#here it is at last. my top choice is going to surprise no one whatsoever but it was a great opportunity to gush about him

[pain-in-the-butler]

Out of curiosity…if Ono is your third fav Seb. What’s your Offical Sebastian Ranking™️?

Just as with the ask about the Anime Expo panel, it's fortunate for me that someone reached out, because I was thinking of making this a post on my own eventually someday anyway. What follows might be more information on my opinions of Sebastian than you care to have, so apologies in advance. Let's count down from worst to best:

6. Hiro Mizushima from Black Butler (2014)

There's a reason no one talks about this movie. It's because it sucks, and somehow I feel I can't really blame Mizushima for his performance, but... it is still a mixture of weird and unmemorable. That hairstyle does him no favors either, but maybe the fact that I find him a little bit frightening to look at should give him points rather than detract them. Off-screen, he looks like a completely normal man; somehow the film's efforts to make him a sexy butler were unfortunately funneled into making him unnerving and unappealing. And the movie is two entire hours long.

There's a lot I've deleted from my memory about the Black Butler live action film, but that lack of memory seems a sign that he should sit in dead last. Whether he's acting like a total weirdo or actually successfully impressing me, Sebastian should never be a forgettable character, and all I can think when I consider Mizushima's performance is that I never need to see it again.

5. Yuya Matsushita from That Butler, Friendship, The Most Beautiful DEATH in the World, and the first run of Lycoris that Blazes the Earth

I know some people may find this placement to be blasphemous, but honestly, the only thing I really like about Yuya's Sebastian is his singing voice, and even then I'm not that wild about it. It's been a few years since I watched TMBDITW, so it's not super crisp in my mind, but I will give him some recognition as an early Sebastian who still had little material to work with. He probably had to do some of his own legwork to adapt the character to the stage and to the original stories he was expected to act in. That can't be easy, and it makes sense that his Sebastian would be one that had to stand somewhat independent from the canon. I also appreciate that he is playing Sebastian with purpose behind his actions and not a sexyman who just serves whatever convenient purpose the narrative dictates, like Mizushima's Seb.

With that caveat out of the way, I still don't like his Sebastian portrayal. It's clear Yuya really drummed up the "I'm no one but I can become anyone" aspect of Sebastian. He can invent personas that suit the situation, like when he decides to seduce Undertaker, but as soon as the problem is solved, he reverts back to being robotic and unsmiling. You get the feeling that he's rather cold and calculating and that he is only interested in doing things that will earn him Ciel's soul. I didn't watch with subtitles, so perhaps that evaluation is misplaced, but his mannerisms dictated that energy to me.

Also, I can't get behind the sort of sexual and romantic tones that sometimes felt present, especially when real children were involved. It will always taint his work for me. There's one song where he and Ciel look at each other the entire time and it's three and a half minutes long but it felt like a year. I wanted to crawl out of my skin because it was so horrifically awkward. Stick this man in fifth.

4. Toshiki Tateishi from The Public School's Secret

So I went into this musical fully prepared to hate Toshiki's performance, considering the act he was following, and... I thought it was actually pretty decent. When I think of Sebastian in the Weston arc, I think of the "sexy professor" angle Yana kept trying to push, and I was worried Toshiki would play into that, especially considering Ciel was being portrayed by a legal adult onstage for the first time. I was pleasantly surprised! That's not what happened at all.

Though likely unintended, I would say Toshiki gives off a rather maternal vibe, behaving more like Seb does in memes: kind of silly, kind of fussy, an overworked single mother who cares for her boy. Toshiki's Sebastian was very attentive of Ciel. He was frequently pleased with his kid's impish nature and didn't seem that annoyed to be taking on extra tasks, only complaining lightly, "Even though I have things to do too!" at the end of the chores song. When Ciel came up with a plan to foil Maurice, Toshiki seemed excited to praise him and gratified to help. He was like Sebastian Lite, only a bit insidious at times, mainly the ever-attentive helper.

To me, it's the first time one of the musicals has made Sebastian feel like a supporting character rather than the driving force behind the story. I prefer when he and Ciel are both treated evenly as protagonists, but I hate it when it's All About Him. I think Toshiki's performance has a good heart and he made me laugh at times. He's not quite canon Sebastian, but I like him. I trust him not to eat the sonboy just yet. Mostly.

3. Daisuke Ono from the Japanese dub of the anime

Daisuke Ono was a part of my first experience with Black Butler, so there's something about his voice that feels like it's just right for Sebastian. And it kind of is. It's a really flexible voice, and one that is clearly giving a performance when you listen to him. He also infuses his dialogue with what sounds to me like inherent smugness, which I think suits Sebastian perfectly. Ono's performance is the most self-satisfied in nature. It makes you think of a well-fed cat licking its chops while it considers its next meal.

His voice is not sexy to me, but I can see why people find it to be. At the same time, Ono isn't afraid to give Sebastian different inflections, even ones that some might consider too embarrassing or OOC for Seb. He's a veteran voice actor and he knows how to do whatever is requested of him. Sebastian treats his career just the same: he too will do essentially whatever Ciel requires. I think Ono is a natural match is what I'm saying, especially having now seen him in person and observing the way he works a crowd so effortlessly.

All that said... Ono's Sebastian is perfect. I don't mean that as a compliment: I mean he's too lacking in flaws. Sure, he has the big flaw (okay with killing a child) but he isn't really giving "silly idiot." Ono's Sebastian is the one the girlies write about in their self-insert fiction. And for the first two seasons, that's kind of who he was supposed to be, so fine. But even when he has silly or idiotic moments, it doesn't feel quite authentic, if that makes sense? I think to Ono, Sebastian's stupid mistakes are just a fluke, quickly corrected. It doesn't feel like they're a fundamental part of who his Sebastian is.

If you consider this nitpicking, you're right! The next two Sebastians are just that good. I still consider Daisuke Ono to be a very talented and accurately-portrayed Sebastian.

2. J. Michael Tatum from the English dub of the anime

While it's possible that I pick up on more nuance in Tatum's performance because he's the only one here who speaks the same language as me, how fortunate we are to have him doing Seb's English voice. He might not actually have a real British accent, but he's just too charming not to love. To me, he has all the vocal command of Ono but is more candid in his delivery. Ono may be Sebastian the perfectionist and Sebastian the performer, but Tatum is Sebastian the butler, well settled and confident in his human role.

I really appreciate the ways you can hear Tatum's voice change notably depending on Sebastian's emotions. This is especially prominent in Book of Atlantic during the flashback sequences: an annoyed Sebastian is an entirely different sounding dude than when he's being cunning, and again when he's being subservient. And he really does have this very silky, ASMR-ass way of speaking that suits Sebastian to a T. It's inherently convincing.

And more to my own interests, Tatum's voice for Sebastian has a really paternal nature to it, and I like that. I think it adds to the complexity of Sebastian's role in Ciel's life when you can hear this caring quality in the voice of a demon that will one day kill the child he works for. He can also be snipped and punctual, and then he can be gentle and reassuring, all in the same scene. And he can be scary too... and I'm super looking forward to hearing how this plays out during season 5.

To compare him to Ono again, I think Tatum knows Sebastian can be an idiot at times, but that quality still takes a backseat to the suaveness. He's almost perfect. And I probably would even say he is perfect, if we hadn't seen perfection itself. As he is, I think Tatum is an excellent voice actor for Sebastian, and I'm grateful that we have him in the position that we do.

1. Yuta Furukawa from the second run of Lycoris that Blazes the Earth, Noah's Ark Circus, and Tango on the Campania

Yuta Furukawa. What a legend. What an icon. This is where I would say "he isn't just playing Sebastian, he is Sebastian," but Furukawa is even more than that. He's what Sebastian should be. And that's not just me being rude to Yana. Yana has flat-out said that Yuta knows Sebastian better than she does herself. She's right.

If you have yet to see Yuta perform, then congratulations: you're in for a treat. What I wouldn't give to forget my first watch of Tango on the Campania and relive that magic all over again. Yuta knows who Sebastian is with every fiber of his being. And the fact that you see him over the course of three plays means you get to witness for yourself how his Sebastian goes from being a smirking demon who lives to impress, to a creature who understands fear, hardship, and pain. And yet you still wonder: is he really learning and growing after all? Or am I too being tricked by this suave being who appears to be emotionally moved?

I'm also proud to report that Yuta plays Sebastian as a true idiot. He says silly things, he behaves in silly ways! He's embarrassing enough to make Ciel roll his eyes, he uses his brawn before his brain, and he's often surprised enough to gasp. He's not afraid to look impressed or astounded or even frightened: he wears his emotions on his sleeves, but he can hide them just as quickly. This Sebastian lives for attention from humans, but what he loves even more is learning from them — perhaps so he can become a better hunter, perhaps so he can become a better scholar. He leaves you wondering which in the most intriguing way.

And I may be biased, but Yuta to me is the most paternal of all the Sebastians. Whether or not a fatherly nature is intended, I'm at least happy to report that his Sebastian is not one romantically inclined towards Ciel. His coworker is an actual child, so there's no reason that should be an acceptable angle anyway, but it really shows in all the little ways he primps at and supports Ciel on-stage. His rapport with Reo is especially adorable and shines through in their every scene.

Not to mention, he's so endlessly entertaining to watch. He has legs for days and he can fuckin groove. He may be playing a demon but he has the voice of an angel. If I called him to my house, he'd probably fix my leaky shower. What can't this gift of a man do??

I could literally go on and on and on for paragraphs. Yana is just the same. We all love Yuta Furukawa, the only Sebastian who is more Sebastian than Sebastian and probably the best thing, in my humble opinion, to come out of the Kuroshitsuji franchise. Thank you, based Yunbastian. We did nothing to deserve you.

[8bitsupervillain]

Higurashi When They Cry Hou Ch. 5 Meakashi pt. 22

Skipping ahead a bit, we rejoin Keiichi and Shion in the torture shack. Or as the manga refers to it: the Saiguden. Which I can only presume means ritual storehouse, but that's fan translations for you isn't it? All according to keikaku and so on. Shion takes Keiichi through the torture basement where at some point between last time she was here and now she decided to dispose of the bodies of Kimiyoshi and Satoko. Which seems an odd choice if her aim is to convince Keiichi that Mion is a vile killer, but hey, the bodies weren't there in chapter two, so they have to go this time around too. Shion is giving him the guided tour when gadzooks! It's Mion in the cell! Shion gives him the ol' stun gun treatment and drags him to the rack to begin his painful torment. In between reading this part of the VN and typing this I watched this scene play out in the 2006 anime. In the anime rather than stun gun him, Shion just clonks him over the head with a big rock. Which is funnier, but it's another weird deviation from the visual novel I don't quite understand.

Actually, let's a brief digression here. In the visual novel itself it describes Satoko as lying on a cross shaped table, which I took to mean just one of those X shaped torture racks you occasionally see in media featuring medieval torture devices, or a Saw film maybe. What I didn't expect from both the manga and anime is Satoko is just crucified.

Just for fun there's a million dollar Shion smile. Odd changes between the mediums but there it is. You'll just have to take my word for it about the anime though.

Also I don't know if I mentioned it in an earlier part but Shion has come to terms with the fact that she's now nothing but a demon because she failed to keep her promise to Satoshi. Also she's just plain vexed by the fact that Keiichi is a willfully blind fool for refusing to see his best friend for the vile murderer she's trying to portray her as.

Shion, pal, I really think you should have Kasai try to get you a refund for this stun gun. It seems to be pretty useless against everyone lately. Maybe you used up all the juice when you accidentally killed Oryou with it, but that thing doesn't seem to be any use whatsoever these days.

Anyway the whole business about how the demon awoke because Keiichi was an insensitive clod gets brought up, and demon demon demon demon demon demon demon demon demon.

YES!! YOU FUCKING PUTZ! YOU HAVE TRIED TO TRANSFER THE BLAME TO EVERY SINGLE CHARACTER YOU HAVE COME ACROSS IN THIS ENTIRE CHAPTER! THE ONLY PERSON YOU NEVER ONCE TRIED TO ASSIGN BLAME TO IS YOURSELF! YOU EVEN WENT SO FAR AS TO SAY SATOSHI HIMSELF WAS TO BLAME FOR SOME OF THE HARDSHIPS THAT BEFELL HIM EARLIER IN THE CHAPTER!

This character is exhausting.

Anyway Shion decides to not kill Keiichi. Because... and zaps him with the stun gun, so two seconds later she does it again and again and eventually just beans him with a giant novelty hammer that actually puts him out of action for longer than it takes to scratch your nose. She locks the door and goes back to the cells where Mion is. Where she decides to free her and takes her to the top of the corpse well.

Mion seems to realize there's no chance she's actually going to walk out of this alive so she tries to talk to Shion about her motive. Also to just completely crush her motive like a bug really.

It's kind of surprising just how easily Shion accepts what Mion says at face value. Perhaps she's simply taking it as the words of someone who knows they're dead regardless, but it's surprising how she just grabs on to the idea that Mion and Oryou aren't lying about the disappearance of Satoshi. But it does raise a good question, if Oryou really isn't behind the disappearances then who is?

But alas such questions will have to go unanswered. Shion's a demon Kaz, and as such kills Mion by zapping Mion in the head while she's on the ladder leading down the well. I like how for a split second it looks like Mion might have got through to her murderous sister only to crush that faint hope and have Shion kill it along with her sister.

Not quite the end of the chapter as yet, but we finally got a "please solve this mystery for me, Maria Usihormiya" that we didn't get from chapter two. I have to admit to feeling a certain amount of irritation when it came to this section of this chapter. I don't know if that came across at all, I can be pretty inscrutable at times. I don't know if it was just residual annoyance I felt from this section of Watanagashi come back to poison this section for me, or if my tolerance for the characters' bullshit just hit its limit. I wish to circle back to the very start of the chapter for a moment.

And this might be one of the dumbest questions I can ask, but Shion isn't the perpetrator they mean here right? I can only assume that this is referring to the one who is behind the Oyashiro curse killings, Hinamizawa, the whole damned affair. Because if it means Shion, her motives aren't too terribly complex to figure out. I just disagree with them and think they're not particularly great.

[mrsnancywheeler]

Here is my little context thing: this is the worry of Antigone re-written. The thing with classical Greek theater is that you know the tragedy is going to happen, you just wait for it. In this re-write Antigone knows she is going to die….and this monologue is the lead of the Chorus speaking after Antigone is arrested.

“So there we are. The spring is wound up nice and tight. That's what's good about tragedy. The slightest touch of a fin-ger, the flick of a feather will set it off. Anything will do. A glance at a girl on the street, a need, a sudden need for respect one morning when you wake up. Or in the evening one question too many, the one you shouldn't have asked. That's all it takes. The tiniest spark and the fuse is lit. And the rest is ... well, tragedy. You just sit back and watch it go. It's a well-oiled machine in perfect working order. It's been up and running since the beginning of time. Death is part of it, and so is betrayal. So is despair. And hard by are storms and outbursts and silences. Silences of every kind. That silence at the very end when the executioner's axe is at the top of its swing, that silence at the very beginning when two lovers are naked for the first time in the darkness of their room when neither of them dares move a muscle. And that silence when a huge crowd is acclaiming the winner, so loud and sudden that it's suddenly silent, like a film that's lost its soundtrack. All those mouths wide open with nothing coming out. All that clamor that becomes merely a picture, an image. And in the middle, all alone, the victor, beaten down by his own silence. It's neat, tragedy, neat and tidy. And relaxing, in a funny sort of way. Now drama's different, drama's something else. Mustachioed villains, damsels in distress, dashing young heroes, last minute revelations. She didn't have to drink that poison, he could have rushed in five minutes earlier with the police in tow. Tragedy's calm. There are no sudden surprises. And it promotes a sort of team spirit among the protagonists. They're all in it together, you see. He who kills is as innocent or as guilty as the vic-tim. It's all a question of what part you play. So ultimately tragedy is almost restful, because you know there's no hope, and there's nothing more unsettling than hope, is there? And you know that when you're caught, you're caught ... like a rat in a trap. And when the weight of all of heaven is on your back, all you can do is cry out. And I don't mean moan or whine or whimper, I mean really cry out, really heave your guts to heaven. And what you say is whatever you have to say. It's probably nothing you've ever said before or even known before, and has absolutely no effect whatsoever ... except this. That perhaps you hear it, you hear it for the first time and perhaps you learn. In drama people struggle and argue because there's a possibility of escape. It's a practical choice and actually rather vulgar. In tragedy to argue is noble, it's kingly and, let's face it, there's not a lot else you can do.”

I think the idea of knowing something is doomed but still fighting for it is so Finnick and his sweet girl. Also the calmness is the routine the two have created together. Also the idea that there is “nothing more unsettling than hope” because that’s so them! I mean when they broke up she literally said “don’t say that, it makes me love you more”

Anyway this was long like damn. Sorry yall im a Greek mythology girlie at my heart.

-🌾anon

please I love this, my tragic pookies, things were always gonna end badly: he lives a life without her or she's forced to kill, to betray, to face every hardship possible, conway has to die so her and finnick can be together, but that's still not enough. the capitol keeps taking, war keeps taking, coin keeps taking, basically shit is doomed

[jeoniius]

Next Life | kth (m)

☆ summary:  Although you and Taehyung didn’t believe in first and second lives, you both wished you’d find each other in the next life as you both looked at the sky that night.

☆ pairing: husband!tae x wife!reader

☆ genre: angst, smut.

☆ warning: sexual content, angst

☆ word count: 4k

☆a/n: Finally this is done. Thank you so much @jkiddingjeon for beta-ing the fic, it meant A LOT. I really love this fic and I hope you enjoy it too. ngl it's a pretty heartbreaking fic so get ready for some ANGST.

Love. Hate. 

It’s always adjacent to each other. Something that’s always there when the other is present. It also changes people. How it makes people go from loving someone and being best friends with someone to trying everything they can to pull them down, to take them out. 

You’d say you can relate to it. In more ways than one. You had seen your fair share of people going from loving them unconditionally to talking shit about them the next day. Divorce was one of them. All the promises and vows made of staying through health and sickness, through good and bad, thrown out of the window. 

You thought of it as one of the most heartbreaking things and now you were here. Doing the exact thing as you watched the clock tick by, thinking of ways and excuses to get you out of this marriage. This marriage that ended everything. It hadn’t always been like this. No, you were in love. You were so madly in love that if anyone had told you you’d stand in this place today you’d not believe it. 

You are still in love. So madly in love but the difference being you want it to end. Maybe that way you’d find each other again.

As time went by, you stood by the railing of your balcony. The bright light of the city shined underneath you as you thought Tomorrow would be it. The end of what once was seen as a beautiful love story by not only you but by many others. The final chapter.

Maybe love and hate stood adjacent to each other but you could never hate him. 

And so you stood there, taking it all in, you thought about where it went wrong.

7 months ago

“I can’t believe you think that!” you shouted, hands up in the air as you walked back into the apartment, him following you behind. 

“Well I wouldn’t if you kept your distance!” he said, raising his voice.

“Oh my god. One hug. It was one hug. And that too because he was leaving.” 

“It didn’t look like one,” he argued back. 

“Are you freaking kidding me right now? Nothing happened, you know that.” you said trying to calm yourself down. 

“Stop trying to argue with me all the fucking time.” he bit back. 

“Oh, I am arguing? You were the one who started it.” You took long strides towards him. 

“You were the one who accused his wife of cheating although you have no proof whatsoever” you gritted through your teeth as your finger poked his chest. 

He let out a loud groan as you run your hands through your hair. “You know what, Taehyung? You can stay here. I’m leaving.” and with that you grabbed your purse and keys and strode out the door, slamming it behind. 

Kim Taehyung. 

The love of your life. You met him in college. As cliché as it sounds, he was the heartthrob with his extremely good looks and his unbelievable flirting skills. You weren’t supposed to know him at all if you thought about it. 

Your college held its annual fest, and you were the head of the management. You had stumbled across him when he had come to drop off some supplies instead of his best friend. You got into a small quarrel when he commented on how you were the head of the management when you were only a freshman and questioned your ability to pull the entire thing off when it was only three days from the fest and not even one percent of anything was done.

You got into a bet with him as you made him promise you that he’d treat you to something of your choice if you pulled it off. Nevertheless, you pulled the entire thing off within the next two days, proving him wrong. As a promise, he treated you to something really expensive(of course you had picked it) and then swore to never question your ability.  

You started seeing more of him, with his surprise visits to your class (which usually ended up with girls surrounding you asking how you knew him) or him coming to your seat in the cafeteria just to give you some new juice he got for you. Sometimes he’d ask you to come to one of his basketball matches and then took you to dinner afterward. 

You felt your heartbeat increasing every time you saw him or heard his name in fact, and before you knew it, you were confessing to him, putting your heart on the line. 

The day you confessed, you ran out before he could even reply. Too scared to be rejected. But Taehyung did something you’d never expect. He brought you to an amusement park, took you to dinner, and then confessed to you with thousands of chocolate (literally). 

You both had your fair share of arguments and then makeup sex. Mind-blowing sex to be exact. 

Your relationship with Taehyung was built on trust. He’d be there waiting for you every time you came home late and vice versa. You’d be at all of his games. You’d go to every party, hang out with your friends.

Once he graduated, he’d wait to pick you up every day. Every day you’d go to your favorite café, with your friends, complete assignments and projects, argue about who won the last UNO game, girls vs boys. 

