#and i don’t think i could ever begin to express my gratitude. to him & to anyone this blog gave to me.

[ricciardhoes]

from the bottom of my heart, thank you for everything. there will never be another like you. ever.

[prythianpages]

Wanna Be Yours | Part Two

Rhysand x Reader | Rhysand is absolutely smitten with you and you appear to be blind from it.

This is a part two to this. You can find the masterlist to keep track of future parts here.

warnings: none

a/n: I use a prompt from the lovely @thepromptswhisperer . you can find the post here. I bolded & italicized the dialogue I used from it.

The secrets that Rhysand holds in his heart are harder to hide than he thought. He can’t help it. His heartbeat is at its peak whenever you speak or simply look his way. The weight of his confession persists, akin to an inconsolable ache nestled in his chest, right above the delicate golden thread that intimately connects his soul to yours. 

Three months have passed since that night—the night when he found himself grappling with delirium, induced by the venom coursing through his veins. It was the result of a miscalculated move when patrolling the Night Court’s borders. His injuries, though not fatal, seemed insurmountable due to the poison's cruel deception that night. In a panic, he insisted on seeing you and only you. If he were to face oblivion, he wanted you to be the last person he saw.

The poison, however, proved powerless against your skill. You healed him and brought him back from the brink. "I think I might be in love with you," were the words he had uttered to you and though he was lucid, he meant them. Wholeheartedly.

And now, there's no uncertainty. He is in love with you. The Cauldron may have destined you two together but Rhysand is beyond doubt that he would love you, bond or no bond. You’re beautiful, sweet and kind. Everything he could ever dream of, and dream of you he has done. A lot. 

Rhysand wonders if you dream of him too. If you think about him as much as he thinks about you. He wished he had been there to see your reaction when opening his gift but you had been busy all day. It sparked a worry in him that you were being overworked. Then, his own duties got in the way, leaving him with no choice but to leave it at your door. You had greeted him the following morning when you went to check up on him. The smile you graced him with in appreciation for the gift was as golden and glorious as the sun itself. One he wants more of.

You have him wrapped around your finger and you don’t even know…

“Whiskey for your thoughts?”

Dragging himself away from the labyrinth of his thoughts, Rhysand brings himself back to the sitting room of his house. He accepts the glass of golden brown liquid from Cassian with gratitude, leaning back into the soft cushion of his chair. 

“I miss her.”

Azriel’s shadows seem to flicker with a knowing gleam. He doesn’t have to ask to know who Rhysand is referring to.  “It’s only been a couple of days.”

“A couple days too long,” Rhysand replies with a sigh, prompting a chuckle from Cassian. As he swirls the liquid in his glass, mirroring the stirring emotions within him, his usually composed facade begins to waver. “She’s my mate.”

“We know,” Cassian grins, though it’s the first time Rhysand has said it. A quick exchange of glances with Azriel makes Cassian shrink back sheepishly, putting on a surprised expression. “Sorry, I mean. What??”

Rhysand glances between Azriel and Cassian. “You know?”

Cassian and Azriel exchange another guilty glance before Azriel turns to Rhysand. “We suspected,” he replies.

“You’re not exactly subtle, you know. We also heard your confession–ow!” Cassian's words were cut short as he shot Azriel a glare, rubbing his arm.

Rhysand arched an eyebrow, a mix of amusement and disbelief in his eyes. He takes a sip of his drink, the corners of his lips lifting into a wry smile. "How is it that you two heard, but she didn’t?" he asks, his tone taking on a solemn note.

“I invited her to dinner and you know what she did?” Rhysand doesn’t wait for his brothers to reply to continue. “She brought Madja and another healer with her. Thought it was a group dinner. I bought her flowers and she handed them out to her patients. Thought I had given them to the infirmary, not her. I asked her to join me for a coffee but she said she was busy and I do believe her–there’s been a nasty flu going around. By the Cauldron, is she even taking care of herself? Maybe, I should pretend to be sick just to get her to see me…”

Rhysand downs the remainder of his drink, the burn in his throat paling in comparison to the burning he feels for you. Turning to Azriel, his eyes sparkle.

“Hit me.”

Azriel chokes on his drink and Cassian grimaces as droplets land on his arm. “What?”

“C’mon. I’m sure you’ve been longing for it, especially after I sent you to parole the Illyrian camps last week,” Rhysand says with a smirk. He then angles his head, giving Azriel perfect access. He taps his jaw. “Hit me. Hard. So that I don’t heal as quickly.”

“Why aren’t you asking me?” Cassian asks, tone on the brink of offense. “I can give you a nasty black eye!”

Rhysand is about to reply when a shiver runs through the air. The room then falls into silence. Rhysand feels something teasing at the edges of his senses. His eyes narrow. There’s an unsettling disturbance within the rhythmic pulse of his court. An intruder.

Azriel’s shadows pick up on the stirrings of Rhysand’s instincts. He’s rising from his seat, ready to take on the uninvited presence. However, Rhysand, swifter than his fleeting shadows, vanishes into the embrace of the dark night before Azriel can.

**

There’s a knock on your door and you pull your gaze away from the gold trinket box Rhysand gifted you. Carefully placing it back onto your nightstand, you make your way toward the door. Madja, your mentor, is on the other side. She holds a faelight in the palm of her hand that highlights the gentle contours of her face. The small smile on her lips speaks volumes and you don’t have to ask why she’s coming for you in the late hour. Still, you can’t help but voice your curiosity as she guides you to the foyer of the infirmary.

“What is it this time?” 

“Nothing you can’t handle, I’m sure.”

You smile in greeting to the Shadowsinger who is waiting for you. He nods his head at you and without a word, offers his arm. Madja calls out words of encouragement to you. 

Azriel’s shadows wrap around you both and winnow you to Rhysand’s private residence. A beautiful and vast estate nestled in the heart of Velaris. He guides you to Rhysand’s room, though you know your way around well. As your hand reaches for his bedroom’s door, Azriel’s voice stops you.

“I must warn you…he’s in a mood.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you say, echoing Madja’s words from earlier. It’s more to reassure yourself than him. Azriel only smiles at you in response.

Rhysand’s room is spacious. Its walls are bathed in a deep shade reminiscent of midnight and adorned with tapestries of celestial landscapes. Everything about the room reflects the refined taste and mystical elegance of its inhabitant and what a mystery he is to you. The High Lord of the Night Court is the most powerful in Prythian history. To many, he is careless and as cold as the winds from the Illyrian mountains. 

Only those dear to him know the truth of his nature. You still can’t wrap your head around as to why he chose to let you see the man behind the mask. Perhaps, it’s all attributed to your power but with Madja living here, you don’t quite understand the need for two healers in Velaris.

“Daybreak.”

Rhysand looks like a dream. 

He stands under the arched openings of his balcony.  Wispy curtains sway with the light night breeze, carrying with them the intoxicating fragrance of citrus and sea that caresses your senses. As moonlight spills into the room, it bathes him in a stellar glow, causing his membranous wings to dance in magnificent midnight hues. You can’t help but wonder which is more beautiful–the breathtaking view of the Court of Dreams from his balcony or him.

A stifled sound from Rhysand pulls you out of your trance, blinking away a gentle intrusion you felt in your mind.

“I have a name, you know,” you remind him.

“I know.” Though his back is to you, you can hear the smirk in his voice.

He turns to face you and you pick up on the telltale signs of subtle surrender in the slump of his shoulders. His wings vanish and your eyes trace down to his chest, where he cradles a feebly wrapped arm. A subdued darkness stains the light bandage. As your eyes lift back up to his face, his lips press together into a fine line.

“Come,” you say as you motion for him to sit. With a casual flick of your wrist, your first aid kit materializes from the pocket realm, settling gracefully onto his desk.  “May I?”

Rhysand promptly slips his shirt off before extending his injured arm to you with a nod. You arch a brow. “You didn’t have to take off your shirt.”

“It’s warm here,” he protests, though a mischievous glint dances in those violet eyes of his. He leans back into his desk chair, manspreading those glorious sweat clad thighs of his. “Feel free to admire me, darling,” he smirks at you and you force yourself to look away only to catch his biceps tensing with purpose.

“You’re blushing.” He muses, his eyes tracing every nuance of your reaction. 

“Yeah, so? Never seen anyone fall for your charm before?” You retort, feigning nonchalance. Internally, you’re cursing the way your blush deepens and the way your stomach flutters at the sound of his laughter. It’s deep and alluring, wrapping around you like a sweet melody. You’d think after months of knowing him, you’d be immune to his shameless flirting.

Focus, you remind yourself as you do your best to ignore the playful smirk that continues to grace his luscious lips. So much for Azriel’s claim of Rhysand being in a mood. Whatever had soured his temper must’ve gone away, you think. Despite his injury, he looks perfectly fine to you. 

You gently grasp his forearm and begin to unwrap the bandage carefully. Up close, the flush of his cheeks become more pronounced and the thin sheet of sweat glistens on his tattooed chest. Your keen eyes immediately pick up on the black ink trickling from the small wounds on his arm. Recognition dawns in your eyes.

“These are puncture wounds from a Puca.”

“Very astute of you, darling.” 

A furrow appears on your brow as curiosity mingles with bewilderment. You can't fathom how a Puca, a dangerous creature that roams throughout Prythian, managed to get this close to someone as powerful and even more dangerous as Rhysand. 

“What did it appear to you as?”

Rhysand's demeanor undergoes a shift. A-ha, there is that sour mood you had been expecting. Something akin to embarrassment flickers in the depths of his violet eyes. He instinctively pulls his arm back, but you tighten your hold, silently demanding an explanation.

"They say that a Puca uses your own desires to lure you and then eat you," you remark, your tone a mix of caution and concern.

Rhysand, attempting to maintain an air of nonchalance, hums thoughtfully. "Is that so?"

You drop your gaze as your hands fall into the familiar rhythm of tending to his injuries. “Azriel said you were in a mood so whatever it appeared to you as, must’ve been something for it to get you this go—“

“You.”

Confusion clouds your expression, and your glowing hands still. "What?"

You can feel the heat of his gaze, so intense that it lingers on you. "It appeared as you."

A moment of silence stretches between you two. The corner of Rhysand’s lips quirk up, the silver fleck of his violet irises sparkling with a mix of amusement and something more elusive. His gaze holds yours and there’s the slightest hint of vulnerability beneath his charismatic exterior. One you don’t catch.

"You flatter me," you finally say with a soft laugh, not believing him for one bit. 

And all Rhysand can do is look at you in bewildered wonder as your hands continue to move with deliberate care. He needs to try harder.

**

Days later…

Come back home.

Those three words stare back at you. Haunting and persistent. "Home," you quietly muse to yourself.  Dawn is your home. Or so you once believed. 

A home is meant to be a sanctuary. A place of safety. A place of comfort. Over time, it transformed from your sweet haven into a source of distress. But if Dawn is no longer your home, then what is? 

Is it the Night Court? You don't feel suffocated with high expectations here. The nights may be dark, but the stars shine their brightest here. They watch over you, listening to your silent whispers. There is a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows, almost like a sense of belonging.

You crumple the letter, the tangible weight of memories folding with it. Time is healing, you remind yourself. With a heavy sigh, you turn back to the stack of books and paperwork on your desk. Yesterday had been a slow day in the clinic so Madja asked for you to accompany her while she bought supplies. She treated you to a nice dinner afterwards. It was a much needed break but now, you found yourself behind in your studies and patient’s charts.

With a glance toward your desk candle, you use your powers to light it up. Leaning forward slightly, you fix your gaze on your first report with a strong determination to finish the stack by the end of your shift. No distra–

A knock echoes through the slightly ajar door.

Your office door is often left open, a practice maintained for moments just like this - in case a patient requires urgent attention. While there’s a room in the clinic set up with rows of cots and medical equipment, your office provides an additional space for those seeking a more private examination.

"Hello, daybreak.”

Rhysand strides in, his easy confidence filling the small space of your office. You glance up only momentarily before returning your attention to the task at hand, responding with a dry humor that matches his tone.

"Hello, High Lord. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Rhysand tilts his head, his gaze lingering on you. Moving with quiet elegance, he walks past the examination table and approaches your desk instead. His attention is immediately drawn to a book resting on top of one of the many stacks. A poetry book, he recognizes, adorned with a delicate cobalt blue ribbon. 

“What’s this?”

“A gift from Azriel,” you reply casually and miss the way his face twists at the nonchalance of your tone.

 Rhysand blinks at you. “A what?”

“A book. That Azriel got. For me.” You repeat, deliberately slower this time. 

Rhysand heard you perfectly well the first time. His eyebrows knit together as he gazes at the book, a storm brewing in his expressive eyes. If looks could scorch, the innocent book would be reduced to a pile of ashes. Your birthday is months away and Solstice was weeks ago. 

“I’m hurt.”

You look up, keen eyes glancing over his form again. “You don’t look hurt.”

Undeterred, he saunters closer, swiping a finger across the papers on your desk. "Come on, surely you can spare a moment for a poor High Lord in deep pain."

You inspect his outstretched hand, where a barely visible mark is displayed on his pointer finger. "It's a papercut," you deadpan. 

“It hurts.”

"It's already healed."

Rhysand dramatically lets out a deep sigh and you suppress the urge to smile. The sound of a bell ringing–a sign that someone is in need of help–has you rising from your seat. You walk toward Rhysand, who continues to brood. Holding his gaze, you bring his hand to your mouth and press a light kiss right over where the papercut had been.

“There.” You say, giving his hand a squeeze. “Feel better now?”

Every nerve in his body tingles with excitement, and there's a giddy flutter in his stomach. “Much better,” Rhysand breathes with a grin, savoring your touch.

He doesn’t allow your hand to drop, brushing it over his cheek instead and holding it there with his own. If you can’t see the flush to his cheeks, then surely you must be able to feel its warmth.

“How can I ever repay you?”

“You’re already paying me,” you remind him with a soft exhale, a laugh almost. The sound is music to Rhysand's ears and all his heart wants to do is dance to its rhythm. He realizes he can’t let this moment slip. Not when he finally has your full attention and a golden opportunity to seek more of it.

“You can come with me to the Midnight Eclipse ball.”

“Midnight Eclipse ball,” you repeat, your voice laced with intrigue, and Rhysand can't help but admire the way your eyes gleam with curiosity. “What is that?”

“Come with me and find out,” Rhysand replies, his eyes sparkling at you. He leans in closer, captivated by the softness of your gaze, and with a smile, he boldly adds, “As my date.”

“Your date?” you ask, your breath catching slightly. 

Rhysand only hums in reply, taking pleasure in the way his cheek presses further against your hand as he does so. The look he gives you is almost pleading as he gazes down at you. 

“Okay,” you finally say after a moment of silence with a small smile of your own. “I’ll join you. When is it?”

Rhysand beams down at you, his eyes filled with warmth and anticipation. Shifting his face in your hold, he presses a kiss against the palm of your hand and now it is you who is overcome with a giddy flutter in your stomach. Rhysand, normally attuned to your every shift in expression, is too caught up in surprise to take note of it.

“Next Saturday,” he replies, holding your gaze.

