal, I'm not like you. I am a human with a fucked up bloodline." Death stared at me with no emotion. "I will die." I continued. "Don't you think I should suck these emotions in? And bury them as far as Hell is so I won't see one more tear in his eyes? Half of his siblings want him gone, his son is dead, he was imprisoned for 100 years...! He's had enough! My problems are nothing compared to his, besides... I already know what his answer is... All he does is give me nightmares..." The silence is unbearable, I had looked away long before finishing my sentence, Death is still staring at me with almost no emotion except for her mouth slightly open, and letting out an exhaled to finish the conversation. 

The lights flickered wildly before coming to a stop as the chocolaty figure was about to leave. "Do you remember what your father said? About love...?" I didn't respond, and she was gone.

Friction makes affection. 

But does my dear king feel the same affection...?

I couldn't sleep the next night either, I spent all day helping a family come to terms with the death of their sons and it left me bothered. I knew something bad would happen, but I didn't know it would be me that would be left so empty. The smile those children gave me when they departed... I...

"(Y/N)."

I jumped on my chair before turning at the source of the voice, the last person I wanted to see. "Dream..."

He remained quiet as he watched my expression intently, and I quickly realized I was crying. Dream took a few steps toward me but I backed away, making him stop abruptly. "A job... It took a turn on me. D-Do you need something?"

"The Corinthian." I inhaled heavily at that name. "Death found a body left by it, there was no soul to be collected. I need you to look for it." He finished and I sighed, I knew it was going to be a tough job to look for a scared soul. That monster has been nothing but a nuisance ever since he got out of Dream's realm. "Alright, but please, let me become a person before going out there--" A grip on my arm made me stop in my tracks, and I glanced up at the king to find him staring into my eyes. My heartbeat increased and my brows furrowed with shyness. "The nightmares." He paused for a small moment. "They weren't on purpose."

"They weren't on purpose? I've been plagued with those for over 3 weeks and that's all you have to say!?" I needed to shout out my pain at his irresponsibility, but in the end, I had to calm down. "I haven't slept at all..."

"I know." He said, almost too gently. None of us said anything afterward, I don't know how much time has passed, and more tears danced down my cheeks. Dream's touch held a flame that burned me as I got dangerously closer to him, my head rested on his cheek as he placed his hand on my hair. I embraced his torso softly and relaxed, hearing his low hum, a sound of approval at me returning the affection.

Affection...

"What have I done to deserve such nightmares...?" I muttered. The king held me in place, I didn't dare push away, and I didn't care if I was being selfish. I only want him to stay a little longer. "You are connected to me... And I made sure it would remain like that." I looked at him slowly and felt his hands on both my cheeks, my eyes widened. "What I saw... Were your personal nightmares...?" Dream didn't say anything, and only stared at me before uniting our foreheads.

He's... Scared of losing me, and I him.

"Dream... I've always been yours. But I beg you, don't give me more nightmares." My hands came up to his cheeks, and he closed his eyes as he felt me, his thumb cleaning away my tears. My beloved Morpheus. "My queen, I won't let anyone hurt you. You are mine, for as long as I live."

[desideriumwriter]

Nothing’s Wrong.

Summary: Spencer has a grudge against reader, when she helps him when he’s shot, it doesn’t fix anything. Well, a few other arguments do…and reader showing up to his door.

Pairing: Spencer x Fem!reader

Genre: Angst with a happy ending.

WC: 3.7k

CW: yelling, Spencer being shot, Spencer nearly dying, mentions of death, kidnapping, mentions of SA and murder, barely proofread (like always).

A/N: I used some of the dialogue from a scene in TEOTFW (S2) where James & Alyssa argue in the car, I don’t know if I like this really, anyways I hope you enjoy it!

Masterlist 

• • • • • • •

It’s been seven weeks since Emily died.

Almost 3 weeks of sobbing and crying and being angry, 2 weeks of reminiscing…also crying, and 1 week since you’ve finally come to the sad acceptance that she’s gone.

You went through all the stages of grief and mourning. Spencer was still extremely hurt over it.

Emily was like an older sister to you. You became friends after having a conversation in a store with her on shoes. You also knew Spencer at the same time, you met him in a bookstore.

Spencer however, isn’t handling it well.

He’s been crying at your door ever since it happened. Everytime he talks about how he never got to say goodbye and the good memories he had with her. You would just listen and rub his back, trying to comfort him in any way possible.

One night after he calmed down, you thought maybe talking about something else would help, so he could get his mind off it. But after what happened, he’s probably still in the anger stage of grief.

“Oh, did you hear about my new job? You know, the job. The one I’ve been trying to get for the past year.” You grinned, trying to change the subject so he could focus on something else than his dead friend.

“Don’t you realize Emily is gone?”

“Yes. I just thought you were okay with talking about other things.” Your voice was small.

“You wouldn’t have thought so. You would've known. If you did know you wouldn’t talk about yourself every second!” Your mouth dropped slightly in disgust.

“What? What are you trying to get at?” You were genuinely confused, how did a few sentences cause him to lash out and snap at you?

“Emily is gone, forever! and you’re just talking about yourself!” He stood up from the couch. You copied his movements.

“Spencer, I’ve finally got the job I’ve been working all my life for and I wanted to share what’s been happening at it. I didn’t know it would make you so upset.” 

“Emily is fucking dead!” He screamed at you, you flinched a tiny bit, hearing him swear was terrifying. He has such a soft, sweet voice, hearing it so angry, so frustrated, so loud, it was scary.

“I fucking know that! I know! Have you taken a minute to think I’m hurting too? You’ve come to my door crying for nearly seven weeks now and I’ve been hugging you, holding you, letting you sleep here for comfort. But what have you done? Hm? You haven’t asked once if I was okay. She was family to me too!” You yelled back.

“God, I can't handle you anymore. It’s too much.”

“You can’t handle me? Spencer what the fuck are you saying? We’re friends, y-you’re my best friend.”

“I don’t care. I can’t stand you anymore.” He pushed past you and swiftly walked out the door before you could get another word in, he didn’t even bother to close the door.

You just stood there in shock and bit your cheek, you tried to hold back tears and listened to his footsteps fade out down the hallway.

What the fuck?

• • • • • • •

You haven’t had any interaction with Spencer for three whole years. The day he walked out on you after the argument, you never spoke again.

But last month you saw him, in the worst way possible.

Spencer was shot in the neck last week. You were the one who had to run over and apply pressure to his neck, trying to stop him from bleeding out.

You repeatedly told him to keep his eyes on you as he fell in and out of consciousness. 

McGregor had you tied up on the floor, he took you as a hostage while you were passing by, using you, a random innocent girl, as collateral damage. He was oblivious to your old connection to an FBI agent.

Once he wasn’t looking because he was too busy being in the middle of a shootout, you were able to squeeze your hands out of the ropes and run out the side door. Shots rang out towards you as you ran and a bullet nearly hit your arm.

You felt as if it was your fault, when you escaped, Spencer saw you, ran after you, then got shot. Maybe if you ran a different direction, away from him, maybe if you just stayed put, he wouldn’t have gotten hurt. He wouldn’t have seen you, he wouldn’t have run after you, he wouldn’t have ran across a fucking shootout, he wouldn’t have gotten shot.

You hated Spencer. But he didn’t deserve to die. As he was lifted into the ambulance you looked at your arms covered in his blood. You didn’t blink, your eyes were stuck wide open looking at the red all over.

• • • • • • •

You sobbed in the shower trying to wash the blood that you missed off your arms, Spencer’s blood. Watching it mix within the water and turn into a pinkish shade.

It was going to eat you alive if you didn’t at least attempt to see him.

When you arrived at the hospital, you sat in your car for a while, debating if you should really go inside and see him. What if he was in a coma or critical condition? What if he was dead? Someone would’ve told you, right?

Fuck it, just go and see for yourself.

Once you were able to visit him, you stood at the door and looked through the small glass window, he was talking to an older woman. He caught a small glimpse of you, you saw his face change, his brows furrowed, it wasn’t in a way of disgust or anger, more like confusion and shock. You immediately changed your mind and turned away.

You got in your car and put your key in the ignition. You stalled and didn’t turn it. Once again, thoughts came rushing through your head. 

Maybe he wasn’t angry anymore? Did he forget about what happened? 

No, no, it's impossible to forget. 

Was he appreciative of you? Was he happy to see you? Or just confused? You haven’t seen him in so long, he was just surprised. 

You basically saved his life, he has to be at least a tiny bit appreciating of it. 

Just go back inside. But, that lady might still be there. 

It’ll be awkward seeing him in general. 

Shit.

Again, after sitting in your car for a little over thirty minutes you decided to go back into the building and see Spencer.

You walked quickly down the hallway, you weren’t excited to see him, you weren’t in a rush to see him. You just…needed to see him.