He spent every hour with you when you struggled with your dream job and you did the same. When you finally did get the job, he asked you to marry him. You nodded then and there. Tears escaped, phone calls were made. Everyone came to the engagement party and then the wedding and you truly thought everything you ever wanted was there. Your family, your friends, his friends, him. 

But what you didn’t know then was what followed after. Just like promises are made, they are broken. Trust is broken and the bond doesn’t stay. 

The first two years were bliss. You went to Paris for your honeymoon and then to New York. Yes, New York for your honeymoon. You experienced the love in Paris and the rush in New York. 

You spent most of the days in Paris, going to spots of attractions, enjoying the food in the café, walking around the streets drunk and completely in love, having late night sex, morning sex,  just lots of sex to be exact. 

But in New York, you spent your days going to Times Square, Bars, and Pubs had ‘the’ New York pizza and cheesecakes and hotdogs and whatnot. Went shopping and sightseeing. Roamed around the streets at night, met so many people.

You believed you had found what you had been looking for all your life. Someone to go to romantic dinners and the craziest parties with.  

But what followed was something you didn’t think would happen. Every marriage has its ups and downs. You had to. But then it started.

Every party would become an excuse to start arguments, every late night at work would lead to assumptions. At first, you thought it would be fine. Talking would help, it was always the key for the both of you but lately, every time you spoke or tried to solve the issues, it would end in huge fights, sometimes followed by sex, or even if not sex, you’d stop talking to each other and then one day pretend nothing happened. 

Although in heels you walked around the park near your apartment. ‘It will be fine’ you told yourself as you tried not to break down. Deciding it would not be a good idea to go anywhere at that hour, you sat by a bench.

The cold wind hit you as a shiver ran down your body, the thin wine slip dress doing nothing to stop it. The screen of your phone lit up as you saw multiple texts from Taehyung. A part of you was happy that he cared enough to text you. You clicked on his profile as a series of texts came up.

Tae: where are you?

Tae: come on Y/N, don’t be stupid. 

Tae: it’s really late. where the fuck are you?

Tae: baby, you’re scaring me. 

Sighing you got up and made your way out of the park. Since you lived in a complex, it didn’t take you too long to walk. As you opened the keys, you saw Taehyung pacing around the living room. “Where are my keys?” he muttered to himself, not noticing your presence. 

A clinking sound made Taehyung look up as the keys hit the ceramic bowl on the kitchen top. “Where were you?” he asked, trying to control his anger. You didn’t answer him as you took off the heels, internally sighing when the cold floor hit your barefoot. “Are you seriously gonna ignore me? I asked where the fuck were you?” he pulled you by your wrists stopping you from going further. “Don’t do this.” you gritted through your teeth as you harshly pulled away before going inside your shared bedroom. 

You slipped out of the dress and you got inside the shower, the hot water touching your skin as you stood there. No matter how much you tried not to think about it, you always went back. Where did it go wrong? 

You changed into shorts and one of Taehyung’s oversized shirts as it reached mid-thigh. Getting inside the covers, you relaxed, the cool sensation of your bedsheet and covers calming you somehow as you turned towards the glass wall. 

You heard a sigh as Taehyung got inside the room. He got inside the covers and stared at your back as you tried to keep calm. You felt an arm wrap around your waist as he pulled you closer, back colliding with his chest, nuzzling his face at the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” his voice came muffled as you felt the vibrations on your neck. 

“I really am.” he said, taking a deep breath pulling you closer if that was possible. You sighed, turning to him. 

“I felt really cheap, you know” you said, hands reaching to cup his face. “I’m so sorry baby.” he sighed, closing his eyes as you ran your hand through his hair. “I know.” 

He pressed a kiss on your lips as you pulled him closer, hands wrapping around his neck. You sighed into the kiss as his lips trailed down towards your collarbone, sucking and nipping then. Soon enough he was inside you as he went on an animalistic pace. “Do you think he can fuck you like this?” he growled. You ignored him as you knew you were close, focusing on your climax. You came within the next few minutes as he rubbed your clit while thrusting.

Later on, he lapped up the spilled contents lazily as you screamed his name, your cries stroking his ego.

He wrapped an arm around your naked waist as he fell asleep on his stomach, head on your chest, legs tangled over your naked ones. You stroked his hair as you stared at the ceiling, his words ringing in your ear ‘Do you think he can fuck you like this?’

A small realization crept inside your head. He was never gonna trust you.

He stirred in his sleep, pulling you closer, he pressed an open-mouth kiss above the swell of your breast in his sleep. Releasing a long sigh, you kissed his head, quickly pushing the thought aside. 

That was the first mistake. 

“I love you so much,” you said. 

You pulled the robe over your body tightly, a coffee cup in your hand. Picking up your phone you looked at the time. 3:08 am it read. The city still buzzed with life. The cold breeze hit your face soothingly as you closed your eyes. Only if you had done something before, things wouldn’t have gone wrong. 

4 months ago

Your phone buzzed as you frustratedly rubbed your face. You dreaded picking up the call, not wanting to have to shout again. Things had been gradually worsening between you and Taehyung. Late-night fights, coming home drunk, not talking to each other for weeks had become a common thing nowadays and no matter how hard you tried, no matter how many times you both tried to co-operate, you didn’t seem to escape it.

“You should talk to him.” Ae-ra said, handing you a cup of tea. 

Tea. 

You never liked tea. You were more of a coffee person. You preferred the rush, the adrenaline. But nowadays, you were tired. Tired of doing the same thing over and over again. Having the same quarrels and fights over and over again. Tea seemed to calm you. 

“And then what? Get into another fight?” 

“You know what I mean, babe.” She said as she rubbed your arm soothingly.

“Maybe later. I cannot deal with him now.” you sipped on the cup.

What you didn’t know was that “later” would come that fast. You went back to your apartment to get more of your clothes. You planned on going at night, when he was most probably out with his friends or whoever kept him busy nowadays. But to your surprise, he was there. 

You opened the main door, using the key you had with you to meet with his laying figure on the couch. His head shot up at the sound of the door, eyes meeting each other. He looked drained, hair messy and bags under his eyes. You cursed under your breath, debating if you should just go back to Ae-ra’s place and come later for your clothes. 

“Look who’s here.” he scoffed as he got up from the couch.

Deciding on the former, you walked past him without taking another glance, into your shared bedroom. Taking a bag out, you shoved as many clothes as possible wanting to stay away from this mess. “Are you gonna ignore me now?” you heard him as he entered the room. 

You zipped up the chain as you walked towards the door wanting to leave. He grabbed your hand before you could go any further. He felt so scared when he saw you packing your stuff, so much that it suffocated him. “Fucking answer me.” his voice raised as he stared at you. 

Taehyung’s eyes softened as he saw the dry tears on your cheeks and he wanted nothing more than to pull you close and never let go. To talk to you and tell you it would be fine, that you would figure it out together. 

As he saw your tired eyes, glossy as you tried to keep your composure, he wanted to kiss you so badly and keep you tucked away from every bad thing; ever, even himself if he was bad for you.

And maybe he would have done that. Hugged you and kissed you. Kept you in his arms if you didn’t start talking. 

“Leave me the fuck alone.” you pulled away harshly. “You know what? Yes, I am ignoring you and gladly will.” 

“What is wrong with you? You cannot just come and go like that.” he said, hands gesturing to your bag.

“I can and I will. You cannot stop me” you clarified.

“ Yes, I can. I am your husband for god’s sake.” a frustrated tone laced his words.

“Husband?” you scoffed. “When were you a good husband? Where did this go when I stayed up till dawn every day waiting for you?” 

“You know how hectic things have been at work.” he looked at you knowingly. 

“That doesn’t mean you’d stop spending time with me!” you yelled.

You knew you were being unreasonable. Things really were hectic at work for him. But you couldn’t help but feel lonely when you came home after a long day to an empty and cold apartment and then stayed up every day almost all night for your husband. You felt so neglected when he’d come home and go to sleep straight away without saying anything. 

All the doubts about your marriage slowly were coming true and you wanted nothing more than to prove it wrong. But talking about it led to arguments with Taehyung. So you decided to stay away from home, so that you didn’t have to think about it, to begin with. 

That was the second mistake. 

“You are going nowhere.” Taehyung took the bag from your hand and walked towards the bed. “You’ll stay at home.”

“Home?” a humorless chuckle left your throat. “I will go anywhere I want, but home.” 

“I mean it Y/N. Stop acting like a kid. Go wash up and come to bed.” he sighed. 

“I’m not staying” you concluded, ready to leave your stuff behind as you turned. 

You felt a pair of hands wrap around your waist as he stuffed his face in the junction of your neck and shoulder. A tear left your eyes, followed by streams, and for some reason, your heart broke, it felt like he was pulling you apart from inside. 

You felt his warm breath as he mumbled something. He pressed you towards him as you silently cried. 

Later that night, as he fucked you slowly, something different than his usual dominating aura, your heart ached, but you couldn’t pinpoint why. He kissed you ever so passionately, that you cried. 

Something told you that it would be over soon, so you hugged him as close as you could when he slept. You cried as he hugged you in his sleep like you would go away if he didn’t have you in his arms. 

“I love you so much,” he mumbled in his sleep.

That’s when you realized how bad the entire situation was. How bad you were for him just like he was for you. How bad this marriage was. 

And what followed after confirmed everything you ever doubted. 

2 months ago

“You think I didn’t see you?” you yelled. 

“What are you talking about?” he looked curious. 

“Oh sure, play the good guy, make me look bad, why don’t you?” you scoffed.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” he repeated. “How would you? You thought you were good enough to keep it away from me.” you said. His eyebrows crashed as he tried to understand. “I saw you with her. Maybe that’s why you were always late. You were too busy fucking her.” a bitterness stayed in your mouth. “Are you kidding me?” he said as he raked his fingers through his hair. 

“You are accusing me of cheating, Y/N? You?” he scoffed. “Don’t think I forgot about the party.” 

“Oh my god. You were never going to believe me, were you?” you looked at him with a glint in your eyes. 

“You are being paranoid Y/N,” he said calmly. 

“You know what? Maybe I will go to him. The guy you accused me of cheating. Maybe I will let him fuck me. Clear all your doubts and make it true!” you were screaming now. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said, voice so calm maybe you would have been scared if you were thinking straight. 

“Neither can I.” you said as you walked out of the house. 

The next day when you woke up, you felt bad for yelling at him. So you decided to go back and talk to him. And maybe you would have if fate didn’t have anything else planned. 

As you walked into the house, you saw a man sitting on your couch, Taehyung at his side as paper lay in front of him. The man looked at you briefly before turning back to Taehyung. “Thank you for coming on such short notice, Mr. Lee.” he said as he shook hands with the man. The man nodded. 

Before leaving, he looked at you, “See you in court.” 

You furrowed your brows before realization hit you. “Tae, what did he mean by that?” 

He kept quiet as he gathered the papers. “Baby, what’s wrong? Talk to me.” you tried again. Taehyung got up as he handed you the papers, then went to the bedroom. You stared at them as you couldn’t process anything. 

You cannot get divorced. You cannot live without him.  

You walked inside the room as you saw him looking out. “Tae, we can talk, right? You don’t mean this.” your voice shook. 

Walking up to him you wrapped your arms around his, face buried in his back as you mumbled “This is a joke, right?” 

You heard his sigh before he turned to you, eyes glossy. “We can’t keep doing this.”

“We won’t. We’ll figure it out. We don’t have to do this.” you went on. 

“Y/N-”

“No, no, you don’t understand. You are out of your mind. We can’t get divorced.”

“I’m sorry, but I cannot do this anymore.” he said,

You looked at him. “Why are you saying it as if it is all my fault?” 

“I don’t mean that.”

“You absolutely mean that. Your face says it all.” you gestured toward him. “Oh. You really are gonna do this?” you said as he rubbed his face. 

“Well, fuck you, Kim Taehyung. You can do whatever you want. You can blame me all you want but you and I both know the minute I walk out, you are going to regret this.” 

“You can keep going for my heart and put all this on me, but you will miss me to your bone the minute this is over.” you said as you stormed off. 

That night, you went back to Ae-ra’s place. You screamed at the sky pretending it was him while he stayed awake that night as he looked at the sky. “I’m so sorry Y/N. I love you so much” he said, tears freely falling.

It really was over. All your doubts came true. Your marriage ended. Maybe it was for the better. ‘You’re being paranoid’ he said. He was right. You became paranoid.

You wiped the single tear and looked at the sky, soft light spread across as the birds sang. 5:00 am

You picked out the attire you were going to wear to the court. Your phone buzzed as you picked it up. It was Ae-ra. It’s gonna be okay. You’ll get through it. she said.

You went to the court that day. You watched him as he entered the room, a black tux hugging his frame. He had become more buff than he was the last time you saw him two months ago. As he ran his fingers through his hair, his shoulder blades flexed. The same shoulder blades that had your nail marks reminding the night before from every morning you’ve spent together. You smiled at that memory. 

Soon the judge walked in and the process went on. 

At one point in your relationship with him, assuming was something you both picked up. Long gone was the trust which was the key in your relationship. Maybe it was for the better. You both were paranoid; assumptions feeding more into it. 

But what you both gradually became, was bad for each other. Not at the beginning of your relationship, but somewhere in the middle, it went out of hand. Maybe if you spoke to each other more, maybe if you hadn’t pushed your thoughts the first day it came, then maybe you wouldn’t be here. But everything happens for a reason. 

Kim Taehyung was the heartthrob of the campus. Kim Taehyung was the first person you confessed you loved. He was the first person who heard ‘I love you’ from you. He was your first love. 

As the saying goes, some people are in our lives, just to teach us a lesson. Good and Bad. Kim Taehyung was that for you. You were still in love with him. Distance makes the heart grow fonder and yours did. You loved him more than you did before. And so maybe letting him go was easy. You were bad for him and he was bad for you. But that didn’t stop you from loving him.

And that didn’t stop him from loving you as you sat at the courthouse, as he looked at your face when it was over, as he lay in his bed alone that night.

Maybe you weren’t meant to be. Or maybe you were, but you didn’t know-how. But it was fine. And maybe as time goes by, it would hurt less. 

Although you and Taehyung didn’t believe in first and second lives, you both wished you’d find each other in the next life as you both looked at the sky that night. 

taglist: @mwitsmejk​

[theladyofdeath]

Life As We Know It {Chapter 14}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays, Wednesdays and Saturdays. Occasional surprise chapters could be posted at miscellaneous times. Chapters will be posted on both my and Shelby’s blogs! >>@snelbz​

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Cassian was up far before Nesta, but that was to be expected.

He had worn her out, after all.

In all honesty, though, she had worn him out, too. And he sure as hell wasn’t complaining.

It had taken him a while to fall asleep the night before, to fully digest everything that had happened between the two of them. He didn’t regret it, not for a second, but it was…strange. Nesta Archeron was the last woman he thought he’d find himself in such a situation with.

It had been a pleasant surprise, to say the least. Even when he had finally fallen asleep, it was all he dreamt about.

His hands on her body.

The little sounds that fell from her lips.

The feeling of his mouth against hers.

The feeling of being inside of her.

Dressing, he crept downstairs, not wanting to wake her, and made a pot of coffee. Sitting at the kitchen table, he ran a hand through his messy hair.

Cassian had no idea what was going to come this morning. Was she going to pretend it never happened? Was she going to be mad or say that it was a mistake?

He sure as hell hadn’t thought it was a mistake. He’d loved every minute of the night they’d shared, but he knew that a line had been crossed between them.

He was going to let her decide what would come next.

It wasn’t two minutes after Cassian pulled a pan of crispy bacon out of the oven, he heard a door open at the top of the stairs. He smirked, but felt a sense of dread as footsteps slowly descended towards the kitchen.

Nesta appeared, dressed in long-sleeved flannel pajamas. She stopped in the doorway and cleared her throat.

“I made breakfast,” Cassian said, gesturing to the display on the countertop.

“Thanks,” Nesta said, scratching the back of her head.

“Care to join me at the table?” he asked.

Nesta hesitated, then nodded. “Sure. Thanks.”

Cassian said nothing more as he made her a plate, then himself one, and carried them to the table. He was already popping a piece of bacon into his mouth when Nesta sat.

“So,” Cassian began. “How are you?”

“Good,” Nesta answered, a little too quickly. “You?”

“Good,” Cassian said, nodding.

Silence ensued.

They ate quietly. Cassian glanced at Nesta from time to time. Nesta did the same. Eventually, Cassian dropped his fork on his plate and ran a hand through his hair.

“Alright, this is ridiculous,” he said.

Nesta raised a brow. “What is?”

“This awkwardness,” Cassian said, laughing quietly. “I mean, we fucked, right?”

Nesta nearly choked on a piece of bacon. “We….”

“Had sex,” Cassian finished. “We did, and you know what? It was good. But when we went to bed, it was awkward. And this morning? Still awkward. Why is it awkward?”

“Because we had drunk sex,” she said, laughing, despite herself. “We got drunk and we hooked up, like horny teenagers and…” She shook her head, and looked up at him. And she burst out laughing.

“And we’re adults,” he said, laughing along with her. “We made that choice. I liked that choice. I’d make that choice again.”

Nesta’s laughter quieted. “I know. I don’t either, but…”

Cassian took a drink of his coffee, smirking. “Was it not the best sex of your life?”

Nesta began blushing, and she bit her lip as she moved the eggs around her plate. “I plead the fifth.”

“That’s a cop-out answer,” Cassian said, his mouth full.

Nesta laughed. “So what?”

Cassian’s grin said plenty. “Fair enough. I mean, it was a one time thing, right?”

“Right,” Nesta said, without any hesitation. “So, there’s no need to feel awkward, right?”

“Right,” Cassian agreed. “We were letting off some steam, some stress, and now we’re fine.”

“Exactly,” Nesta said, scooping up a mouthful of eggs.

That silence resumed.

A few minutes later, Nesta said, “It was pretty good, though.”

Cassian chuckled. “Oh, I know.”

She kicked his shin beneath the table.

His grin widened.

“What do you have going on today?” Cassian asked, at last.

“Work,” Nesta answered, simply. “You’ll pick Nyx up?”

“I will,” he promised.

“Great,” she said, taking a drink of her coffee. She glanced at the clock and jumped to her feet. “Shit, I need to go get ready.”

“Go,” he chuckled, shooing her off. “I’ll handle the kitchen.”

She glanced around at the room, which was still a wreck from the night before. Her bikini top was looped over one of the drawer pulls and she blushed.

She couldn’t believe it.

She had sex with Cassian, her sworn enemy for years.

And the most surprising thing of all? She had liked it.

A lot.

He hadn’t been lying when he said it would be the best sex of her life. There was no comparison, whatsoever.

Even waking up after a fantastic night of sleep, Nesta still felt amazing. She was relaxed, albeit a bit sore. Nearly giddy.

And all because of Cassian.

*

Since the accident, Nesta hadn’t spent nearly as much time at the restaurant as she usually did. And not nearly as often as she liked. Her staff had absolutely understood that she needed to get accustomed to her new life and how things worked, but as she hurried between the dining room and the kitchen, she couldn’t help but feel like she was in a bit over her head.

Granted, her mind kept trailing back to the activities she’d had the night before, which flustered her to no end every time she thought about them. She was staring at an open laptop in front of her, the PDF of the new menu staring back, when she heard a throat clearing from the doorway of her office.

She glanced up and found Helion standing there. He was her general manager and made sure everything ran smoothly when she wasn’t there, and he was a blessing in her life.

“What’s up?”

He looked around before slipping into the chair across the desk from her. “You going to tell me what’s got you spacing out so badly today that you mixed fresh salmon into the chicken salad base?”

Nesta cringed, but tried not to show it. “I wanted to try a new recipe. If it bombs, it bombs.”

Helion lifted a brow, not believing her lie for a second.

“What?” Nesta asked.

“Did the walk of shame this morning, did you?” He asked, a familiar mischievous glint in his eye.

Nesta hesitated. “Is it still a walk of shame if you never leave your house?”

Helion’s brows furrowed but then the dots connected. His mouth fell open as his eyes widened. “You fucked the hot uncle?”

Nesta groaned, her face falling into her hands.

Helion had no sympathy. He asked, “Is he the one that’s sitting at the bar asking for you?”

Nesta’s hands fell and she met Helion’s eye.

Helion shrugged. “Didn’t think I just came back here to chat, did you?”

“I…” Nesta was up before she could even think through what she might say to him, rounding her desk and hurrying towards the front of the restaurant.

She wasn’t sure if Cassian’s mid-day appearance was a good thing or not. On one hand, he may have stopped by with Nyx after picking him up from Elain’s. On the other, what if something was wrong? What if Nyx had had a bad night or something had happened? Her steps slowed and she paused before she left the kitchens, taking a deep breath.

Nothing was wrong. She wouldn’t accept any other answer. Tucking her loose hair behind an ear, she pushed through the door.

But she didn’t find Cassian sitting at the bar.

It was Balthazar, whose brown eyes she met and her smile faltered, but only a little. She had it back in place before he had time to notice.

“Figured out how I recognized you,” he said, as she approached from the other side of the bar.

“I see that,” she laughed, softly.

“Turns out I come here often,” he continued, his smile growing. “Turns out, so do you.”

“I would say I make an appearance here from time to time,” she agreed. “So, stop in for lunch?”

“I had the day off,” he explained, shrugging. “Errand day.”

She was just now noticing the designer sweatpants and hoodie he wore. His sneakers alone probably cost a couple hundred dollars.

Apparently the rumors were true…

Doctors made good money.

“And this was on your list?” Nesta asked.