The bell rings again, the sound prompting Rhysand to reluctantly let go of your hand. You give him an apologetic smile as you turn toward your desk, grabbing a couple of supplies. “I’ll see you next Saturday.”

You excuse yourself, walking around him to exit your office. Rhysand follows but chooses to lean against your doorframe, watching as you rush toward the infirmary.

“Don’t forget, it’s a date!” Rhysand calls after you, putting emphasis on the word ‘date.’

“Yes, I got it!” You reply, giving him a thumbs up before disappearing around the corner.

Rhysand smiles to himself. Though Saturday is almost five days away, he doesn’t mind the wait. Not when you just agreed to be his date. He looks down at the hand you kissed, closing it into a fist, overwhelmed with the giddy excitement building up inside him. You’re so utterly endearing. He brings his fist close to his mouth, suppressing the urge to bite it as he swoons over the thought of having you as his date for the Midnight Eclipse ball.

Reality begins to set in and his smile widens into a grin. Now, he has to plan the ball he literally just made up…

a/n: tbh, I don't know how I feel about this part. I feel like I set up expectations too high for myself because I really loved how the first part turned out and this part is kinda meh to me. anyway, I hope you still enjoyed this. I'm looking forward to writing the other part(s) as those include scenes I've had in my head for weeeeeeks lol. (You'll finally learn the little secret or two reader is hiding in the next part...any guesses? )I estimate only like 1-2 parts left, depending on how long the next part is.

tagging: @minnieoo , @phoenixgurl030, @nebarious, @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444

[jolalibrary]

11. dusky pink

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter eleven of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.7k chapter warnings: frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. frankie being a boy!dad, luca appearance. an: this one is called jo kicked her feet mid-writing and editing.

prev chapter | series masterlist

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

“You didn’t have to come to help me.”

Tilting your head, a grin playing at the corners of your lips, you adjust the apron he gave you. “I don’t mind. Plus, you did promise me food after, so.”

A hint of mischief dances in his eyes, tongue sweeping across his lower lip. “So, if I want to persuade you to do something, I should wave a carrot in your face.”

Smirking, biting down on your cheek as you slide the boxed screws onto the shelf. “Oh, you can definitely wave something in front of my face.”

It's instant, the way his mouth falls open, hanging. Frankie's arm pauses, mid-air, on the shelf as he stares, blinks, and eventually clears his throat. “That's… good to know.”

“Your voice cracked there a little bit.”

Glancing at you from the corner of his eye, body beginning to restock again, you watch as he swallows, his forehead crinkling. Did it?”

Laughing, you remove the empty box from the cart—grabbing the Stanley knife attached to the side of it to slice open the next.

Even though you've been here at night before, it's different being down the aisles than when you shared food. There's an eerie stillness that hangs in the air under the low lights, punctuated by the occasional creak of the shelving when the two of you stack something. The strong scent of disinfectant is wavering from its assault on your senses, mingling with the musty odour of warehouse cardboard boxes. A smell that worsens, for a moment, each time one of you empties and flattens it.

But, you wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

Finding yourself charmed by the place. Although, you suspect it's by the man beside you. The one who had been prepared to do all of this himself all evening.

“Frankie?” you ask, hearing him hmm. “You ever thought of owning this place? Maybe, making it your own or something?”

Snorting, he shakes his head as his fingers slide to itch at the back of his forearm. “No. Not… Well, I’ve thought about it, obviously. Not owning this place, but…”

“But...?”

Shrugging, mouth open, all but chewing his response as he stacks the shelf and answers with, “Doesn't matter. Wouldn’t be good at it.”

Scoffing, you lift your head, finding him staring. “Sorry, I’ll scoff quieter next time.”

“It's a lot of work. And, it's risky. The place can barely afford me, never mind someone else.”

Shaking his head, you see that look appear—the disbelieving one—catching it flutter across his face. His attempt at making it unreadable fails, as you spot it written all over his expression, practically in bold, italic, and underlined; all very much screaming he very much believes he couldn’t.

Continuing, he shrugs, nostrils flaring under a sigh. “S’not worth thinking about. Got bills. Luca. I… I failed him once, don’t wanna do it again.”

Dropping the contents back into the box, you don't think when you gently lay a hand on his arm, urging him to look. You're just grateful that he does.

Head tilting, trying to find words you swap easily for the truth. “I know I don’t know the version of you from back then, but I really doubt you failed him. You were trying to do the best you could, with what you had.”

His gaze meets yours, a blend of gratitude and uncertainty shimmering in his eyes. “I… just...I want to do right by him now, you know?”

“I know,” you answer softly, giving his arm a comforting squeeze. “And for what it's worth, I think you're doing an amazing job.”

He gives a small, appreciative smile at your words, eyes blinking past you as if trying to process the unexpected validation. Then, when his eyes fall back to you, his smile widens ever so slightly, a gleam of hope seemingly emerging from the shadows of doubt.

“I think you could do something like this.”

Flicking his eyes from yours to your lips, he smiles. “I don’t wanna own this.”

“What do you want then?” Hand sliding back inside the box, pulling out glue—the industrial kind, you imagine—that thankfully is labelled. “Outside of me helping you restock after hours.”

Grinning, he shakes his head. “Haven’t given it much thought.”

Smiling to yourself, turning the labels out, you leave him in silence for a moment. Letting him think, stew. “Not renovating?”

Tipping his head, his eyes meet yours—something twinkling in them. Shimmering. It makes you wonder to yourself if he’s ever been given a chance to think about something that he wants in a while.

“Maybe. I don’t know,” he replies, evidence there of a smile, of something turning, cogs shifting.

“Could get Luca to help—get him a mini tool belt.”

Laughing, he nudges you. “He’d charm them all into giving us free coffee.”

“From the stories you’ve told me, I don’t doubt it.”

It’s then he slides his hand across your back, fingers fanning, spreading warmth through the thin fabric covering your spine. “You still looking forward to meeting him?”

“Only when I don’t overthink it, and worry about the possibility of making the only person who matters in your world cry or something,” you smile, hand gesturing. “Outside of that thought process, very excited.”

Shaking his head, he steps closer, arm sliding around your waist—lips pressing to the top of your head. “Don’t tell him dinosaurs are extinct and you’re good.”

“Noted,” you whisper, staring up at him.

Eyes holding his, lingering. Your throat becomes full with letters, lips rolling as you weigh up whether it’s worth saying them—confessing them.

Instead, you press your mouth to his—hoping he can taste them, and how badly you want to share them.

Did you put that song over your latest Reel for my benefit?

If I did, was it appreciated?

I’m disappointed it’s not the loud-cat-screeching version I gave you in the car, but guess the original would be more well-known.

I want to keep that version, selfishly, to myself.

Just like I want to keep the photo of you with fries in your mouth just for me.

See, we have our things. Thanks for the help putting the Reel together.

I liked being your camerawoman. But next time, could I have a clapboard—maybe one of those chairs that says ‘Director’ on it?

I think I could find something for you to sit on.

Think that movie is something we’d selfishly keep to ourselves.

Be a good movie, though.

[SENDS PHOTO]

Wow, I didn’t even know they did coffees that large.

It was a special request. I told you she’s persuasive.

I wish I wasn’t on my own, otherwise I’d come down and see you both.

You just want her to get you a large coffee. Which I think she would—she likes you.

Rainy, that is the largest coffee I’ve ever seen. I’m glad she does. It matters your friends like me like mine like you.

Yours love me.

I am very aware.

If you’re good, I might drop you one off before I go home.

Have I told you how pretty you are today?

Such a charmer. [SENDS PHOTO]

See I knew you looked pretty.

Waiting, nerves prickling beneath your skin, your fingers interlacing tightly as you flick your eyes from the array of items you've arranged to the still-closed front door.

For the past, so many minutes, you've paced, chewed your cheeks, and endlessly rearranged the items on the table until they blur into a mess of neatness or chaos, you're not quite sure anymore.

Because it matters. Not just to him but to you.

Speaking to Luca (briefly, and on the phone) is so wildly different from meeting him. A thing you're aware of.

It's big. Fucking huge. A thing that you don't take lightly, or ever wish to. Not the permission to meet him, or the fact it's happening. It's why it keeps churning inside of you, bubbling and swimming up your throat; hands wringing out in front of you, thinking over what you'll do when his big eyes draw out the shape of you, standing there, waiting for you, this person who has entered his dad’s life, to say or do something.

You suppose that’s why your fingernail has migrated to scratching at the skin on your index finger, why your stomach is doing somersaults—more so when you hear the sound of Frankie’s vehicle pulling onto his drive.

You’ve got this. You can do this. Just breathe, just breathe, just—

The door finally opens, and there he is. The biggest eyes meet yours, all curious and wide. Even if the shadow of Frankie is behind him, you don’t take your eyes off Luca. Offering a small, reassuring smile, hoping it’ll be enough to show you’re trustworthy as he steps hesitantly into the room.

Not bending over, but crouching down, you let him approach. Watching as Frankie takes his jacket from his son before the soft introduction you've practised over and over again rolls from you—the sweet hello, followed by your name and I’m your dad’s friend.

And you knew it from photos—from the glimpses of the boy in front of you—but he has his eyes. Those soft, expressive eyes twinkle and shimmer at you as he offers his tiny hand for you to shake. One you take happily, with nothing but joy.

“Hey,” you say, voice soft and friendly. “I've heard so much about you.”

He looks at you for a moment longer, taking in your presence. Then, with a shy smile, he mumbles, “Hi.”

Frankie, watching the interaction from the doorway, closes the door, stepping further into the room as he presses his hand to Luca’s shoulder.

"Luca, you remember her from the phone?” He pauses, looking at you for a moment, before finishing, “...the one who struggled to say Aegyptosaurus.”

Narrowing your eyes a little, you smirk playfully at Frankie, the slightest shake of your head as you stare at the boy—warmth spreading through you as Luca begins to grin.

“Speaking of dinosaurs, I wasn’t sure if you wanted to help me with something?” you ask, gaze flicking up to Frankie who gives a supportive nod. “So, I’ve found this colouring book full of dinosaurs inside your Daddy’s coffee table, and I’m not sure what colours to make them.”

Slowly, his face shifts—from a questionable blank one to a slow smile that has the shadow of his dad’s, but breaks into something you assume must be his mom’s.

And god, it’s the most beautiful smile you think you’ve ever seen.

“Sure, I can helps,” Luca says, walking to the coffee table where the book is—before he’s beckoning you, little fingers urging you to come closer.

And you take a breath, a sigh—letting it flow into your lungs, as you reply with a quick ‘coming’ before you glance at the man still giving you both space.

Joining Luca on the floor, you sit cross-legged, the book propped up already on the table as colouring pens, crayons and pencils begin littering the wood not covered by un-coloured pages.

He's eager, flipping through the book, pointing out the different dinosaurs and naming them with an enthusiastic flourish that makes you chuckle. But, when he finds one, he stops. Head tilting from side to side, little finger tapping on the page before he sighs.

“This one!”

Grinning, you take a closer look. “Perfect.”

His smile mirrors yours, before he copies the pitch of your perfect and begins grasping for colours as he hands them to you.

“What’s your favourite dinosaur, Luca?”

Pausing, Luca brings his finger to his lips—dabbing it, scrunching his face before it explodes into a grin so large it almost makes you laugh. “Stegosaurus.”

“Cause of the spikey back?”

Nodding, he grins even wider, doing a little wiggle. “His name means roof lizard, you know that?” Shaking your head, he scrunches his nose as the corner of his lips rises. “And, and it used its back to defend himself.”

“He has a little beak too, right?”

Nodding, Luca begins to scribble his crayon onto the page. "You know him?"

“I’ve been doing my research.”

At Luca’s loud wow, and insistence on you using a colour he doesn’t like—maroon, which looks barely used—you glance towards Frankie, finding him leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, fingers lazily tracing up and down the back of his arm, while sporting a soft smile.

Returning your attention to Luca, you spend the next hour engrossed in colouring (a thing you discover you’re doing wrong), dinosaur facts (you’re not sure how he knows so many) and hilarious stories. Finding, with each passing minute, the anxiety sliding from your bones, it falling from you altogether—slipping away, disappearing completely the more Luca interacts.

The two of you only come to a stop when Frankie mentions that it’s almost dinner time, putting the cap on your pen down.

“Hey, Luca. I have to go now. But, I’ve had the best time.”

“You’re not wanting to stay for dinner?” he asks, eyes full of hope as you spot his fist clenched around the pen he’s pressing to the page—the colour bleeding out.

Leaning forward, you smile. “Next time, promise.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Thanks so much for letting me colour with you.”

Getting up, suppressing a groan as your body aches from having to unfold itself from sitting cross-legged, you find Frankie waiting, his expression soft and tender.

“Hi handsome,” you whisper, taking the jacket from his hands.

Frankie leans down, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead—all out of view, just like the two of you had agreed. “You did good,” he tells you quietly. “He likes you.”

Heart swelling at his words, you look back at Luca, who is now animatedly talking to his colouring book, and you find yourself unable to stop smiling.

“I like him too,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

And as you listen to Luca's excited chatter, you realise just how much you mean it.

Think you have a new fan.

Stop, do I really?

Apparently, you’re very pretty, and old like me, and so I should kiss you.

Well, not that I love all of those sentiments, I do like the last one.

Do you want me to call when he’s in bed?

You not sick of me?

Not even a little bit.

I’ll wrap up these amends, shower and then I’m all yours.

The image of you covered in soap suds is going to get me through the next half an hour of this show.

It vibrates softly against the bedsheets, your smile spreading—replacing the earlier irksome client and the nervousness from your afternoon.

“He hasn’t shut up about you.”

No hello. Just a continuation, as if the two of you had only paused from the texting to now. Biting your cheek, you smile, knees pulling up as you feel your Lee scrunch.

“Yeah?”

“Baby, he’s pulled out books to show you the next time you come round.”

Grinning, you sigh. “He’s really great, Frankie. He’s so funny? You never told me how funny he was, and how smart. God, when he—”

And you ramble.

For longer than you’re even aware of as you accidentally go into a play-by-play from this morning—as though the man hadn’t been loitering, standing close by or joining in when Luca’s stories got more outrageous. A standout favourite had been Frankie saving the neighbour's lion from a tree, which had turned out to be a cat called Leon.

“—Also, how does he know so much about dinosaurs? And, fuck—Frankie. Did I just ramble to you about your own son?”

You hear his laugh, real and airy, flow down the phone. “I like it, don’t worry. It’s nice hearing you ramble.”

“You’re a filthy liar.”

With a deep, resonant snort, his sigh of contentment drifts through the phone, making your body, in response, relax. Every muscle slowly uncoils, back sinking further into the plush comfort of the bed beneath you. Ear meeting the pillow as it wrinkles gently under the weight of your head.

“Did it… do you think it went as well as you thought?”

“Better,” he confesses, hearing the breath he releases with it.

Biting your lip, you settle yourself further into your duvet—resting your back against the pillows. “Have I told you today that I really like you?”

“Pretty sure that’s my line.”

Smirking, you rest your tongue between your teeth.

“And, really like? That’s a new one.”

“Well,” you grin, unable to fight a smile, “Felt you deserved the extra word.”