You approached the door and gave it three gentle knocks. You opened it and peeked your head in.

“Hi.” He only gave you a weak nod and straight smile in response.

“Just wanted to see how you’re doing.” You fully walked in.

“I’m alive, you can see that.” You watched him look down at your still blood stained hand, you tugged your sleeve down and took a mental note to try and scrub it off once you got home.

“Yeah. I never thought the next time seeing you was gonna be me trying to stop you from bleeding out.”

“Why are you here?” He sighed.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay, after everything that happened, you know?”

“Well I obviously am.” You nodded in response to his snarky tone. There was an awkward silence.

“Just because you helped me doesn’t mean I'm not angry at you anymore. I’m happy that you did what you did but you didn’t have to come here. You could've stayed home. Okay?” He deadpanned. His attitude made your blood boil, you thought after three whole years he would ease up and let go of the grudge he had against you, but nope. It made you snap.

“You’re right. Fucking forget it, coming here was a huge mistake.” You stormed out the door while Spencer attempted to call out your name.

• • • • • • •

You spent a long night out with your friends at the club, you drank and danced less than them and you got left there alone after they all drunkenly left and got into cabs. You sat at the counter and just observed everyone, couples dancing, the bartenders, people flirting, it was nearly four a.m. by the time you left.

The streets were mostly empty, all taxis were gone or parked with their lights off. You were buzzed but you could walk home, even in heels…

 Maybe not.

“Shit!” You yelled as your ankle rolled and you started to fall towards the concrete, until a set of arms caught you and helped you stand up straight.

“Oh, thank you. I would’ve knocked out my teeth or something if yo-” You paused once you turned and looked at the man in front of you.

It was fucking Spencer.

You pulled away from his grip and smoothed your dress.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone at this time of night, it’s not safe. I can give you a ride home.” He assured you.

“I’m fine, these streets are safe. My place isn’t even that far.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“I don’t want you being out here, you could get kidnapped, or trafficked, or assaulted, or…just any type of bad thing could happen. I’m just trying to help.”

“You think I don’t know that? I’ve already been kidnapped before, remember? McGregor? I know how to protect myself now.” He practically flinched when you said McGregor's name, bringing back the terrible memory of all that happened that night.

“Listen, I’m working on a case around here, the suspect follows and takes girls that are alone, assaults them, and kills them. I’d rather not tell you all the brutal details. It’s really not good to be out here right now. I don’t want you getting hurt again. So please just accept my offer.” You looked up and down the dark, empty streets. You’d rather get in the car with a man you hated than become a victim to a killer on the loose.

“Shit, fine.” You mumbled and went to the passenger's side of his car. Neither of you said a word.

He didn’t seem angry anymore, maybe a small conversation would be nice.

You began to wonder about the woman you saw in Spencer's hospital room.

“If you don’t mind me asking, who was the woman in the hospital room with you?”

“Her name is Alex.” He said flatly.

“Oh. So, has Alex been helping you do stuff? Cause of your...injury, you know?” You looked at the scar on his neck.

“She left. The night after I got shot.”

“Oh, I'm sorry.”

“How’s your job?” He asked.

“It’s amazing. I thought you didn’t want me to talk about it.” You slumped down in your seat.

“That was a while back. I didn’t mean it.”

“Whatever anyways, do you have the profile on the killer so I know who to watch out for?” He opened his mouth but paused for a minute, then stammered, then just stopped talking. The realization hit you. Your jaw went slightly ajar. Bastard.

“There is no profile, there is no killer. You lied.” You looked over at him, furious.

“I’m not lying! It’s just- we haven’t- we’re not ready to deliver it yet!”

“No! You’re a horrible liar Spencer. If there was a killer on the loose, I would’ve heard about it! I would’ve heard something about dead women found written in newspapers or it would’ve been on the news or being told by one of my neighbors! God why didn’t I realize.” You muttered the last sentence to yourself.

“I didn’t- okay, maybe I did lie. But I did it for the best.”

“What? You lied about a criminal just for me to get in your car?”

“No! I just care about you! You still could’ve gotten attacked! I was just looking out for you!”

“I don’t need you to look out for me! Plus, all of a sudden you care about me? You held a grudge against me for years after one shitty argument! I was able to keep you from bleeding out when you got shot in the fucking neck, when I went to visit and check on you in the hospital you yelled at me! You know, maybe just a simple ‘Thanks for basically saving my life’ would be nice. You hated me but now you want to care about me? Fuck off.”

“You’re right, but I’m truly thankfu-”

“Just drive me home Reid. It’s whatever.” You cut him off, you didn’t want to hear him thanking you only because you pointed it out.

“Can you stop acting like that?” He sighed.

“Acting like what?”

“You can’t just act like nothings wrong when it is!”

“Nothings wrong, everything is in the past, you never said thank you or sorry, so what? It’s in the past now. I don’t want you to say any of it now.” He went silent again. Until, you had to stop at the train tracks and wait for a train to pass.

"Please can you let me say sorry?" He sighed and broke the silence.

“Okay…I said okay.” You looked over to him, his jaw was clenched and hands were gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were turning white. He stayed silent.

“Say it! Go on, say sorry. Say sorry, and then I can say it's okay, and everything's all right. That's what you want, isn't it?”

That’s the thing, that is exactly what Spencer wanted, but he knew that wouldn’t change anything.

“No. It's not ok. It's just how it is.” He said blankly.

“What's that supposed to mean?” You scrunched up your face.

“It wasn't just you…who had a bad time.”

“It's not a competition.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“I nearly died.” He said sternly.

“Oh, apparently it is.” You huffed out and rolled your eyes.

“I nearly died!” He screamed, you didn’t have any physical reaction, no flinching, no jumping, not even blinking. At this point, you were used to him yelling at you.

“I know. I was there.” You tried to hide your hurt, the memory of him almost dying in your hands stung like a bitch.

“I'm not the answer, Spencer.” You said quietly.

“I know.” He nodded. The train finally had passed and he was able to start driving again.

The drive home was silent. Neither of you looked at each other or even made a sound once. You stared out the window, watching the bright city lights pass by.

He reached your apartment after what felt like hours of sitting there in silence.

“Thanks for the ride.” You said as you opened the car door.

“Yep.” He stared straight in front of him, refusing to make eye contact.

You closed the car door and walked inside your apartment complex.

• • • • • • •

It’s been four months since you’ve seen Spencer. You were expecting the months to turn into years like last time, but when you were driving one night you saw him walking down the sidewalk in the rain. He had his cardigan pulled over his head to cover him from the rain.

You pulled over near the sidewalk and rolled down your window. Maybe this time, you could fix everything. No arguing this time.

“It’s freezing out here and it’s raining, do you want a ride?” You shouted over the loud sound of falling rain.

“y/n?- I’m fine.” He squinted at you but when he realized who it was, his tone of voice changed completely.

“All you’ve got is that cardigan on and you're carrying that heavy ass satchel. So, do you want a ride?”

“Fine.” He sighed angrily.

The only thing Spencer said when he got in the car was “Thank you.” It was painfully silent after that…until you got stuck in the middle of late night traffic.

You fiddled around with the radio, trying to find a station playing decent music, but there was none so you just chose the one with ads playing. Eventually you turned it off, it didn’t help anything, even with noise in the background the stress of Spencer being quiet overpowered it. The rain hitting the car and the honking of angry drivers did nothing to help.

The silence was too painful so you decided to finally break it.

“Haven’t seen you in four months.” You tapped your fingers on the wheel.

“I know.”

“Anything cool happen while catching killers?”

“Nope.” He had a bit of attitude in his voice.

“What’s with the tone? You get shot again or something?” You joked.

“No.” He tried to hold back a smile but failed and ended up chuckling a little bit, which made you smile.

Cars started moving, the tension between you and him had decreased, everything felt okay. Maybe he didn’t hate you anymore.

“How’s everything been for you since you left?” His attitude immediately changed back to his snarky one. You furrowed your brows.

“You were the one who walked out, not me.” You clenched your jaw.

“I never walked out.”

“Yes, you did. After the argument three. years. ago. You basically pushed me away when I went to check on you in the hospital, you also screamed at me in the car last time.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be like that. You still walked out also.” 

“You basically pushed me away- whatever, Emily’s alive, that’s good.” You took a long pause in the middle of your sentence.

“I know that, I’m not stupid, she joined the team for a while until she started working for Interpol.” Spencer's bitchy attitude was killing you.

“Why are you acting like such an asshole? Just a few months ago you were acting kind to me. What the fuck happened?”

“You. You happened.” He spat.

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah. You ruined it. I was trying to be nice and fix us after everything that happened but you just had to be a…a bitch!”

“A bitch? This is all my fault? You made what happened to both of us at the bar shootout a competition! For fucks sake, I ran across a line of bullets to save your ass, I visited you at the fucking hospital to check if you were okay, I still hated you, but I wanted to make sure you were okay. I don’t have an eidetic memory but I know damn well not once you asked if I was.” You ranted.