Bal chuckled. “Well, last night I got to thinking that I’ve seen you here once or twice. It just clicked. So, I googled the restaurant, and, believe it or not, the owner’s picture is on the website.”

“Huh,” Nesta chimed. “Funny.”

“Mhmm,” Balthazar crooned. “I thought so. So, I thought I’d come visit and, yeah, maybe stay for lunch.”

“Well, lucky for you, the lunch special of the day is the prime dip, and I must say that it’s absolutely delicious,” Nesta said.

He closed the menu on the bar top in front of him. “Sounds perfect.”

“Give me just a minute to get that for you, and I’ll be right back. Can I get you something to drink?” She asked, sliding the menu below the bar.

“Drink drink or just to drink?” He asked and his smile did strange things to her stomach.

“Oh, I don’t have a liquor license,” she said, scrunching her nose. Too many hoops to jump through, but she would have loved to serve wine with her food. The pairings she would come up with were tempting. “Water, your everyday sodas, and homemade fruit teas.”

“Fruit tea, huh?” He tapped a contemplative finger against his chin.

She couldn’t have stopped the grin if she tried. “Has that piqued your interest?”

“Depends on what flavors you have,” he said, folding his arms across the bar. “I’m very choosy about my fruit tea.”

She laughed, quietly. “Mango, raspberry, strawberry, and passion fruit.”

“Passion fruit,” he repeated. “I like the sound of that.”

“Okay,” Nesta said, quietly with a little smile she couldn’t stop, and hurried back to the kitchen.

Helion was waiting for her behind the swinging door, grinning from ear to ear.

“Not him,” Nesta said, sweeping past him.

“Still handsome!” Helion called after her.

Nesta ignored him, not wanting to give him too much information on her current man-drama, even though she could tell he was far too invested in her private life.

After putting his order in, Nesta was heading back into her office and shutting herself inside, if only to shut out Helion.

When she had rounded the corner and saw it wasn’t Cassian, there was the tiniest bit of disappointment that she had to quickly push away. Then again, it also meant that everything had apparently gone okay with Nyx, which Nesta was happy about.

She and Cassian had been a one time thing.

Yes, they had called a truce, but it didn’t mean anything more than them being civil with one another. It meant co-parenting. Maybe even one day becoming something that resembled friends…but nothing more.

She tried to focus on the proof of the menu she was editing, tried to pay attention to the descriptions she typed out and the pictures she selected as focal points. But after she ended up choosing the wrong picture three times in a row, she closed her laptop and sighed, letting her face fall into her hands. She was distracted and she genuinely couldn’t tell if it was due to the man sitting out at the bar or if it was thanks to the one at home.

Balthazar’s order was up, and Nesta was delighted to find that someone, most likely Helion, had brought him his tea. When she set his plate down in front of him, his tongue swept across his bottom lip, and Nesta couldn’t help but notice.

“This looks amazing,” he said.

“And your tea?” Nesta asked.

“Pretty good,” he grinned.

Damn his smile. Every time he smiled, Nesta couldn’t help but smile back.

“Well, it was great seeing you,” Nesta said, and she meant it. “I should get back to work, though, I’m pretty booked.”

“Of course,” he said, understandingly. “I get it. I did want to ask you, though, if you were free on Saturday night?”

It was only a few nights away, and at first, Nesta hesitated, but then she thought it was ridiculous that she was hesitating, so she said, “Yeah, I’m free.”

“Good,” Bal said, cocking his head to the side. “How about that date, then?”

“I’ll have to check with Cassian,” she said, and when his eyebrows raised, she added hastily, “To make sure he doesn’t already have plans. It’s- We alternate who gets weekends off, and I made a deal with him last weekend.”

Balthazar nodded, and he took another sip of his tea. “Well, then you just let me know if Saturday will work and if not, we’ll figure out another day.”

She smiled and nodded. “Okay.” Nesta turned and was almost back to the door leading to the kitchen when she turned and said, “Lunch is on me today, by the way.”

His own smile was dazzling when he said, “My compliments to the chef.”

With a shy wave, though Nesta wasn’t sure she had a timid bone in her body, she was through the door and headed back to her office. Helion was on her heels a second later, trailing her through the doorway.

“One minute, you’re banging the hot uncle and the next, a Greek god asks you out on a date?” He said, his brows flicking up. “You apparently have fate on speed dial and I need you to give me her number.”

“Shut up,” she groaned, collapsing into her chair. “Don’t you have orders to help cook?”

He hummed quietly as he left her to her thoughts, but did as she said, finding his way back onto the grill line.

Nesta glanced over at the clock. Only two in the afternoon. It was going to be a long day.

*

Nyx blew a raspberry, landing a spray of sweet potato directly on Cassian’s face. His body stilled, but when Nyx started giggling, Cassian’s body quickly relaxed.

“Very funny,” he said, ruffling Nyx’s hair as he stood and went to the sink. After tearing a paper-towel off the roll, he held it under the faucet and wiped off his face.

The front door opened and closed.

“Hello?” Nesta called.

“Kitchen!” Cassian replied. “Nyx is making a mess!”

Nesta was in the kitchen in no time, hurrying to Nyx and kissing his chubby cheeks. “Hi, my love. I missed you. Yes, I did.”

Nyx babbled incoherently in response.

“How was your day?” Cassian asked, wiping off the last bit of potato from his eyebrow.

“Long,” she admitted. “Right before I was about to leave, a shipment of fresh ingredients came in that I needed to get stocked and inventoried.” She dumped a few of the strawberry-banana puffs into her hand and popped one of them into her mouth. “If I have to count another head of lettuce today, my head might explode.”

“Well, fortunately,” Cassian chuckled. “There are no heads of lettuce here for you to count.”

“Have you eaten yet?” She asked, heading for the fridge. “I’m starving.”

“There’s pizza on the way,” he said, attempting to get another spoonful of sweet potatoes into Nyx’s mouth. “I wasn’t sure when you’d be home, or if you’d feel like cooking.”

“You’re a blessing,” she sighed, and sat down at the kitchen table. She watched as Nyx continued to spray food into his face and chuckled quietly. “You want me to take over?”

“Nah,” he said, leaving the splattered sweet potato where it stuck to his face. “No need for both of us to get covered.”

“How gallant of you,” Nesta chuckled, opening the fridge and pulling out a can of Coca-Cola. She rarely did caffeine, but after the day she had, it was necessary. “I, um, did have a question for you.”

Cassian looked over his shoulder, brow raised.

Nesta couldn’t help but smile at the specks of sweet potato that covered his face.

“I was wondering if I could go out Saturday night,” Nesta said. “I mean, I know last weekend I went out, and I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness-.”

“With the doctor?” Cassian interrupted. His tone wasn’t hard, but it did seem uncertain, or another emotion that Nesta couldn’t quite place.

“Yeah,” Nesta began, cracking open her can. “He came by the restaurant today and asked me to dinner on Saturday night. I told him I’d have to talk to you about it first, since I said I’d have Nyx.”

“I see,” Cassian said, turning back to Nyx.

“If it’s an issue, if you have plans, I don’t mind telling him no-.”

“You should go,” Cassian said, shrugging. “I have no plans. I can stay here.”

She blinked, watching him. “You’re sure?”

“You sound like you don’t want me to be sure,” he said, glancing at her over his shoulder. “Are you looking for a reason to say no?”

“No,” she replied, quickly. “It’s just… After last night-.”

“We hooked up,” he shrugged. “We blew off some steam, in a very physical way. But that was that, and, like we said this morning, it was a one time thing, yeah?” She nodded. “Alright, then if you want to say yes, say yes. I can watch Nyx.”

She hesitated for a second, but her smile grew. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated, and gave her a smile of his own. “Go relax for a bit, I’ll let you know when the pizza is here.”

She nodded and was about to head up the stairs, but she turned around, wiping the smeared baby food off his face and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks, Cass.”

He mumbled something and waved her off, and she grabbed her phone from her purse before she hurried up to her room.

After changing out of her work clothes and into something far more comfier, she fell back on her bed and unlocked her phone.

Balthazar’s messages were soon pulled up, and Nesta was sending him a text.

Saturday sounds great. Pick me up at 7?

She didn’t wait for his response before tossing her phone aside and going through her nightly routine. She figured she would eat and call it a day.

She was beat.

After washing her face and pulling up her hair, Nesta walked back into her room just as her phone lit up on top of her comforter.

Balthazar.

I won’t be a second late.

[beifongsss]

firebending [zuko]

Pairing: Zuko x reader

Requested?: Yes! By a wonderful anon: “your zuko fics are all so well-written! I have a request for a firebender reader who hates the fire nation and was never trained in the art of fighting. then she/they join the gaang and learns firebending with aang from zuko. it’s awkward between them at first but cue ~ romance ~”

Summary: If someone told you that you’d end up dating the Fire Nation prince one day, you would’ve laughed in their face. If only you knew how right they were.

wc. ~5.2k

.masterlist.

~

When you first joined the Gaang, everyone expected you and Katara to hate each other. After all, you were from the Fire Nation and everybody knew Katara was the biggest anti-Fire Nation enthusiast there ever was.

They were quickly proven wrong when you didn’t fight against Katara’s harsh remarks, instead agreeing with them and even adding more scathing words of your own to show your distaste towards the Fire Nation. Since joining them, you never wore anything related to the Fire Nation. Nothing that is, with the exception of an elaborate hairpiece that your mother had left you. The hairpiece never left your body, the sunstone in the middle of it shining from its place on your head.

Escaping Ba Sing Se (and therefore the Earth Kingdom) had simultaneously been the best and worst thing that had happened to you. You were glad that Aang was alive, obviously, but being back in Fire Nation clothing was making you anxious.

Ever since the battle in the catacombs, you had been avoiding everyone. You had revealed your firebending in a panic, shooting a strong blast of fire at the banished prince as he snuck up on Katara. He had been taken off guard just long enough for you to subdue him before he realized that you didn’t know what you were doing.

There had been no time for Katara to question you after that. You had all fled and met up with her father, Hakoda, before seizing a Fire Nation ship to use as a disguise. As soon as you stepped foot on the ship, you had scrambled to an empty room and locked yourself inside. You had ignored Katara’s pleas for you to open the door, never once moving from your spot unless it was to use the bathroom or to get the tray of food that you knew had been placed at your door.

No one had known you were a firebender, and the initial shock eventually wore off as everyone found themselves missing your presence. It wasn’t until Aang woke up that you finally emerged.

~

“(Y/N)?” Sokka asked hesitantly, knocking softly on your door.

“Go away!” was the muffled reply that came from your room.

“Nope. I think Aang wants to see you.”

Sokka waited for a few seconds before the door swung open, reveling you standing there. You were wearing your Earth Kingdom clothes, trying to delay the inevitable. You looked up at him, making his heart hurt when he noticed the exhaustion in your eyes.

“Is he really awake?” you asked, your voice small. Sokka nodded.

“Hurry up and get changed. He’s on the deck.”

You nodded softly before closing the door. You opened it again a few minutes later, now dressed in red. As much as Sokka hated to admit it, you looked good in red. The Fire Nation was your home, after all. You followed him up to the deck, your finger nimbly twisting part of your hair into a knot big enough for your hairpiece.

“(Y/N)!” Aang yelled when you came into view. He launched himself at you and you caught him with a small “oof”. You giggled softly as you rubbed his head, making his hair stick up in all directions.

“Aang!” you cried in reply. “You have hair!”

Aang made a funny face at your words before fixing his hair. “Yeah, I guess I was out longer than I thought.”

You leaned down and swept the boy up into another hug, pulling him close as you held tears back. “I’m so glad you’re okay Aang. I don’t know what we would’ve done if you-”

“Don’t worry! Look at me, I’m fine!” Aang said, trying to make you feel better. He led you over to where everyone else was, Katara looking up and smiling softly as you glanced at her. “They also told me about your firebending! How come you never told us?’

You reeled back in shock, looking around wildly as everyone heard Aang’s word. When there were no negative reactions, you relaxed slightly.

“Everyone already knows huh?” you asked drily, being met with nods from everyone on board. You sighed and tapped your foot before speaking. “Okay, yes I’m a firebender. The reason I never told you guys is because I never wanted to use it. I was young when I fled and I never got a chance to learn anything other than the basics.”

Aang nodded in understanding. “But you could’ve built your skills that time we met Jeong Jeong.”

“No. After my family...” you trailed off, thinking about why you never became a master bender. Aang gave you an encouraging look and you breathed in deeply. “I promised myself I wouldn’t firebend ever again. Not after that.”

Aang nodded in understanding as you fell silent, thinking about your past. The Fire Nation was the reason why you had been all alone. They had killed your family with the weapon you now hated: firebending.

The silence engulfed the entire ship, everyone lost in their own thoughts. There was a peaceful atmosphere as the ship drifted along, but of course it didn’t last long.

Soon enough, you found yourself chasing after Aang, eventually being forced to hide in the Fire Nation as the Day Of Black Sun loomed closer and closer.

~

The promise that you had made to yourself to never firebend again was still intact. You hadn’t let any bursts of fire out, not even when you had found yourself surrounded by Fire Nation troops on the Day of Black Sun. The eclipse was a blessing to you, the brief eight minutes just long enough to make you feel normal.

Of course, you soon found yourselves fleeing to the Western Air Temple, silently mourning the loss the rest of the invasion army. Once you all settled in, you kept wearing the red top you had acquired in the Fire Nation. You don’t know why; it just brought you some type of comfort. Aang had grinned when he noticed, wondering if all your adventures in the Fire Nation had lessened your hatred towards the nation.

It had.

But not by much. Wearing the color red weighed heavily on your soul and you spent many of your waking hours debating whether or not keeping the red clothes was the right choice. It frustrated you to no end, how a simply piece of cloth could jumble your thoughts so easily. The red reminded you of the pain and grief you had experienced when you had lost your family, but in a twisted way it also reminded you of them. It reminded you of the days back when you still had them, back when you still had a home and you were happy. Deep down, you knew that you were Fire Nation but that knowledge didn’t stop your inner turmoil. And over the next few days, it only got worse with the arrival of a certain someone.

“Hello, Zuko here.”

You tried to hold back your groan, you really did. But it was as though the universe wanted to test you and had decided to do so by sending the Fire Nation prince your way. Zuko’s soft smile had dropped at your reaction, the corners of his lips quirking downward.

“Hey, I heard you guys flying around down there, so, I just thought I'd wait for you here,” he continued. Appa walked up to the prince and sniffed him before proceeding to lick him. Zuko’s face twisted up in disgust. “I know you must be surprised to see me here.”

"Not really,” Sokka said. “Since you've followed us all over the world!”

“Right,” Zuko said, wincing slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, uh, anyway, what I wanted to tell you about is that I've changed, and I, uh, I'm good now, and well I think I should join your group, oh, and I can teach firebending to you. See, I, uh-”

“You want to what now?” you asked sharply, exchanging a look with Katara.

“You can't possibly think that any of us would trust you, can you?” she asked, opening her water skin. “I mean, how stupid do you think we are?!”

Zuko’s eyes shifted to you before he answered. “You trust her. She’s a firebender.”

Your eyes widened in anger and you began to march up to the prince, only stopping when Katara held you back.

“I am not, a firebender,” you hissed, staring Zuko down. “And I am not Fire Nation.”

Zuko stayed quiet, his eyes drifting from your red shirt to the hairpiece on your head. You followed his line of sight, eyes widening when you realized he was staring at the sunstone. You yanked your arm out of Katara’s grip, angrily stomping out of the room. You quickly stripped yourself of your red top as soon as you were out of sight before sighing deeply and pulling your hairpiece out. You arrived at the sleeping chamber and sat down on your sleeping bag quietly, holding the hairpiece in your hand tightly.

You stared at it sadly, the sunstone glinting in the dim light. Without hesitation, you pulled your arm back and flung it away, watching the sunstone glint in the sunlight as it rolled towards the edge. It was gone in a second, tumbling over the edge of the temple.

Now you were truly no longer Fire Nation.

~

Your life had just gotten ten times harder now that Zuko had been allowed to join the group. The defeat of Combustion Man had been intense and you had found injured when it was all over. Unlike Sokka, you had never been good with fighting, always relying on your intelligence to get you out of dire situations. With Combustion Man however, that proved to be a problem, and you had found yourself caught in the middle of a fight with no protection whatsoever.

In addition to the pain of your injury, you found yourself dealing with the prince’s presence. You found yourself avoiding the group entirely, taking on the more tedious chores (like laundry) to avoid spending time with the group and even hanging out with Haru, Teo, and The Duke as they explored the temple.

Tensions didn’t rise until a few days later, beginning when Aang approached you with an idea. After your tragic failure with Combustion Man, Aang believed that you needed to learn how to protect yourself and he thought that the right way to do that was by learning how to firebend. You had vehemently refused, accidentally yelling at the Air Nomad as everyone else watched in silence.

The argument was put on pause for a few days when Aang and Zuko traveled to the Sun Warriors’ ruins but when they came back, Toph had sided with him as well. You felt slightly betrayed by the small earthbender but still refused, stating that there was no way you would willingly learn how to firebend. At least you still had Sokka and Katara on your side.

At least you did until Sokka and Zuko took a trip to The Boiling Rock the next day. When they got back two days later, Sokka was on Aang’s side as well. The fight with Azula on the gondola had left him shaken as he realized just how hard it was to fight a bender with just a sword. You didn’t know how to use a sword, but you could firebend and so Sokka became one of Aang’s supporters. Katara was the only one who was still on your side, but that changed when Azula raided the temple.

Everyone had been woken up suddenly, reacting a bit slower than normal as Azula appeared. She immediately lunged at you, shooting blasts of blue fire as she stalked closer to you. Your eyes were wide with fear, dodging her attacks as much as you could.

“Watch out!” Zuko yelled, tackling you from the side, a pillar crashing down where you had been standing as a result of Azula’s lightning. You grunted softly as you landed, the breath leaving your lungs as Zuko landed on top of you. You opened your eyes immediately, meeting bright gold irises before they looked away as Zuko began to scan you for any visible injuries. Zuko’s hands rested on either side of your head as he tried to keep his weight off of you, not that it helped considering you were still struggling to catch your breath.

Or maybe you were struggling to catch your breath because of how close he was.

“Are you okay?” Zuko asked, drawing your attention back to him. Scowling, you threw him off of you before scrambling to your feet, rushing to help Katara when you heard her yelp. Zuko noticed Toph earthbend a tunnel into the side of the temple, and rushed to join the others. His eyes landed on you as you threw yourself to the side, narrowly dodging another one of Azula’s deadly blasts. The princess grabbed you by the hair, laughing maniacally before dragging you to the airships.

“What are you doing?” Aang yelled, noticing that Zuko had stopped in his path.

“Azula has (Y/N)!” Zuko replied, turning around and facing the airships. “I’m gonna go get her.”

Katara rushed to Aang’s side, exchanging a worried look with him before getting on top of Appa. The rest of the Gaang joined them, holding on tight as they tried to maneuver the sky bison through all the debris. 

Zuko ran and launched himself onto the airship, landing safely on top of one. He glared at his sister, noticing that she was still holding onto you.

“Let her go, Azula!” Zuko yelled, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Hmm, I don’t think I will,” Azula replied, the blue flame in her palm growing brighter as she held it up to your face. “I think I’ll get rid of her instead. Then I’ll get rid of you. I can’t wait to celebrate being an only child.”

She inched the flame closer to your face, prompting Zuko to shoot a fire blast near her head. Growling, Azula tossed you to the side before confronting Zuko. The two siblings fought for a few minutes and you tried your best to avoid any wayward blasts. The fight stopped when they both struck at the same time, the resulting blast blowing both of them backwards.

“Zuko!” you cried, sprinting to grab the boy before he fell. You managed to grab onto his hand but his momentum sent you both tumbling into the chasm, a scream getting stuck in your throat as you plummeted. You were so overcome with fear that you didn’t notice Zuko pulling you into him, holding you close as you fell.

The fall didn’t last long, Appa managing to swoop in and save the two of you. You sat quietly on Appa’s saddle, both you and Zuko watching Azula as she kept falling.

“She’s...not gonna make it,” Zuko said softly, his arms tightening around you slightly. You watched with wide eyes as Azula used firebending to propel herself to the cliffside, sliding down a bit further before she took out her hairpin and stuck it into the side of the cliff, effectively ending her fall. “Of course she did.”

The seven of you sat in silence for a few minutes before Katara spoke up, tears in her eyes as she looked at you. “(Y/N), seeing Azula capture you got me thinking. I think...I think that you should learn how to firebend. You need to know how to defend yourself.”

“And I think that you can let go of each other now,” Sokka said cheekily, trying to diffuse the tension that had settled upon the group at Katara’s words. You shimmied out of Zuko’s hold, walking up to the Water Tribe girl and looking at her in disbelief.

“You’re supposed to be on my side Katara,” you hissed, flinching when she tried to reach for your hand. Without another words, you walked away and took Appa’s reins. The rest of the flight was silent, everybody knowing that now was not the time to be chatty.

~

Once again, you had retreated from the group. It wasn’t exactly hard considering the fact that now it was Katara and Zuko who had disappeared, gone on a quest to find her mother’s murderer. After a few days, Zuko reappeared alone and you found yourselves traveling to Ember Island.

Upon your arrival, you made your way over to Katara, who was standing quietly on the deck.

“I heard what you did,” you spoke first. “I’m glad you didn’t kill him.”

“I couldn’t bring myself to do it,” she whispered back, still looking straight ahead.

“Why?”