Rolling your head, you trace your teeth over your bottom lip—hearing it, absorbing it, the way he repeats it back. I really like you too. The words find a home, rather than sliding in one ear and out the other. Burying themselves, slotting into a place so perfect as they fit so snugly.

A comfortable beat passes, a moment to linger in it before he asks about your work—about the latest thing you’re working on. Even if you always feel you’ll bore him, he always surprises you by reminding you he won’t be. Engaged, asking questions. Listening and recalling back to things you’ve said before, that you suspect most wouldn’t have paid much mind to.

But, then, he’s not anyone.

“I think I left my hoodie at yours.”

Humming, you hear sheets rustling, before rummaging. “Um, the—yes, yeah you have. I’ll hang it up for you.”

“Only if you have the space too.”

“Well, this is… awkward. I wanted to do it in person—”

Even if there’s no indication to do so, your stomach knots. Tangles. Your heart slams into your chest as your throat, all of a sudden, dries.

“I… fuck, if this is too much tell me, but I’ve made you some space—in my wardrobe. And a drawer. And—”

“And, Frankie? How much space are you giving me?”

Swallowing, you hear him click his tongue. “Well... I mean, as much as you want, baby.”

“Frankie…”

“Have I… Is it too much?”

Pulling your knees up, grinning. Quickly wanting to fire a text to your friend and scream HE’S MADE ME A DRAWER, only stopping yourself because, instead, you, all high-pitched and squeaky ask if you can swap to video. Fingers trembling, your face filling the screen before you can eventually push it to the corner when his greets yours.

“You’re so sweet, thank you—it isn’t too much. Not even a little bit. I want—if you want—to give you the same.”

Laughing lowly, you watch him slide back into bed—the freckles on his collarbone illuminated by the bedside lamp. “Baby, you have half my tools at your house—you’ve made plenty of room for me.”

“Yeah, that toolbox is a health hazard—it is very heavy.”

“I’ll make sure to move it next time”

Scrunching your nose. “Oh no, I moved it. Managed to find some strength from somewhere to do so. That’s my workout for the week.”

Shaking his head, you watch him get into bed—arm resting above his head, fingers teasing at his curls as he smiles at you—eyes somehow just as bright even in low light as he begins telling you about his day tomorrow.

You watch, noticing the little lift of his lips when he talks about Benny, when he mentions taking Luca to training—which in turn (he explains) means Luca bosses them around and they all have to listen. Then after they’ll go on a boys’ lunch, where ice cream is usually consumed, the tradition having started when Luca was teething.

“Send me a photo—post-training.”

His tongue slides into his cheek, eyebrow lifting as he stares at you.

“Dripping in sweat do it for you, Rainy?”

“I’m not rewatching your Reels because I want to use a circle-saw, Frankie. Plus, you look so good in sweats—that black pair. Fuck.”

Chuckling to himself, he runs his hand over his face—and you imagine his cheeks are warm, that if the lighting were better, you’d see the beginning of his pink embarrassment crawling up his neck.

Yawning and stretching, you reach for your charger, plugging it in before moving to lie on your side, hearing him ask—as soft, and as sleepily, as he would if you were next to him—you comfy, baby? as your heart does a little flicker as you rest the phone against the pillow.

“Very,” you assure him, pulling the duvet closer around you. “Be more comfy if you were here.”

“Would you, though?”

Hesitating, you hum—hearing the lightest laugh come from him. “You’re very warm—like a furnace. I like it.”

“That all I’m good for, warming your bed?”

Smirking, your eyes heavy, you sigh. “You have some other uses.”

“I’m glad I’m useful.”

Settling further into the bed, hearing him shuffle and rustle from his end, you clear your throat to ask, “Do you think you'd rather have a pineapple for a head or a watermelon?”

Even with your eyes struggling to stay open, you sneak a glance to see his grin break out. “I'd love to live in your head.”

“You sure about that?”

Snorting, he shakes his head, fingers pushing the hair back from his forehead. “Pineapple. Sweeter for you to kiss.”

“You're so thoughtful.”

Giggling, you find a response sitting on your tongue, it just not able to form as you hum again—finding yourself so comfortable and warm under the sheets you’re barely able to hang onto his voice until he whispers ‘baby’. A little noise coming from you that in your head is clearly words, but not to anyone else.

Only realising it isn’t when he says your name. Calls it.

“Frankie…”

“Baby, why don’t we hang—“

��No,” you groan, the O sound stretching out—hardly with any intent. More said with tenderness and pouting than anything as you hear him chuckle. “I’ll wake up.”

“No, don’t… don’t do that. I’ll stay—listen to you snore.”

Flicking your eyes open, glaring at the screen. “I do not snore.”

Chuckling, his voice wraps around you like a warm blanket. “Sure, baby. You just keep telling yourself that.”

“Francisco!”

His laugh roars down the phone, making your cheeks hurt from smiling, shaking your head against the pillow as his laugh turns to an ‘aww’.

“Do you know how pretty you look right now?”

“You can barely see me, Morales. Stop trying to flatter me.”

Somehow, his laugh is even louder than it was before. And somehow, your smile is larger too.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

[mxtxfanatic]

Why Wen Qing and Jiang Yanli Matter

Even though their time as living characters in the narrative is short, Wen Qing and Jiang Yanli actually have a major influence on how Wei Wuxian chooses to go about his second life.

The comfort that Wei Wuxian couldn't express a desire for but that Jiang Yanli once tried to provide, anyways, without needing a request, he now seeks out in Lan Wangji:

No matter what [Jiang Yanli] said, Wei WuXian continued clinging to the tree, refusing to come down. Afraid that he’d hurt himself, Jiang YanLi put the lantern under the tree and extended her arms to catch him, too worried to leave. Thirty minutes later, Wei WuXian’s hands finally grew sore. He let go of the tree trunk and fell down. Jiang YanLi hurried to catch him, but Wei WuXian still landed with a slam.

—Chapt. 71: Departure, exr

The very instant he had wrapped his arms around the tree trunk, his eyes had warmed. Now, as he looked down, his vision was already blurry. Lan WangJi was standing underneath the tree, staring up at him. He was also clothed in white, but without a lantern. However, under the shower of the moonlight, his entire person was bright and clear, as if engulfed in a sheen of pure light. With his head slightly raised, he was watching Wei WuXian intently. With his gaze at the tree top, he took a few steps closer, as if wishing to extend his arms. Suddenly, Wei WuXian was overcome by a strange yet powerful urge. He wanted to fall down, just like that time many years ago. A voice in his heart said, ‘If he catches me, then I will’...... At the thought of the words ‘I will’, Wei WuXian let go. At the sight of him falling without a hint of a warning, Lan WangJi’s eyes widened. Instinctively, his body moved and the next moment Wei WuXian was in his arms, or, more correctly, in his embrace. ... He could not see Wei WuXian’s face. His face was out of Wei WuXian’s sight as well. But there was no need for Wei WuXian to see. With his eyes closed, he was engulfed in the soft, fresh scent of sandalwood that always lingered on Lan WangJi. Wei WuXian’s voice was hoarse, “Thanks.” He was never really afraid of falling. All these years, he’d fallen plenty. Of course, it still hurt everytime he fell. If there was someone who could catch him, then he couldn’t be happier.

—Chapt. 87: Core Part 9, boat-full-of-lotus-pods

Except Lan Wangji is both willing and capable of protecting Wei Wuxian where Jiang Yanli due to a variety of reasons was not. Because of this, Lan Wangji is able to carry on the torch that Jiang Yanli left behind from Wei Wuxian's first life into his second, such as when he begins to cook for Wei Wuxian.

As for Wen Qing, the lesson that Wei Wuxian learned from his unintentional big sister is so important that he both lives by it and endeavors to pass it on to his shizhi :

After a few steps, [Jin Ling] looked backward and said, “Why are you just standing there? Are you just going to wait for my uncle to come and get you? Let me tell you, don’t think that just because you rescued me, I’ll have some kind of deep gratitude toward you. Especially don’t hang your hopes on me telling you some mushy nonsense.” Defeated, Wei Wuxian strolled up. “You’re young. In your lifetime, there are two pieces of ‘mushy nonsense’ you will always have to utter sooner or later.” “What are they?” Jin Ling asked. “’Thank you,’ and ‘I’m sorry.’” Jin Ling scoffed. “I just won’t say them. What can anyone do about it?” “There will eventually be a day when you’ll say them with tears in your eyes,” Wei Wuxian said. Jin Ling made a derisive noise. Suddenly, Wei Wuxian said, “I’m sorry.” The boy stared blankly. “What?” “On Dafan Mountain, what I said to you. I’m sorry.” It hadn’t been the first time someone had jeered at Jin Ling for lacking a mother to raise him, but no one had ever apologized to him with such seriousness. He didn’t know exactly what the feeling was, but being slapped in the face with such an apology made his entire body prickle with unease.

—Chapt. 24: Malice II, fanyiyi

This scene preludes Jin Ling's softening, where he actually does begin to be more mindful of his words, how he speaks to others, and especially how he interacts with "Mo Xuanyu." The fact that no one had ever seriously apologized to Jin Ling allowed the boy to justify being rude and mean-spirited to others, but the fact that Wei Wuxian does and about something that people had mocked him for often without regret causes him to reevaluate this "uncle" as well as himself. This apology, though it may seem small, is what sparks the actual beginning of Wei Wuxian and Jin Ling's shishu-shizhi relationship, and none of it would have been possible had Wen Qing not torn down the wall of "what need not be spoken."

Because of these two women, Wei Wuxian is able to form closer bonds and live a more fulfilling life during his second chance, and through this, the legacy of his sisters lives on.

[robinnsblog]

Most themes and symbolism about the game have already been discussed, so I’m not going to focus on those here. What I’m going to focus on, however, are the “friendships” in the game.

The game has clear influences from Neon Genesis Evangelion, one of its themes being human connections — so it feels fair to explore those here, don’t you agree?

Let’s start with the more positive ones: Swansea, Anya and Curly.

Both Curly (in How Fish Is Made DLC) and Swansea (after he mercy kills Daisuke) mention working over a decade for Pony Express, so they most likely went in several trips together and got to know each other. The case with Anya is a bit unclear, but she is close enough to playfully tease Swansea about liking the cake, and Curly has brought both of their playlists (Swansea’s and Anya’s) to the ship for years. Not only that, Curly calls Swansea “Big Swan” in flavor text and he probably was the one to gift him the swan keychain.

Between Anya and Curly we have the medical evaluations, including the one in the demo. It’s true that Curly didn’t open up much to Anya and the conflict with Jimmy ended up disastrously, but those brief moments were kind of sweet and they showed that there was at least a bit of trust between the two.

There was also some trust between Anya and Swansea, since he trusted her to rely his message to Curly, instead of sending Jimmy —who was standing outside the Utility room doing nothing— to get the Captain. At the birthday party, the two were standing next to each other as well, so one can safely assume they were in friendly terms.

Swansea and Daisuke

I don’t think I can add anything that hasn’t been said already. Swansea didn’t want Daisuke to join the corporate hellscape and become a jagged adult like them, and saved the cryopod for him so he could get saved if the situation came to it.

Now, let’s analyze the negatives ones: Curly and Jimmy.

I must preface this that I’m not going to discuss any relationship between Jimmy and the others, only those two, because I don’t think he ever considered them friends and viceversa.

In other words, there is no friendship to discuss there.

But to be fair, there isn’t much friendship between Jimmy and Curly either, because I hope we can all agree that Jimmy is a toxic/abusive friend to Curly. If you search the signs of an abusive or toxic friendship, Jimmy fits all the criteria even before the crash:

Not only he does not show an ounce of gratitude to Curly for getting him the job to begin with, he isn’t happy for his friend’s accomplishments.

Though he asks what is troubling Curly, he does so not out of concern, but because he can’t comprehend why his “friend” isn’t happy with the position he, Jimmy, covets.

And when Curly opens up, immediately after Jimmy makes it about himself. Curly tries to cheer him up, despite being the one down in spirits and in need of moral support.

Not to mention, when he gets angry, Jimmy uses what Curly shared in confidence as ammo to hurt him: he puts words in his mouth, barely lets him talk or defend himself, and insists his intentions were something else.

In my personal opinion, Curly only said: “I can fix it”, “We can figure all of this out”… because he was aware that he was also to blame for what happened to Anya — as Jimmy points out, as the captain, Curly should have had everything under control. However, what Jimmy is doing here is shifting the blame entirely on Curly, exploiting his guilty conscience to avoid repercussions.

All of this was, of course, affecting Curly’s health, compromising his effectiveness as a captain. Some of the effects of a toxic friendship are as listed:

Increased stress: Curly had trouble sleeping, though that could be attached at their horrible work conditions and wanting to escape to something better.

Emotional exhaustion, which can reduce your ability to focus: in the very first scene we control Curly, Anya calls him out for not paying attention in his med eval.

Isolation and distrust: in the same scene, Anya also calls him out for not opening up.

Fear of conflict: in their confrontations, Jimmy is the dominant voice and Curly barely gets out two sentences.

I don’t want to excuse Curly, but the first step to drop a toxic friendship, is recognizing you’re in one, which is difficult if you have been led to believe you were always the one in the wrong and the “good moments” make us forget the “bad times”. As Curly said, they go far… but how far did Jimmy mess him up? We can only speculate.

As a silver lining, maybe this hallucination was Curly’s subconscious warning him about Jimmy and how miserable his “friend” was making him.

But in the end, Jimmy was to Curly, what the alcohol in the mouthwash bottle was to Swansea…

… that one setback away from their worst selves.

[awkward-walking-potato]

Can I request headcanons for Kurt reacting to his gender neutral crush telling him that they admire how kind he is despite how much he had suffered in the past please?

Kurt Wagner stood in one of the quieter corners of the mansion’s garden, enjoying the soft breeze as it rustled through the trees. The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the landscape, and the peaceful moment brought a rare sense of tranquility to his heart. But when he heard your voice calling his name, that tranquility was replaced with something else—a familiar, fluttering warmth in his chest.

“Kurt?” you called softly as you approached, and he turned to face you with a gentle smile.

“Guten Abend,” he greeted, his tail swaying lightly behind him. “What brings you out here, Liebling?”

You hesitated for a moment, shifting on your feet as if unsure how to begin. The look of nervousness in your eyes didn’t go unnoticed by Kurt, and he tilted his head slightly, concern edging into his expression.

“Are you all right?” he asked, stepping closer to you.

You took a deep breath, finally meeting his gaze, and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just… I wanted to tell you something.”

Kurt’s concern softened into curiosity, and he waited patiently, his golden eyes focused intently on you.

You bit your lip, your heart racing as you gathered the courage to say what you’d been holding in for so long. “Kurt, I’ve always admired you. Not just because of your powers or how talented you are, but because of your kindness. You’ve been through so much—so much pain and suffering—and yet, you’re still one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. I don’t know how you do it, but… I just wanted you to know that I think it’s incredible.”

The words tumbled out all at once, and as soon as they did, you felt a rush of nervousness, unsure of how he would respond. But the way Kurt’s eyes widened slightly in surprise and then softened with emotion made your heart swell.