“You didn’t have to do that, you could've ran the other way and saved yourself. I didn’t need your help.”

“Are you kidding- Spencer, you would’ve bled out!” You were shocked that he didn’t want you to help him, you hated him but you didn’t want him dead.

“Alex was there, so was the rest of the team, anyone could’ve helped me.” You opened your mouth to say something but stopped. What was the point of fighting anymore, you were just beating a dead horse.

“Why are we still fighting?” You sighed.

“I…I don’t know.” His voice was small.

“It’s funny, we’re in the same situation as last time we were in a car together.” You scoffed out a laugh.

“What situation?”

“Last time, you offered me a ride, now I offered you a ride, and now we’re arguing with each other again. Ironic, huh?”

“Time is a flat circle, I guess.” He shrugged.

Thank God you were pulling into his apartment complex parking lot after his last sentence. The tension had fallen again anyway.

“Night Spence.” He gave you a simple “Thanks” and ran into the building, trying to escape the rain.

• • • • • • •

Though everything went somewhat better than the first time in the car with Spencer, nothing felt fixed, and it was bothering you.

You were having a terrible day already. You spilled coffee on yourself…twice, knocked over an entire stack of papers you just organized, got screamed at and humiliated by a customer in front of everyone in the room, you fell on the sidewalk and your hands got all scraped up. All the little things piling up made you get closer and closer to crying your eyes out. Thinking of Spencer did not help one bit.

Everything today was reminding you of him, the bookstore you drove past on the way to work, the smell of fresh coffee in the office, the paintings on the walls, the music playing on the radio, the sound of harsh wind outside, somehow everything connected back to him.

Just Spencer, Spencer, Spencer, Spencer.

You couldn’t stand one more second of having him stuck in your head, you were going to break if he didn’t leave your mind.

As soon as work was over for you, you went right over to Spencer’s apartment. You only knocked twice on his door.

He opened it with a frustrated expression which quickly turned into concern when he fully saw your face.

“y/n? What happened?”

“I’ve had a long day.” That’s all you said. You bit down on your bottom lip while trying to fight back the tears threatening to spill.

“Oh, okay, can you come inside if you want.” He unlocked the chain and opened the door fully.

You did and sat down on the couch with your eyes focused on your hands glued together.

“Do you want something to drink? Tea? Coffee? Water?” You shook your head to every offer, not looking up once.

“Okay, um…do you want to tell me what’s going on?” He sat down next to you.

“Everything is so fucking weird and tense between us, and I hate it. I want it gone.” You blurted out to him.

“I know. I can admit that…I- I want it gone too.” 

“I miss you, Spence. God, I fucking miss you. I miss you so much to the point it hurts. And, I’m exhausted…of everything, hating you and fighting. I don’t want to argue anymore.” You spewed out again while you looked him right in the eyes, even though you were about to start sobbing.

“y/n…” You could tell he had to take a minute to figure out what to say.

“I…am so sorry for everything. I was a complete and utter asshole, I didn’t want it to seem like I was jealous or angry about your success. I don’t cope with big changes well but that’s not an excuse for how I acted. I was such an asshole and I was stuck up in myself. You didn’t deserve any of that. I’m so sorry, y/n.” He sputtered out. You gave a small shaky sigh of relief.

“All I wanted to hear was for you to say sorry.” You couldn’t fight back tears anymore, they started streaming down your face as you hugged him tightly.

“I’m so sorry, I love you.” He mumbled into your hair.

“I love you too, Spencer.”

“No, I mean, I love you.” He pulled out of the hug and cupped his hands around your face.

“I know. I do too.” You smiled.

[xhanisai]

AU where the current holders of the miraculous have dreams about the previous holders

- They only dream about the holders before them- not the holders before the previous ones (for example, say Laila is the current holder of the butterfly and the holder before her was Maya. The holder before Maya was Ali. Laila will only dream about Maya whilst Maya have dreamt about Ali).

- The dreams are in the POV of the previous holders; you would only see things that are happening through their eyes and have no control over their bodies. You will also feel the same things the holders are feeling. The dreams are only possible if the predecessor before the current holder has passed away.

- The last holders of the Ladybug and Black Cat miraculouses were Bridgette Zhōu and Felix Gray (The PV predecessors of Marinette and Adrien). They were born in England and fought and died during the end of the second world war in 1945. 

- Bridgette went by as Ladybird whilst Felix went by as Black Cat. They were sixteen when they received their miraculouses by Maître Fu.

- So Marinette, ever since gaining the earrings, would dream about Bridgette and the events that unfolded during her time. Adrien would dream about Felix on the other hand. 

- At first, both were confused and horrified by this, especially after having to witness the brutal battles and war in first person and not having the power to help the way they want. They wouldn’t dare to mention this to each other in the beginning, unsure on how to approach the subject and completely traumatised too.

- They are quick to mature, especially in their civilian lives. Alya has noted that Marinette often wears a distant, sad look on her face, as if she’s weighed down by the burdens of the world.

- Nino was also quick to realise the tired yet determined gaze that Adrien wore, as if he was burning with the desire to protect everything he treasures as well as grieving for the things he’s lost. Though, the boy is an excellent actor and it’s really hard to see him unless you’re Nino. 

- Since Marinette is far too distracted with coming up with plans and connecting dots to find out who le Papillon was, she’s not able to see how deep the changes were within Adrien, mainly focused on protecting her loved ones, especially her Chat Noir.

- Adrien on the other hand keeps a constant close observation on Marinette. She’s one of the few people out there that he really likes and cherishes so seeing her becoming more distant and tired and sad also upsets him.

- He starts to suspect about Ladybug’s civilian identity, especially after Plagg noting that he’s fallen for Marinette and LB for the umpteenth time. 

- Marinette is also in love with both Adrien and Chat Noir (though she doesn’t like to admit the latter). She doesn’t make any attempts on romancing because she fears that it would be taken advantage of by le Papillon one way or another.

- Chat Noir is only a little flirty with Ladybug, also held back from the past holders and the current villain from fully attempting to romance her. Adrien is still soft and sweet with Marinette, always making sure she’s relaxed in his presence (Though, strangers can see that the feelings between ladynoir and adrinette are mutual).

- Both Adrien and Marinette love to spoil their kwamis with all the sweets and cheese the little Gods desire. The duo couldn’t fathom the guilt and trauma from their predecessors so how were Tikki and Plagg dealing with all the lives of their past holders? 

- The bond between Tikki and Marinette and the bond between Plagg and Adrien is super, super strong.

- What finally causes Ladybug and Chat Noir to snap and communicate with each other regarding the dreams is when they finally dreamt about Bridgette’s and Felix’s last moments. These moments were the most haunting and painful out of them all.

Bridgette laid in a distraught Felix’s arms, a fatal wound in her chest, an ugly crimson growing on her clothes, yet a soft, subtle smile rested on her lips. With all her energy, she mustered up the strength to cup the sobbing boy’s cheek, as if Big Ben wasn’t being bombed to smithereens behind them and as if they weren’t surrounded by walls of deadly fire.

“Please...don’t close your eyes...don’t leave me...you’re going to be okay,” Felix choked, leaning into her touch which only grew terrifyingly colder and colder. He has to save her...he has to!

“D-Don’t cry, my sweet love,” Bridgette attempted to grin further and cooed at her lover, blind to Tikki’s vice grip on her blood stained school uniform and Plagg’s gape of horror. “I...I need you to run, Felix. Please-”

“What!? Don’t be ridiculous! I’m not leaving you! Not now, not ever!” He held her closer to him, tears cascading down his usually stoic face and mind scrambling for a plan. “I’ll save you, like always! And no one will dare to hurt you again-”

“Please...you’re already hurt. Please, live for me...”

“Bridgette...there’s no point in living if you’re not there with me, and that’s final!”

.

- Unfortunately, the duo met their demise from a direct bomb. Fu and Marianne had no choice but to take the miraculouses off their corpses as they were on the run, no time to mourn for the poor teens. 

- Because of this dream, Chat has vowed to protect his Lady, no matter what, to ensure that she never has to go through the same pain as Bridgette (and also so he never has to mourn for another woman he’s loved with his everything).

- Ladybug has also vowed to ensure that they would never get into a situation like that, ever. The last thing she ever wants is for her partner to go through that pain. 

- Sometimes, Marinette would find herself clutching her chest, as if she’s been shot, only to realise that they’re phantom pains from Bridgette’s fatal wounds and battle scars. Sometimes, the pain is enough to make her blackout. 

- Similarly, this happens to Adrien too. Especially since Black Cat often got hurt during the war when fighting against the opposition. 