She turned slightly, facing you before speaking. “It’s not in my nature to kill. I couldn’t bring myself to use my bending for that. I have the chance to prevent other’s from going through what I went through; from going through what you went through. I want to use my bending for good.”

You mulled over her words for a few seconds before sighing deeply and walking away. Aang watched you quietly as he walked over to Katara, his eyes widening slightly when you walked up to Zuko.

“Ok,” you said quietly, looking up at the prince. “Teach me how to firebend.”

Zuko’s eyes widened briefly before he crossed his arms and composed himself. “Tomorrow at dawn. Be ready.”

And ready you were. Every day. Firebending was a lot easier than you expected, and you found yourself breezing though the basics and the intermediate moves. It wasn’t until you got to the advanced moves that you began to have some trouble.

“No!” Zuko barked. “That’s not how it’s done. Again!”

Your eye twitched before you took your stance again, launching yourself into the move that you were currently working on. You sighed deeply when you realized you had done it wrong again.

“Wrong. Again.”

“If you’re so good at it then come and show me,” you snapped, fed up with his attitude. Zuko straightened up before walking over to you, motioning for you to take your stance once more. You rolled your eyes, blowing the hair out of your eyes before complying.

“I will,” he said, moving your arms into the right position. He walked around you and you opened your mouth to make another comment, stopping when his hand came around from behind and gently shut your jaw. “Don’t say anything.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as he spoke. He was closer than you thought, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke. You shivered when his hands landed on your back, fixing your posture before they made their way to your waist. He gripped your waist firmly, shifting you into position before leaning forwards slightly, whispering in your ear once more. “Do it again.”

Fighting a blush, you did as you were told. You chuckled breathlessly when you did it correctly this time, a blast of fire leaving your hand at the right moment.

“See? You did it,” Zuko said, a faint smirk on his lips. “You’re a natural.”

You bounced up to him, wrapping your arms around his neck in excitement. His arms immediately wrapped around your waist, enjoying the closeness of the hug. You leaned back slightly, meeting his eyes as you smiled cheesily. “It’s only because I have such a great teacher.”

The two of you walked back to the beach house, joking around after a long day of training. Upon entering the beach house, Katara pulled you aside. “(Y/N)! Thank goodness. I need your help in the kitchen!”

You gave Zuko an apologetic smile as you followed Katara, being met with an understanding nod as he went off on his own. Katara handed you a tray of cups, smirking slightly before speaking. “So, you and Zuko huh?”

“What? N-No,” you replied immediately.

“I’m talking about firebending. How’s that going?” Katara said, filling the cups with watermelon juice as she arched an eyebrow.

A bright blush spread across your cheeks as you realized what she was talking about. “O-Oh. It’s going great. Zuko’s been teaching me some advanced moves now!”

Katara hummed in reply, waving you away now that the cups were full. You headed out of the kitchen in a hurry, loosing your footing when you heard Katara speak yet again.

“I bet the next move he makes is gonna be on you.”

~

The conversation between you and Katara was basically forgotten as the days went by. 

Zuko had informed the Gaang about his father’s plan to destroy the Earth Kingdom, causing you all to worry greatly. In addition, Aang had disappeared overnight and all attempts to find him had been futile.

And that’s how you found yourselves following June and her shirshu as she led you to Ba Sing Se, where Zuko’s Uncle Iroh was supposed to be. You had been warmly welcomed by the Order of the White Lotus and Zuko and Iroh had made up, leaving you with only a day to plan out what you were going to do before Sozin’s comet arrived.

It was quickly decided that the Order of the White Lotus would stay behind and reclaim Ba Sing Se while Sokka, Suki, and Toph would set out to destroy the airship fleet. Zuko had asked you and Katara to join him in defeating Azula and although Katara had agreed immediately, you were a bit hesitant. Of course, Zuko noticed and he decided to confront you about it.

“(Y/N),” Zuko said, coming up to you when you were prepping Appa for the ride. Katara was a few yards away, giving the two of you privacy. You glanced at Zuko before climbing onto Appa’s saddle, the prince following closely behind you. “What’s wrong?”

“Zuko, I,” you paused, breathing deeply. “I shouldn’t go. I just started bending and what is something goes wrong? I don’t want to be a liability to y-”

“Hey,” Zuko whispered, ducking his head to make eye contact with you. “I meant what I said on Ember Island. You’re a natural. You’ll be fine.”

You sighed before hugging your knees to your chest. “I just can’t believe that I’m actually returning to the Fire Nation, even if it’s to help you reclaim your throne. I’m just glad that maybe under your rule, things might finally change.”

Zuko stayed quiet before standing up and reaching for his bag. He shuffled around for a moment before kneeling behind you, his fingers gently grabbing your hair.

“What are you-”

“Shh,” Zuko cut you off. “Give me a second.”

His fingers weaved through your hair, putting it up into a style you were all too familiar with. He was gentle with his actions, letting his hands fall to your shoulders when he was done. “There.”

You reached up, your fingers trembling slightly as they brushed over the sunstone that you had known your whole life.

“M-My hairpiece,” you gasped, tears springing to your eyes as you realized how much you had missed it. “How did you-”

“I found it at the Western Air Temple,” Zuko interrupted quietly. “It was after I came to you guys the first time. Katara sent me away and when I was walking under a balcony, it fell onto the ground. I recognized it so I picked it up. I assumed you would want it back at some point.”

Zuko fell backwards when you threw yourself at him, wrapping him up in a tight hug.

“Thank you,” you whispered, leaning up and pressing a kiss to his cheek. A tiny gasp escaped him and you pulled back, meeting his eyes as he stared down at you. The two of you stared at each other for a few tense seconds before you both leaned forwards rapidly, your lips meeting in the middle.

Maybe it was a spur of the moment decision, kissing Zuko. Maybe it was due to to the anxiety bubbling up in you, your emotions hard to control as you prepared to end of the war in one way or another. Or maybe, it was simply two teenagers too shy to tell each other how they felt, finally sharing a tender moment.

“So, are we ready to go?” Katara asked. The two of you sprung apart, blushes on both of your faces as the Water Tribe girl smirked at you. Zuko nodded and you looked away, taking your place at Appa’s reins.

“Ready as I’ll ever be. Yip yip.”

~

The fight had been a blur to you. You didn’t remember much other than the fact that Zuko had taken a bolt of lightning meant for you. After Zuko had been injured, you and Katara had teamed up to take Azula down. She had challenged you to an Agni Kai after striking Zuko and you had accepted in order to lure her away from his body. To say she had been surprised when you actually fought back with fire was an understatement.

With Katara’s help, you managed to chain her to an old grate before rushing over to aid Zuko. After Katara had done all she could, you helped Zuko into the palace where he had been taken to the infirmary. You hadn’t seen him since.

You had however, met back up with Aang, Sokka, Toph, and Suki. They informed the two of you of what they had done and in turn you had told them about Zuko’s injury. They were all worried about him but after hearing that Katara had healed him, they were slightly relieved.

The next time you saw the prince was on the day of his coronation. Some of the palace guards had come for you, stating that Zuko was requesting your presence. You felt your heart jump into your throat as you nodded, allowing them to lead you through the palace until you came to a pair of gilded doors.

“He’s in there,” one of the guards said. “Would you like us to announce your arrival?”

“No, it’s fine. I can just knock,” you said meekly, causing the guards to smile amusedly. You bowed shortly to them before turning to face the door, gently knocking and waiting for a response.

“Come in!”

The door swung open at your touch and you awkwardly stepped inside, still standing near the doorway as your gaze landed on Zuko.

“Close it,” he said, his voice quiet yet rough. You complied, stepping aside and shutting the door before inching closer. He was shirtless, thick bandages covering his torso. Covering the new scar he had earned because of you. He turned around, his face softening when his eyes met yours.

“Hey,” he said softly, his eyes scanning you for injuries the way he did back when Azula raided the Western Air Temple.

“Hi, how are you?” you squeaked, shuffling awkwardly. You winced at your words, blushing in embarrassment as Zuko’s lips quirked up. He walked over to his bed before picking up the shirt he was going to wear.

“I’m fine. How are you?” he asked, a teasing smile on his lips as he began to put it on. His smile dropped as he moved too harshly, pain shooting through his torso as he struggled to pull the fabric on.

“Spirits! Be careful,” you said, all embarrassment leaving you as you rushed forwards and took the shirt from his hands. “Here, let me.”

You helped him slide one arm in before slipping it over his shoulders and guiding his other arm in as well. You grabbed the belt used to hold it in place before standing in front of him. Your breath caught in your throat as you eyed the bandages, guilt settling in your stomach as you softly placed a hand on his chest. Zuko’s hands automatically went to your waist, pulling you closer to him as he stared at you worriedly.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, still looking at his chest. “This was my fault.”

“Hey,” Zuko replied, one of hands leaving your waist to lift your chin. You shivered softly at the action, your eyes finally meeting his bright gold ones. “It wasn’t your fault. Azula shouldn’t have done it in the first place. She challenged me to an Agni Kai, not you.”

“You should’ve let it hit me,” you said, looking at him sadly. “I can’t imagine what would’ve happened if Katara hadn’t been there. Zuko, you could’ve d-”

Your eyes widened and your words died on your throat when Zuko leant down, softly pressing his lips to yours. The hand that was still on your waist wrapped around you, pulling you closer as Zuko kissed you gently. He began to pull away after a few seconds, noticing your lack of response. Mentally kicking yourself, you began to kiss back, closing your eyes as you wrapped your free arm around his neck to keep him close. Zuko couldn’t help but smile at your response.

“I took that hit because I love you, (Y/N),” Zuko whispered, finally pulling away and leaning his forehead against yours. “I couldn’t let Azula hurt you.”

“Zuko, I-I love you too,” you confessed, your eyes still closed. Suddenly, you pulled away before gently swatting his head. “But that doesn’t make what you did any less stupid.”

“Hey! I saved your life!” he exclaimed, rubbing his head.

“I know,” you said, rolling your eyes before hugging him close once again. “And I love you for it. But never, and I mean never, do that again.”

“No promises,” Zuko replied, guiding your lips to his once more. This kiss was different, full of trust and love and peace.

You pulled away reluctantly, fixing his shirt and looping the belt around him before taking his hand. “Now let’s go. You have a coronation to get to.”

Zuko stopped for a second, pulling you back to him as he looked at you uncertainly. You looked up at him curiously, prompting him to speak.

“Are you-” Zuko stopped abruptly, trying to get his thoughts in order. “Will you stay with me? Here? Even after everyone else leaves?”

You hesitated for a split second, remembering everything that you had suffered at the hands of the Fire Nation. You opened your mouth to reply, looking up to meet Zuko’s gaze. You faltered for a moment, taking in the way he was looking at you. Here in front of you stood the crown prince, the very symbol of the nation that you had spent the majority of your life hating. But he was also just a teen, and he was willing to put in the work to fix the Fire Nation’s past mistakes.

Your heart swelled in your chest as you thought about the golden-eyed boy , and everything he had done to help the Avatar. Because of him, the Fire Nation now had a chance at redemption, and you knew it wouldn’t be easy to undo centuries of imperialism and pain. Especially not when it was so deeply rooted in the nation. And so you answered his question, confident that you were making the right decision.

“Of course I’ll stay, Zuko. And I’ll be here to help you every step of the way.”

~

taglist!

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[jungshookz]

omg cee for a holiday drabble request can we get some shy!jungkook who’s had yn in his class all semester and is partnered up with her for a final project and he’s like !!!!!!!! AAAA!!!!!!!!!

➺ pairing; jeon jungkook x reader

➺ genre; sfw!! university!au!! fluff!! jungkook is shy!! y/n is friendly!! pocky sticks and goldfish crackers are exchanged!!

➺ wordcount; 4.9k

➺ what to expect; if he thought the back of your head was pretty... did that mean that he thought the rest of you was pretty as well?

                                     »»————-　❅　————-««

jungkook doesn’t like to say that he hates people because saying that makes him sound obnoxious and a little overdramatic, but if given the choice, he would 100% choose to be alone

and he doesn’t think that it’s a problem that he prefers his own company over the company of other people

it’s literally just a personal preference!

he likes to keep to himself mainly because he.,.,

well

to be honest, he just doesn’t like talking to people?? which he thinks is a pretty valid reason to roam campus as a lone wolf

it just takes so much effort maintaining a conversation and at the end of the day, he’s just here to learn and get his degree, you know?

and it’s not like he flat-out refuses to talk to people like a weirdo

he can talk to people, he just chooses not to initiate or engage in any type of conversation whatsoever unless he really has to

and don’t even get him started on those damn ice breakers that professors make everyone do at the beginning of every semester

it’s why he always sits in the very back of the auditorium where all the quiet people are

because quiet people understand each other and quiet people will nevER turn to start talking to each other when the professor tells the class to share two truths and a lie about yourself to the person sitting next to you!

there’s just a mutual understanding that everyone in the back of the room will sit in silence and keep to themselves all semester long which is very pleasant

not to mention, he hates having to deal with ‘semester friends’ aka the one friend that you make for the sake and convenience of having someone you know in the same class as you

you guys really don’t have that much in common and you can tell that they’re in a completely different social circle than you are (aka when you inevitably do a social media handle exchange you see that they have more than a thousand followers and you can immediately tell they were super popular in high school which intimidates you and your puny 250 follower count but you can’t back out of this friendship now without looking like a jerk) but the person is friendly enough that you can get along and kind of keep a conversation going

and then once the semester ends the two of you promise to keep in touch next semester even though both parties are fully intending to not stay in touch at all

and then when next semester rolls around no one makes any effort to reach out and be like hey, should we get coffee this week?? because you have conflicting schedules that would take so much reshuffling just to accommodate this acquaintance that you really don’t care that much about so then you end up hitting them with an ooh, i can’t make it this week! what about next week??

and then it just turns into a cycle of ugh, i’m swamped this week! next week? and can’t, sorry! next week?

and then you’ll see each other at the library one day and it’ll be a little bit awkward because you’ll do that awkward half-hug and your voice will go up like ten octaves when you greet them with that overly polite heyyyyyy!

and more promises will be made to get coffee and hang out soon even though everyone knows absolutely no coffee will be gotten

the point is: in the four years that jungkook’s been a university student, not onCe has he made a steady friend and not once has he been remotely interested in making a steady friend

and he doesn’t think that’s sad or anything - again, he prefers it that way!

...but you just had to come along and completely throw his plans out of whack, didn’t you??

unsurprisingly, you were the one who spoke to him at the beginning of the semester but he didn’t think too much of it because it wasn’t like the conversation the two of you had was very riveting

“hi, i’m sorry-” jungkook looks up from his notebook when you twist around in your seat to face him, “this is psychology 400, right? i lost a copy of my schedule and i think this is the lecture hall i’m supposed to be in but i can’t remember if it said auditorium 200 or 201-”

“yeah, you’re in the right place.” jungkook interrupts, offering you a stiff smile before looking back down at his planner

he was in the middle of compiling a grocery list for himself and now he doesn’t remember what that one thing he needed was…

…

ah!

chocolate pocky sticks

there we go

jungkook clicks his pen before tucking it back into his pencil case and shutting his planner

and… yeah!

that was the first conversation the two of you ever had

he doesn’t think he can really count it as a conversation because it lasted less than three seconds

the first exchange the two of you ever had?

the second exchange he had with you was actually the next class that same week

he was genuinely surprised that you sat in the same spot again because usually when someone realises that he isn’t willing to be their semester-friend, they move to another section of the auditorium the next time

but no

there you were in all your glory

“when’s the first assignment due?”

jungkook’s eyes flicker up from his laptop first before he looks up at you

“uh, in two weeks...?” he trails off, pulling up the calendar app on his screen before nodding affirmatively, “yeah, in two weeks. september sixteenth at midnight.”

“okay, sweet! and that’s a... thursday?”

“wednesday.”

“ah, okay. got it. thanks!

“mhm.”

the weird thing was the fact that you never pulled out the “i don’t think i ever got your name! i’m ___” card because you just seemed like a very ‘i wanna be your friend!!!!!’ person

and he doesn’t know how you made him do it but one day he found himself asking for your name which he didn’t think he’d ever do

(admittedly, he was a little klutzy in doing so because he’d never willingly introduced himself to someone and asked for their name all in one go before)

“are you eating goldfish crackers and... chocolate chips?” jungkook blurts out, leaning forward a little to peer into the little snack box you’re holding in your hand

you pause and look down into the container before twisting around to look at him, “mhm! you know, you wouldn’t think the combination would work, but it totally does,” you smile, holding your box up, “wanna try?”

jungkook immediately shakes his head, “oh, no, that’s oka-”

“no, c’mon-” you pluck out a cracker and a chocolate chip and set your box down on your lap, “hold your hand out!”

jungkook hesitates for a second before holding his hand out and letting you plop the treats in his palm, “and you... eat them together?”

“uh-huh!” you nod, popping a cracker into your mouth before gesturing for him to eat, “don’t worry - if you don’t like it, i promise i won’t cry.”

jungkook brings his palm up and tosses them back into his mouth

...

...

...

huh

that’s actually... not half-bad?

“see? what’d i tell you?” you beam, giving your box a little shake, “good, right?”

“yeah, i mean, i would never think to put the two together...” jungkook trails off, dusting the crumbs off his hands, “oh, um, by the way-” he clears his throat before swallowing nervously, “i, uh, i’m jungkook. by the way. yeah.”

“jungkook?” you say out loud, jungkook nodding in confirmation, “i will try to remember that. i’m pretty bad with names, so if i end up calling you, like, robert next week, don’t hate me.”

“i will try not to hold it against you if you call me robert next week,” jungkook laughs lightly before reaching up to scratch the back of his neck, “and you... um, your name is...?”

“i’m y/n! by the way.” you tease lightly, the apples of jungkook’s cheeks turning a little pink, “it’s nice to meet you! ...even though we met, like, a month ago.”

“touché.”

“jungkook, you dog-” you gasp lightly, and for a second jungkook’s heart drops to his stomach because he thinks he’s said something wrong- “at least take me out to dinner first before touchéing me.”

jungkook immediately snorts and shakes his head lightly as you giggle to yourself

with that being said, even after that exchange he still wasn’t sure if he wanted to stay friends with you or not

yeah, you were nice and kind of charming in your own way, but...

(he couldn’t come up with a reason as to why he shouldn’t be friends with you, so that train of thought is still chug-chug-chugging along.)

                                     »»————-　❅　————-««

“are those pocky sticks?”

jungkook stops typing, his eyes flickering up from his screen to see you looking at him with a soft little smile, your arms folded over the top of your seat and your chin propped up on them

he looks down at the open package of pocky sticks sitting on top of his backpack next to him before looking over at you and nodding, “uh, yeah. do you... want one?”

“are they the chocolate ones?”

“obviously.” jungkook snorts, pulling one out of the plastic bag before holding it out for you, “nothing beats the original flavour.”

you pluck it from his fingers, inspecting it for a second before biting into it with a crisp snap!, “i personally like the strawberry ones better-”

“what??” jungkook gawks, “i mean, yeah, the strawberry ones are fine, but the chocolate ones-”

“the strawberry ones have a thicker coating! the chocolate coating is so thin and barely-there!” you hold the bottom half of your pocky out so that jungkook can look at the cross-section of it, “see?? barely any chocolate-”

“you don’t know what you’re talking about!” jungkook scoffs playfully, slapping his laptop shut before crossing his arms on his desk and leaning forward, “chocolate pocky sticks are clearly superior to the strawberry ones-”

“alright, robert, whatever helps you sleep at night-”

“wha-” jungkook gawks in mock offence, too distracted by the fact that you like the strawberry pocky sticks over the classic chocolate ones to notice the feeling of his heart skipping a beat at the sound of your laugh

strawberry over chocolate

...

ridiculous!

                                    »»————-　❅　————-««

now, jungkook isn’t particularly sure when it was that he started to notice how twinkly your eyes were or how sweet your voice sounded or how pretty your smile was or how nice your hair smelled

it kind of just dawned on him one morning??

he was just staring at the back of your head and found himself wondering how it was possible for the back of one’s head to be so pretty (you had your hair down that day and it just looked so soft and clean)

and then he thought to himself how weird it was that he just called the back of your head pretty

and then he thought to himself that if he thought the back of your head was pretty... did that mean that he thought the rest of you was pretty as well?

and then he thought to himself that yes, i suppose i would consider y/n to be pretty if i was ever asked for a list of people i considered to be pretty

and then he realized that oh, god. do i think that y/n’s pretty because i like y/n?!

and now it’s december meaning that it’s almost the end of the semester and he still hasn’t done anything about his crush on you because he?? literally has no idea how to handle it

his plan was to just ask you for your instagram and if you wanted to keep hanging out next semester and hope that it didn’t turn into a can’t what about next week can’t what about next week situation

and the fact that you guys are working together for the final project certainly doesn’t help with him suppressing his feelings at all

because you two have gone from spending time like three times a week in class to five or six times a week in and out of class

it was at the beginning of november that he discovered that you both had an hour and a half break after this class

so you guys usually go for lunch together (obviously, you were the one who asked first) and then go your separate ways

and then it was the second week of november that jungkook started walking you to your next class even though hiS next class is located at the opposite end of campus

he just????

literally has no idea how any of this happened

one minute he’s perfectly fine with being alone and the next minute he finds himself glancing towards the door every three seconds waiting for you to walk in because the best part of his morning is seeing you

because every time you walk in and see him in his usual spot your entire face lights up and your pace quickens and he just thinks it’s really cute how excited you are to see him even though you guys literally see each other so often

he always looks forward to hearing about what you did over the weekend even though he usually doesn’t care less about what anyone did over their weekend

he always looks forward to you bringing out your little snack box and offering him a couple pieces of whatever you have (you brought these sesame-glazed cashews the other day and they were really good)

he always looks forward to sharing his pocky sticks with you even though he’s usually very greedy with his pocky sticks

last week he let you eat like half the box and he wasn’t even mad

and yeah, he finds himself tossing a couple of the strawberry pocky sticks into his basket whenever he goes grocery shopping, but that doesn’t mean anything!