“Mein Freund…” Kurt began, his voice thick with emotion. He seemed momentarily lost for words, a rarity for him. The way you looked at him—like he was someone worthy of admiration, someone special—made his heart skip a beat.

He reached out, gently taking your hand in his, his fingers trembling slightly. “I… I don’t know what to say,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “To know that you think of me that way… it means more to me than you could ever know.”

You smiled at him, squeezing his hand lightly. “It’s the truth, Kurt. You’re an amazing person, and I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

Kurt’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, a mix of joy and disbelief in his expression. “You’re too kind,” he said softly, shaking his head as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “After everything… there were times when I thought the world would never accept me, that I would never find a place where I belonged. But then… you came into my life. And every day, you remind me that there is good in the world, that there is a reason to keep going.”

He paused, his voice faltering as he tried to steady himself. “You’ve given me hope, and you’ve shown me that maybe… just maybe… I am worthy of kindness, too.”

“Kurt…” you whispered, your own eyes misting over as you realized just how much your words had meant to him.

Without thinking, you stepped closer, your free hand resting on his cheek. Kurt leaned into your touch, closing his eyes as if savoring the warmth of your hand against his fur.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice filled with all the gratitude and affection he felt for you. “Thank you for seeing the good in me, even when I struggle to see it myself.”

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, and when you pulled back, Kurt opened his eyes, gazing at you with a look so full of love that it took your breath away.

“You’re not just worthy of kindness, Kurt,” you said softly, your voice full of conviction. “You deserve all the love and happiness in the world.”

Kurt’s heart swelled with emotion, and he couldn’t stop himself from pulling you into a gentle embrace, holding you close as if you were the most precious thing in his world. You wrapped your arms around him, feeling his warmth, his heartbeat, and knowing that this moment was one you would cherish forever.

As you held each other, Kurt whispered in your ear, his voice full of all the love and affection he had been holding back. “I admire you, too, more than you know. And if I can bring even a fraction of the happiness to you that you’ve brought to me, then I’ll consider myself the luckiest man alive.”

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, and for a moment, everything else faded away—the mansion, the garden, the world outside. All that mattered was the connection you shared, the unspoken bond that had grown between you, and the knowledge that, no matter what the future held, you would always have each other.

And in that moment, Kurt knew that whatever suffering he had endured in the past, it had all been worth it, because it had led him to you.

[onlygarden]

[ in my arms, you're an angel ] - megumi fushiguro

genre: angst/ comfort

description: after yet another rough day, megumi comforts you

megumi knew of the unnecessarily harsh words, tense environment, and uncontrollable feeling of incompetence you had to endure each day. not a day goes by that you don’t feel like a hindrance. he finds it increasingly difficult to watch you come home each day with the same droopy and spiritless expression on your face. he just couldn’t seem to understand why anyone would want to torment such a good-natured person. in all honesty, it’s not like you provoke these people or even give them a single valid reason to heap pain and suffering onto your life. despite your undeserving disposition, they treat you poorly without hesitation anyway. as a result, megumi has witnessed your bright and amusing demeanor gradually dissolve with every strenuous day you’ve endured. it’s almost as if a tiny bit of yourself is brutally snatched from you every time you set foot in that dreadful place. it destroys him.

as you arrive home after another taxing day, you slide your shoes off and shut the door behind you silently. every evening, you always try your hardest not to disturb your boyfriend with your arrival; after all, you know he has a demanding job, too. after half-heartedly slipping off your jacket and hanging your belongings, you trudge your way towards the couch, plopping yourself down quietly. 

‘why am i even sitting down,’ you think quietly, ‘there’s still so much i need to do.’ 

allowing these thoughts to interrupt your momentary relaxation, you quickly gather the motivation to head towards the laundry room. your expression lightens as you notice megumi already moving some clothing into the dryer. “hey, baby,” he says softly after noticing your presence, “i knew you planned to do laundry after you came home today, but i wanted you to be able to relax.” your mouth falls open slightly, then you smile, touched by his sudden affectionate favor. you could honestly cry. megumi often tells you that he cannot stand the way you’re treated at your job. you can tell by the way he looks at you every evening you walk in the door; he can never conceal the way his jaw clenches with anger as he imagines the pain you’ve felt. 

“megumi,” you start, “this is too much. thank you.” 

you can't summon a way to describe the overwhelming feeling of gratitude you have towards your boyfriend in the moment. 

he chuckles at your polite display of appreciation. “what are you thanking me for? i should thank you for always coming home and continuing to work hard after a rough day.” 

you beam at his words. he is truly the only person who makes your endless, tiring efforts feel recognized and appreciated. whenever you fall into a seemingly infinite spiral of agony, megumi helps you to regain your vigor effortlessly. 

“you know, megumi,” as you speak, he gazes at you with his full attention, and his eyes hold a gentle enthusiasm, “this week was especially rough… so i just want you to know how much i appreciate this.” 

once the last syllable leaves your mouth, tears begin to trail towards the brim of your eyes. the ever-so-observant boyfriend he is, megumi immediately takes notice of this, and steps closer to you in a gentle manner. “(y/n), you don’t have to hold it in when you’re with me,” his gaze is so intense that you hardly even register the trail of tears sliding down your face. “it’s so hard to watch all your happiness fade away everyday, and it’s even harder knowing that there’s nothing i can do about it while it’s happening.” his large hands slide up and down your arms, then he places them underneath either side of your jaw. “but the very least i can do to help is be present in each moment, so it doesn’t become unbearable. let me help you take some of the weight off your shoulders, i can’t stand to see this side of you.” 

you briefly avert your gaze from his, the burning sympathy in his eyes making it difficult to maintain eye contact with him.

 “talk to me baby,” he says as he moves his hands to your shoulders, sliding his thumbs back and forth to offer you more reassurance. 

when you return your eyes to his, any bit of emotion you were holding back comes pouring down. he pulls you towards his chest with a soft thud, one hand resting on the back of your head, and the other resting on your hip. “i just don’t understand,” you begin, as you lift your arms to wrap around his body. “i don't understand what i ever did to any of those people to deserve to be treated this way,” 

megumi squeezes his eyes shut, slightly furrowing his brows at the pain seeping through each of your words. he’s utterly heartbroken by your display of such raw emotion. “i try my best to be friendly and kind with every single one of them, and i always go out of my way to be helpful even though my job is already so difficult, but they still treat me like i’m worth nothing.” you continue to cry into his chest, being muted by the close proximity. 

“they’re all a bunch of pathetic losers.” 

you can’t help but giggle at the bluntness of your boyfriend’s statement. 

he’s seething with anger upon hearing these things, but your slight laugh quells it a bit. “as much as i want to force all of them to treat you like the angel you are, i know i can’t actually do it.” 

he pulls you back to admire every detail of your face and watch the sadness fade from your eyes. “but, i know i can help you forget about the stress you experience everyday, and i can help you remember that you’re the most amazing thing to ever exist in this world.” 

you smile, genuinely flustered by your boyfriend’s loving description of you. he grabs your hand, and slowly runs his thumb over your knuckles.

“it’s okay, baby. you don’t have to worry about it when you’re with me.”

[ttyls]

im so upset right now i cant even speak 😣😭his nervous hands :(( he's so scared and lonely :((((

gif frm @avengerscompound

noooooo devastated nervous anxious stevieeee 😥😢 when i think about the man out of time deleted scene, i could cry for a million years 😭 we have to comfort him!!!! we have to wrap him in love, tenderness, and give him something to live for!!!! 😖

Anew

pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

word count: 394

warnings: none, but also fresh-out-of-the-ice sad Steve :-(

He looks so sad, almost like you that time you actually cried on this train. Nobody paid attention to you of course, but you still inwardly cringe when the memory finds you. He's rubbing his hands together like he’s trying to soothe himself.

This man seems like he’s strong enough to hold back until he goes home, but you feel so bad for him, bad enough to hand him a metaphorical tissue.

“Umm… excuse me, are you lost?”

He turns his head towards you, and his eyes widen ever so slightly when he figures out you’re addressing him. You ask again, “Are you lost? Do you need any help?”

His lips part a little to speak, but then he stops. He looks like he doesn’t even know where to begin answering your questions. Something about him makes you want to help, so you continue talking. “If you don’t know where to go or when you need to get off the train, I could help you.”

He nods in acknowledgment of your offer. “I… uh, thank you. My stop is coming up soon,” his voice trails off. He looks down at his lap where his hands are still clasped together. “I’m-... I’m new here,” he admits. His every word is crammed with nervousness and hesitation. His eyes move back up to yours and you hope your facial expression is properly conveying the empathy you feel for him. Maybe he’s from somewhere far away with fewer people and a different pace of life.

“This city does move very fast, but you’ll find your footing soon,” you respond. Trying your best to reassure him, you add, “If you’ve made it this far, there’s definitely something here for you.”

His eyes are now the color of gratitude and his mouth lifts into a small smile. “Thank you. I appreciate your words.” Lowering his voice, he continues, “I’ve had a hard time… adjusting, and I just-... I really needed to hear that.”

Thankfulness is written all over his face, and knowing you told him the right thing makes your heart sing. Any more of this and it might be the second time you cry on this train.

He brings his hand out for a handshake and introduces himself as Steve. You shake while giving him your name, and he says, “I’m glad to meet you.” You think so, too.

[earthlybeam]

Part 2 continue reading below.

I can’t even explain how much I love writing about Gil-galad—he’s everything! He deserves nothing less than the absolute best words I can give him. This is for real Gil-galad Supremacy ✨🫶🔥❤️‍🔥

Gil-galad would react to his human S/O organising him a birthday party, complete with homemade gift, and baking and decorating him a birthday cake

Part 1 here

✨👑🏵️ 𝓖𝓲𝓵-𝓰𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓭 🏵️👑✨

🜲 You step closer to him, smiling as you carefully take the pendant from his hands. Gil-galad watches you with a soft, awed expression, as though he still can’t fully grasp the depth of what you’ve done for him. His gaze is tender and full of gratitude, the pendant glimmering faintly in your hands as you reach up to place it around his neck.“Let me help you with this,” you say softly, your voice gentle, intimate, and full of warmth. Standing close to him, you carefully fasten the chain, your fingers brushing against his hair at the back of his neck. Once the star-shaped pendant is in place, it rests perfectly against his chest, catching the golden light of the setting sun.

🜲 You take a small step back to admire your work, your hands lingering lightly on his shoulders. “It suits you,” you murmur, tilting your head as you gaze up at him. “A symbol of who you are—my brightest star, my guiding light.” Gil-galad’s breath hitches at your words, and his hands instinctively come up to rest on yours, which are still on his shoulders. The tips of his long fingers lightly brush against your skin, his touch reverent. “You honor me more than I deserve, meleth-nîn,” he says, his voice unsteady yet full of emotion. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt more seen, more loved, than I do in this moment.”

🜲 Smiling, you step closer and rise on your toes to press a soft kiss to the tip of his sensitive ear. His breath catches audibly, his hands gripping your arms a little tighter as his eyes flutter shut. You take the chance to whisper into his ear, your voice low and full of love. “You are everything, Gil-galad. Not just to your people, but to me. You’ve carried so much for so long, but today is about you. You deserve every ounce of love, joy, and peace in this world—and I’ll make sure you have it, always.” For a moment, he is utterly still, as though your words have rooted him to the spot. Then, he exhales a shaky breath, his head dipping as though to hide his face, though you can see the faint glimmer of tears in his eyes again. “Your words… your love… they are the greatest treasures I could ever receive,” he whispers.

🜲 You give him a moment to collect himself before gently taking his hand and leading him toward the table, where the cake sits waiting. As you approach, you light the candles, their flickering glow casting a warm light against the evening backdrop. The stars above Lindon now shine faintly, as if blessing the moment. You gesture for him to sit, and as he does, you begin to sing “Happy Birthday,” your voice soft and slightly playful, but filled with affection. Gil-galad watches you the entire time, his lips curving into a smile that is equal parts amusement, wonder, and pure love. When the song ends, you grin at him, leaning close to the table. “Make a wish,” you say, your tone conspiratorial, as if you’re sharing a secret. “And don’t tell me what it is, or it won’t come true.” Gil-galad chuckles softly at your words, a deep, melodic sound that fills the quiet garden. He looks at the cake, the candles flickering like tiny stars, and for a moment, his expression turns thoughtful. Then, with a soft breath, he closes his eyes and leans forward, blowing out the candles. The flames disappear, and the warm light dims for just a moment before the lanterns around the garden seem to glow a little brighter.

🜲 When he looks back at you, there is a twinkle in his eye that wasn’t there before. “I don’t need to make a wish,” he says, his voice soft yet firm, “because everything I could ever hope for is already here—with you.” His words take your breath away, and as you sit down beside him, his hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “Thank you,” he whispers, leaning in to press a tender kiss to your forehead. “For this, for everything. You’ve turned what was once just another day into a memory I will carry forever.” You smile up at him, your hand resting on top of his, and together, the two of you sit under the stars, basking in the warmth of each other’s presence and the light of love that fills the air around you.

(His Lil tongue 👅 playing peak a boo)

🜲 You pick up the delicate knife and begin to cut into the cake, the blade sliding effortlessly through the soft sponge layers. The gentle aroma of elderflower and honey fills the air, mingling with the sweetness of wild berries and the faint floral note of lavender. As you place the first slice on a plate and offer it to Gil-galad, his expression is one of curiosity and anticipation. ���This is beautiful,” he says, marveling at the intricate design of the cake as you pass him a fork. “It’s almost a shame to eat it. You truly thought of everything, didn’t you?”

🜲 “Well,” you tease lightly, sitting beside him and picking up a fork of your own, “a king deserves a feast, doesn’t he? But you’re not just going to look at it, are you? Taste it.” Gil-galad chuckles softly, his deep voice warm and filled with affection. “How could I refuse, with you watching so intently?” He takes a small bite, his elegant movements always carrying a natural grace. The flavors seem to bloom across his senses, his expression softening as he savors the unique blend of the elderflower sponge, the silky vanilla cream, and the delicate sweetness of the berries. “This… this is extraordinary,” he says after a moment, his eyes meeting yours, filled with sincere admiration. “I’ve tasted the finest dishes crafted by the hands of Elves, but nothing has ever compared to this. You’ve captured Lindon itself in a cake, meleth-nîn. How do you do it?”

🜲 “Love and a bit of human stubbornness,” you reply with a grin, reaching for a piece of cake yourself. But as you watch him take another bite, an idea forms in your mind—a playful one. Before he can react, you hold out a small forkful of cake toward him. “Here, let me,” you say, your voice innocent, though there’s a mischievous glint in your eyes. Gil-galad raises a brow but leans in, humor sparkling in his gaze as he indulges you. He takes the offered bite from your fork, his lips brushing lightly against the metal. “You spoil me,” he murmurs with a chuckle, but as he speaks, a small smear of cream remains at the corner of his mouth. “Oh no, look what I’ve done,” you say, feigning innocence as you lean closer. Your thumb brushes the corner of his lips, as though to wipe it away—but rather than stopping there, you gently trace the cream down toward his chin, leaving a playful streak. Gil-galad blinks, caught off guard for a moment. “You missed a spot,” he says dryly, clearly aware of your antics now.