- Both Marinette and Adrien have seen this happen to each other, not only as civilians but as their hero identities as well. They’re both 100% certain of their suspicions regarding the identities but are yet to address it.

- They get into arguments when Chat keeps on sacrificing himself. Both of them wanting to protect each other so badly, it hurts. The horrors of their predecessors’ lives and failures branded into their souls. 

“You are the most important one out of us both! You can bring everything back to normal! Of course it makes sense for me to take that hit for you-”

“We are a team! I can’t do this without you and you know how much I hate seeing you die before my eyes over and over again!”

“But you bring me back every time-”

“That doesn’t stop it from hurting, you stupid cat! How would you feel if the person you love the most kept dying in front of you!?”

- After accidentally blurting out her confession, Ladybug attempts to run away, only for Chat Noir to hold her back by the hand. He then gently hugs her from behind, face hidden on the crook of her neck.

“I do know how it feels, Marinette. I do...” Chat held onto her tighter when she gasped, waiting until she relaxed before he carried on. “Every time I dream about that night, I feel Felix’s pain as his Lady died in his arms. I feel his guilt, his self-hatred, his grief, his heartbreak...everything.” 

Lifting his head, Noir turned Ladybug around, his frown deepening from the tears that ran down her cheeks. He then brought his lips to one of her eyes, kissing away the tears with a softness that would rival even a mother’s touch to a new-born’s skin.

“I’m sorry I made you feel that way...I love you so much that I can’t bear to see you die, ever,”

- From then on, they come to a compromise that they’d work as hard as possible to keep either of them from dying for each other.

- It’s hard and difficult but now that they have each other in their civilian lives, as well as letting Alya, Nino and Marinette’s parents into the secrets, the burdens eased. Fu allowed them to do this, knowing that the burden is too much for a singular person to handle on their own. Together they all became one excellent support system.

- Thankfully, there are pleasant dreams from Felix’s and Bridgette’s lives as well. Such as: first time meeting, ballroom dancing, walking in the gardens, etc.

[mandowh0re]

Remember Me

Chapter 1

Summary: While cleaning up the timelines that he broke, Loki meets and inevitably loses the one person that's understood him in life. But he's not losing you without a fight

A/N: Beta'd by @edgyvege

Warnings: Mentions of death

Word Count: 1619

Happy reading!

It’s a quiet evening, and the Avengers that lived in the compound decided to take advantage of the rainy evening and have a movie night. Steve had called Tony over, who had brought Peter with him. The father and son duo has stopped on the way from the city to pick up a plethora of unhealthy snacks, including everyone’s favorite chips and candies.

They’re currently all settled in the common room watching She-Ra. Peter’s head is resing on Tony’s shoulder, Thor is snuggled up to Bruce, Natasha and Clint are sitting in the same recliner, Wanda and Vision are on one side of the love seat, Steve on the other side of Tony, Bucky and Sam sitting on the floor behind the coffee table.

They’re at the part where Adora is being stalked by Shadow Weaver in Mystacor, when the TV suddenly flickers, the audio warping. There’s a buzzing sound behind them closer to the kitchenette.

Everyone straightens in their seats, suddenly on alert.

“Friday,” Tony barks, pushing Peter behind him, “Lights.”

The lights cut on and everyone in the room watches as the air seems to distort and glow, similarly to when the sun beats down on the pavement, before a blonde man walks out with a cuffed and collared Loki behind him.

Every person in the room jumps into a defensive stance, some already with weapons that are always stashed and hidden throughout the compound, and each ready to fight at a moment’s notice.

Thor leaps over the couch and calls his hammer to him in one swift movement, but he doesn’t look frightened or angry.

He just looks… Mournful.

“Loki?” He says with apprehension, tilting his head.

It looks like Loki, and he’s certainly bound the way Loki should be if he were up to no good. But he watched Loki die. He watched Thanos crush the life out of him and toss him to the floor of that ship as if he were a worthless piece of balled up paper.

The blonde man holds up his hands in front of himself, as if to signal that they’re not here to cause any harm.

“Please, allow me to explain why we are here before this turns ugly.” The stranger pleads.

Thor looks back to his team, making eye contact with Tony and Steve.

They look apprehensive, and Tony has an iron grip on his kid, but Steve nods carefully.

Thor turns back to the stranger and nods, but his focus is mainly on Loki, “Go ahead.”

The man drops his hands and pockets them before beginning his story, “Okay. My name is Mobius, and I am a Timekeeper. My job, like Thor is probably aware, is to keep the timelines safe, intact, and to keep them from ever intersecting. When the Avengers used the Pym Particles to go back in time and retrieve the Infinity Stones; Stark, Rogers, Banner, and Lang went back to the Battle of New York in 2012. When they infiltrated the 2012 Avengers to get a hold of the tesseract, they made an error that caused the tesseract to fall into the hands of that Loki.”

Thor’s brows shot up to his hairline and he whipped around to look at Tony, “What? Why was I not informed of this?”

Now it’s Tony’s turn to hold his hands up, “Okay, hey. We didn’t have time to focus on that, and you were still grieving your brother. It would not have done anyone any good to bring it up while we were still in the fight of our lives.”

“And what about after?” He barks.

“While I agree this is something you all should discuss, I respectfully ask that you do that later,” Mobius interrupts, “I have places to be.”

Thor huffs and gives Tony one last glare before he turns back to the two other men.

“Right, anyways. When Loki took the tesseract and escaped, he broke that timeline. It caused multiple branches off of it,” He starts to take a step forward to the group, but decides against it when Thor’s nostrils flare, “We tracked him down, arrested him, and brought him into custody. He was given the option of life in prison or parole if he agreed to help us fix the timeline and erase the others. And I’m sure you can imagine what he chose.”

“I mean, there wasn’t much of a choice, was there?” Loki mumbles.

“Do you mind?” Mobius mumbles back, then turns to finish his story, “Through several months of helping us, Loki has proved himself to be, well, no longer a universal threat.”

“How do we know you aren’t under some spell of his?” Natasha asks, “Or working with him?”

“You don’t,” Mobius shrugs, “But he does know everything that has happened to him and those around him up until his final death. He was given the choice of choosing where he wanted to go at his time of being released, and I believe it says something for him to choose here.”

“Not much, actually. He’s manipulative.” Steve chimes in.

Mobius holds a finger up, “That he is. But unlike before, he has a lot more to lose this time.”

Thor crosses his arms, “And what would that be?”

***

You hum as you stock the shelves with the new shipment of books you just received.

It’s a nice day out. Mid April, the trees and flowers are blooming, and it’s finally nice enough outside to leave windows open. The mini fan is running on the counter where the register is, and the music is flowing quietly throughout your shop.

A very pleasant day, indeed.

You hear the windchimes attached to the shop door tinkle brightly, and you call over your shoulder as you finish placing the last few books, “Welcome! I’ll be right with you!”

When you’re finished, you grab the now empty cardboard box and use your pocket knife to break it down as you walk back to the front of the small store.

When you look up, a tall man with dark hair and a black suit is standing by the register, hands in his pockets. He’s incredibly handsome and as your eyes scan his features, you can’t help but feel like you have seen him before.

“Hi! How can I help you?” You ask, tossing the now flattened box onto a pile of others before walking behind the counter.

The man looks at you, tearing his gaze from a picture you had behind the counter, and his eyes meet yours. For the briefest of moments, you think you see grief flash across his emerald eyes. But as quick as you think you saw it, it's gone.

“Hello,” He greets, his voice satiny smooth, “A friend of mine recommended a book, and I was wondering if you could help me get my hands on a copy.”

“Sure!” You lean against the counter and fold your hands, “What’s it called?”

“I believe it’s called Norse Mythology, written by a Neil Gaiman.”

Your eyes light up and you push off your elbows to stand, “That’s my favorite book! Your friend must have amazing taste!” You wink.

He nods, eyes never leaving you, “I like to think so.”

“I definitely have it! Can’t really consider myself a good bookstore owner if I don’t keep my favorite books in stock, follow me.” You walk out from behind the counter and wave the handsome man to follow you. You know exactly where to go, and weave expertly between the shelves of your small shop. You finally come to a halt and reach down to grab the book, handing it to him, “Here you are.”

He takes the book from you and offers a kind smile and he turns it over in his hands, reading the back, “Thank you.”

“Of course, let’s go get you checked out,” You smile, staring at the handsome stranger before you realize what you’re doing.

The two of you walk back to the front of the store, and he lays the book down for you to scan it.

You take another look at him, and you’re not sure what possesses you to say it. You later account it to having been alone for so long.

“Actually- Here...” You lean down under the counter where you have your own stash of books, and grab your own copy of Norse Mythology. You stand back up and place it in front of him, “Why don’t you borrow my copy? I know it’s not as pretty as a new one, but if you don’t like it, you won’t have wasted the money. If you do like it, we can talk about it. Either way, you’ll have to return it,” You look down to the countertop before bringing your eyes to meet him once more, “And I can see you again.”