...

right???

                                     »»————-　❅　————-««

jungkook glances back towards the door as he taps his foot against the ground anxiously before checking his phone for the time or any texts from you  

where are you??

he booked one of the conference rooms in the library so that you guys could work on your project in peace

it’s much more quiet working here than in the general studying area because there’s always that one person who’s sniffling and coughing like a maniac

and you can speak at a normal volume in here which is good

you guys agreed to work on the project together at the end of the day and then you’d grab dinner together

and jungkook hasn’t been classifying these hangout working sessions as dates or anything but for some reason, this feels like a study date AND a dinner date rolled into one which is why his hands are so clammy right now

and on top of thAT he actually has a christmas present that he’s planning to give you but now he’s wondering if it’s too late to back out

you’re already like twenty minutes late

did you forget about him??

did you purposely bail on him??

is this your way of telling him that this friendship is over???

maybe he can text you and tell you that he had to go home because he has food poisoning or something

...but the image of him hunched over the toilet probably isn’t a very attractive one

is there like a.,., like a sexy way to talk about food poisoning?

jungkook paces back and forth as he looks down at his phone, typing a message to you and then immediately deleting it and retyping

hey! i’m gonna have to reschedule. i had a funky ass burrito for lu-

okay so there’s definitely no way to make food poisoning sound sexy

maybe he can come up with a... cool excuse of some kind?  

hey! can we reschedule? i have to save a baby from a burning building because i’m also a firefigh-

nope

he’s terrified of heights and also he hates babies so that excuse would never work

hey! let’s reschedule! i have feelings for you and it’s overwhelming me and also i feel like maybe you kind of bailed on m-

“hey!”

jungkook jumps in his seat before whipping around to look at the door, feeling a sense of relief washing over him when he sees that it’s you

okay

well noW he knows that you didn’t forget about him and that you definitely didn’t bail on him

“he-” his voice gives out halfway and he clears his throat quickly, “hey! i was, uh, i was wondering when you’d show up.”

“i know, sorry i’m late-” you smile sheepishly, shutting the door behind you with a gentle click, “it’s for a good reason, though! i got us hot chocolates!”

you raise the takeout tray in your hand before setting it down on the table, “i was going to get you a peppermint mocha because ‘tis the season and all of that, but i didn’t know if you would like it or not so hot chocolate was the safer option.”

“i like hot chocolate!” jungkook coughs, “peppermint mochas- i mean, i would’ve been fine with a peppermint mocha too, but i- i still appreciate the hot chocolate-” he rambles, nervously flipping his pen back and forth in between his fingers, “i mean, i, like, what i’m trying to say is that i would like anything you brought for me, you know?”

okay

he’s spiralling

whY is this happening to him??

jungkook doesn’t know if he’s ever been this nervous for anything before

he wasn’t even this nervous when he had to do a solo presentation in front of two hundred people in his history course last semester and thaT was terrifying

“alright, well, i’ll definitely keep that in mind for next time!” you chirp, pulling out one of the wheely chairs before plopping down and turning to face him, “what else do we have to do for our report?”

jungkook feels his heart skip a beat when your knee bumps against his

oh god

okay

he has to get it together  

just relax!

“oh, uh-” he turns to look through the checklist on his notebook, “we have to write up the conclusion... and also the annotated bibliography.”

“annotated bibliography?” you huff, scrolling through yours guys’ twenty page report, “oh, god... that’s going to take forever- we used, like, thirty different sources...”

“i told you not to go crazy with the scholarly articles...” jungkook teases lightly before taking a sip of his hot chocolate

ooH

there’s whipped cream on this as well!

“i just thought that it would make us look smarter if we used more sources-” you grumble, pushing your bottom lip out in a pathetic little pout, “and now we have to go through and annotate every single one...”

“hey, if it motivates you to work faster, i’ll get you an extra order of onion rings for dinner tonight.” jungkook hums, smiling fondly when you gasp excitedly and turn to face him

one thing that he’s learned about you is the fact that you are verY food motivated

one time you told him that you would be willing to rob a bank for a pack of oreos

...and he wholeheartedly believes that.

                                     »»————-　❅　————-««

you try your hardest to hold back a grin when you notice that jungkook still hasn’t moved his leg from yours

the side of your thigh has been pressed right up against his for a good twenty minutes now and it seems like he doesn’t mind it at all

if anything, it’s safe to say that he’s comfortable being this close to you

that must mean that he likes you back, right?

because you know for a fact that he isn’t normally a touchy-feely person and you were fully expecting him to pull back the moment your leg touched his

this is!!!!

exciting!!!!

you don’t know when you started liking jungkook but the details really aren’t that important

you just know that you like him now and you’re like 80% sure that maybe he might?? like you back??

if he didn’t like you, why would he be willing to get coffee with you during your breaks and walk you to class?

you were actually a little put off by him the first time you spoke to him mainly because he seemed like he didn’t really want to talk to you

and usually you don’t do well with people who don’t want to talk to you because.,., you personally think you’re a greaT person to talk to and if the same vibes aren’t reciprocated then you immediately hightail it out of there

and you were actually going to switch seats the next class but it was pretty cozy in the back of the auditorium and you liked that your seat was near the exit so that you could be the first one out without getting trampled over by everyone else  

so you figured you’d just swallow your pride and try to work it out with mr. pretty boy (yes, part of the reason as to why you stayed was because of how handsome he is.,., you’re only human!!!)

and it looks like it worked out in your favour because here you are!! hanging out with him outside of class!!

with that being said, you haven’t really thought about what your next move is going to be because you’re..., not entirely sure how to ask him out without potentially freaking him out or something

because if on the off-chance that he tells you that he actually doesn’t like you back after you ask him out with full confidence,,..,

ugh

you don’t even want to think about how awkward that’s going to be

and you don’t even knoW how you’d play it off casually without letting your disappointment show (“oh! well, that’s- pft- that’s totally fine, it’s whatever- like, i’m so... like, i’m so cool. it’s totally fine! dates are- dates are so overrated, anyway- romance is so lame-”)

you were thinking of maybe asking him out after the final project because if he says no then you’ll never have to see him again!

that’s the beautiful part of being on such a big campus

it’s fine

you’ll figure something out

just focus on this damn bibliography and try not to think about how good jungkook smells and how pretty his hands look when he’s typing

                                     »»————-　❅　————-««

it’s about an hour and a half into the session that jungkook suddenly remembers that he has a present for you

he turns his head slightly to look at you

there’s a divot in between your brows as your fingers practically fly across your keyboard

wow

you must really want those onion rings

jungkook glances down at his backpack before pressing his lips together tightly

when would be a good time to give it to you without it being like.,,. awkward?

maybe after you guys are done?

or during dinner?

or after dinner?

or after he drives you hom-

“i have a present for you, by the way-!” jungkook blurts out a little louder than intended, shattering the serene silence of the atmosphere

okay never mind

“you do??” you ask, jungkook nodding quickly

“i... yeah. a christmas present! for you.” he clears his throat, leaning down to pull the neatly wrapped package out of his backpack, “it’s just a little something, it’s really not that big of a deal.”

“aw, that’s so nice of you... i didn’t know we were doing presents otherwise i totally would’ve gotten something for you...” you trail off, pursing your lips in disappointment

damnit

you weRE going to get jungkook something but you didn’t know if he’d find it weird or anything

and now you must look like a complete jerk!

“oh my god, don’t even worry about it-” jungkook flicks his wrist to dismiss your concerns, “you can count the hot chocolate as your gift to me! plus, you splurged on a venti just for me-”

“i did splurge on a venti just for you...” you joke along, instantly feeling a little better about the situation, “and i usually only treat people to tiny little talls!”

(for the record, you’re definitely going to get him a proper present over the weekend)

“also, it’s totally fine if you don’t like it-” jungkook swallows thickly when you start to rip open the packaging, “i can return it and get you something else-”

!!!!!!!!

“oH MY GOD i love it!” you exclaim, feeling your serotonin levels shoot straight through the ceiling when you pull out a heart shaped snack box, “i don’t even know what to say, this is literally the greatest present i’ve ever received in my entire life-”

“oh, thank god-” jungkook flops back in his seat before placing his hand on his chest, “i was worried that maybe you wouldn’t like it because you already have a pretty extensive collection of snack boxes- oh, and!” he perks up, spinning around to pull something else out of his bag, “i also got you a box of strawberry pocky sticks even though i still think your opinion about them being better than the chocolate flavour is very wrong.”

wow

he really knows the way to your heart :’)

“i don’t even know what to say, kook...” you smile, “thank you so much...”

jungkook beams, giving himself a mental pat on the back for a job well done, “ah, don’t worry about it. i’m just glad that you like your gifts...”

...

okay, you don’t have a gift for him so this is the next best thing

“can i-” you pause, trying to think of how to handle this, “can i- sorry, can you just close your eyes for a second?” you clear your throat

you’re suddenly feeling a lot more confident about jungkook’s feelings towards you than you were half an hour ago

(aka you are now 98% sure that he likes you back and if you’re wrong about this assumption then you’re definitely going to regret the thing that you’re about to do)  

“close my eyes?” jungkook snorts, “why?”

“it’ll make sense in a second. just close them!”

“this is the part of our friendship where you kill me, isn’t it?” he jokes, setting his laptop aside before turning his chair so he can fully face you

ha hA

very funny

“if i was planning to kill you, i would’ve poisoned your precious pocky sticks a long time ago-” you laugh lightly, wiping your clammy hands on your jeans before turning to face him as well

“speaking of pocky sticks, have you ever tried the cookies and creme flavoured ones?” jungkook hums, jolting in surprise when he feels you place your hands on his knees, “because i was thinking we could just buy a bunch of flavours and try them toge-”

smak!

jungkook’s eyes immediately pop open the moment he feels you kiss his cheek, his entire face going beet red and his mouth going dry

you smile innocently as you pull back, jungkook trying his best to noT melt into a giant puddle of goo

you-

you just...

you kissed his cheek?

you kissed him?

maybe it was an accident??

maybe there was a bug on his cheek and you were just trying to kill it with your mouth

“you- i- heh-” he reaches up to scratch the back of his head, quickly averting his gaze when he notices you looking directly at him, “um, why... uh, what did you do that for?”

“to say thank you...” you shrug, biting back a smile, “and i guess it’s me trying to tell you that i... i like you too, by the way.”

jungkook feels his heart stop beating in his chest and his fingers dig into his thigh

too?

you like him?

too????

jungkook blinks owlishly at you, “you like me... too? r-really?”

“of course i do.” you hum, admiring your brand new snack box before looking back at him, “how could i not?”

(judging by his reaction, you are now 100% sure that jungkook likes you back so you now have nothing to worry about.)

“but how’d you know that i even liked you in the first place?” jungkook asks dumbly, still a little dazed from that kiss on the cheek

he can’t even think about how his body is going to react when he eventually gets to kiss you properly

“i mean...” you let out a little laugh before tilting your head slightly, “if the in-between class coffee runs and the walking me to class even though we both know it’d make you late for your class didn’t give it away, the fact that you let me eat half a box of pocky sticks without slicing my hands off certainly did.”

oh

yeah

that’s fair

“you make a good point.” jungkook nods slowly, “touché-”

“-”

“-!” jungkook holds a finger out before the corners of his mouth tug up in a wide grin, “and i will definitely be taking you out to dinner first before even thinking about touchéing you. don’t worry.”

christmas with cee 2020 masterlist

🎁what would you like from ceenta this year? 🎁

[letstalkabouttvshows]

The long overdue Malex reunion , here some of my thoughts (it might get a bit long, but well, what can you do?🤷🏻‍♀️)

Was I surprised with the amount of progress we got in 3x08? Yes. Did I think the writers would deliver this Malex perfection? Not at all. At least not right now.

Did it make sense though? YES 👏🏻 A 👏🏻THOUSAND👏🏻 TIMES 👏🏻 YES 👏🏻

Here's the main reason: Roswell NM uses A LOT the off screen, fill in the blanks trick.

It has been that way since season 1. So much so that when I started binging the show, one of my first thoughts was: "They sure like to make the audience assume a lot instead of showing it"

Is this a bad thing? Overall, no. Especially when done it right.

Do I believe RNM should ease a bit on let the viewers fill the blank spaces thing? Yes. I think they should.

We are seeing right now how can it go wrong with the lack of mentioning Kyle, for instance. 💔

It just would be better for us, viewers, if there was a nod or something, and not just "ah ok, I'm assuming they all know already where's Kyle". Because people can assume right or wrong and that's where trouble lives.

Again, season 3 is so much better than the previous two when it comes to storytelling. They are fixing the mistakes of season 2 and they are delivering a main arc story that gets us hooked. Bravo! 🌟 To me, they are finally living up to the potential of the show!

But again, fill in the blanks is a thing with them.

So, when it comes to Malex being back, we have to see their story as a whole, since season 1 and not just the events of season 3.

It's everything that happened between them until now.

Luckily for us, the fill in the blanks exercise is much easier to do and to be convinced by it because:

Vlamis and Tyler understood the assignment

Props, props to them. The chemistry between these two is absurd. It's organic, they play off each other so very well and it shows ever since 1x01. Chef's chef's kiss 😘

Michael and Tyler clearly love these characters and love the story they carry. They are invested in telling it right and they do it effortlessly.

Malex doesn't need to have a single line of dialogue and we still can sense their deep love for each other.

To have this kinda of dynamic in a show it's gold. A story can be well written but can reach another level depending who is portraying it. It can be so much more, for the best.

RNM was perfect on the cast of the cosmic not-so-idiots-anymore love story.

If Malex is the fan favorite duo it is, it's because Vlamis and Tyler delivered and keep delivering on each episode.

So everything about 3x08 was a culmination of fill in the blanks, the narrative of 3 and a half seasons and everything in between.

>>>Malex wasn't rushed<<<

These two characters have been in love for 12-13 years.

They genuinely, sincerely, with all they have love each other despite all the chaos surrounding them.

They've tried to run away from it, tried to move on from it, and they still ended up heading towards the other.

Michael is in love with Alex. Always has been, always will. Alex is in love with Michael. Always has been, always will.

That's just the way it is in this little alien story. 👽

Alex poured his heart into a song because he has never been able to say the words. "Wish I found the words when we were 17".

Michael heard the lyrics but walked away because he still was a few steps behind Alex. Not in terms of love, but in terms of moving on from trauma. "Alex is past that. He's past you. He's past me" 💔💔💔

So season 3 begins.

A year has gone by and Michael was hopeful to see Alex again. He didn't walk away in 2x13 because he didn't want to be with Alex, but because he did. Alex, on the other hand, was trying to move forward since Michael left.

For these two cosmic idiots with no communication skills whatsoever, Malex was officially just friends. With tons of baggage, but just that.

The sadness in Michael's eyes when he saw Alex at the bus station with somebody else. 💔

Then, Forrest presented two options for Alex. Walk away from crazy discoveries or stay and go deep into DS. The minute Alex said "aliens?" We knew Alex reasoning behind the question.

He definetely would choose finding out more about the aliens his family was obsessed with. And he did make that choice. Because that choice ultimately meant and revealed he was not ready to walk away from Michael.

Michael, in the chaos of clones and family lineage, went to see Alex in 3x03 and harsh truths were delivered by Alex but, again, it was everything Michael needed to hear.

Even though we could see Alex was trying to hold his own when it came to Michael, in the end of harsh sincerity, he could not resist to say: "wait". And then, he gave Michael the push to progress.

They stayed apart, figuring their own things out. 6 and 3/4 episodes apart.

After a few days in Roswell time, their paths crossed again. Turned out they were working the same case, kinda.

And then 3x08 hit 🔥

They have been apart for most of the first half of the season and with two interactions full of tension. But the story that led up to 3x08 put things in perspective.

And Alex was the one to see it.

If 3x08 taught us something, it's that Alex Manes can put his emotions aside and see things with analytical skills.

With a psycho alien dictator on the loose and with an emotional connection to his cosmic cowboy idiot, Alex needed to step up to handle hot headed Michael and make sure he was safe.

He saw that if he kept defensive, Michael would too.

So, he let his guard down and told the truth. About DS and about why he joined. He knew Michael would listen if he was sincere.

"I did it for you. A world where you feel safe is not gonna built itself. So I had to try. For us".

Here is two people that know they love each other but they just don't talk about it.

He then used some words again when he had to make sure Michael wasn't going to let his emotions get the best of him.

You could see in Alex's face when he looked at Michael right before sharing the story of how he injured his leg that he had to share that one to make sure Michael would listen.

"I lost a piece of me in many ways [...] Guerin, you are the one piece I can't go through life without".

For somebody who could not find the words for so long, Alex finally found them 🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻

And then, he continued to do so when they were at the Pony, being open and honest about the machine and DS.

>>>1/2 cosmic idiot full circle complete<<

Now onto Michael.

We've seen Michael take huge steps to become better at living and not just being a pit of anger and trauma issues.

It started with "breaking old patterns", for a second went to self loathing again, and then took a whole force with "You decide who you are. If you give up, it's on you".

Michael listened to Alex and decided to be better for "the people that matter". It's not a head scratch to assume along the list of important people that Alex was on the top of it.

We saw Michael on a mission.

Apologizing to Rosa "I didn't think I should have a life if Rosa ortecho didn't". "Maybe there's hope for me too". Protecting Kyle. Working to keep everyone safe.

Michael grew.

And then, he found out Alex hadn't give up on them. He got to see Alex be vulnerable. He got to hear how Alex loves him still.

For a full day there, he didn't have to be defensive because Alex wasn't being it. Michael followed Alex's lead and didn't let his emotions take over him. He followed the plan. He trusted.

Thoroughout 3x08 we saw Michael be better for the person on top of his list.

With defensiveness aside, all Malex moments were gold and everything it should be.

But their last scene, at the Pony, was the culmination of it all. Of the weight of their story, of their growing and their time apart.

At the table, both Alex and Michael found common ground by being clear, honest and by compromising for each other out of their feelings for one another.

Alex by then had brought all his walls downs. His smiles and lightness said it all. Michael saw it. And Michael, well Michael, finally chose talking instead of assuming, accept help instead of rejecting it, work together instead of doing alone.

"Maybe it is". "I completely get it". "One mission at a time". "I'm looking forward to it".

But the last scene though, was them coming together and turning the page with a kiss that was as intense as it was soft, sweet, tender and full of longing.

They went cosmic ... again!

With "I'm confused, though. What mission are you working in right now?", Michael made his move.

He stood up, took his hat off and kissed the love of his life to make it clear that he was fighting for them too. With no room to question who has his heart.

>>> 1/2 of cosmic idiot full circle complete<<<

With sighs of wonder and smiles of relief, Malex turned a chapter in their cosmic story. 💜🌌👽🌟

And it made an universe of sense.

[thedeathdeelers]

just a little bit of magic (you know the rest by heart) ✨

my take on a Juke HP AU for the lovely Taryn @pink-flame on her birthday 🥰🎂 may you have an amazing day/week/month/year, you wonderful human being.

hope you like it!

----

Luke eagerly pulls Julie along as they walk down several corridors, up moving staircases and through low hanging archways. The deeper they walked into the castle, the quieter it got.

He had been jittery all morning, too impatient to pay attention in any of his classes as he counted down the hours and minutes until he was free to find Julie and drag her to his surprise. He’d lost his house countless of house points, his leg bouncing and his mind wandering whenever any of his professors called on him in class.

Alex had tried to help a few times whispering the right answers to him, but unfortunately nothing could help Luke when he got in one of these moods. He was just too excited.

Julie trips on her feet behind him, a reminder that her legs were shorter than his. He shakes his head, bringing himself back to the present as he focuses on the girl next to him. Luke slows down his pace, squeezing Julie’s hand once in apology as he gives her a few seconds to regain her balance.

The last thing he wanted to do was mess this up by having her trip and fall right before his big reveal.

Alex had already nearly blown the entire thing when they had passed him on the fifth floor coming out of the prefects’ bathrooms, forcing Luke to very loudly and purposefully talk over him to stop Julie from hearing anything. When he had realised his mistake, Alex had quickly gone quiet, his features morphing into a sheepish expression as he waved at them, walking away and back towards the Hufflepuff common room.

“Luuuuuke, where are you taking me?" His lips twitch at her whine, finding it to be very endearing. "It’s nearly past curfew and as Prefect I really can’t afford to be caught sneaking around by Harrison again.” He sees her look down at her outfit from the corner of his eye, a look of frustrated confusion taking over her face. "Also why did you tell me to change into my normal clothes under my robe?"

Luke snorts at her words, hopping onto the stairs leading them towards the seventh floor, Julie quickly following suit as the staircase starts moving.

“First of all, Harrison absolutely loves you — she'd probably thank you for being you and then very politely ask you to head back to your tower, and then turn right around and give me 3 months’ worth of detention in the same breath.” He turns his head towards her, throwing her his signature grin. “You’ll be fine. And second of all, you ask too many questions. We’re nearly there -- be patient Young Padawan."