🜲 “Did I?” you say with exaggerated surprise, leaning in even closer. Before he can respond, you tilt your head and press your lips to the cream on his chin, licking it away with deliberate slowness. His sharp inhale is audible, his hands twitching slightly on the table as if unsure whether to pull you closer or simply let you carry on. “Meleth-nîn,” he says, his voice both amused and slightly strained, “you are a dangerous creature.” You pull back just enough to meet his gaze, a cheeky smile playing on your lips. “Dangerous? I’m just making sure my cake presentation is flawless,” you reply, laughing softly.

🜲 Gil-galad shakes his head, though his laughter joins yours, low and warm. “You are impossible. A force to be reckoned with.” Despite his words, his hand comes up to rest lightly on your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin in a gesture of pure affection. “But I wouldn’t have you any other way.” You beam at him, feeling a warm rush of affection as you reach for another forkful of cake. “I’ll let you get me back later, but for now, finish your cake,” you tease. “You still haven’t had enough to judge if it’s truly worthy of the High King.” Gil-galad leans closer, his smile softening. “Worthy? It is perfect. As is everything you do, my beloved.” His words send a pleasant shiver down your spine, but the moment is lightened as he takes another bite of cake, still smiling at you like you’re the brightest star in all the heavens. And perhaps to him, you are.

(The smile in this so cute 🥰)

🜲 As the last bite of cake is savored, you notice the subtle shift in the air. The breeze carries the faintest rustle of leaves, and the light of the star-shaped lanterns hanging from the branches above casts a soft, golden glow over the private garden. The scene feels almost magical, the backdrop of Lindon’s hills and sea stretching into the distance, touched by the silver light of evening. Gil-galad sets his plate aside, his fingers brushing yours briefly as you gather it. He studies you for a moment, his deep, blue-gray eyes filled with a mixture of affection and curiosity.

🜲 “Thank you for this,” he says, his voice low, reverent. “Not just for the celebration, but for everything. You’ve given me a moment I will cherish for all my days.” You smile warmly, reaching out to take his hand in yours. “Well,” you say softly, “I’m not done yet. There’s one more thing.” Standing, you gently tug him to his feet. His movements are fluid and graceful, but there’s a hint of curiosity in his gaze as he allows you to guide him to the open space beneath the glowing lanterns. The soft, golden light sways with the gentle breeze, casting delicate patterns across the ground.

🜲 “What are you up to now, meleth-nîn?” he asks, his tone playful yet tender. You step closer, sliding your hands up to rest on his shoulders as you look up at him. “Just one dance,” you whisper. “No music, no distractions. Just us.” His expression softens, and without hesitation, he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you gently closer. “You know the Elves of Lindon could hear even the faintest music if it were playing,” he murmurs, the teasing lilt in his voice accompanied by the warmth in his gaze. “But I find the sound of your heart far sweeter.” Your breath catches at his words, but you tilt your head and smile. “Then listen closely, because it beats just for you.”

🜲 Slowly, the two of you begin to sway together, the rhythm dictated not by music but by the natural cadence of your bodies and the love that binds you. His hands are steady on your waist, his touch light yet firm, and his movements graceful as though he were born to dance. You, by contrast, move more simply, but there is an intimacy in how you follow his lead, in how you fit together so seamlessly. The lanterns above sway gently in the breeze, casting fleeting light across his face. You catch glimpses of the way his features soften—his eyes fixed only on you, his lips curling into the faintest smile. You feel his warmth, his steady presence grounding you, even as your heart seems to soar.

🜲 Neither of you speaks for a long moment. The only sounds are the rustle of leaves and the distant crashing of waves far below. The stars above seem to shine brighter, as though bearing witness to this quiet, sacred moment between the two of you. When Gil-galad finally breaks the silence, his voice is hushed, like a prayer meant only for you. “Do you know what you mean to me?” he asks. “You’ve not only shared my days, meleth-nîn—you’ve brightened them, filled them with joy I never thought I would feel again. You are my light in this world.”

🜲 His words make your chest tighten, your emotions catching you off guard. You lean closer, pressing your forehead against his, letting your eyes flutter shut as you whisper, “And you are mine. My anchor, my star. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than here, with you.” The dance slows further, your movements becoming almost still as you simply hold onto each other. It is as if time itself has stopped, leaving only the two of you in this perfect, fleeting moment.

🜲 And then, as if the stars themselves wish to honor the High King’s birthday, a single firework blooms in the sky. The sound is distant but sharp, the explosion unfurling into a cascade of brilliant colors—silver and gold that rain down like stars upon the backdrop of Lindon. You both stop, turning slightly to look up, but neither of you lets go. The firework lights Gil-galad’s face, and you can see the soft wonder in his expression as his gaze shifts back to you. Without a word, he cups your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin, and lowers his lips to yours.

🜲 The kiss is slow, tender, and filled with every ounce of love and devotion he has for you. His lips are warm and soft, lingering as though he wishes to pour all the unspoken words of his heart into this one gesture. You kiss him back with equal tenderness, your hands slipping up to tangle in his hair as the distant firework fades, leaving only the warmth of each other. When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and his voice is a whisper. “I wished for you long ago, though I thought it impossible. Yet here you are, my heart’s greatest treasure.” You smile, your own voice catching as you reply, “And you are mine, for as long as you’ll have me.” Gil-galad chuckles softly, his arms tightening around you. “Forever, meleth-nîn. Forever and beyond.”

[rispwr]

still with you - JK - PART THREE

pairings : ex!jk x ex!reader

genre : fluff, angst

context : after breaking up with your boyfriend for 14 years for cheating on you, choosing to still stay with him in his apartment wasn't quite the best idea. especially after seperating.

warnings/contents : smut, mentions of ppregnancy, cheating, rape, unprotected sex, alcoholism, degrading, and this jungkook should be a warning.

songs : house of balloons, swim, into it, goodluck, babe, so high, bloodline

this fic only has maybe 2 or 3 chapters (there's an extra 4rth chapterr)

The door chimes, and I look up to see Yoongi walking in.

 His smile is gentle as he approaches, but there’s a hint of concern in his eyes when he sees my expression.

“Hey, Y/N,” he says softly as he sits down across from me. “You okay?”

I let out a deep sigh, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on me. “Honestly? No, not really.”

Yoongi leans forward, his eyes never leaving mine. “What happened?”

I hesitate, the words catching in my throat, but I know I can trust him.

 He’s been there for me through so much already.

 “Last night... it was bad, Yoongi,” I begin, my voice shaky.

 “Jungkook came home drunk, more than usual. He was completely out of it, but that didn’t stop him from... from going all over me. He was aggressive, pulling me around, forcing himself on me. It was like he didn’t even see me as a person, just something to use.”

Yoongi’s expression darkens, his jaw tightening as he listens. “Y/N, that’s not okay. You shouldn’t have to go through that, ever.”

I shake my head, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to spill.

 “I know. But it’s like he’s not even the same person anymore. He’s so mean, Yoongi, so cruel. He said things—horrible things. He blamed me for the miscarriage, said it was my fault he cheated, that I wasn’t enough.”

Yoongi’s hand reaches across the table, gently covering mine. “Y/N, none of that is your fault. You know that, right? Jungkook’s just trying to push his guilt onto you because he can’t face his own mistakes.”

I nod, feeling a mixture of relief and sadness at his words. “I know, deep down, but it still hurts. I can’t keep doing this, Yoongi.

 I can’t keep living like this.”

He squeezes my hand gently, his voice filled with quiet determination. “You don’t have to. I’ve been thinking about this, and I think it’s time you got out of that apartment. There’s a place I know, near your work. It’s nice, quiet, and it could be a fresh start for you. I know the landlord, and I’m sure they’d be willing to rent it to you.”

The idea of leaving, of finally getting out of that toxic environment, fills me with a sense of hope I haven’t felt in a long time. “Do you really think I can do it? Just leave everything behind?”

Yoongi’s gaze is steady, filled with a warmth that makes me believe in myself. “I know you can. You deserve to be in a place where you can heal, where you can breathe without constantly looking over your shoulder. And you don’t have to do it alone. I’ll help you every step of the way.”

Tears well up in my eyes, but this time, they’re tears of gratitude. “Thank you, Yoongi. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He smiles softly, squeezing my hand once more before letting go. “You don’t have to find out. We’ll get through this together.”

As I sit there, the thought of sneaking out of Jungkook’s apartment no longer feels like a distant fantasy. It feels possible, like the first step toward reclaiming my life. With Yoongi’s support, I know I have the strength to do it.

Yoongi’s suggestion echoes in my mind. “You don’t have to. I’ve been thinking about this, and I think it’s time you got out of that apartment. There’s a place I know, near your work. It’s nice, quiet, and it could be a fresh start for you. I know the landlord, and I’m sure they’d be willing to rent it to you” he’d said, his voice gentle but firm.

 “You deserve to be in a place where you can heal, where you can breathe without constantly looking over your shoulder. And you don’t have to do it alone. I’ll help you every step of the way.”

The apartment is shrouded in darkness, the only light coming from the faint glow of the city outside the window. I move quietly, careful not to make a sound as I navigate through the familiar space. My suitcase is packed, sitting by the door, and all I need to do is grab it and leave. It should be simple, but nothing about this place ever is.

As I pass by Jungkook’s bedroom, I hear it. the muffled sound of moaning, followed by his voice, low and slurred. I freeze, not because I’m shocked, but out of sheer habit. Once, this would have torn me apart, but now, it’s like listening to a broken record. The pain has dulled to a numb ache, 

something I’ve grown used to.

His voice becomes clearer, more distinct, and what I hear makes my stomach turn. 

“She’s so pathetic,” Jungkook sneers, his tone dripping with contempt.

 “She’ll do anything to keep me around, but I’m done with her. She’s worthless, just like the baby she couldn’t even keep.”

The woman’s moans follows, a cruel sound that echoes in the otherwise silent apartment. I should feel something.

 anger, hurt, betrayal

but instead, all I feel is emptiness. I’ve heard it all before, the lies, the insults, the way he tears me down to justify his own failures.

I take a deep breath, forcing myself to move again. My hand tightens around the handle of my suitcase as I slowly, carefully, open the front door. The soft click of the latch releasing feels like the loudest sound in the world, but I don’t let it stop me.

With one last glance back into the darkened apartment, I step out into the hallway, closing the door behind me as quietly as possible.

 The sounds from Jungkook’s room are muffled now, distant, like they belong to a world I’m no longer part of.

As I walk away, the weight of his words doesn’t follow me. Instead, I feel a sense of detachment, as if I’m finally severing the last ties that bound me to him. Whatever he’s become, whatever he thinks of me, doesn’t matter anymore. I’m done with him, with this place, with everything that once held me back.

I head toward the elevator, my heart pounding with a mix of fear and relief. The thought of starting over, of living somewhere new, fills me with a strange, tentative hope. I don’t know what’s ahead, but I know it has to be better than this. With Yoongi’s support and the prospect of a new apartment, I finally feel like I’m taking control of my life again.

As the elevator doors close behind me, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. It’s over. I’m done with Jungkook, and I’m finally ready to move on.

jungkook's pov

The dimly lit room is filled with the sound of heavy breathing and the creak of the bed beneath us.

The girl beneath me, someone whose name I’ve already forgotten, runs her hands over my back, her nails digging in as she moans my name. It’s the same every time. mindless, empty, just the way I like it.

 No strings,

no expectations,

just pure,

selfish indulgence.

She pulls me closer, and I smirk, leaning in to whisper in her ear. “You’re so much better than her,” I say, my voice dripping with darkness. “She’s so weak, so desperate for my attention, but you... you’re what I need.”

She giggles, clearly pleased with the compliment, and I feel a twisted satisfaction. It’s easy to tear Y/N down when she’s not around.

 I’ve been doing it for months, maybe longer.

 The truth is, I can’t stand the sight of her anymore. The way she looks at me, like I’m supposed to be some kind of savior, like I’m supposed to love her. It’s pathetic.

“God, you don’t know how good it feels to be with someone who isn’t constantly whining,” I continue, my voice low and cruel. “She’s always so needy, always so clingy. It’s exhausting.”

The girl beneath me smiles, her fingers trailing down my chest. “She sounds like a real drag.”

“She is,” I agree, my tone harsh. “Always trying to talk about her feelings, always wanting to ‘connect.’ It’s like, can you just shut up for once? I don’t care about your problems, I don’t care about your stupid career. I’ve got better things to do.”

As I thrust into the girl, my mind drifts to Y/N.

 The way she used to look at me with those big, hopeful eyes, like I was the center of her universe. It used to give me a thrill, knowing how much power I had over her, but now? Now it’s just a burden.

The girl doesn’t even flinch at my harsh words; she just pulls me closer, moaning louder, feeding off the toxicity that I’m spewing. This is what I want. someone who won’t question me, who won’t try to fix me. Someone who’s here for the fun and nothing more.

As the pleasure builds, I focus on the present, on the girl beneath me, on the way she’s everything Y/N isn’t. No strings, no drama, just pure, selfish satisfaction. I push Y/N out of my mind completely, losing myself in the moment, in the thrill of knowing that I’m in control, that I’m the one calling the shots.

In this bed, in this moment, Y/N doesn’t exist. And that’s exactly how I want it.

--------

The apartment is still mostly empty, boxes scattered around waiting to be unpacked, but it already feels more like home than Jungkook’s place ever did. 

The space is small, cozy, and completely mine. The silence here is peaceful, not oppressive, and I find myself smiling as I wander from room to room, imagining how I’ll decorate.

I’m standing by the window, looking out at the city below, when there’s a knock at the door. I wasn’t expecting anyone, so I pause, curious and a bit nervous.

 Setting down the mug of tea I’d been sipping, I walk over and open the door, and to my surprise, Yoongi is standing there, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Yoongi?” I ask, my surprise evident in my voice. “What are you doing here?”

He chuckles, leaning casually against the doorframe. “I wanted to check on you, see how you’re settling in.”

I smile, genuinely touched by his thoughtfulness. “I’m doing okay, just trying to figure out where everything goes.”

“Mind if I come in?” he asks.

“Of course, come in,” I reply, stepping aside to let him enter. As he walks in, I can’t help but notice how comfortable he seems, like he’s been here before.

Yoongi turns to face me, a playful glint in his eyes. “So, how do you like the place?”

“I love it,” I say sincerely, looking around. “It’s perfect, Yoongi. I can’t thank you enough for helping me find it.”

He nods, looking pleased. “I’m glad you like it. But, uh... there’s something I need to tell you.”

My curiosity is piqued. “What is it?”

He steps a little closer, a mischievous smile spreading across his face. “I didn’t tell you earlier because I wanted it to be a surprise, but... I’m your neighbor.”

I blink, processing his words. “Wait, what?”

He laughs softly, clearly enjoying my reaction. “My apartment is right next door. So, if you ever need anything, or just want to hang out--I’m literally just a few steps away.”

I stare at him, a mix of disbelief and amusement washing over me. “Are you serious? You live right next to me?”

“Yep,” he says, leaning back against the kitchen counter, his grin widening.

“Welcome to the neighborhood.”

I shake my head, laughing. “You’re full of surprises, Yoongi.”