A beautifully sweet smile spreads across the man’s face. His eyes flicker down, noticing that you’re picking at your nails; it’s your nervous habit. He places a hand on the worn paperback book, “Lovely. Sounds like a plan to me. Shall we say next week, this time?”

Your smile brightens considerably, and you feel butterflies come to life in your belly, “See you then.”

He bends at the waist, bowing slightly, and turns to leave. You watch as his slender hand grabs the door knob, when a thought occurs to you.

“Wait!” You shout, reaching out your hand.

He stops dead in his tracks and turns back to you, an eyebrow quirked.

“What’s your name?”

He stiffens slightly. It’s so subtle that you barely notice it, but you do. Finally, a soft look adorns the man’s handsome features, and he looks a little sad. But he still answers.

“Loki.”

***

Remember Me Taglist: @idunnomayn

Permanent Taglist: @a-place-to-blog-marvel-stuff @yes-iamironman-blog @paradoxicalblueberry @the-regal-warrior @transparentparadiseglitterzombie @marvelgem @propertyofmarvel @avngrsinitiative @my-leg-is-not-a-chew-toy @lyricalstella-blog @just-the-daydreamer @hufflely-puffly

[loveofafangirl]

A Promise

[Baron Zemo Masterlist] [Marvel Masterlist]

Pairing: Baron Zemo x F!Reader/You  (no race or body type described)

Synopsis: You accompany Zemo to the Sokovia Memorial. *Hurt/Comfort*

Background: After protecting a child in Latvia, Zemo offers you his services to assist with tending to your wounds. You invite him to stay the night at your home.  This is a follow up to The Right Thing. It can probably be read as a standalone, but it is the same reader/character from that story and picks up the next morning. 

Word Count: ~2,000

TW: mentions of previous character death/death of a child; grief centric; angst with uncertain ending. 

A/N: I know my fluffy Zemo stories are more popular but in my HC, you don’t get Soft!Zemo without putting in the work and helping him through his deep-rooted grief. So it’s important to me to explore this side of him too, as there is no redemption possible without it. My HC is that you can read this reader throughout almost all of the stories. 

The floorboards in your old apartment creak in the quiet of the morning, you strain your ears, listening to your guest's movements. You continue preparing breakfast, hopeful that he might join you, but the footsteps lead away instead of nearer. 

You follow the sound, noting how the area where he had slept had since been tidied. 

"You don't have to leave," you offer with a subtle shrug as you approach the entrance. "Stay...at least for breakfast."

His lips pull at the corners as he nods in contemplation, but you can tell by the strained expression he had already decided to go. "Thank you for the hospitality, but I must depart." 

His hand taps almost subconsciously over one of the inner pockets of his long dark grey coat. Your mind drifts back to the previous night when he had offered the garment to you. You had noticed a small bear tucked inside. You had been curious but hadn't wished to pry. 

"There is something I must do," he stated solemnly.

You nod your understanding. You knew he wouldn't stay; why would he? Nevertheless, something inside of you begged you not to let him go. You watch as he continues toward the door. At the last moment, you take a quick step forward.

"Wait!" You blurt out with more volume than you had intended. "Do you want company?"

"Where I'm going, I don't anticipate having much time left." He turns back toward you. "I have a promise to keep and then—" he pauses, knowing what he has to do, knowing his freedom was only ever a short-term gift, one he would exchange when his work was complete. He continues, "—I have an agreement to honor." 

You look away, trying to school the disappointment on your face until you realize he hadn't entirely said no. You feel a slight rise of hope as you study his features. You sense the heaviness in his heart in his sunken gaze, despite the mischievous smirk toying on his lips. "I could use some air, even if it isn't that long." 

He inhales, considering your offer. Neither of you fully understand the curious feeling growing inside; yet, both of you are reluctant to ignore it and part so soon. He nods thoughtfully. "I've called for the car. It will take us where I need to go."

Your eyes grow inquisitively at his words. You had assumed the place was nearby. But more so, the ease in which he mentions such a luxury takes you by surprise. Not many from your neighborhood could afford such a thing. 

You grab your coat and follow him out into the streets. You pause as you near the black car, questioning for the first time if this is a wise decision. Your thoughts are pulled back as he opens the side door, motioning you inside. 

Your face warms at the gesture. It wasn't often you encountered manners such as his. He was different, and that intrigued you.

He closes the door carefully behind you before walking around and joining you on the other side.

"The memorial, if you please." These are the only words spoken for the duration of the trip. 

You watch your city fade away to the countryside that eventually gave way into a bareness. Despite the years since the battle, the land had yet to recover fully. Some new growth highlighted the landscape, but much was still bleak and lifeless. 

Every now and then, you stole a glance at the man beside you, deep in contemplation. Occasionally, he would record his thoughts in a small notebook that he kept guarded.

As the car arrives at the memorial, you wait, watching for him to take the lead, not really knowing what to expect. 

His hand pauses as he reaches for the door handle. You watch his deliberate movements, almost forcing himself forward. 

The grief drawn on his face pulls your own features down in reply. You wonder for the first time whom he had lost.

He nods to himself as if willing his body to continue and leave the car.

You linger with the intent of giving him a moment. However, to your surprise, he opens your door for you and gestures you out. 

You take in the expansive memorial to the fallen country. A lake to the right had formed as the land resettled. A monument at the center with a serene trickling fountain welcomed you quietly.

But what caught your attention most was the wall of names. The Avengers had saved a lot of people that day, but the list of the dead was longer than you expected. Your stomach drops at the realization as your gaze scans the seemingly endless wall. The news covered the victory and the destruction, but it did little to prepare you for this truth. The cost of human lives should have outweighed any other press, but it didn't. 

You whisper a silent prayer to honor the dead, knowing so many of them may no longer have anyone to remember them. 

He stands beside you, his gaze distant.

"It's beautiful." The words slip from your lips in reverence. The memorial was simple yet powerful. You couldn't help but feel the weight of the loss standing before the massive wall in the distance, but the fountain and the lake helped ground you. "I wonder who designed it."

"I did," he replies, his voice marred with pain. "I may be a man without a country now; but, it is still my duty to care for the ashes of my beloved land and all those who were lost... and those I failed to protect." 

The more he talked, the less you realized you knew about him. He spoke of Sokovia with deep admiration as though he were once a significant member of its ruling body. You wonder how a man who seemingly had so much ended up hiding in the shadows of your city. The sorrow in his expression answered your question. Loss. Loss cuts more deeply than any physical wound ever could.

"It's beautiful," you repeat quietly. You know that no matter what you offer, it will never be enough to satiate his loss.

He doesn't acknowledge your reply; instead, he continues forward, heading toward the end of the list of names.  

You stay near the fountain, giving him space and privacy to mourn. You try to turn away, but you can't help but continue glancing in his direction. You want more than anything to understand him. 

You watch his body grow rigid, the color draining from his face. He leans against the wall for support, his fingers tracing a line of names. He reaches in his pocket and retrieves the small bear. His hands shake as he looks between the toy and the wall. 

You press your fingers to your lips, wondering what memories the token holds for him. You could practically see this man's heart breaking in front of you. 

His knees buckle under the weight of his grief until he crumbles to the ground, clutching the bear tightly in his hands. Despite being hidden by his jacket, you see his body rock as he weeps silently, his suffering too great to bear.

This man who confidently came to your rescue, who despite his mysterious nature had offered an air of self-assuredness in all that he did, was now broken in a way you realize only the loss of a young child could cause.

You move silently behind him, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. The two of you might be strangers still but, you knew he needed to know he wasn't alone. 

"I'm sorry," he cries quietly, though you know the words are not meant for you. "I failed you. I should have been there. It should have been me."

He had spent years grieving in silence, throwing himself in his mission to avenge their deaths and later in prison, reading philosophies to justify the actions he had taken. He had never given into the sorrow, not in a meaningful way. It was easier to stay angry and to hate those responsible than to let the weight of his grief suffocate him as it did now. But, he had made them a promise that they would never be forgotten—that no one loss that day would be forgotten. He promised to remember them and then to visit once the memorial was complete. And now, he could keep that promise, even if it meant little compared to the one promise in his life that he had failed to keep—to protect them above all else.

You remain silently at his side, letting him grieve. He didn't recoil under your touch, so you kept your hand on his shoulder, knowing it would do little to quell the sadness of the loss of a child—the ultimate tragedy. 

As his grief quiets and his body relaxes, you give his shoulder a gentle squeeze and retreat, offering him time alone with the family he had lost.

He kisses the crown of the bear's head and rests it against the wall. He remains a while longer in silent vigil. You keep watch from the fountain, admiring how the sun sparkled on the lake, offering a promise of hope for the future amongst the wreckage. 