"Young-" She shakes her head, cutting herself off, the muggle reference clicking. Luke grimaces at his choice of words, thinking might be spending a little too much time around Reggie lately. "And where is there, exactly?"

Luke tries very hard not to take the stairs two steps at a time.

"Nuh-uh, I already told you - it's a surprise."

He smiles at the disgruntled noise she makes, knowing just how impatient Julie can be. He sneaks a look at her face from over his shoulder, nearly tripping over the stone steps when he sees a little pout on her lips.

At his fumble, a smirk replaces the pout, her voice coming out cockier than usual. "You good there, Patterson?"

Luke whips his head back around, his eyes flying to his feet and staying fixed on the steps in front of him.

"Yeah," he clears his throat before continuing, "yeah, I'm fine. We're uh- we're nearly there."

"It's what you keep telling me," is her teasing, sing-song reply, her mood apparently shifting at his fumble.

Luke keeps his eyes forward, hoping Julie can't see his reddened cheeks as they reach the seventh floor landing. He stops for a second to let her catch her breath before pulling her along with him again, taking the first left corridor they come across to head towards the Troll tapestry.

He'd been taking this route so many times in the last few weeks, he could probably do this with his eyes closed. He had wanted everything to be perfect, practicing again and again until he was sure he had nailed the process.

Only the best for his Julie Molina.

Their steps echo as they make their way down the seldom used corridor, the flickering lights from the torches casting long shadows on the stone floor ahead of them.

"Merlin, this castle is so creepy sometimes," mutters Julie to his left, shivering slightly as her hand tightens its hold on his.

Luke squeezes back, his eyes zeroing in on the tapestry up ahead. His heart starts to beat faster, the excitement reaching an all-time high, only slightly tainted by the nerves that fought to make their presence known.

Taking a deep breath, Luke slowly lets it out as they reach their destination, stopping and turning to face the large tapestry.

Julie stands next to him, confused as she takes in the scene before her - a group of Trolls in tutus attempting to learn the ballet. He watches her as she follows their movements, zeroing in on Barnabas the Barmy as he attempts to direct the Trolls to his left, while the ones on the right pull out their clubs ready to hit him over the head.

Luke loses focus for a second, too taken by Julie - by her furrowed brows, her scrunched up nose as she leans forward to inspect the design on the tutus, and especially by the way her lips twist before her bottom lip slips between her teeth.

He's only shaken out of his daze, his eyes flying up and away from her lips, when she suddenly turns to him with a quizzical look on her face.

"Is this the Barnabas the Barmy Tapestry? Why are we- wait..." She turns her head back towards the Tapestry, taking in the scene with new eyes. "I remember reading about this in Hogwarts: A History years ago...It was the chapter about the many hidden magical rooms in Hogwarts and..." She trails off as she looks at him, her eyes widening. She lets go of his hand, slowly turning in place to face the wall behind them - the one right across from the Tapestry.

"Wait....Isn't this-"

Luke rushes to cut her off, quickly turning around and stepping up in front of her to block her view of the wall, in a hurry to derail her train of thought.

"Okay! So, if you could stand right," he places his hands on either side of her waist, pulling her forward as he walks backwards, positioning her right in the middle of the corridor. "Here."

His hands don't move once she's in place, his fingers brushing against smooth warmth right where a sliver of skin peaks out between her t-shirt and the top of her jeans. He had somehow slid his hands under her open robes without even realising it.

His eyes fly up to meet hers, already wide and staring. They stand there in the quiet space, both locked in each others' gazes, neither one of them daring to move. Within seconds Luke can already feel the now familiar thrum of electricity that always crackled whenever they were both together. Only this time it felt even more surreal.

If he could, Luke thinks he could stay this way for the rest of the night, of the school year, but he brought her here for a reason, so he loudly clears his throat, effectively breaking some of the tension that had built between them. He lets his hands slip away from her waist as he takes a step back, his fingers still tingling from the contact.

"So just...yeah just stay there for a few seconds, while I..." He trails off as he looks away, turning around to face the bare wall in front of them and trying very hard to refocus on the task at hand.

He closes his eyes, clearing his mind until all he has left is the image of the room he wants to recreate.

Taking a deep breath, he pivots on his right foot and faces the direction they had just come from. He takes a few steps forward then abruptly turns back around and walks back down the corridor, making sure to keep his focus. He stops again once he reaches the edge of the Tapestry, turning back around and repeating the process until he starts hearing the sound of crumbling walls that always preceded the emergence of a large wooden door, seemingly appearing out of nowhere.

Luke opens his eyes to take in the transformation in front of him, only turning to look at Julie when he hears her surprised gasp.

"Luke-" she's cut off by the increasing creaking sound of the door hinges slotting into place, the loud grating out of place on the deserted floor - until suddenly - everything stops. A deafening silence follows, only broken by the crackling of the torches nearby.

Coughing quietly to get her attention, Luke speaks up.

"So...Reggie told us about this room he read about a few weeks ago when we were trying to find a new rehearsal space to use, since, you know, Covington kicked us out of the fifth floor classrooms 'cause he obviously has no taste whatsoever when it comes to real music and loves making everyone miserable, especially Hufflepuffs and-" Luke cuts himself off when he realises he's rambling, rubbing the back of his neck before clearing his throat to continue.

"Yeah well, I asked around to check if this place actually existed and then Willie, you know how Willie likes to listen to us play - although honestly I think he just likes to hang out so he can watch Alex - but anyway, what I'm trying to say is that one of the ghosts from down by the dungeons owed Willie a favour so....ta-da," he finishes lamely, his arms coming up to point towards the door in front of them while wiggling his fingers.

It's quiet for a few seconds, Julie presumably taking it all in.

"You- you found the Room of Requirement?" She asks quietly, sounding almost awed.

"I mean- I had a lot of help from the guys and then Willie and the Bloody-"

"You found it," she cuts him off, her fingers reaching forward as she moves close enough to touch the door.

Luke scratches the back of his head, suddenly feeling shy in her presence.

"Uh, yeah, I guess I did."

He keeps his eyes on her, tracking her movements as she traces the patterns on the door, following the curving decorative loops down the length of the doorframe until her fingers wrap around the protruding metal handle.

"Luke, this is incredible."

The tone of her voice makes his cheeks grow warmer.

"Nah it's nothing," he tries to brush it off, shuffling on his feet, glad that she is too preoccupied with the door to see his continuously reddening cheeks.

She turns to him then, her hand still latching onto the handle.

"It's not nothing! There's a literal betting pool over at Ravenclaw tower to see who can find this place first, and so far no one's done it..." She shakes her head at him, a smile making its way onto her lips. "But you did."

Luke scuffs his shoe against the stone flooring, not sure what to do with himself. He's always been awkward with compliments, especially when they came from Julie.

Apparently Julie eventually takes pity on him, speaking up again.

"So Patterson, what am I going to find behind this door? A record store? That dodgy hot dog place you told me about? I saw you pacing back and forth three times in front of it, so I'm assuming you already have something or somewhere in mind."

She quirks a brow at him, her eyes shining bright with curiosity.

"Yes! That's actually why I brought you here," he chooses to ignore her little digs as he bounces closer to the door, coming to stand right next to her. "So I remember you saying at the start of the year how you've been struggling with music and...y'know...because no matter where you went you just never felt comfortable enough? And then I remembered the studio you always talked about, the one where your mom taught you everything you knew..."

He watches as her expression slowly morphs, her eyes getting wider and her lips parting ever so slightly.

"I asked Flynn to show me if you had any photos of the space and well..." Luke wraps his fingers around the metal chain hanging off his jeans underneath his robe, squeezing tight to keep himself from fidgeting.

Julie continues to stare at him, her expression frozen on her face. It only made him more restless.

Shit, did he take it too far? Was this not what friends did for each other? Sure he had been in love with Julie for years now, but he's been trying really hard to keep it strictly friendly between them, not wanting to ruin anything, especially after having lost her mom.

And Luke likes to think this is definitely something he would have done for either Reggie or Alex.

But maybe her studio back home was something too personal to her? Maybe she wasn't ready?

"Oh Merlin Julie if this is out of line we can just forget this whole thing happened and-"

Suddenly Luke is cut off by a small bundle of limbs and soft curves throwing themselves at him. His arms reach up reflexively, wrapping them around her, his hands coming to rest on the small of her back.

"Thank you," she says, or so he thinks, being the only words he can barely make out, muffled as they are against his t-shirt.

"Of course Julie." He moves his hands up and down her back, a gesture he knows is comforting to her.

The arms wrapped around his neck tighten for a second before she releases him, taking a small step back and wiping at her face with the sleeve of her robe.

He takes in her face, her expression so vulnerable, unsure about what to do next. But then a small smile appears as she nods at his unanswered question. He reciprocates, nodding back with a smile of his own.

He gestures towards the door. "So, want to do the honours?"

He watches as she nods again, taking in a deep breath before turning to face the door once more. With slightly shaking hands, Julie reaches over and wraps her fingers around the handle, twisting it before pushing. The heavy wooden door creaks at the movement, slowly swinging open until they were both standing on the threshold of a brightly lit garage-turned studio space.

Luke only takes a second to check that everything inside is as it should be, before turning back around to look at Julie.

Her eyes widen at the scene that welcomes her, the steps she takes as she crosses over into the space small and tentative. Luke slips in right behind her, taking her hand off the handle before easing the door shut behind them. He keeps her hand in his as she looks around the space, her fingers brushing over everything within her reach - from the throw covering the armchair that greets them on the right, to the trinkets covering the corner shelves on their left. As they gradually move into the studio, the sound of their footsteps alternating from loud to muffled as they cross over the various rugs decorating the space, Julie’s eyes move upwards, her attention momentarily shifting to the ceiling. Luke follows her gaze to see the three hanging chairs he’d debated leaving out, glad to have included now that he sees a wistful smile take place on Julie’s face.

With the late afternoon Californian sunlight streaming in through the windows, the studio almost looks magical, a warm golden glow enveloping the space. Julie’s gaze comes back down as she pulls Luke along with her further into the studio, walking around the baby grand piano, her finger lightly trailing its side, to stand in front of the wall of plants nestled against the glass back wall.

"My mom..." Julie starts, breaking the silence before trailing off as she reaches over to touch the leaves hanging closest to her. "She always said that plants were sacred. She used to tell me and Carlos all these stories about these spirits that lived in each and every single plant on Earth, protecting those who cared for them. Nurturing all those who treated them with love and kindness and respect." Luke takes in the sight of the green foliage, noting how beautiful it looked. "Said tjat our loved ones’ spirits somehow lived in the very roots of these plants.

“Our house has these pots and vases full of flowers and all sorts of plants all over the place - even our garden looks like a jungle!" She lets out a watery laugh, sniffling as she gets on her tiptoes as if on instinct to pull down a green watering pot resting on a shelf above them.

Luke, seeing what Julie wants to do, hurries to pull out his wand from his back-pocket, muttering a quick Aguamenti as he taps the watering pot. Julie shoots him a grateful smile before she starts watering the plants one by one, Luke tucking his wand away into his robe pocket.

“We used to take turns, each of us spending a few minutes or hours watering and pruning every single plant in the house and in here - but my mom was always there anyway, singing to us, to the plants. Keeping us company.” Julie leans forward as she tries to reach the back row. "But when she...when she wasn't around anymore, I- I stopped. I couldn't bring myself to think about her plants or her music or her stories — let alone come in here where everything about this place reminded me of her." Luke gently rubs the back of her hand with his thumb, not wanting to cut her off, but still finding a small way to try and comfort her.

"I guess my dad took care of everything last summer..." Julie trails off as she finishes watering the remaining hanging plants, before placing the watering pot back in its place.

She turns to him, a peaceful smile lighting up her face. "I forgot how soothing it felt to do that. Thank you."

Luke's smile widens at her words, nodding at her in response.

She keeps her eyes locked on his for a few more seconds before averting her gaze, turning back around to face the piano they had walked past earlier.

Julie lets go of his hand as she slowly makes her way towards the instrument, only stopping when she reaches the bench. Luke takes note of her hesitancy to touch the piano, only to then take a deep breath and slip onto the bench, fingers poised over the fall-board.

He slowly walks up behind her, squeezing her shoulder once before moving away.

"Julie, if you need some space or want me to go I can just-"

Her eyes, which had slid shut, pop open at his words as she cuts him off before he can even finish his sentence.

"No! No, this is- Stay. I want you here, really." She looks at him with so much open trust and something else he can't quite place, that Luke doesn’t really know what to say. So instead he just nods at her, pointing at the black couch behind him.

"I'm uh- I'll just go sit there? Give you a few minutes to yourself, yeah?"

At her nod, he takes a step backwards before spinning around on the spot, his shoe squeaking against the wood flooring, jumping over the coffee table and landing on the old weathered couch cushions.

He hears a little giggle behind him, his head whipping up in time to find Julie attempting, and failing, to smother the sound. His pokes his tongue out at her in response even as warmth blooms in his chest at the sound of her laughter.

She shakes her head at him before averting her eyes and focusing the piano before her, slowing reaching out to lift the fall-board.

He can see the anticipation and fear and love and grief and happiness swirling in her eyes, noticed the way her fingers shake as they hover over the keys. His own fingers dig into his knees, forcing himself to stay still, to stay quiet, as he witnesses a moment that truly is monumental for Julie.

He watches her as she takes another deep breath, squaring her shoulders as if ready for battle. She nods to herself once right before her fingers land on the keys, music instantly filling every corner of the studio, every corner of his soul.

Luke has always been sensitive to music - he thinks that's why he's always been good at picking up new instruments so quickly, at finding the right words and melodies and blending them together to create something new and exciting. But the feeling that courses through him as he listens to Julie singing takes him completely by surprise. It's like a physical punching him in the gut, squeezing his heart and taking his breath away all at once. He sits there, stunned, as he listens to Julie inadvertently command his full attention, singing her heart out.

He thinks it must be an original, because he doesn’t recognise it at all.

Her face goes through a rollercoaster of emotions, pain leaking through as she makes her way through the first pre-chorus.

And you use your pain,

‘Cause it makes you you,

Thought I wish I could hold you through it

I know it’s not the same

You got living to do

And I just want you to do it

But then just as she reaches the end, gearing up for what feels like the chorus, Luke sees determination take its place.

So get up, get out, relight that spark,

You know the rest by heart

Julie dives into the chorus, full of energy and hope, another one of her many smiles suddenly changing the tone of the song.

She makes her way through the second verse, pre-chorus and chorus in the same vain, the energy around her building and building, Luke’s heart beat matching it.

The song reaches its crescendo, her voice climbing as it builds on every note it hits, Julie getting to her feet, spreading her arms wide as she gets to the high note. A look of peaceful acceptance crosses her face before she eases the songs to it’s final chorus, settling back down onto the bench, singing and playing softly as the song comes to an end, the last two words ringing in the quiet studio.

Wake up

All Luke can do is stare with his mouth hanging open as Julie lowers her hands onto her lap, her eyes closed, chest heaving. He had always known that Julie was a powerhouse, always known that music coursed through her veins right along her magic, but he had never heard her sing the way she just had. Not with the full force of her voice as so many raw emotions filtered through.

It left him reeling. He needed to catch his breath.

If he wasn't already in love with her, he knows he'd be head over heels for her after what he had just witnessed.

He's pulled out of his daze when Julie moves, her eyes open as she stands up and steps away from the bench, slowly moving towards him.

Luke scrambles to shuffle down the sofa making space for her to sit, only to be surprised when she chooses to sit on his lap, her arms wrapping around his neck as she burrows her face in his neck.

It takes him a few seconds to react, his body frozen and unable to process.

"I know I keep saying this but....thank you," she whispers, voice unstable, her lips sending shivers down his spine as they brush against the skin of his neck.

The movement snaps him out of his stupor, his arms coming up to fully wrap around her, pulling her closer to his chest as he leans back against the couch cushions.

"I told you," he says, resting his chin over her head of curls, "anything for you, Julie."

Her fingers curls into the fabric of his t-shirt, pulling herself closer to him at his words.

They stay that way for a while, Julie’s breathing eventually easing into a calm rhythm.

Luke stays quiet, understanding her need to absorb everything she had just gone through, happy to just hold her in his arms. When she does break the silence, her voice comes out a little more composed.

"I- that was a song my mom wrote for me before she- when she found out..." Her whisper trails off into silence, the pain in her voice squeezing at his heart.

Luke tightens his arms around her.

"You don't have to explain it to me, Jules, it's okay."

"No I- I want to."

Luke relents, nodding at her words as he patiently waits for her to continue.

"I found the song right before leaving home back in September, and when I saw it...it just hurt too much. I couldn't even get past the title." She releases her grip on his shirt only to start tracing random patterns on his arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind.

“I packed it up and brought it with me thinking I’d be able to read it once settled in my dorm, a space my mom’s never been in but — it took me months to even take it out again, and then a few more months after that just to read through the whole thing. That first time I was a mess," she laughs, a small quiet sound. "Flynn was so close to dragging me to Madam Pomfrey but I managed to convince her I was okay-ish. And then after that it slowly started becoming a little easier every time I read through it until one day I just knew the full song by heart." She stops talking for a few minutes, lost in her own thoughts as she continues her ministrations on his arm. "But even then I still couldn't get myself to sing it, I was always so scared that once I did, it meant that my mom really was gone, that the last piece I had connecting me to her was over and I couldn't bear it..."

Luke's heart drops at her words, an apology ready on the tip of his tongue.

"But the minute I walked into our studio again, this studio, after watering those plants and being able to share all of her stories about spirits and magic and life always being around even after death with you, it just...clicked." She lifts her head up from her hiding place, finally locking eyes with him. "I carry her with me, in everything I do. And I know that I would have eventually figured this out myself, probably once I went back home over the summer, maybe, but..." Julie places her hand against his cheek, her fingers warm against his skin. "It wouldn't have been the same, and I- well, thank you. Again." She tilts her head, looking at him from under her lashes with a smile so radiant on her face, all he can do is nod, turning his head to press a kiss against the palm of her hand.

He feels her fingers twitch against his face, a hitch in her breathing as he looks back up at her.

He finds her looking at him, eyes wide and open, looking both tired and fully awake with dried tear tracks down her cheeks, her bun falling apart with loose curls bending at weird angles from a long day of classes, but all he can think is how beautiful she is. How much he loves her and everything she is, and he tries to hard to stop himself but-

"I love you.”

The words spill out, unable and unwilling to stay locked up anymore. His own eyes widen at his confession, regret flooding in the second he says it.

"I- I- I," he tries to backtrack, to fill the silence, anything, but now that the words are out in the open, his brain and mouth seem to have detached, neither one wanting to cooperate with the other.

Julie stares at him, her eyes somehow growing larger, her mouth forming into the shape of an "o".

“Oh.”

Luke braces himself for her rejection, prepares himself to feel the cold air rush in the minute she moves off of his lap.

But instead, Julie brings up her other hand to fully cup his face, her mouth stretching out into a full blown grin.

"You love me?" she asks, breathless.

Luke, too stunned to do anything else, simply nods at her question.

“You love me," she repeats, this time more of a statement than a question.

She surprises again him by laughing, a lovely melodious sound that pulls the laughter out of him, joining her in her mirth as he chuckles quietly along in his confusion.

"I'm sorry I'm not- I'm not laughing at you," she tries to get out between laughs, her smile still present on her face. "I'm just in disbelief, I-" She shakes her head, laughter quietening down as her thumbs swipe along his cheekbones.

"I love you too."

Those four words take him by surprise, affecting him in a way even her singing hadn’t, his mind spinning, heart racing, entire being vibrating.

Julie Molina loved him.

She loved him too.

He takes his time to commit this moment, her face, the feel of her weight on his lap and the warmth of her hands against his cheeks, to memory. His eyes roam her face, taking in every detail, before they finally land on her smiling lips.

He briefly thinks back to all the moments he had wished he could kiss her, taste her smile and her joy and happiness - and share in that glow that always seemed to be uniquely hers.

He now smiles at that thought, thinking that maybe he might actually be able to experience the one thing he had always craved but thought was off-limits.

Lifting his eyes back up to meet her, Luke leans slightly forward, in askance, in invitation. When she reciprocates his movements, Luke brings both his hands up from behind her back, cupping her face as he pulls her closer to him, ending years’ worth of pining.

That night was the first time of many that Luke Patterson was given the privilege of tasting Julie Molina's smile.

fin

[starryeyedweeb]

Walking In On Your Fave Anime Blondes Singing Along to Dolly Parton’s “Dumb Blonde”

Content Includes: Honestly, this could be read as either platonic or romantic- it’s basically borderline crack meant to give you a smile and some laughs. All underaged characters are aged up to 18+. Gender neutral reader, some language

Characters Included: Armin Arlert, Kurapika Kurta, Hawks/Takami Keigo, Tsukishima Kei, Gojou Satoru, Bakugou Katsuki

“Just because I’m blonde, don’t think I’m dumb. Because this dumb blonde ain’t nobody’s fool.”

Armin

This is actually his power song

Before important meetings and strategy sessions where he’s slated be a big presenter, you’ll always hear him mumbling the same words over and over again under his breath, but you can never make out what they are

Until one day when you’re able to connect the dots 

One such meeting was coming up, and you leave for it before Armin does

He had just told you that he’s not quite ready to leave yet, but doesn’t explain why

You don’t think much about it and carry on, until you realize that you left a part of your harness at home and have to turn back

As you walk back through the door, you notice the sound of singing coming from his bedroom

The voice is distinctively Armin’s, and seeing as you’ve never heard him sing before, you’re actually quite excited

You sneak in as quietly as possible, and much to your amusement, you find him singing to himself in the mirror, pointing back at himself and belting the words almost aggressively

“Because this dumb blonde ain’t nobody’s fool!”