His expression softens, and he looks at me with a warmth that makes my heart skip a beat. “I’m just glad you’re finally in a place where you can feel safe and happy.

You deserve this, Y/N.”

For a moment, I’m overwhelmed by how much things have changed in such a short time. I never imagined I’d find myself in a place like this, with someone like Yoongi by my side. But here I am, and it feels right.

yoongi's pov

I watch as Y/N walks around her new apartment, her face lit up with a smile that I haven’t seen in too long. Seeing her happy like this makes everything worth it. the planning, the secrecy, the worry about whether she’d like the place.

When she finally notices me standing in the doorway, her surprise is almost comical. 

I had to hold back a laugh when she asked what I was doing here, as if I could stay away. The look on her face when I told her I’m her neighbor was priceless.

I wanted to tell her sooner, but I knew this would be more fun. Plus, I wanted to make sure everything was perfect for her before I revealed that little detail. Seeing the relief in her eyes, the way she seems more relaxed than she’s been in ages, makes me feel like I did something right.

As we talk, I can’t help but feel this growing warmth in my chest. Y/N’s been through so much, more than anyone should have to endure, but she’s stronger than she realizes. And now, she’s finally in a place where she can start fresh.

I’m right next door, ready to be there for her whenever she needs. Whether it’s just to hang out, share a meal, or talk about music, I’m here. It feels good to know I can be that person for her—someone she can count on.

“Welcome to the neighborhood,” I say, and I mean it in more ways than one. This isn’t just about the apartment. It’s about us, too. I’m looking forward to seeing where this goes, to being a part of her life in a way that really matters.

As we stand there, sharing a laugh, I realize that this. right here, right now, feels like the beginning of something special. Something worth holding onto.

[baldwinivmybeloved]

⠀ ⊹     𓈒 ⠀⠀❤︎⠀Charper Thirty⠀!⠀⠀ ៶៶ Xica x Baldwin IV

The sun filtered through the castle windows, casting the halls in a golden light. In one of the inner gardens, Arik and Ariella were engaged in a heated argument. Their voices echoed off the stone walls, mingling with the birdsong and the whisper of the wind.

“You’re always saying you’ll be the best queen!” shouted Arik, his face red with frustration. “But I have the right to be king too. It’s not all about books and rules, Ariella!”

Ariella, standing tall with cold eyes, looked at him with disapproval.

“Arik, being king is not just fun and games. It’s a huge responsibility. Someone has to take it seriously, and clearly, you don’t. Your recklessness could endanger our kingdom.”

Ariella’s words cut like daggers to Arik. With his free and adventurous spirit, he always felt that his sister’s seriousness was a barrier between them.

“You don’t understand anything!” Arik retorted, his voice trembling with emotion. “You can’t live just by following rules. We need passion and bravery. We won’t be good leaders if we can’t see beyond the books!”

Ariella crossed her arms, her face impassive.

“And you don’t understand that passion without control is dangerous. We can’t afford mistakes. The fate of our kingdom depends on us, and I won’t leave it in the hands of someone who can’t think beyond his momentary desires.”

The tension between the twins was palpable, their differences manifesting in every word. Just as the fight seemed to escalate, Baldwin and Xica appeared at the entrance to the garden. Their faces reflected sadness and concern at seeing their children in conflict.

“Enough!” Baldwin exclaimed, his voice resonating with authority and pain. “I can’t bear to see you fight like this. You are siblings, you must support each other, not fight.”

Xica approached Ariella, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Ariella, your brother is right that leadership is not just about seriousness. And Arik, Ariella is also right that we need responsibility. You both have to find a balance, learn from each other.”

The twins looked at their parents, their hearts filled with guilt and regret. They realized how much it hurt their parents to see them like this.

“I’m sorry, Dad, Mom,” said Ariella, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I just want what’s best for our kingdom.”

Arik, his face full of remorse, nodded.

“I’m sorry too. I just want us to be a united family.”

Baldwin hugged them both, his voice full of love and hope.

“And we will be, as long as we learn to listen to and support each other. Together, we can overcome any challenge.”

Later that night, Baldwin and Xica were alone in their chambers. Baldwin, increasingly weak, sat on the edge of the bed. With a deep sigh, he removed the mask that hid his face, revealing the devastation leprosy had caused. Half of his face was gaunt, the skin marked by the incurable disease.

Xica approached him with a damp cloth, her eyes full of tenderness and unconditional love.

“Baldwin, my love, you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” she said softly, beginning to gently clean his face.

Baldwin closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation of the cool water on his skin. But his thoughts were dark, filled with worry and fear.

“Xica, I fear I don’t have much time. I don’t want to leave you alone; I don’t want to leave our children without a father,” he said, his voice breaking.

Xica looked into his eyes, her expression firm and full of determination.

“Don’t think about that now, Baldwin. You’re here, with me, with us. Every moment we spend together is a gift. And I want you to know that, no matter what happens, we will always love you. You are our king, our husband, our father. And you always will be.”

Baldwin let out a deep sigh, his eyes filled with gratitude and love.

“Thank you, Xica. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She smiled, finishing cleaning his face and gently stroking his cheek.

“And you’ll never have to find out. We’re in this together, Baldwin. We always will be.”

They remained in silence, enjoying each other’s presence, sharing a moment of peace amid the storm. In that instant, the love and strength of their union were more powerful than any disease or conflict. And so, they once again promised to face the future together, with love and hope.

Baldwin and Xica remained embraced, the silence between them heavy with emotions. The weight of an uncertain future hung over them, but the love they shared gave them the strength to carry on. Baldwin broke the silence with a question that had been tormenting him for a long time.

“Xica, what would you do if... if I were to die?” Baldwin asked, his voice barely a whisper filled with fear and vulnerability.

Xica looked at him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, and took his face in her hands.

“Baldwin, I can't imagine a world without you. If you died, a part of me would die with you. My heart would stop beating, my soul would shatter into a thousand pieces. But... I can't abandon our children. They need you, and if I can't be with you in life, then I will live for them, so they will always have a part of you in their lives.”

Baldwin hugged her tightly, his tears rolling freely down his cheeks.

“I love you, Xica. I love you more than words can express.”

“And I love you, Baldwin. I will always be with you, in this life and the next.”

After a while, they decided to leave their chambers. They needed fresh air and the company of those who had always supported them. As they descended, they found Godfrey waiting in the common room, his expression serious yet serene.

“Godfrey, what’s happening?” Baldwin asked, noticing the gravity on his face.

Godfrey stood up, and with a deep sigh, he addressed them.

“Your Majesty, Xica, I have come to say goodbye. I must leave soon. There are matters from the past that I need to resolve, sins that need to be redeemed. There is someone I need to find and make peace with.”

Xica looked at him with concern.

“Are you sure, Godfrey? Can’t you stay with us a little longer?”

Godfrey smiled sadly.

“My place will always be here, but my heart tells me I must do this. I need to find that person and close that chapter of my life. Only then can I return and be at peace with myself.”

Baldwin nodded, understanding his friend's need.

“We understand, Godfrey. And we support your decision. But remember, you will always have a home here with us.”

Godfrey bowed.

“Thank you, Your Majesty. This is not a farewell, just a see you later. I will return as soon as I can, and I hope to find the peace I seek.”

Xica approached and hugged him.

“Take care, Godfrey. And remember, you will always be part of our family.”

Godfrey nodded, his eyes shining with gratitude.

“I will, Xica. And thank you for everything.”

The farewell was brief but emotional. Baldwin and Xica watched as Godfrey walked away, his figure disappearing into the distance as the sun began to set. The sky was painted with shades of orange and purple, reflecting the mix of sadness and hope in their hearts.

Back in their chambers, Baldwin and Xica sat on the balcony, gazing at the stars that began to twinkle in the night sky.

“Do you think Godfrey will find what he’s looking for?” Xica asked, resting her head on Baldwin’s shoulder.

“I hope so, Xica. We all deserve to find peace, and he has been a loyal friend. He deserves it,” Baldwin replied, gently stroking her hair.

Silence enveloped them once more, but this time it was a silence filled with love and understanding. Though the future was uncertain and the trials continued, they knew that as long as they were together, they could overcome any obstacle. And so, under the starry mantle of the sky, they once again promised to be strong, for themselves, for their children, and for the love that bound them together.

[ahsokathegray]

A Remedy for Memory || Part One

Pairing: Rexsoka

Prompt: Rexsoka Monthly Jan. ‘24 - Accidental First Kiss

Summary: One simple fall causes a certain commander to fall in love with his co-commander all over again. Rex expresses his gratitude to his lover rather affectionately — unaware that he's never done so before, unaware that he and Ahsoka aren't together.

Tags: order 66 didn't happen, temporary amnesia, whump kinda, fake dating kinda, protective brotherly Anakin

Word Count: 4,396

A/N: if you saw the rom com this was inspired by, no you didn't. but fr go watch it, it's called the other zoey! (@rexsoka-monthly)

read on ao3! / masterlist

Present Day

“You’re not nervous, are you?” Sterling asked her, finishing up his inspections. 

Ahsoka took a seat on a stack of crates in the Resolute’s hangar bay, arching a single eyebrow marking at the trooper and smirking in response. 

Vaughn shook his head as he passed by. “Vod, did you really just ask her that?”

“What? The trials are different for every Jedi. She doesn’t know what they’ll ask her to do,” Sterling pleaded his case. 

“I’ll give you a pass since you’re still new around here, Ster,” Vaughn laughed, shooting an apologetically amused glance in Ahsoka’s direction. Sterling’s gaze followed. “There’s nothing the Commander can’t do.”

“I already had it,” she answered the man finally, shrugging her shoulders. 

Sterling’s face was written with confusion. Her answer raised more questions than it answered. “But how—”

His ori’vod clapped him on the back and walked alongside him as they left for the exit, beginning to detail the distressing series of events that had been considered Ahsoka’s trial. 

New footsteps began to echo around her in the now empty hangar and she smiled upon seeing who they belonged to. Rex was heading her way with a lopsided grin, having evidently heard some of the conversation. “Break’s over, Commander. I’m gonna need those crates so I can finish this checklist. You’re sitting on my last set,” he said, pointing first at the crates around her and then to his datapad. 

She swung her feet and tilted her head, waiting to see if he was serious or not, testing the amount of time they might have here together. He was all business. Resting and visiting could come later. For now, they had to finish landing procedures. 

Rex stepped closer and touched his datapad to her knee, waiting. His lips were pink and playful and she had to force herself to look away. 

Okay, so he was mostly business. 

Ahsoka pressed her own lips into a thin line to contain her smile. She failed. “Sure thing, Commander,” she said, hopping up. 

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” Rex laughed, shaking his head and checking the final box on his list. 

He then beckoned a passing squad of shinies over, who promptly lifted the remaining crates and left to put them amongst the others that had already been off-loaded into the Coruscant shipyard. His datapad was handed to Ahsoka for double checking and her signature went beside his. 

“And it’s been how many months now?” she teased, falling into a slow stride through the Venator corridors beside her former Captain. It still felt awkward in her mouth when she had to call Vaughn by the title Rex held for so long. Three months had done nothing to erase the strangeness. 

He playfully bumped his arm into her shoulder, causing the already mild blush in her lekku to deepen. “You never did answer Sterling’s question.”

Ahsoka turned to face him, a feigned look of offense on her face. He rolled his eyes in a very Ahsoka fashion and widened them as if to ask the question a second time. “Well, if I had to complete a standard trial, then yes, I would be. But… and you can never tell him this,” she stopped mid sentence. 

Rex held up his free hand in promise and she appeared satisfied, hugging the datapad to her chest. 

“But Master Windu did have a point. It was still a sorry excuse and, as much as we don’t see eye to eye, I would not be as strong a Jedi without having been framed for a murder and then expelled from the Order,” she finished, trailing off at the end and looking as if she’d taken a sip of unfixed caf. 

Rex had long resented the Jedi Master in lieu of the man’s treatment of Ahsoka. She deserved an apology rather than a flimsy excuse. A bad taste formed in his mouth remembering the man’s words to her while they’d been preparing to disembark from Mandalore. 

“But,” she continued, “To answer Sterling’s question for you, yes, I am still nervous about the ceremony portion.”

His brows furrowed at the idea of this strong, competent woman ever being nervous. He very much agreed with Vaughn’s earlier statement. Rex had known Ahsoka long enough now to know that there was nothing she couldn’t do anymore. “You don’t need to be. It’ll be over before you realize it. Besides, I’ve seen you tackle far worse with twice the confidence,” Rex assured her. 

Ahsoka shot him a funny smile, accepting the compliment only because he’d cite his sources if she didn’t. A gentle jab was placed under his ribs with her elbow. 

She then straightened her shoulders as they neared the exit and descended the ramp; Anakin had just shot her a look from amongst the sea of crates. The change in breath in the man next to her told her he’d noticed the same careful look in the General’s eye. 

The few months between delivering Maul to Coruscant and Ahsoka’s pending knighthood ceremony have been a complete shift in gear for the three of them. Besides the war being won, the men reacclimating to Ahsoka’s position in the legion, and the title shifts… the months had not passed quickly. The entire galaxy was experiencing a transition period and they were not excluded from it. 

Though her Master benefited from it greatly, he’d never adjusted to change as easily as everyone else. 

To say the least, Anakin was overjoyed that she had jumped back into things as if she’d never been gone in the first place. That hadn’t dwindled, but his protective eye on her had increased — so fearful that she’d walk away again. 

It took about a month for him to relax. He was in awe of her capabilities and patted himself proudly on the back for a good portion of it. 

But Anakin’s eye had caught new things once he was certain she wasn’t going anywhere. He had, unfortunately, taken a particular notice in the newfound dynamic between his Commanders on the field. 

The arrangement of having Ahsoka and Rex share the title had worked too well. If you ask Anakin, suspiciously well. 

Anakin had always held tightly those who he considered dear to him. Ahsoka knew this about him. Most people did. It had never been his fault — the attachments. To her, it wasn’t a fault at all. Nor was it a flaw. Whether or not it was something he had passed on, however, she had debated greatly since she had been cast from the Order. 

It seemed he had been debating the same. Her soon to be former Master had pulled her aside a few times now concerning Rex. 

Each time he asked, she repeated the same words she knew he wanted to hear. The truth, on the other hand, was kept safely away from his grasp and he knew it, but forced himself not to press so directly. He had brought up Padmé the last time, in hopes of finishing that conversation they’d started when Ahsoka left him on the steps of the temple — if only to bring it back to the topic of the former Captain. 

“He suspects something,” Rex said in a lower voice, bringing her back to the present. 

Ahsoka observed as Anakin exhibited his nervous habit of fiddling with his glove as he conversed with an inventory droid in the shipyard. 

“There’s nothing to suspect,” she countered with a desired resoluteness that she did not achieve.

The man beside her said nothing and she turned to face him, finding that rare look in his eye that was becoming more frequent. “How many times has he cornered you now?” he asked. 

She laughed. “Five. Wanna put credits on a sixth?”

“After the look he just gave you, I’d say there’s no bet to be had. What did he want to know?”

“Same as last time.”

“Think I’ll get asked aside?”