When he returns to you, his mouth opens in gratitude, but his words fail. He nods simply, and you understand all of the unspoken meaning it held.

"What will you do now?" You question softly. 

"Wait," he replies, sitting stoically beside you.

"How long?" You had already been away almost a day and were curious where this was leading.

"As long as it takes?"

"For what?"

"I made an agreement. As easy as it would be to go on my way and accept this freedom, I must honor the vow I made. What would a man be without his word?"

You don't understand what he means, but you sensed his peace in his decision. "Okay."

His gaze meets yours. "The car will take you anywhere you wish to go."

"What about you?"

"I trust other means of transportation will have been arranged."

You take this as your cue to leave, so you stand, despite your reservations. "Thank you... for your help last night."

"It was my privilege to do the right thing."

"Will I see you again?" The question slips from your lips before you can stop it.

The corner of his mouth twitches up momentarily. He reaches in his pocket, retrieving the black notebook he was writing in earlier. "That is entirely up to you."

You shake your head in confusion as he hands the book to you.

"This is who I was and who I am." His head tilts to the side, reflecting on the time you'd spent together. "It also holds what events I trust will transpire in the coming days and where to find me should you wish to after you've learned the truth."

"I don't understand."

"I know. You will if you read this." He offers a halfhearted smile. "If we don't meet again, I understand, but if we do,  I'll know—" he goes quiet, choosing his words carefully. "I'll know there is more work to be done. That you have seen what I could be, and I'd like that chance."

You stare blankly, wanting to understand but sensing you can't.

"Thank you," he paused, his voice rising, searching for something more.

"Y/N," you whisper. You had both decided the previous night it was best to keep your identities concealed.

"Y/N," he repeats, reaching for your hand. He brushes a kiss on your knuckles. "It's been a pleasure."

Your eyes mist over, even though you're not sure why. You wait, hoping he might return the sentiment with his name, but his lips press together, and his only reply is to gesture toward the book he handed you. 

"Go," he encourages.

You feel yourself walking away even though that's the last thing you want to do. You hold the book—his book—a little closer, not daring to look back. Despite the slight promise in his words that this wasn't the end, you couldn't help but feel like this was an unspoken goodbye. 

A/N2: I started writing after episode 4 when Zemo first mentions the memorial. The original ending wasn’t angsty/uncertain, but I wanted to make it work with canon so I wanted him to decide to stay alone so he could return to prison, keeping the agreement he made to Sam and Bucky in the beginning. There may be a third part in their story... just saying 😉 

Marvel Perma(til the end of the line): @the-soot-sprite​​​​; @fandomxreaders ;  @moonstuffsteve​​

Zemo tags: @montypythonsholysnail​​​​ ; @killsandthrills​​​ ; @noavengers​​​​ ; ​@nalabarnes1031 ; @trelaney​​ ; @willowtheewisp​ ; @marchingicenotes7 

[the-last-kenobi]

for Clara, who wanted sadness like a sunset 🌅

Leia was crying.

Leia often cried.

She was an infant, and crying was normal, he knew. Healthy, even.

But Leia often cried, and cried, and wailed, her small round face screwed up in red-tinted misery, squalling like the storms that came off the high mountains and brought iron and winter and gusting winds to Alderaan as the year waned.

Leia cried like she had something to mourn and no other way to express her grief.

Leia cried, Bail thought, like she knew.

Bail stood on the balcony of the suite he shared with his small family, his feet planted solidly on pristine stone and hand-painted ceramic detailing, his body unmoved by the winds that tugged so fervently at his robes.

Unmoved against the wind. Unmoved against the waning of another day.

Unmoved against the promise of another night, followed by another dawn, under the grip of the Empire.

It seemed impossible, sometimes, surrounded by the beauty of Alderaan and the warm smiles of his wife and the cries of his dark-eyed daughter, that the Republic had really fallen. Had someone suggested to him twenty, even ten, even five years ago that the government which had survived for millennia would perish on his watch...

Bail took a deep breath and forced his feet to move, walking to the railing. He felt his boots thud softly on the polished tiles, felt his callused hands — worn from decades of writing, of shaking hands, of raising a weapon when he needed to, of living — skate gently across the cool marble railing, felt his fingers grip it slowly.

And still, confronted with the glorious vista of his homeland as long shadows and golden light illuminated it, confronted with the darkness creeping in, confronted with his own failings, the only real thing in the galaxy was Leia.

His daughter.

Helped from the womb of a dying woman that Bail had regarded as something of a sister.

Leia, his heir.

Who would one day inherit his responsibilities and his title, and her mother’s also, first one and then the other, exchanging a puppet Senate for a weakened planet’s crown.

This little girl, who he had doomed to a future of peril and weighty destiny the minute he had offered her a home and a family.

Had Padmé felt the same? he wondered. Had she held her growing stomach late at night and wondered what freedom there could really be for the child of a forbidden match? The child of a Senator falling rapidly from grace and a Jedi who could never quite commit to either duty or wife?

The sun’s curve vanished behind the hills with a last burning glimmer of rose and indigo, and Bail clung to the railing for support as the skies turned black, only the stars left to shine.

Scattered. Divided. No warmth to give, not to him.

All of them isolated and afraid.

Bail bowed his head against the wind and the world and tried to hold his shoulders steady, fighting against sudden tears.

Tears.

Leia was crying. Leia was still crying.

Why had no one gone to comfort Leia? Where was Breha?

His fingers unclenched slowly from the railing, and with faltering strides he returned inside, to lamp-light and warmth and temperature control, to walls and curtains and domed ceilings.

Hiding from the encroaching galaxy and it’s darkness that so outnumbered the stars.

Leia was in her bassinet, her small feet kicking and entangled in her blankets, her small arms waving uncomfortably as she fought for release. Her small face was screwed up in a wail. The dark, silken tufts of hair that curled a little when left alone were rumpled, and her huge eyes were full of tears.

Bail watched in a detached sort of way as his large hands, dark and rough next to her pale soft skin, moved and gently lifted her up. Leia settled against his shoulder, still wriggling, her sobs fading to whimpers.

Leia cried like she knew.

“Not yet, my darling,” Bail found himself whispering into the soft curls at the back of her head, rubbing her back as he did and swaying slightly on the spot, the stony tension seeming to seep away from his limbs as he did. “You have nothing to mourn yet. Be happy, Leia, while you can. Can you do that for me? Will you let me give you a childhood?”

He thought of Obi-Wan, alone in the desert with a small boy he couldn’t protect, couldn’t love, couldn’t cherish.

He thought of Padmé, her eyes glazed and anguished as she let the droids finish the work her body couldn’t handle alone, as she gave birth to children she would never even get to hold.

He thought of Anakin, and the monster he had chosen to become because his wife’s soul and his children’s lives meant less to him than him keeping everything he wanted. Less than power.

Bail cradled Leia as close as he could, feeling her nestle and squirm, hiccup and murmur against his shoulder, small and warm and alive, feeling her trust him so completely.

It would have to do.

Leia cried like she knew, but she wouldn’t know for years how much she had already lost, and how much more she would have to give to a cause that threatened to collapse every moment.

And Bail was comforted by her temporary ignorance.

It was the only gift he could give her.

A childhood full of hope.

A family.

~fin~

[betelgeuse-1988]

pale blue eyes: obi-wan/reader

hey so i fell in love with ewan mcgregor recently and proceeded to watch all of the prequels and started the clone wars. how dangerous! probably more obi-wan content in the near future. sorry if this isn't canon compliant...i don't know enough about star wars and i'm so sorry!! give me tips if you have any

obi-wan is also probably totally ooc and i’ve definitely disregarded the jedi code (bc screw the code!) but...i don’t care...obi-wan is too beautiful for that lmao. if anyone can handle a little temptation from the darkside and still be a good jedi, it’s obi

tags: smut, fluff, light angst, hurt/comfort, grief/mourning (mention of death), master/padawan dynamic (sorta), possessive sex/behavior, rough sex, marking (hickies), smoking, implied age difference, porn with feelings (and maybe plot), dirty talk

There was something oh so terrifying about being a Padawan. Of course, it was all you had ever known, but realizing that there would be a day when no one would be there to hold your hand as you traversed the daily experiences of being a Jedi was overwhelmingly terrifying. But, what was even more terrifying was the thought alone of losing your Master.

Actually losing her before you’d finished your training could only be described as unquantifiable.

Obi-Wan broke the news to you soon after reporting to the council after the mission on some outer-rim planet went wrong and led to several Jedi being killed. He spared you the details as you broke down in front of him, apologizing immediately for letting your emotions get the best of you. You tried your best to keep everything in, especially in front of one of the best Jedi Masters. Obi-Wan looked down the hallway before slowly walking you back into your quarters. He sat you down on your small bed, taking a seat next to you.