You wanted to sneak away and pretend you never saw anything, but you can’t resist bursting out into laughter

He jumps around and yelps, his face turning cherry red

“Y/N! I thought you left! I, um...I- this was...”

“Oh, my god.” A realization dawns on you. “Is that what you’re always whispering under your breath when you’re nervous?”

“Um...yeah. It just makes me feel stronger, I guess. I know, it’s so stupid...”

“No, it’s so cute! I promise,” you assure him. “And it’s fitting.”

“Really?”

“Of course! Even though you’re blonde, there’s not a dumb bone in your body.” You wrap him in a hug. “And you definitely aren’t anybody’s fool. Never let yourself be convinced otherwise.”

Kurapika

He’s had a bad day at work.

A really bad day.

He bursts through the front door one evening, eyes bright crimson, absolutely raving about how sick he was of being pushed around and treated like he’s less than he is, spewing out ultimatums such as “To hell with the intel, I’m never going back to being a bodyguard ever again.”

To cheer him up and to get away until his anger could simmer down, you offer go pick up his favorite meal

And as you approach the door with the food in hand, you hear something odd on the other side

You cautiously open the door and peer inside, discovering Kurapika yelling along to the popular song

No, seriously- yelling

There’s no sense of song to his cadence whatsoever, he’s just hollering louder than you’ve ever thought him capable of

He’s also pulled out a basket of laundry and has started throwing it around the room as he continues on his rampage

(It was the least destructive thing he could take his anger out on)

You tiptoe over to put the food on the counter, but he’s still yet to notice you

When he shows no signs of stopping, his eyes growing redder by the second, you eventually clear your throat

“Pika, what are you doing?”

He stops with a jolt, the ending notes of the song fading away in the background

The red of his eyes drops down to his face as he realizes what you just saw

“y/n...how long have you been standing there?”

“Since the first chorus.” You choke down a giggle. “I didn’t know you liked that song.”

“I don’t, I just...” He rubs the back of his neck. “Silly as this is, it’s just the best way I’ve found to relieve my petty stress in a safe way.”

“So... this is something you do often?”

His face grows so red you think it might burst. “...yes.”

You two stare at each other for a few moments, then simultaneously burst into laughter

The kind where your entire body shakes, your stomach hurts, and tears spill from your eyes

When he doubles over to catch his breath, you cross the room to wrap him in a hug, rocking back and forth

“Can I join in next time?” you teasingly ask. “It looks fun.”

Kurapika wipes his cheeks and rolls his eyes with a smile. “Sure, why not? Just don’t tell anyone else.”

Hawks

This was the first time you had ever slept over with Keigo, and what he listens to while getting ready comes as quite a surprise.

He gets up before you do, and you wake to hear strange music coming through the closed bathroom door

You tiptoe over to see what’s going on, sliding the door open as quietly as possible

Not that he would’ve heard you, anyway, because as he’s doing his eyeliner, he’s humming along to the blaring Dolly Parton hit, swaying his hips in time with the beat

When the song reaches its defining line, he pulls the eyeliner pen away from his face and throws his head back, wailing the lyrics to the ceiling with comedic passion

You stifle your laughter behind your hand as he returns to his task, still  oblivious to your presence

Picking a choice moment to reveal yourself, you burst fully into the bathroom and fix him with a mischievous look

“Whatcha listening to?”

He jumps in shock when he spots you, leaving a streak of eyeliner down his cheek

“Fuck!” He exclaims, pouting at the black stripe. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” you tease.

“I mean, it’s not what it looks like.” He avoids eye contact, hunting around for makeup remover. “Don’t you just have a random song that gets you motivated, no matter how stupid it is?”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed.” You hoist yourself up onto the bathroom counter next to him. “Dolly Parton is amazing. ‘Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Joleeeeeeene’.”

“You know what? She is. You’re so right.” He points his eyeliner at you, nodding in aggressive approval. “See? This is why I like you.”

And you can bet your ass that every time you get in the car together from here on out, you’re blaring Dolly Parton

There have been several instances when you’ve shown up to missions with it pounding from the speakers as you sleekly step out of the car, ready to apprehend any villains that dare to cross the pair of you

And it’s the most badass thing ever.

Tsukishima

At this point in your relationship, you thought you had learned all of Tsukishima’s secrets.

You were wrong.

It starts completely innocently, with the two of you going with Yamaguchi for a boba run

And when Tsukishima settles into the driver’s seat, his phone auto-connects to the speakers and sends familiar country twangs through the car at a volume that prompts you to clap your hands over your ears

“Shit!” he mutters, fumbling around, unsure which would do the most damage control: changing the song or muting the volume

“Kei,” you guffaw, “what the hell were you listening to?”

“It was an ad,” he insists, eventually managing to get the volume to a favorable range and select a less-embarrassing song choice

“Don’t let him fool you, Y/N.” Yamaguchi’s head pokes between the two front seats. “Dumb Blonde is one of his favorite songs.”

“And don’t listen to how idiotic Yamaguchi’s being,” Tsukishima bites back, but the pink tinge growing over the top of his ears betrays his lie.

“It’s been one of his top five most played songs for about three years now,” Yamaguchi continues. “I think he relates to it.”

“You’re kidding!”

At this point, you can’t control your giggles, and Kei’s jaw grows tighter by the second

“Yeah, and once he has a couple of drinks in him, he’ll shamelessly belt the hell out of it at karaoke.” Yamaguchi’s gaze flickers to his phone as his finger rapidly scrolls. “Here, I have a video.”

“Yamaguchi, don’t you dare-”

Tsukishima reaches a long arm out to steal the phone, but you grab his hand before he can take it

“Aht aht, Tsukki,” you tease. “You have two passengers that you’re responsible for. Eyes on the road, please.”

As he glowers, Yamaguchi shows you a glorious video of Tsukishima absolutely wailing out the Dolly Parton hit into a karaoke microphone, the teammates around him laughing so hard that they almost appeared to be choking

“That’s amazing!” You squeal, belly hurting from so much laughter. “But I can’t believe that video didn’t spread around like wildfire.”

“Bold of you to assume that I don’t have worse blackmail to use against all of them,” Kei snaps.

“Well, you should know that you’re never going to live this down as far as I’m concerned.”

“I don’t know why it’s such a big deal. Everyone has guilty pleasures.” By this point, his face is the same shade as a tomato, but he fixes you with a knife-like gaze that strikes fear into your heart. “Shall I start listing yours?”

Gojou

(i know he’s technically silver/platinum but he just has blonde energy okay)

The last thing you expect to come home to after a long day of work is Dolly Parton music blaring through your home

And you expect even less to find Gojou standing on the couch, belting the song at the top of his lungs

Beyond the initial shock, you have to admit that he actually sounds quite good, hitting each note to perfection and performing the song with subtle corresponding choreography

“Gojou!” You eventually shout. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Oh, good! You’re home.” He deftly hops off the couch and approaches you with a grin. “I’ve been wanting your opinion on my act.”

“Your act?”

“Yes! The school staff has an annual karaoke contest coming up. I do this song every year, and it’s undefeated.”

“Every year? How have I never known about this?”

“I actually don’t have any idea. I have videos. I’ll show them to you, if you’d like.”

“You’re a little too proud of that,” you giggle. “But if it’s undefeated, why do you need my opinion on it?”

“Because everyone always conspires to try and beat me. I have to keep it fresh. But lately, it’s just been feeling stale.” He furrows his brows, a finger going to his chin in contemplation.

“How are you so serious about this but so carefree when you’re literally about to die?” You grab his elbows and give them a small shake. “Anyway, what I saw certainly didn’t seem stale. Seems like you were having a pretty good time.”

“A good time just isn’t enough anymore...”

You clap a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter as he paces around the room, more serious than you’d ever seen him

Over a karaoke contest to a Dolly Parton song

He snaps his fingers as he finally comes to his realization, approaching you with a sinister smile

“I’ve got it! You should perform it with me.”

“Are you serious? No! No no no.”

“Come on, don’t be so closed-minded.” Gojou grabs your hand and yanks you up onto the couch with him. “Give it a shot.”

After much protesting on your part and much silly encouragement on his, you try it out to pacify him, and end up being quite the dynamic duo

As he wished, you perform the comedic act at the karaoke contest, and satisfy Gojou by maintaining his undefeated record

“You know that you owe me big time now, right?” you ask as he admires the cheap trophy he’s just been handed.

He grins, draping his long arm over your shoulders. “Anything you want, you’ve got it.”

Bakugou

Bakugou discovers the song after Kirishima and Denki put it on his playlist as a joke

Denki had the bright idea to give Bakugou the nickname “dumb blonde” and figured that the prank would be the start of it all

Needless to say, it didn’t go over very well

There was yelling

And a few punches thrown

You eventually have to pull him away, imploring him to calm down

“I’m not going to calm down until that piece of shit is off my playlist.”

You promptly take his phone and hold it in front of him, removing the offending song

“See? Gone. Now please chill out.”

Flash-forward to a week or so later

You happen to walk into the gym for a late night run on the treadmill while he’s there doing weights

Since he was alone before you entered, his music is hooked up to the central sound system, blaring some heavy metal song as he softly hums along in time with his breaths

You don’t think anything of it, giving him a small wave and going to put your own earbuds in

Until the barely-perceptible lyrics seem a little familiar

You pause to listen for a moment, and shoot him a look of shock when you realize that he is, in fact, listening to a heavy metal cover of Dumb Blonde.

“Is this-”

“Shut up,” he snaps, avoiding eye contact and continuing to pump the machine with frightening intensity.

“How did you even find a cover like this?”

“Shut. Up.”

“I’m just so-”

“It just helps me work out, okay?” He lets the weight drop with a sharp clang. “Don’t you fucking dare tell anyone about this.”

You raise your hands in surrender. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Good. Now get on with your workout and let me finish mine.”

He focuses his fiery gaze on the faraway wall, but strangely doesn’t bother to change or turn off the song

And you can’t resist pulling your phone out, pretending to take a selfie while you’re actually, in fact, filming him behind you

“I can see you, stupid,” he snaps. “I’m serious. I’ll fucking kill you.”

You jump in fear, the phone falling from your hands.

“I wasn’t!” You fib. “Besides, it’s away now.”

But little did he know, you had already captured everything you needed to see, and the footage was already on its way to Kirishima and Denki

You know that you’re beyond dead once he finds out what you had done, but the amusement of it all is beyond worth it

Besides, maybe now he’d think twice before the next time he makes fun of someone.

[gubler-me-up]

Not a Day Too Soon

Request: Spencer Reid on his wedding day hands the reader a receipt whilst at the altar instead of starting his vows and asks them to read the date and it turns out it’s like one month after their first date and then he asks the reader to read what the receipt is for and it was for their engagement ring and he’s just “that’s how long I’ve been sure. That’s how long I’ve wanted this to happen” and they’re both just crying sappy dorks getting married

A/N: Thanks for the request, anon! Hope this is what you dreamed of when you submitted this request to me. I hope I met all your expectations for sappy fluff! From your request, I decided to make the reader gender-neutral if that’s okay with you!! There wasn’t a specific gender specified and I wasn’t sure if it was done intentionally or not, but I hope you still love it! (Also, to anyone reading, I put a father walking the reader down the aisle, but you totally can substitute someone else in placement of a father)

Couple: Spencer Reid/Gender-Neutral!reader

Category: Wedding fluff

Content warning: None whatsoever

Word count: 2.4k

Notes: Y/F/F=Your favourite flower Y/B/F=Your best friend Y/M/N=Your middle name Y/L/N=Your last name 

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

Today was the beginning of the rest of your life with Spencer. For the last two years it had already felt as if you two had known each other centuries before. Every moment with him was undeniably time well spent. Every moment felt as if you had lived it and were reliving the best parts in an endless wheel of dreams. Marrying Spencer Reid was probably the peak of your forever happiness.

You stood in front of the mirror in your dressing room to look over everything. Your makeup had been flawlessly done and so was your hair. You were so nervous your eyeliner would smudge or your foundation wouldn’t match somehow. You had to admit it looked absolutely flawless. Your makeup artist was definitely worth every penny.

You admired your wedding attire one last time. The BAU girls and some of your friends had accompanied you to pick your perfect wedding attire. It took several hours but you were satisfied with your choice. You don’t remember the last time you ever felt so beautiful. Today was destined to be the best day of your life.

“Y/N, you ready?” You heard your dad ask from behind you.

You turned around and smiled. “Of course.”

You walked over to him and linked your arm with his. He handed you your bouquet of Y/F/F. He guided you out of the dressing room and out into the long hallway leading outside. He couldn’t stop telling you how beautiful you looked and how happy he was for you. You had to stop yourself from letting your tears fall from your eyes. You couldn’t bear messing up your mascara before meeting Spencer at the alter. You knew you would be shedding plenty of tears throughout the day, but you wanted to at least make it down the aisle tear-free.

You two made it out into the courtyard venue and the beautiful clear skies greeted you. The sun warmed your cheeks as a smile spread across your face. Spencer was standing at the altar in his black tuxedo with a cute black bowtie and from what you could see he was still wearing his famous mismatched socks. You couldn’t ask to marry anyone better ever in your life.

Everyone looked at you as you walked down the aisle. You could hear breathy ‘oh wow’s’ and ‘they looks gorgeous’ from the crowd of family and friends. Your eyes were still set on Spencer though. He covered his mouth in amazement as he watched you walk towards him. His joy couldn’t be held any longer as you saw a few tears escape his eyes. He removed his hand from his mouth to wipe them away. His covered smile was now beaming as he continued watching you in all your beauty. Derek, who was his best man, had to rub his back to give him some composure again.

As you reached the altar, you looked at your dad and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He held your hands tight in his, squeezing them tight before letting go. You knew he was about to shed tears of his own by how red his eyes were.

“I love you, Y/N. I’m so happy for you,” he said.

“I love you too,” you said.

He went to go take his seat as you went to your designated spot across from Spencer. Y/B/F grabbed your bouquet from your hands. Spencer reached out for your hands and you didn’t hesitate to place yours in his. You held his hands tight in yours, happy he was here with you. He looked even more handsome up close. His smile was so joyous you couldn’t help to reflect it back.

Rossi soon walked in to meet both of you in the middle of the altar to begin the ceremony. You and Spencer hadn’t gotten a real pastor since neither of you were that big on religion and decided to just have a wedding officiant instead and to your surprise Rossi was a certified one. You saved yourselves a couple of bucks in exchange for a few sarcastic remarks and tasteful humour.

“Well, if I’m thinking what everyone else is thinking than my answer is yes, it is about time someone other than myself to get married,” he began and got a ton of laughs in response.

He looked at the both of you, who were laughing, but both of you were laughing while looking deeply into each other’s eyes as if you were in your own world. He even noticed that you two were whispering “I love you” to each other already and you were slowly, but surely tearing up.

“They’re already saying “I love you” to each other. Hello, kids, this is a wedding ceremony, not a date. Save the I love you’s for either the Honeymoon or the bedroom,” Rossi joked.

Everyone laughed, even you and Spencer, as you two finally got over yourselves. You took the time to wipe an escaped tear from your eye and regained yourself by taking a deep breath. Rossi cleared his throat to get everyone settled, so he could proceed with the ceremony quicker since he believed that you and Spencer would rather spend your wedding privately at that point.

“But being serious now, we’re gathered here to join these two dorks in holy matrimony. I’m glad that we could all be here today to join Spencer Walter Reid and Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N as one big Doctorate degree,” he joked again.

Both you and Spencer looked at each other with approval. You two had spent your money wisely when you decided to spare the pastor and hire Rossi instead. He brought something so tedious to life.

“Proceeding, in the presence of family, friends and loved ones, I’m going to go ahead and initiate this whole thing. Ever since these two were born, they’ve been meant for each other, but it took fate to match them up at the right time. We’re also here to celebrate the good in life that has come from the bad and trust me, they make bad look like a schoolyard bully. I’m honoured to bind these two souls together and I’m overjoyed to not be the one saying the vows because I forgot them, so please, Spencer, let your lovely partner know how you feel.”

Spencer smiled and took a deep breath as he let go of your hands to reach into his pocket. He pulled out a piece of folded paper. He let out a soft chuckle as he looked up from the paper to you. You stared at him, eagerly awaiting him to say his vows. You were kind of surprised he had to write down his vows. Maybe an eidetic memory was good to a fault. To your surprise though, he handed you the paper.

“Y/N, read the date on the receipt,” he said.

You looked at him confused, but followed his instructions. This was definitely an unexpected move on Spencer’s part, but then again he was always full of surprises. You opened up the receipt and looked at the top for the date.

“June 3rd,” you said.

“You know what day it was a month prior to that date?” He asked.

You giggled as you remembered. “How could I forget? It was our first date.”

He smiled. “Exactly. Can you read what the receipt was for?”

You looked back down at the receipt. You went to the items listed and only saw one. As soon as you read it, you felt tears form in your eyes again. You looked up at him and as soon as he saw the look on your face, he knew you saw what he bought. You could also see tears starting to form in his eyes again.

“An…an engagement ring,” you said as you tried your best to hold back your tears.

“Yes, an engagement ring. That’s how long I’ve been sure we were meant to be. That’s how long I’ve wanted this moment to happen. I bought the engagement ring a month after our first date with the intention of marrying you one day. All that I have, all that I am, all that I’ll ever be is yours forever. From the very moment I saw you, I knew you were the one for me, the one that I knew I had to spend the rest of my life with. Our courtship was one of the best days of my life, for you have become not just my lover and companion, but also my best friend. I want to be your lover, your companion and your best friend for the rest of my life. I promise to love and cherish you, to keep you close and with faithfulness, to be your prop and helpmate in times of need, to make you laugh and to hold you when you cry, to hold you to the highest respect and honor as you so deserve for the rest of my life,” he said as a few tears escaped his eyes.

As he said every word, you felt it sting the depths of your heart as no other words have done before. The love that rolled off his tongue, every word he said overwhelmed you with content. You looked lovingly in his eyes as he looked back at you with a warm smile that you could never get enough of. It made you thrilled to think that you would be seeing that face for the rest of your life and you had no regrets about that decision.

Knowing a month from the first day you two met was the day he decided he wanted to be with you for the rest of his life was the best feeling your heart ever felt. You were overjoyed Spencer had felt as deeply for you as you did him from the start. The love he gave you would never grow old to you not even after death. His love would probably still warm you from the grave through its endless warmth.

“Y/N,” Rossi said. “Go ahead.”

You took a deep, jagged breath. “I have dreamed my whole life of having someone as…as wonderful as you to love me the way you do. I give myself to you and I…I gladly promise here to treasure for all of my days the love we celebrate today. Let us bring together our lives and find ourselves anew each day…Sorry.”

A few tears started to stream down your face. Spencer took his right hand and wiped away your tears, gently enough, so he didn’t mess up the hours of perfecting your makeup for the occasion. He gently whispered to you to take your time because he knew how much this meant to you and how overwhelmed you were. You smiled at his touch, as you seemed to breathe a bit easier from his reassurance. You took another breath before continuing.

“You are a precious gift to me, my springtime, my hope and my joy. You are everything that's good and pure and true and I worship you with my mind, body and soul. How lucky I am to be able to say that you are mine, to be able to love and cherish you for the rest of my days. I vow to always put you first in my life, always be there to comfort you in your sorrow and rejoice with you in your victories. May our hearts and very breath become one as we unite this day as partners in life. I promise to be your true love from this day forward and forevermore.”

He beamed a big grin at you as a few more tears left his eyes. It was your turn to use your hand as tissue and wiped away his tears. Tears were still flowing down your own eyes as you found it hard to hold back your happiness. From ear shot you could hear some people in the audience crying from joy and letting out sweet awe’s as they watched the two of you being in deep love with one another.

“I don’t think I could have said that better and I’ve been married three times. Before these two crying dorks become dehydrated from water loss, let’s get to the ring exchange. Henry, the rings, please,” Rossi said.

Henry, who was standing by Spencer’s side, lifted up the pillow to give the two white gold rings to you both. You and Spencer took each other’s ring, waiting for the instructions from Rossi to initiate the ring exchange.

“Spencer, as you put the ring on Y/N’s finger, repeat after me: I, Spencer Reid, take you, Y/N Y/L/N, to be my partner.”

“I, Spencer Reid, take you, Y/N Y/L/N, to be my partner. I promise you love, honour and respect, to be faithful to you and forsaking all others, until death do us part,” Spencer finished as he eagerly slipped your wedding ring on your finger.

“Or not. Y/N, your vow,” Rossi said.

“I, Y/N Y/L/N, take you, Spencer Reid, to be my partner. I promise you love, honour and respect, to be faithful to you and forsaking all others, until death do us part,” you said as you slipped his ring on his ring finger.

“I don’t think I really have to ask this since you basically said it, but Spencer, do you take Y/N as your lawfully wedded partner till death do you part?” Rossi asked.

“I do,” he responded.

“Y/N, do you take Spencer as your lawfully wedded partner?” he asked.

“I do,” you said.

“Well, I know you two have been waiting for this exact moment since June 3rd, so you may now kiss.”

He didn’t even have to tell either of you that as you two immediately locked lips as he finished his sentence and enjoyed your first kiss as lifelong partners. You had to admit, it felt pretty good, maybe even better than any other kiss you two had.