“I’m honestly shocked he hasn’t yet,” Ahsoka answered without hesitation. Her shoulders slumped. “You don’t think that someone…”

It was just one instance. 

Rex’s posture became rigid. “No one saw us.”

Her brow markings met in the middle. “And you’re positive you weren’t followed?”

“I’ve even gone back to check the Tribunal’s security footage. I wasn’t followed and it wasn’t recorded.”

She nodded tightly and pressed onward, keeping Anakin in her peripheral. “We'll have to finish this conversation another time,” she said. 

The man beside her visibly swallowed before collecting himself. “Care to rendezvous later? I think we should talk about it away from listening ears.”

“Please. Tonight?”

“Yes. I’ll comm you. Enjoy your leave and have a good evening, Commander,” Rex wished her with the utmost professionalism. Anakin was within earshot. 

“Thank you, Rex. You as well.”

Her Master’s arms were already crossed and that curious stitch between his brows was present. He’d just opened his mouth to speak when Ahsoka halted and spun on her heel. The datapad clutched in her hands did not belong to her. “Wait, Commander! Your datapad!” Ahsoka shouted from across the shipyard. 

He didn’t turn, the title still sounding foreign to his ears. 

Ahsoka was already moving into a jog after him. “Hey, you forgot your datapad! Rex!”

Only at his name did he turn. 

She wished she hadn’t said it. 

As soon as he met her eyes, a forklift of crates collided into him, knocking him violently to the ground and toppling both the crates and their contents onto his unconscious form. 

“Rex!”

The footsteps of the General and men across the shipyard followed the noise but it was all lost to her. 

Rex’s eyes were closed as she knelt beside him, the shinies operating the vehicle already out and hovered over the scene, removing the crates that had fallen. 

Ahsoka moved between them and they gave her room on Anakin’s orders. Rex just looked asleep. She turned his head, finding the reddening mark where his head collided with the duracrete. It would undoubtedly form a pretty sizable bruise and she wasn’t certain if the lack of blood should trouble her or not. 

Cradling his head, she checked his breathing. Alive and airways unobstructed, yet he still hadn't woken. “Get me Kix now!” she demanded. “He needs a medic! Someone get these crates off of him please!”

Above her, comm chatter buzzed like static and Anakin repeated her orders before jogging off. The fallen crates and their contents were lifted by the forklift operators. Their armor was free of scuffs and unpainted. 

“Karking mirrors,” one of them muttered. “I can’t kill a Commander. Is he going to be okay? He may need mouth to mouth!”

The other shiny nodded furiously. 

“Mouth to mouth?” Ahsoka repeated his words in a breathy shock, her voice not sounding like her own. 

“Yes, sir!”

She didn’t even think to utilize her greatest asset at this moment. Discarding the Force, Ahsoka’s shaky fingers went over his nose and parted his soft lips.  

Not even tears could find her at this moment. She’d never felt such panic. “I’m so sorry, Rex. I should’ve just returned the ‘pad to you later. I should’ve sensed the forklift coming. Please be okay. Kriff, kriff I’m so sorry,” Ahsoka begged under her breath, leaning down. 

“Only because you asked,” Rex coughed as he came to, loud enough only where she could hear.

His eyes cracked open lazily and readjusted to the sun while hers shot wide. One of his hands reached up and wrapped around her bicep as he woke and a crooked smile stretched over his lips. She jumped. “Rex? Are you okay? Can you hear me?” Ahsoka’s trembling fingers became frantic, running over his face and chest.

Anakin reapproached with Kix, Coric, and a few other medics from legions she didn’t recognize. “Ahsoka, how’s he doing?” her Master asked. 

“I can hear you, mesh’la,” Rex winced, his head rolling in her arms. She was busy deciphering what he’d said when his eyes suddenly flew wide. His words came in groans, “Oh, kark me. ‘Soka? What happened?” He was severely out of it. 

“Yes. Yes, it’s me. Ahsoka,” she nodded furiously, making space for Kix. “You fell. It’s all my fault. I’m so sorry.” Tears spilled over her cheeks and splattered onto his chest plate. 

With his instruments at the ready, Kix made a grab for Rex’s shoulder but missed. The fallen Commander lurched forward and both of his arms wrapped around Ahsoka’s middle; she was mid-sigh when his soft lips met her own and a moan escaped his mouth. “‘Soka,” he whispered, words tickling her skin as he scattered lazy kisses along her jaw. 

“Rex,” she gasped. Something akin to shock, terror, and thrill all competed within her. Without looking, Ahsoka could feel Anakin’s eyes burning a hole in her back. 

He’d just kissed her. Rex had just kissed her in front of countless bystanders — in front of Anakin. 

Kix was stunned, looking to his other Commander for answers, whose expression said with perfect clarity that she had no idea what was going on. Ahsoka then remembered she had arms and made a gentle effort to push Rex away, all while he continued his affections. 

It was Coric who was able to shed his shock first and act, getting his hands on the Captain’s shoulder and giving the man a careful push, ceasing Rex’s intimate gratitude.

He made a noise of protest and squeezed Ahsoka’s hip as Kix helped get him flat on the ground. Finally able to breathe again, Ahsoka felt the amount of heat that had gathered in her face and lekku. There was no hiding it. As she caught her breath, she turned to look at her Master who, as of yet, had not said a word. 

The curl of his lip and the stitch between his brows spoke for itself. He’d already made the conclusion that she’d lied to him. Anakin held eye contact for just a moment longer before joining the medics surrounding Rex. 

Her Master hadn’t appeared to even be mad, but rather it was disappointment that clung to his Force signature. Ahsoka dusted herself off and retook her earlier seat on one of the crates, deciding that a disappointed Anakin was far worse than a rampaging one. She’d rather her Master be livid. 

Ahsoka sighed defeatedly and kept her distance as Rex was hoisted onto a gurney and underwent the surface level inspection of all the medics who’d come to assist. They each left one by one, reports in hand, until it was just the boys in blue left. Anakin shot back a final look of disdain and she pretended not to catch it. 

“He’ll be alright then?” Ahsoka asked, taking hold of the railing. A loving hand took her finger. Smiling up at her in awe was a very dazed Rex. 

Coric finished up the eye exam and clicked his flashlight off. “Nothing major by the looks of it. He’ll be fine, Commander. Just a bit out of it at the moment. We’ll take him to the medical wing and sort him out.”

Relief washed over her like an intense high. Rex squeezed her hand. “You’re coming with me, right?”

Ahsoka looked to the medics for the answer. Kix was focused on his Commander’s conjoined hands. 

“Would I be allowed in the operating room?” she asked. 

“Of course, Commander,” said Coric. “It would probably be best to keep him relaxed. He’s more agreeable with you here.”

Rex shot her a mischievous grin she’d never seen him wear. 

It didn’t take long for Kix to assess the full situation. With the tech equipped inside the facility and the assistance of medical droids, they determined rather quickly that Rex had a mild concussion. 

Ahsoka was there for the entire process, sitting on a rigid chair just outside the door. She’d originally been allowed inside, but her presence only distracted Rex while Kix attempted to speak with him. A kind nurse droid brought Ahsoka a chair and told her she could wait outside until they were done. 

When Anakin, Jesse, and Cody arrived, Kix pulled them all aside to deliver the news. 

“It’s only a grade one concussion. He’ll be back to normal within a few days. I’d wait about forty-eight hours or so and have him come back up here so I can check him again. But for the time being, the Commander should be resting until he recovers. Jesse, his responsibilities are now yours. His duties can wait. Though, where he’d normally try to disagree with me on that, the amnesia has him under the impression he’s retired from duty altogether.”

“Amnesia?” Cody asked. “Retired from duty?”

Kix nodded, “Yes. It’s perfectly normal considering the fall he took.” 

Everyone present knew Rex’s condition was a serious one if the man was convinced that he was no longer a soldier. It was difficult to pry him from his desk and mission reports even on leave. More so than any other clone, service was his life blood.

Anakin’s jaw tensed, “And just what’s normal about amnesia?” Her Master didn’t vocalize it, but he rather wanted to know what was normal about Rex thinking he could kiss Ahsoka — amnesia in the equation or not. 

“It’ll clear up in a few days. His memory is just a bit foggy for now. He doesn’t seem to have any recollection of the past few months, so recent events that have taken place may not sound familiar to him. We don’t want to cause him any alarm.”

“Months?” Jesse repeated, stunned. “You mean, he may not even know the war’s been won?”

Again, Kix nodded in confirmation. “I’m afraid so. We need to keep his stress levels at a minimum. Anything that might cause distress or upset needs to be avoided. It could hinder the brain’s recovery process.” 

He then turned to Ahsoka. She had been quiet, allowing those around her to ask all the questions so as to not further the disruption between her and Anakin. 

“Commander?”

Ahsoka’s head jerked as he addressed her specifically. “Yes?”

“Might I speak with you… privately?”

She had an inkling as to what it might be about. 

“No,” Anakin answered for her. The flare in his eyes was impossible not to notice. “If it’s about Rex’s condition then you can say it here.”

Kix was more than familiar with Anakin’s rapidly shifting mood and did not flinch. Everyone present knew how emotional the General could be in comparison to other Jedi, but they still found themselves in a bit of discomfort. Ahsoka ground her teeth together. 

“Alright then,” Kix continued. “The Commander, Rex, seems to be under the impression that…” His confidence dwindled with every word. It seemed to be dawning upon him how severely Skywalker might react to such news. He looked at Ahsoka with the utmost sincerity. “That you and he are involved, sir.”

Her mouth grew dry and she suddenly felt uncomfortable in her own skin. Jesse caught her wandering eye before looking away, keeping his head down. Only Kix noticed the interaction. 

Cody’s brows furrowed together, asking the question that Anakin was too enraged to ask, “What do you mean by ‘involved’, Kix?”

The General crossed his arms and the medic almost flinched that time. “He, uh, seems rather convinced that Commander Tano and himself have an ongoing relationship of the… romantic variety.”

All eyes settled on her, noticing the hitch in her breathing. “I don’t know why he would think that,” she said, sounding far away from herself. “There’s nothing between Rex and I but a workplace friendship. Not anything more.”

No one spoke for several moments, feeling to Ahsoka like several long minutes. It was Jesse who thankfully opened the door for them to leave the tense pocket of air, “Well, the answers will come to us slowly over the next few days. Only time will tell the rest.”

Kix gave a curt nod and released a held breath. Cody did the same and bid them each a good evening, taking his leave to deliver the news to Obi-Wan while Jesse left to relay to the 501st what had occurred, but not before shooting Ahsoka an apologetic look. 

Anakin stayed put. 

She knew the sixth occurrence that she and Rex had discussed not even an hour prior had now arrived. She was rather conveniently cornered and her Master took advantage of the fact. The silence between them was excruciating.  

Ahsoka was the first to speak, already annoyed, “Just go ahead and say it.”

“You lied to me.”

“I didn’t.”

“Ahsoka—”

Her arms dropped helplessly to her sides, “Anakin, you heard Kix. He has amnesia.”

Her Master scoffed, “There’s always a shred of truth to be found left unaccounted for.”

“Don’t quote the sacred texts to me,” Ahsoka crossed her arms defensively. “Are we really having this conversation again? Now? If so, please spare me.”

“Yes, Ahsoka—”

She glanced around the empty corridor and whispered, “How? How can you argue this side with me when you’re married?”

The hurt in her eyes caused his tone to shift. “That’s different. I’m just looking out for you. You’re so young. With an entire life ahead of you. You’re about to be a Jedi Kni—”

“Young?” Ahsoka scoffed, floored at his hypocrisy. “Were you not just nineteen when you got married? Was I not still young when I was cast out of the Order?”

Anakin’s face dropped, always forgetting that his Padawan continued to age in her absence from him. “How did you know that? I never told y—”

“You told Rex,” she said firmly, cutting him off again. “I know he caught the two of you. I know about you using his helmet for comm calls with Padmé. I know that your Master more than suspects a relationship between you and her. And I know that you’ve only started holding onto me so tight because you’re scared. I’m being knighted next week and even though I’ll just no longer be called your Padawan anymore, you still see it as a form of leaving you!”

As soon as the words were spoken, she’d regretted them. She hadn’t meant to come across so harsh.

Anakin digested the impact of her honesty, still getting used to how direct with him she’d been since her return. He stood there with his tongue in his cheek, at a loss for words. 

“Nothing is going on between me and Rex,” Ahsoka reiterated, more calmly this time. “I’m just as confused as you are — as he is. And if I were to be with him in the way he thinks we are, then that’s my choice to make. He’s a loyal friend and an equal. But either way, I have to play the part for the next few days, haven’t I? We can’t break it to him that what he believes isn’t true. He would do the same if it were me and if my health were at risk. I’m not saying you need to make your peace with this Master, but you do have to pretend.”

He did not respond to what she’d said, too proud and too beaten to continue. When he spoke next, it was a dismissal, “Find out what all we need to know before we go speak any further. I’ll wait here.” His chin was pointed to the door and Ahsoka pursed her lips in response, thankful to leave. 

Rex rubbed at the back of his head and Ahsoka winced for him. Though, the amount of painkillers he’d been dosed with, he probably felt very little. She came to sit by his bed and he beamed at her. “How are you feeling?” she asked, telling herself to take his hand affectionately. 

He blushed upwards from the neck as she did so. “Better now that you’re here,” he said. 

Ahsoka shook her head and laughed, “They’ve got you on the good stuff, huh?”

“Your laugh is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.”

Well, that was a yes.

“Rex, be serious.”

His expression didn’t change. “I am being serious. It’s my favorite sound in this wide universe. It's one thing I could never forget. But kriff, the way my name sounds on your tongue gives it competition.”

The warmth spreading from the underside of her lekku couldn’t be quelled. Ahsoka found herself in a blinking fit, opening and closing her mouth uselessly as she racked her brain for an appropriate response. 

Before she could, Rex’s affections continued. “I know I’ll remember in a few days, but not everyone is lucky enough to fall in love with the same woman twice. Tell me how I got so lucky so that I can experience it all over again,” he asked, squeezing her hand. 

Ahsoka’s heart lurched in her chest as he let go and patted the space on the bed beside him, moving to make room for her. She couldn’t decide if she hoped Anakin was looking or not.

“Well,” she started, taking a seat in the space he’d made for her. He instantly and visibly relaxed. “Kix said you don’t remember the past few months. What’s the last thing you remember that’s clear?”

His gentle hands couldn’t stay away from her, this time settling on her knee. In a room full of air, both in compressed tanks and out, Ahsoka couldn’t breathe.

“I remember leaving Mandalore, receiving the news of General Kenobi’s success on Utapau. We had just made the jump and still had the full journey back to Coruscant ahead of us. For once in all my years of service, there was nothing left to do. Rumors were circulating amongst the men about the possibility of the war ending soon. I… I remember how hard my heart was beating. I almost went to the med bay. But instead, I left to find you.”

Ahsoka swallowed, “You bumped into me.”

He laughed and his eyes twinkled, “I did. I bumped into you. It was after hours. There wasn’t anyone in the hangar control center but us. The ship was quiet and the only lights came from the hangar below and the control panel behind you. You were looking at me just as you are now.”

“And after that?’ she asked, her voice quiet and her breaths heavy.