“I know how you feel right now, as I too lost my Master. But, you must remember your Master has returned to the Force. She has become something better and will always be with you. It will be difficult, but as time passes the intensity of your emotions will fade.”

You looked up into his blue eyes, the truth behind them reinforcing what you sensed in the Force. His statements were genuine, facts that had been seen in countless other Jedi who had experienced what you did; but, his eyes (and the Force) held a sadness that seemed as if it was too big and too fragile to even consider touching. Having heard some pieces of what had happened to Master Kenobi and his Padawan, it seemed as if he never had enough time to grieve. He never had time to consider what loss meant and how to deal with it. The words he spoke seemed to be monotonous, as if they were a mantra he thought to himself often. An attempt to rid himself of emotions that council members told him that he would be drawn to the darkside because of them.

“And yet,” you said, pausing to control your breathing, a few tears escaping your eyes now and then. “Those emotions will never go away, huh?”

Obi-Wan broke your gaze, sighing and rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m...I’m sorry, I’m not helping, am I?” He let out a sad chuckle before looking back at you. “It’s just...I know too well how you feel. And yet, I cannot bring myself to tell you that you must rid yourself of these emotions because they will lead you astray. I so wish that one person would have allowed me to feel, just for one moment.”

You take his hand into yours, unable to bring yourself to look him in the eyes. “You’ve helped me more than you know, Master Kenobi. And I only hope that you are able to take your own advice, too.”

“I will try, young one.”

After this moment, you found yourself drawn to Obi-Wan in the late hours of the night. Master Windu took over the last few weeks of your training before your trials. When you were not training or sleeping and Obi-Wan was not training his Padawan, you were together. This often caused you both to spend late nights in one of your quarters (most often his, as they were bigger). At first there was nothing sexual or even romantic about these meetings. They allowed you both to explore your grief and help each other control emotions most Jedi would consider distracting or unwanted. It was nice to feel safe in your emotions.

At least, until your emotions became romantic feelings for Obi-Wan.

This realization hit you like a podracer a few weeks after you became a Jedi. You had been given a mission to protect a queen from an outer-rim planet visiting Naboo for a week. The distance alone is not what caused you to realize these feelings. Obi-Wan and his Padawan had been sent on small missions in the past few weeks, causing you to go days without seeing him. Sure, you missed him, but training for your trials could fill the void he left. But, now, being away and nearly bored out of your mind in your down time was horrible. You felt a constant sense of longing and desire that you could only trace back to Master Kenobi. Your thoughts would drift back to late nights you spent with the sweet man who could comfort you with only a smile. Thoughts of running your hands through his auburn hair as you begged him to keep growing it out, especially with the beard. Watching his eyes flutter closed as you gave him a massage through his undershirt. He lets out little groans and moans, telling you to push harder in certain spots. Holding his large, calloused hand in yours as you cuddle close together on his bed. It wasn’t until the final day of your assignment that these thoughts turned sexual.

You laid in bed, too excited over going back to Coruscant and having a few days off. A half-dreaming vision formed in your mind of Obi-Wan laying in his bed. The image became clearer and you realized that his sleeping pants were pushed down slightly, his hand grasping his cock tightly. A moan slipped past his lips, the words he choked out indecipherable as he thrusted harshly into his fist. You attempt to will away this vision but it’s stuck--almost engraved--in your mind, drifting in and out like a boat rocking back and forth on waves. His thrusts seemed desperate, as if he had been attempting to reach his climax long before you created this vision. He moans again, this time it is clearer and louder than before: your name. It slips past his lips smoothly as he finally tenses slightly, forcing his hips upwards. Cum shot out of his cock as his thrusts stuttered to a stop and his hand took over. Some particularly thick shots hit his lower stomach, covering the hair above his cock. The rest flooded slowly over the tip and down onto his hand. He groaned all through his climax, panting once he had finished completely. Your mind often drifted back to these images as you fell in and out of sleep throughout the night.

Getting back to Coruscant was a welcome return home. After your report to the council, you saw Obi-Wan and Anakin waiting for you outside of the chambers. You found it difficult, at first, to hold Obi-Wan’s gaze as he greeted you.

“Hello, Master Kenobi. What are you doing here?”

“I heard you got back. If you’d like, Anakin and I would like to take you to Dex’s,” he says simply, a wide smile on his face. Anakin gave you a toothy grin, excited to gorge himself on greasy diner food.”How was your mission, young one?”

You smiled widely, slightly forgetting about the waking-dream that had been plaguing your mind. “Sounds like a great idea. I can tell you all about my mission over dinner, then, I suppose?” Obi-Wan nodded in response, a smile (albeit smaller) on his face mirroring yours and Anakin’s.

After dinner at Dex’s, Obi-Wan dismissed Anakin to his chambers (though, Obi would confide in you that he knew for a fact his was talking to his fellow Padawans late into the night, to which you would chastise him for doing the same thing with you) and invited you to his own to meditate. The walk there was quiet, yet comfortable. But, as you reached his quarters, you saw the bed that was ingrained into your visions from the night before. The panic and embarrassment ran through you, piling heavy in your stomach and causing you to stop in your tracks at his doorway. Obi-Wan took off his boots quickly and made his way to the large window at the opposite side of the room.

“You can come all the way in, y’know?” Obi-Wan said once he realized you had not followed, his tone light and playful. He was teasing you, like he always did, always a flirt. And yet, tonight, it made you nervous. You took slow steps towards him after taking your boots off by the door, meeting him at the window he liked to meditate at. “Are you okay? No witty comeback for your favorite Jedi?” He moved to cup your face but you turned away, noticing it was the hand he had so elegantly wrapped around his cock in your vision.

You looked back at him and shook your head, your eyes becoming watery out of embarrassment and fear. You knew you needed to talk to him before this got any worse. “C-can I talk to you about something?” He nodded, his face becoming serious, and sat down on the plush cushions he used to begin meditating. He patted on one next to him and you sat after taking off your cloak. You two sat almost too close, knees touching. You could almost smell him and could almost feel the calming warmth radiating off of him. “I...During my missions I was plagued by visions, Master Kenobi.”

He frowned slightly at what you said, worried about the potential dangers of visions Jedi see. “You do not need to use my title in my quarters, young one,” he said, calmly, so as not to scare you or make you feel he was reprimanding you. “But you can tell me anything. What were in these visions, young one?”

You sighed, attempting to muster the strength in admitting what you saw. Obi-Wan could sense your struggle and reached out to touch your knee gently. You placed your hand over his and squeezed gently, closing your eyes to center yourself. The minute you opened your mouth, the word-vomit flowed fast. “They were of you. They began as nice and comforting. Domestic moments. Like holding your hand or cuddling. I could see myself doing that with any friend. But...last night, it was sexual. I, uhm, watched you...pleasure yourself. Y-you moaned my name. Maker, I feel like I’ve used you, I am so sorry, Master Kenobi.”

“This happened last night?” he asked, blushing slightly under your curious gaze. You nodded slowly, unsure of where he was going with this. “Then I don’t think you were making these visions up, darling.”

Your jaw dropped, with Obi-Wan only smirking back at you. “W-what do you mean?”

“I think you saw me, somehow. I saw some of those visions you described earlier in the week, too. Perhaps we are connected, young one.” He looked at you processing what he just said and smiled. “I like you, a lot. I admire your work as a Jedi and I am so proud to see how much you have grown since I first talked to you that night your master died.” He moved the hand that was resting in his lap to cup your cheek. “I believe I have fallen for you. I am sorry that you had to see me in such an inappropriate state, however. I would understand if you didn’t want to be with me.”

“No! I mean, I do. I want to be with you. I never imagined that you would ever want to be with someone like me.” You smiled brightly, giddy about this change in your relationship with Obi-Wan. “And, if I may say, you looked quite beautiful last night. I am honored that you thought of me just as I have thought of you. Although, you have a much different imagination than I do.” The man in front of you blushed and chuckled brightly, almost proud of what he had done.

The hand on your knee tentatively moved further up your thigh. “Perhaps I can spark your imagination?”

You shifted to be on your knees, placing your hands on his thighs. You leaned close to him, almost brushing your lips against his. You were able to feel the tickle of his beard on your face as you whispered out, “Perhaps I can fulfill yours?” You pressed your lips against his as he shoves his hands through your hair, tugging on it slightly. Even as he moaned, you tasted the strawberry milkshake you shared with him at Dex’s. But, as you kissed him deeper, tongues exploring each other’s mouths, you tasted tabac, causing your mind to wander. You never thought of Obi-Wan indulging in the toxic substance, but you can’t bring yourself to be surprised. Images of Obi-Wan shirtless, just-fucked and sweaty, his hair a mess, flooded your mind. A cigarra hung from his mouth, barely hanging on to it as he took puffs from it.

A nasty habit Obi’s voice rings through your mind, almost embarrassed, I can’t seem to kick it, young one. I hope you aren’t angry.