Rex slipped his hand just under her jaw.

Yes, Ahsoka hoped very much that her Master was not watching.

[lonesome-witching]

Married

Another wedding. This time one in the rich Robin, poor Nancy universe. If you want to read the previous parts, you can find : Part 1 here, Part 2 here, Part 3 here, Part 4 here , and Part 5 here.

Do you have any prompts yourself? Or do you want to dive into what I wrote before? You can read my previous prompts or send me some new ones.

Nancy had insisted that it would be a small wedding. Their closest family members, some friends, that was it. Nothing big, nothing expensive. Because Robin had to pay for everything. And Nancy still felt guilty about it.

She felt guilty about the expensive white dress Robin’s mom had insisted on. She felt guilty about the grandiose meal Robin’s father had picked out. She didn’t even want to know how much the Buckley’s had spent on this day.

But as she stood in the doorway, holding her mother’s arm, ready to walk out there towards her future, she felt the guilt fade away. She was going to enjoy today. This was the first day of the rest of her life. A life she would share with Robin Buckley, this whirlwind of a woman that had wormed her way into Nancy’s heart. She could barely remember her life without Robin. And there she was, at the end of the aisle, Nancy’s final destination.

“Are you ready?” Karen asked, squeezing Nancy’s arm.

Nancy nodded her head. She had never been more ready for anything. She wanted to stand next to Robin, wanted to vow to love her forever, wanted to kiss her. She wanted to start her life, really start her life. Even if she was still living on campus, even Robin was working overtime. She was worried they were beginning to mimic Nancy’s parents. They all knew how that turned out.

But Nancy wasn’t her mother and Robin definitely wasn’t like Ted. They wouldn’t make her parents’ mistake. Even if they were also marrying young. So far they had gone down the exact same path. Robin had a cushy job at her patents’ firm just like her dad had before they committed fraud, she had the money, she came from a good family.

“Mom,” she whispered softly as they took a step forward.

“Yes?”

“Did you ever love dad?” There was a fear clawing at her heart. Did she make a mistake? Maybe they should have waited.

“What? What is going through that head of yours?”

“Did you?”

Karen sighed, pulling Nancy forward. “Your dad was easy. I don’t think I ever truly loved him. It was a long time ago, Nancy.”

She loved Robin. That was the difference. She loved Robin. And Robin wasn’t easy. They would make this work. Nancy wanted to marry her. They wouldn’t end like their parents. She wouldn’t let them.

“You look beautiful,” Robin whispered once she was in earshot. Nancy couldn’t help but smile.

-

“Ladies and gentlemen, I have a speech to make.” Richard Buckley stood up, holding his glass. “Tonight, my only daughter has gotten married to the woman she loves. I never expected this outcome, I will admit that. But I would be an idiot if I wasn’t happy for my baby girl. When she first brought Nancy home, it just felt like they belonged together. And here we are. A few years later, and the two of them are married. Now, I can yap on about this beautiful moment for ages, but I think we all want to get on with it. So, to celebrate these two wonderful women, I’d like to give them our wedding gift.”

Robin leaned towards Nancy. “I asked for a honeymoon to Venice.”

Richard pushed his hand into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. “We’d like to give you your first home. But don’t you worry, Nancy, it is not at the end of a cul-de-sac.”

“Oh my God, dad, is this real?” Robin jumped up. He dropped the keys in his hand.

“Of course it is.”

“Dad,” Robin whispered, “I told you not to go overboard. The trip to Venice would have already been a lot. But this… Nancy doesn’t like to be spoiled.”

Nancy cleared her throat, grabbing Robin’s hand. “Thank you so much, mister Buckley. I cannot express my gratitude. Thank you so much.”

“Oh, please, call me Richard.”

“Are you sure it’s okay?” Robin asked. Her eyes were begging for Nancy to be honest.

“Yes, Robin, it’s alright. In fact, I think it’s lovely.”

“Alright, then I’ll pay for the trip to Venice.”

[verona2314]

Hello dear readers, new chapter available!

Here is a short extract, I hope you enjoy it.

(I deeply apologize for my absence. I took this time to attend to some personal matters and also to re-read the story and revise previous chapters. Thank you so much for continuing to read!)

Alastor   

 “I must admit, dear judge, that pain grimace is not common on your face, but it’s certainly… interesting,”he let slip without thinking, almost in a whisper. What other expressions could he provoke on that face? What light could he bring to those eyes? His fingers tingled as he felt Victoria's skin beneath them. He couldn't resist the impulse to gently caress her cheek with his thumb. How had he ever pretended to keep his distance from her? It was simply impossible. The judge's presence was comforting to him, and he was no longer willing to give that up, much less share it.

     He was tired of thinking, of repressing whatever it was he was feeling. He let out a sigh and leaned his forehead lightly against Victoria's head, inhaling her scent while feeling a warmth spread in his chest. It was a simple gesture, but it brought him more peace than he had felt in years. It reminded him, somehow, of a time he had forgotten, a place where things hadn’t always been so dark.

     She remained still, but she hadn’t made any effort to pull away yet. Alastor imagined Victoria saw this as another attempt to manipulate her on his part, that perhaps she would never fully trust him. But right now, that didn’t matter to him. Why was he acting so vulnerable? His mind immediately went to Joseph Cooper and the hooded figure. Instinctively, he moved his arms from the judge’s shoulders to wrap her in an embrace. No. He wasn’t going to lose this. Not now that he was beginning to enjoy it. He clenched his teeth as he tried to reconnect with the usual coldness that protected him. However, every time he tried to harden himself, to shut that emotional door, something pulled him back to her.

     “This isn’t like you,” he heard her say, and he smiled bitterly. Of course, it wasn’t. But something about her made the impossible feel close, tangible.

     “No. It’s not. But it’s comforting, and I fear I’m getting used to it,” he admitted, surprised at himself. And for a moment, he didn’t care. Victoria was there, in his arms, and for some reason, she hadn’t pushed him away. “Isn’t it a friend’s duty to comfort another with a hug when they need it?” he added, trying to downplay the situation.

     “Sure, but are you comforting me? Or the other way around?” the judge asked, holding back a laugh.

     “Are you assuming I don’t need comfort?” the radio host responded, enjoying the moment.

     “You weren’t the one who almost got stabbed today,” she said with a humorous tone.

     Alastor’s breath caught for a moment, replaying the events in his mind. He had underestimated Joseph. He had carelessly turned his back. And thinking about it more, he felt that Joseph had actually tried to stab him because of his provocation, and Victoria had simply intervened. There was no way to be sure, but that didn’t mean he was going to ignore the doubt or the gratitude he felt.

     Alastor pulled her back slightly to look at her face. Although her expressions were calm, he could see a storm of questions in her eyes. She seemed confused, perhaps even worried. He wanted to believe that Victoria cared more than she was willing to admit, because that allowed him to imagine that someone genuinely cared about him, despite his twisted nature. Could he make the judge’s face beam with joy?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TAGLIST!!

@slytherin4everer

@empressofashedd

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers LOST EDEN ー Kino Maniac [03]

ー The scene starts in the Ghouls’ manor

Yui: Haah...

( I’m feeling down. I’d love to have something sweet for a chance but that’s asking for the impossible, isn’t it...? )

ー Kino approaches her

Yui: Ah, Kino-kun. Do you need anything...?

( He seems to be in high spirits, I have a bad feeling about this... )

Kino: I figured I’d give you a nice treat. Here!

*Rustle rustle* 

Yui: A-A cupcake! Where did you get this?

Kino: They’re a rarity around these parts...but I just so happened to get my hands on one. Anyway, I’m giving it to you!

Yui: Eh? Are you sure?

Kino: Yeah, no biggie! Go ahead and give it a try?

Yui: ...I’ll take you up on your offer then. I was actually just craving something sweetーー

( Huh? This cupcake...I thought it was part of the decoration but could this bit actually be mold? )

Kino: What’s wrong? Come on, hurry up and eat it.

Yui: But, it has gone bad, hasn’t it?

Kino: Yeah, it might have. But so what?

Yui: Well...

( I don’t think I can eat this...What now? )

Kino: Don’t tell me you’re going to refuse? Must be nice being able to be so picky.

Yui: Eh...?

Kino: Most of the Ghouls living here rarely ever get to have a meal, let alone something of the finest, freshest quality. 

Yet you’re here turning down the cupcake I was so kind as to fetch for you? 

Yui: W-Well...

Kino: Since you’ve gone quiet, I assume you realize just how selfish you’re being right now?

Then better eat it. Right now, in front of my eyes. While showing your gratitude towards me!

Yui: ( What should I do...? )

Selection

→ Eat it (M)

Yui: F-Fine...I’ll eat it...

Kino: Yeah. You should have just said so from the very beginning. Come on, hurry up? 

*Rustle rustle* 

Yui: ( Right. I have no other choice...! )

→ Fail to eat it (S)

Yui: ( Still, I can’t eat this...! )

I’m sorry, I just can’t...

Kino: ーー So you trample all over someone’s good intentions and assume you will be forgiven just by saying ‘sorry’? 

Yui: T-That’sーー

Kino: ーー This is an order. Eat it. I’ll continue pestering you until you do. Do you understand? 

Yui: Butーー 

Kino: I won’t take ‘no’ as an answer. Or would you prefer for me to force it down your throat instead? 

Yui: F-Fine...I’ll eat it...myself...

*Rustle rustle*

Yui: ( ...If I just down it in one big bite, it’ll be fineーー! )

...

( Here goes nothingーー )

ー Kino takes it away

*Rustle*

Yui: Wait, huh...?

( It’s gone? )

Kino: Ahaha! Your eyes are nearly popping out! Is this what ‘a deer in the headlights’ (1) looks like? 

The cupcake’s right here. I’m surprised you actually tried to eat it. 

Yui: You were the one who told me to, remember!?

Kino: I was just kidding? A joke. You’re just stupid for not realizing that.

Yui: Whaーー!? 

Kino: Or do you prefer to eat moldy food? 

*Splatter* 

Kino: Go ahead, dig in? Enjoy this cupcake which I’ve just stepped on!

Yui: ( I can’t believe he’d do such a thing...This is too much... )

There’s no way I can eat that!

Kino: ...Then kiss me. I’ll forgive you if you do. 

Yui: Eh...? Where is that coming from all of a sudden...!? 

Kino: A single kiss and we can call it even. That’s a small price to pay, isn’t it?

Yui: ...Fine.

( It’s embarrassing, but I doubt I’ll be able to convince him no matter what I say... )

*Rustle rustle*

Yui: ( A quick peck...That’s all it is... )

*Smooch*

Kino: ーー You really are a failure, aren’t you? You call that a kiss? 

Yui: Eh...? 

*Thud* 

Kino: This is how you give someone a kiss. Nnhーー Hah...Phewーー ... 

Yui: Nn...?

( I can barely breathe...My head’s spinning...! ) 

Kino: Ahaha. I’m nowhere near done yet, so hang in there till I’m satisfied, okay? 

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) In Japanese, the expression literally means ‘a dove who got hit by a pea shooter’. 

[ashtraythief]

I really appreciate your mindset on this show and their relationships. Such a good point that they love each other differently and one is not better than the other. I think a lot of people probably think Dean loves Sam more, but that’s probably because a lot of his identity hinged on family in the earlier seasons while Sam’s didn’t. But that’s not really love, just dean being self-hating and devaluing himself like he does, lol. And you know Dean has that parenting dynamic with Sam too, so the instinct to constantly look after him. But Sam definitely loves him, just different ways of expressing it. And you are definitely right that their codependent love is what makes them so interesting.

So thank you for sharing your thoughts, they’re always great to read! Another question: Do you think if Dean stayed with Lisa (ie Sam never came back to life) that their relationship would have worked? Like would they have a sort of “happy ever after.” It’s honestly hard for me to imagine because I think Dean did love Lisa and Ben but I don’t know if he was IN love with Lisa. It was not that difficult for him to leave when Sam came back. What do you think?

Awww thank you nonnie! And thank you for sharing your thoughts, I agree with your analysis of Sam and Dean in the early seasons.

As for Lisa...

I have my issues with the relationship because the writing for it was so spotty. Dean and Lisa had a hot weekend together when they were what, 19? 20? Dean is 28 is season 3 and he says he met Lisa 9 years ago? And obviously there's a lot of nostalgia and happy memories on both sides for that long weekend, but taking that, giving them a couple of days together where they mostly interact to save Ben and then that's the basis for Dean going back to her twice to get her to safety from the apocalypse or say goodbye only to end up there after Sam jumps into the cage....

I think they were both very much in love with the idea of each other. To Dean, I think, Lisa represented the apple pie family life, with a dash of spice from her rebel youth and great sex. With Ben he got a kid/little brother he could parent. And he never wanted that while he had Sam--why would he, when hunting with Sam is the happiest he can be--but in the wake of Sam's absence and Sam's wish for him to go to Lisa, he does it. And I do think he enjoyed his time with her, that he genuinely loved her. The montage at the beginning of season 6 shows that they do work well together in their domestic life and that Dean does have moments of happiness. We still see the grief and the loss of Sam's absence, but a year later, Dean has learned to live his new life. I think Dean's always been way more adaptable than he gives himself credit for.

Why Lisa lets Dean into her life, I think, isn't a big mystery. That man literally saved her son's life, he's up for the job of being a dad because he's responsible and he cares, plus you know, there is that best-night-of-my-life thing and the general Dean-ness of him. Dean does question why she took him in when he was such a mess with the nightmares and the drinking, but I think there was a lot of gratitude involved and a lot of I can fix him. And from what we see, it did get better. And considering that later on, Lisa broke up with him when vampire Dean scared Ben, I don't think the beginning was as bad as Dean imagined, because Lisa is always portrayed as a very protective and caring mother and I can't see her letting a man in her life she doesn't trust around her son.

So. This is a long rambly way of saying that I do think they loved each other and that if Sam had stayed in the cage, they probably could have made it work. Even if Dean had caught a case at some point, he probably either would have called Bobby to give it to someone else or maybe taken care of it himself, but without Sam, he wouldn't have gone back to the life. Especially with the new responsibility of Ben. Who knows, maybe Ben became sort of a substitute Sam, in a way that there was someone who needed him, who he could look out for and that helped fill the hole. I think, maybe, Dean and Lisa had less of a chance of working if Ben hadn't been around. (following a line of thought here, I don't think Dean would have wanted to have his own kids with Lisa. Not with the whole knowledge of bloodlines and everything.)

I do think that Dean was IN love with Lisa. Everything in the show pointed to that. But. The whole Lisa and Ben thing can never reach the same level as his love for Sam, so Dean was always going to go back the moment Sam asked. Even though Dean was in love with her, and loved Ben, it still pales in contrast to his love for Sam. I think you can love someone romantically, and that can still not be the most important love in your life. I think in our culture, that values romantic love almost above all else, finding your soulmate, your other half etc etc, the only "acceptable" love to surpass that for your partner is that for your children. So seeing someone choose their brother over their significant other automatically makes us questioning whether he really loved her that much. And I think he did. And it doesn't really matter whether he loved Lisa or the idea of her, he just would always love Sam more. And I think it's beautiful that among all the romance above all else shows, we could have this too.