You pulled away and cupped his face. Not wanting to ruin the tender moment of vulnerability, you kissed him lightly and projected your thoughts to him, I could not be mad at you. I find it shamefully attractive, but if you are ready to quit, I know you can.

He smiled into the kiss as you pulled away to begin stripping. “Allow me to help you,” he said, moving to push your robes off your shoulders as you took off the belt around your waist. You shrugged the robes off of you completely and threw them to the side, followed by your undershirt. Obi-Wan moved to help you take your pants off, but you stopped him.

“Allow me to help you, Master Kenobi?” he blushed and leaned back, copying your actions by starting with his belt. You help to shrug off his outer robes followed by his undershirt. You admire his chest, speckled with freckles. You pushed him down lightly, his back hitting his carpeted floor lightly. “You are truly beautiful, Master.” You kissed his chest lightly, kneeling at his side and helping him to shove his pants and undergarments off. Even though you had seen his member the night before, it was different in person and being able to see it uncovered by his hand. Semi-hard, all you could think was that it would look even more beautiful in the moonlight and neon lights streaming from the window. You flicked your hand, flipping the light switch by the door.

“I was going to ask if you liked what you saw, young one, but it seems I was wrong,” Obi-Wan hummed.

You smirked, taking his cock in your hands. “Oh, I do, but I am one for aesthetics and I would prefer to be fucked under the moonlight.” You jerk him off slightly, getting him hard. As your movements become a tad more difficult, you hold your hand up to the man’s mouth. “Spit, please.” He looked at you with a raised brow but spits. You rubbed it up and down his cock, making your movements much smoother. You squeezed lightly around his cock and he began to thrust lightly under your touch. You moved to lean down and use your mouth on his cock, but Obi-Wan stopped you.

“Let me get you ready so I can fuck you under the moonlight, just like you want, my young one.”

He moved you down to lay on the floor, pushing one of his cushions underneath your head. After helping you out of your remaining clothes, he shoved the other pillow under your hips, angling them upwards. He then kissed down your chest, as if attempting to kiss away the moonlight with how fervently he pressed his lips to your skin. Yet, as you pushed his hair back to get a clear view of his serene face, you thought he may be trying to pin down the moonlight to your skin. The way his gaze locked with yours showed how intensely he cared about this moment. His kisses acted as an attempt to encapsulate you in the light, an attempt to preserve this moment forever. You were not just another nightly escapade (not that either of you had many of those, both unknowingly too caught up in being smitten by the other). Rather, in this moment, Obi-Wan was declaring he was going to make love to you with each and every kiss pressed to your skin. The final kiss he pressed to your skin was your clit. Once this was finished, he began fingering you, stretching you with two fingers immediately and suckling on your clit. You gasped and moaned under his touch, fingers diving into his hair.

I want to make you mine, young one. After we began talking I wished I had fought with the council more to train you instead for the remainder of your time as a Padawan. Perhaps we could have been here sooner.

“Master Kenobi,” you moaned aloud. Not being able to form words verbally, you responded with the Force. How I began to wish the same. I suppose, then, I was always yours?

He pulled off of you, but added a third finger to his thrusts, smiling up at you brightly. “Yes. And I suppose I was always yours, then, too?”

“Yes,” you moaned out, high pitched, almost squeaking. You hummed and tried again, regardless of if Obi heard you the first time, “Yes, Master, you’re mine.” Obi-Wan’s smile somehow grew, but he quickly went back to working on you with his mouth. However, this time, he leaned more on his arm that he’s using to finger you. That way, his other hand was free to jerk himself off. You only noticed when he moaned against your clit lightly. “Master Kenobi, are you--”

Yes, he sent you, almost strained as if he was speaking, I think I could cum just by eating you out, I wouldn’t even need to touch myself.

“I wouldn’t want that,” you said, pushing his head lightly, “so why don’t you fuck me instead?”

He pulled his head up and smiled, “Anything for you, my darling.” He stood up, pulling you to join him, and guided you toward the bed, stopping by his drawers to grab a condom. Laying down on the bed, you watched him roll the condom over his cock and climb onto the bed with you. He kneeled between your legs, pulling up your leg to rest it on his hip. He used his other hand to grip your hip and pulled you towards him. You gasped, both at the sudden movement and his member pushing into your pussy slowly. “Such a good girl, taking me so perfectly. You can take me all, right, my young one?” You nodded your head fiercely, unable to form a coherent thought as he continued to thrust in and out of you, each thrust going deeper than the last.

Once he settled into you completely, your hands fisted his bedsheets roughly. “So full, you fill me up so nice, Master Kenobi.” You shifted your hips against him, attempting to get him to thrust into you. His grip on your hip dissipated as he moved to push down on them. You moved your hand over his, pushing down on it lightly while also gripping his hand.

“Is there something you need from your Master, young Jedi?” Your grip on his hand tightened as you nodded. “What do you need? You can use your words.” You blushed as you attempted to quantify what you wanted him to do. You attempted to shift your hips as the position became uncomfortable from being held for so long without moving. “Please, princess. I want to give you what you want, but I will not move until you tell me.”

“I want you...I…” you trailed off, becoming embarrassed for what you were trying to ask. You threw your head to the side and thought to him, I want you to mark me. I don’t care if it hurts. I want to know, as long as the bruises last, that I am yours. I want to hold on to this moment.

“Is that all, young one?” You nodded in response, trying not to embarrass yourself more than you felt you had. “There is nothing to be embarrassed over, sweet girl. I want to please you, and the only way I can do that is if I know what you want. Never be embarrassed when asking for what you want.”

You smiled as his hand moved back to your hip, his grip stronger than before. Timidly, you add on, “Can you also move, Obi-Wan? I...I need it.” He silently responded by squeezing your hip and thrusting into you. He quickly picked up speed, however, thrusting into you desperately. Obi-Wan shifts, dropping the leg he held at his hip to be able to lean over you. Moaning at the new angle, you wrapped your arms around his neck, keeping him close. Your fingers delved into his hair, tugging at it as he thrust into you just right. Obi-Wan moaned at that, flicking his hips faster in response.

“Where do you want me to mark you, hm? Maybe a place above your robes so all the other Jedi Masters will see and know you’re mine?” You tensed slightly under him, even as your pussy clenched. “No, darling? I didn’t mean to worry you. I will make sure no one can see.” Obi-Was pressed light kisses to your collarbone, as he had before, but quickly began to suck on your collarbone and lined it with love bites.

Too overwhelmed with the pleasure, you think to Obi-Wan, Perhaps another time, you can make them more visible. Let everyone know I am yours and yours alone.

He only hummed in response as he busied himself with bruising your skin. You shoved a hand between the two of you, rubbing your clit in small circles.

Am I not good enough for you, young one?

You stopped your movements and began to stammer out an excuse.

I am only teasing, darling. I want you to cum on my cock. And, you’re making it much easier for me to achieve that goal.

You both continued like this, attempting to reach your climaxes by pulling on Obi’s hair, him suckling on your skin to leave marks, and you circling your clit. Eventually, your legs tensed and you lifted your hips up towards him. You gasped, the inner walls of your pussy fluttering around his cock. “Obi-Wan, I’m cumming,” you exclaimed, moaning even more as you flung your head back against the pillows.

“Let go, love. Cum for me, show me you’re mine.”

Your hips stuttered against his, legs tensing and shaking on either side of the Jedi Master. He pulled up and off of you, shifting back onto his knees. He thrust through your orgasm, attempting to reach his own. He moved his hands again to grip your hips tightly, bringing you against him roughly. Obi-Wan moaned as he thrust into you as fast as he could, wanting to cum so badly. “Cum for me, Master. I can sense how desperate you are, n’ I wanna know I made you cum. You came inside your young Jedi’s cunt, all for her. Only for her.” His hips began to stutter irregularly against you as he came, moaning your name just as he did the night before. Obi-Wan eventually stalled against you, collapsing slightly. “After that show, you can put your full weight on me. You deserve it, and I don’t want you to pull out just yet,” You said, rubbing his head gently..

“I always had a feeling you’d be insatiable,” Obi-Wan chuckled. He leaned his full weight on top of you. It was surprisingly comforting, especially after his rough grip and bruising kisses. He snuggled into your neck, pressing sloppy kisses against it, as your hands settled at his waist. “I can only hope to completely satiate you, one day, I suppose.”

“You did perfectly fine, Obi-Wan. For now.” He finally pulled off of you, forcing you to come to his refresher with him to clean up. When you finally laid back down in his bed, both of you naked and comfortable in each other’s arms, you were too tired to do anything more than hum in content. Just as you were trailing off to sleep, a warm thought entered your brain.

I love you, young one. Never forget that.

You responded quickly, though you assumed the sleepiness that would have been present in your voice was also present in your thoughts.

I love you, too, Obi.