Everyone stood up as they cheered for you both, some crying at the sight of two souls becoming one. As you parted lips, both of you looked deep into each other’s eyes and smiled brightly at each other. You had only been married for a minute and already started to mimic each other. The pianist started to play a tune for you two to walk out with. Spencer immediately grabbed your hand as you grasped his with great strength as he led the way down the aisle as your guests watched and cheered for your happiness and future lives together.

—–

MASTERLIST

[beskarberry]

Garden of Ishtar

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 9

(The Mandalorian x f!reader) (+18)

"The Universe has a strange way of granting wishes"

<-Previous Next->

Rating: holy shit Explicit

Word count: 15.8k

Content warnings: SEX POLLEN + BREEDING KINK + PREGNANCY KINK with an extra kinky twist! (Dubcon/use of mind altering substances by non-sentient creature/ovipos) Side kinks: dom/alpha, praise, begging, denial, overstim, bonus somnophila. Obvious favorites of p in v, finger blasting, oral f receiving, multiple orgasms and then some. Big gooey heaps of fluff to make up for all the filth. I tried.

A/N: Weird shit happens in space, and this chapter is no exception. This is the most kinks I've crammed into one chapter, almost zero story progression whatsoever, it's just smutty smut the whole way though. Good luck and may the force be with you because you're gonna need it.

“Well, which one do you want?”

“You pick.”

“Fuck no, I picked the last one, you can pick the next.”

It was a bright, lovely, sunshiny day on the forest moon of Endor, the fine weather a stark contrast from how it had been when you had landed. You had opened the access ramps on the Crest to get some fresh air circulating while you made preparations to head towards your next target, but you had to pick a target first.

On a supply crate that you had pushed into the middle of the cabin like a dining room table sat three little pucks, their bounties still as mysterious as they had been when you had wantonly pulled them off of Karga’s countertop. As far as you were concerned it was Din’s turn to pick, and though death was just an occupational hazard in your line of work, there had been too many brushes with the reaper during your last hunt for you to be comfortable picking again.

Leaning against the wide open doorframe you took a deep breath of the fresh, rain-scrubbed air, letting it fill your lungs and clear your head. It was a little humid, though it might have been the nicest day you had seen in a long time. Outside on the dampish grass the foundling was chasing some kind of pretty insect, hopping about trying to catch the elusive critter. It was good for him to get a chance to stretch his legs, no matter how short they were, and you giggled at his antics when he tripped and fell. He squealed and rolled through the grass before he was bounding after another fluttering creature. Without the violent storms the mini-moon was peaceful, serene almost, and in another lifetime maybe you would have settled down here; though you couldn’t imagine being anything besides a hunter. I wonder if that will ever change.

“Really, cyare, you pick.” Sitting across from you, Din was cleaning the last bit of mud from his armor, the thick muck having long dried into a chunky, flaky mess. Everything but the plate he had in his hands now shimmered like spilled mercury over his chest and shoulders, catching the dappled sunbeams that filtered in through the open doors. Your argument over who got to pick the next puck had ground to a stand still, and you were getting frustrated, but not frustrated enough that you would yield.

“It’s not my turn, it’s your turn.” He just shook his head, diligently scrubbing the dirt from the details of the mudhorn on his pauldron without realizing the irony of his efforts. He set the cleaned metal to his shoulder, the clack of its fasteners echoing faintly in the open hold. The Mandalorian sat up straight, leaning his helmeted head against the hull wall and patting his knees, expectantly waiting for you to make your choice. Something about his armored appearance gave you a stupid idea, and you sauntered up to him with a cocky grin. “I’ll fight’cha for it.”

“You’ll what?” The black gloss of his visor tilted sharply, as though you had just grown a second head.

“Fight me! Loser has to pick the puck.” You kicked the tips of his boots and brought your fists up, playfully making soft, slow jabs towards him. He huffed, like he wasn’t used to you having bright ideas by now.

“I’m not going to fight you, cyar’ika, just pick a damn puck already.”

“Them's fightin’ words.” Your knuckles went pap pap pap in quick succession against the hexagonal indent on his chest. “What’re’ya afraid you’re gonna lose?”

He lazily swatted at you, barely even trying to block your attack. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Ha! As if!” You whipped your head forward, sending the beskar you wore on your crown sliding down over your eyes, letting the quicksilver flash of its curved surfaces tell him you meant business. Your jabs got a little meaner, though if you hit him too much harder his own beskar would probably break your fingers. Between his metal plates were a few soft spots, and you honed in on them with sneaky digits. Din jerked visibly when you got the one right under his chest piece, and a swift arm came up and caught your next offence. “Ohoho, so you are awake, I was beginning to think you had fallen asleep on me.”

“I’m not going to hit you.” His words came through his modulator like gravel, irritated that you would even think he would lay a hand on you. Shrugging, you knocked him right in the forehead with the heel of your palm, making his helmet clonk against the durasteel. The next jab you threw was caught and thrown back to you, him tossing your fist away. You went for him again, but when he grabbed both your fists you were pushed back with the force of him rising from his seat. He marched you backwards and shoved you away, then brought his vambraces up in a defensive block, ready for the next attack.

You took one last glance at the foundling, who was sitting sweetly in the grassy meadow, absently trying to catch motes of pollen that were floating by, before launching into your assault. Your fists stung at him with reckless abandon, not enough to actually hurt either of you, though he probably wouldn’t have felt it anyway under his pile of armor. Mando blocked everything you hurled at him, making good on his promise not to hit you, but that was taking all the fun out of it. “Come on, rust bucket, stand up for yourself!” He took everything you gave, deflecting every thrown fist and slowly inching his way closer to you until you were taking steps back to open up your jabs.

“You really want me to fight you? Fine.” He barked, whacking your next punch away. You jumped back to dodge a rapid slew of hook shots, cackling like a lunatic that you had gotten your wish granted.

“Yes! Come on, big boy, fight me! Let’s go! I’m gonna kick your- ass!” Din lunged at you, tackling you like a linebacker and throwing you against the wall. Cornered, you snapped your head forward and rang his bell, disorienting him enough that you could drop out of his grasp and dash out between his legs. He turned on you in an instant, and you made ‘come at me bro’ hands at him before he was on you again. He swiped with a left hook, chuffing you lightly on the shoulder while you socked him back; though you weren’t nearly as gentle, stinging your knuckles on his unyielding iron.

A bandoliered boot went for your shins, and you stomped back at it, kicking sideways at the plates of his thighs. You hopped, switched legs, and spun a roundhouse straight into the side of his gut. On anyone else it would have been a crippling blow, but your Mandalorian grabbed your lifted ankle and hauled you to him, using your own weight against you to palm your sternum and flip you on your back. The wind was knocked from your lungs when you hit the floor, but not enough that you didn’t get a knee up as he tried to pin you under him, and you kicked up into his gut and flipped him over your head; the sound of his armor hitting the ground ringing loud and ugly.

You kicked up and tossed yourself backwards in the same spring, putting you over top of his breastplate. Throwing your knees back you locked his arms under your ankles, straddling his chest so you could hold his helmet down. “That all you got?”

“You wish!” Din squirmed and kneed you in the ass, tossing you off of him. You rolled away and scrambled to your feet, narrowly avoiding another flying tackle. The cabin of the Crest wasn’t giving you much space to work with, and you hauled ass down down the ramp before he could catch you again. “Oh now you want me to chase you, ner riduur?” He hollered, swinging his arms wide in a challenging stance.

You turned and wiggled your ass at him, slapping yourself tauntingly before the sound of armored thunder had you running for cover. You ran past the foundling on the ground, braking quickly next to him to pat his head before his father was upon you, and you missed being snatched by the skin of your teeth.

Hopping back a few paces you put up your dukes, and this time the beskar took the bait. The Mandalorian threw punches left and right, more forceful than he had started with but not enough to actually hurt. You took a few blows to your forearms and shoulders before lashing out with a wild throw. The sound of fists on metal echoed against the tree trunks that surrounded the sunny meadow while you took on the mighty warrior, though armor was kicking your ass for him, and you nearly dashed yourself to pieces on the plate of his chest.

“Had enough yet?”

You roared in response and threw your whole body at him, making quick jabs at the meat of his sides where his armor was thinnest. He keeled sideways, dropped himself into a crouch, and lunged, tackling you to the ground. Damn it! Time to fight dirty! You pulled an arm free of his grasp and grabbed his cloak, throwing it over his helmet and wrapping it up tight, temporarily blinding him. He sat up to try and unravel the fabric from his face, and in that split second you grabbed the backs of his knees and yanked, flopping him back down onto his back. The pinner had become the pin-ee, and you squashed yourself up between his legs and thrust into his groin, making him keen in surprise.

“You’re mine, bantha-butt!” Tangled in the cloak he squirmed under you until he was free of your trap, giving you a confused head tilt at your position. You hooked your arms under his knees and ground yourself up against his ass, making him grunt underneath you before he wrapped his legs around your middle and rolled, throwing you down onto the ground. Both of you grappled for dominance, rolling and tossing each other through the soft, dampish grass until you were on top of him again, straddling his waist.

“That’s better.” He hummed, grabbing your wrists and pulling you down to him where he could wrap his arms around your writhing form. “You’re mine, you little womp rat.”

“Nuh uh! You’re under me, that means I win, chumbucket.” You threw your weight around, trying to coax one more good roll out of the two of you, but he had you in his clutches. A dark, lecherous laugh reverberated in your ear, and you felt him rut up against your crotch to demand your complacency. Between your legs the faintest outline of his shaft slotted against you, fitting so well against the cradle of your body that it really might have been made just for you; but you grabbed his shoulders and pushed him harder into the grass. “Not in front of the foundling, you big horndog.”

“Says the one riding me.” A soft, leather-clad hand left your captured shoulders to slide your mask up and brush the grass from your hair, gently tucking a stray lock behind your ear; and you pressed your face into his palm as it passed back down. The rumble in his chest went right through your legs up your spine until your cheeks blushed under his thumbs. “Mesh’la…”

Something twitched under you, and as much as you would like to indulge him, sass came to you more naturally. “Is this why you didn’t wanna fight me?” You rolled your hips over his, giving him a tantalizing tease. “Gets you all fired up?”

His helmet rolled, trying to avoid your skull-boring gaze. “Maybe…”

“Well maybe when we get into hyperspace we can do something about that, but not until that one has gone to bed.”

Ahead of you the foundling was laying back in the grass, watching his adopted parents with big googly eyes. Din followed your gaze, and the two of you made stupid little waves at your child. Beans waved back and stood up, teetering over to the pair of you on his little stubby legs. You laid against the breadth of your mate’s chest and reached for the goofy green baby, who happily ran into your arms.

“Heya, Goob! What’cha up to, huh? Catchin’ bugs?” You sat up and leaned back, ignoring the heavy hands that laid on your thighs while you chatted with the foundling. The baby gibbered and told you all about his fun in the sun, but under you the slow gyration of hips was starting to get distracting. “Beans, tell your dad to stop being naughty.”

“Me? You started this.”

“Bah! I don’t start things, I only finish them.” Under you your beskar burdened buddy sighed and let his head fall back into the grass, shaking it back and forth at your foolishness. You hefted the foundling up in the air, making him squeal in delight, and the sweet sounds of his laughter gave you a better idea. “You know what? I bet he would like to pick a puck!”

“Thank the fucking stars, does that mean we can get going?”

“Yeah yeah fussbucket come on. You’re so damn impatient!” You made one last amorous swirl of your hips before leaping up from your man, running with the baby high above your head as you dashed circles around the ship. It was good for both of you to spend time together that wasn’t just on the trail, and you treasured the few moments of comfort you got to have as a pack between hunts. You ran a few more laps before flying up the ramp to where Mando had already beaten you there, and you plopped the baby down on the makeshift table where the pucks had miraculously survived your wrassling. “Ok buddy boy, can you pick a puckie for me?”

The baby tossed his arms in the air and squeaked like he would rather go for another round of flight simulator, but you plopped down on the ground in front of him and pointed at the pucks again. He tilted his head, making his airplane ears flop akimbo. The foundling looked down at the pucks, back up to you, and then -slapped- the one in the middle as hard as he could. The pucks projector fired up and glowed ghostly blue in front of the child’s wondrous eyes, and he tried to grab at the thing showing in its center.

The holo must be malfunctioning, maybe the baby hit it too hard, but the picture wasn’t of a face, or even a person for that matter; it was something round, egg shaped almost. Beside you, your Mandalorian was making the same confused head tilts that you were, and he tapped a leather finger to the puck’s button, turning it off and on again, but the same image remained. “That can’t be right, have you ever seen one like this?”

You shook your head, puzzled by the purplish object that floated before you. Maybe it was some kind of stone or seed, or even an egg like its shape suggested. The pucknotes had a counter next to the ovoid, indicating that more credits would be rewarded for the quantity of items procured. Besides a description of the item and the indicator, the puck notes had one last useful tidbit of information, the last known location:

Hoth.

“Wait, Hoth? There’s nothing on Hoth! You sure this thing’s not fucked up?” Din shrugged, making his plates clack before he got up and started getting the ship around, closing ramps and scooting crates back into place. “Shit balls of hell, alright! Fucking Hoth it is.” You’d been to Hoth maybe all of two times chasing down the stupidest, most idiotic bounties, and not once had you seen anything of value there. “Of course it has to be somewhere cold, we already did cold. One of those fucking pucks better go to a goddamn beach or something or I’m gonna lose my mind.”

“You sure you haven’t already? I mean,” Din stopped rearranging the furniture to swagger up to you, catching your hand in his own. “You did try to fight with a Mandalorian.”

“Bah! And I’d do it again, too, you’re not that intimidating.” Playfully you tried to take your hand back, but he was a professional bounty hunter, and he didn’t let his captures get away so easily. Thick, leatherbound fingers laced themselves between your own, and your other arm was taken hostage and brought to his shoulder so he could rest a heavy palm on your hip unhindered. You let your hand wander up his pauldron to the edge of his helmet, sneaking a finger between the metal and the man to toy with his curls. The hand on your waist pulled you closer, and he gently pressed his helmet to your brow.

“Riduur’ika,” He purred, making the cool beskar rumble against your skin. “You don’t think I’m… intimidating!?” The arm against your waist hugged you tight while the other twirled you around in a circle, and you made some kind of undignified squeak as you were dipped low. Parallel to the ship's floor, you clawed at his cowl as if he would drop you, though his grip was stronger than beskar. You caught the reflection of your own wild eyes as his visor tilted to meet your gaze. “How about now?”

Safe in his arms, you snorted a laugh and stuffed your hands under his helmet to pick the latches free and toss the heavy thing off, ignoring the sound of it rolling away from you while you kissed your husband. The Mandalorian’s warm, soft lips against your own muffled the few stray giggles that tried to escape your mouth, tickled by not only his romance but also his mustache. Those dark chocolate eyes of his met your own, and the edges of his cheeks rolled right up into them with a dazzling smile. Maker help you.

“Din! Where the hell did you pick that up from?” A warm laugh reverberated against you before he was pushing his lips to yours in another fiery kiss.

“Saw it in a holovid once, some kind of… courtship ritual, I think. I’ve, uh, always wanted to t-try it…” His wavering baritone trailed off with a hint of embarrassment, and you couldn’t help but snicker.

“‘Courtship ritual’, huh? Golly gee willikers, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were flirting with me.”

His cheeks flushed pink, “Is it working?”

“Mmm… no.”

The gorgeous smile on his scruffy face was replaced with a scowl a mile wide, but you laughed and kissed at it anyway. You heard him inhale sharply when you started to push your tongue past his lips, and he met yours with his own. Without parting, he slowly stood the pair of you back up, and you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders to pull him even closer.

Free from the muck of the forest floor that had clung to his armor, or the stygian waters of the river soaking his cloak, the familiar scent of him had returned. Rich and smokey, sweat and leather and blast plasma and the faintest remnants of the fresher soap you adored. The spice of him saturated your lungs and drenched your heart with the promise of his eternal company, giving you that delightfully warm and gooey feeling that he alone could give.

You pulled your lips from his and kissed at his cheeks and the tip of his angular nose before grabbing the sides of his head and bringing his brow back to yours. He almost fought you over it, torn between wanting his lips against your skin and the joy of you indulging in his sacred inheritance. Either way, the stubborn little ‘patu’ that peeped up from the floor had you both pulling away to bring the foundling into your arms, you were a clan of three, after all.

It would take a few jumps to make it to your next destination, and if she could speak, the Razor Crest would tell you how glad she was for your company as she carried you through the stars. There had been a time in the old ship’s life where she had only known silence, save for the screams of captured bounties, her hull had been nearly barren with only her captain for comfort. But then the foundling had come into her Mandalorian’s life, and the sweet sounds of a child’s laughter warmed her steel heart, amplified tenfold by the starsongs you brought with you when you had arrived as well.

Like a serenade written to the stars themselves the three of you flowed through her ironsides, a triple-part harmony that reverberated from the top of her transparisteel dome to the depths of her cantankerous stardrive. The chimes of the navigation panel had gone unheard while the streaking stars spiralled around the old dropper, her passengers fully engrossed with each other's company. There was so much laughter now, between stories told and songs sang high, the starcraft’s walls nearly rang with mirth.

The jokes you would tell, as terrible as they often were, made the Crest’s captain smile so often now; his scruffy cheeks going right up into his eyes whenever he flashed those pearly whites. He was so sweet, so gentle when the beskar was lifted from him, as if a new man was made every time the armor fell away. The oath of riddurok had given him such a gift, the gift of touch, and he relished in it at every turn; pressing kisses to the faces of the two he loved most.

And when it was time to rest, hidden away in the little sleeping alcove the three of you laid, wrapped more tightly together than any captured quarry. Below the howl of the hyperdrive engine, so faint it was almost like a secret, would come the sound of your starsongs. For your boys alone would you let yourself remember the rhymes of timelost sailors, sang low and slow to ease them to sleep. The foundling usually blacked right out on the first verses, but your unarmored husband would grapple with the pull of sleep for as long as he could, just to hear your voice.

When you dropped out of hyperspace the uncaring iceball called Hoth dominated your view, nearly blinding you with its glaring white surface. Your captain flew the Crest over the snowy expanse, looking for any sign of life or even a point of interest, but the ice fields seemed to stretch on forever between snow covered steppes. You had to pull your visor down just to be able to look out the window, and you attempted to cycle its settings as if that would do you any good, but everything came back as solid colors as far as the eye could see.

“This is bullshit, there’s nothing down there.” In your palm the bounty puck glowed faintly, making a liar out of you; but you ignored it to watch a herd of large, bipedal herbivores making their way along a mountainous ridge. The Crest put the animals in the rear view quicker than you would have liked, and you leaned against the transparisteel with a huff. In your lap the foundling was watching joyfully out the window, seemingly undeterred by the blinding snow. You started trying to get the baby rearranged when you saw the fob flash erratically before going back to lazy blinks. “Din wait! I think we passed it!”

“Passed what? I don’t see anything.” Below you the vast expanse was flat as a fresh pressed sheet, only dotted here and there with specks of icy blue.

“Circle around!” You tucked the foundling under your arm and unbuckled yourself from your seat to squish into the narrow space between Din’s armrest and the dashboard so he could see the fob for himself. He slowed the mighty metal bird down as slow as she would go and flew her in a wide circle back towards the way you’d come in.

Flash… flash… flash flash flASHFLAsh flash… flash…

“You see that? There gotta be something down there, maybe it’s under the snow. Take us down, captain!” In the corner of your eye you caught the slightest jostle of his helmet, though it could have just as easily been the rocking of the ship that made his head move, but you knew better. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, captain.” The poorly veiled cheekiness in his voice was met with a loving suckerpunch against the side of his pauldron. You’d completely failed to learn your lesson about the bite of beskar, and you hissed at the iron’s sting on your knuckles. The Crest floated down gently, her engines kicking up flurries of crisp white snow over the broad expanse. The moment the landing struts had locked into place your armored companion was grabbing for your wrist. “That’s why you shouldn’t try to fight me, mesh’la.”

“Bite me.”

A soft thumbpad brushed gently against your reddening knuckles, making you wince just slightly. The black gloss of his single eye slowly coasted up to meet your own, then cocked sideways. “Looks like I already did.” With his other hand he lifted the edge of his helmet just enough to press the softest kiss to the back of your hand, and though his sweetness made your heart thunder against its cage, the wry upturn of his lips almost made you want to punch him again.

Under your arm the foundling squirmed and cooed, and you brushed your captured hand along the edge of your husband’s bristly jaw before pulling the child around to your chest so you could both look out the window. The alabaster plains stretched out in all directions like the Dune Sea of Tatooine, nothing for miles.

“Din I think this fob is busted, and probably the puck too, there’s fuckall out-”

*-crik- c-c-crrrack craack!-*

Something snap-crackle-popped outside the ship, like the sound of suspension cables breaking. High pitched creaks between deep, almost gutterel booms. Ice.

“Cyare… don’t… move.” The armored monolith was frozen solid, more frozen than the ice underneath you apparently. Not even the sound of his modulated breathing could be heard in the stillness of the flightdeck.

*...cricckckcick..creeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeak……cruUNCH!-*

The ship lurched, a vicious gash splitting the ice below you. You lurched with it, your heart leaping to your throat as your arms squished the baby tight. A gloved hand shot from the steering controls to steady you.

*-k-k-reaaaak thuddduddudud… crRONCH!-*

“Oh fuck.”

*….CrAcK-!*

The Crest tilted nose-first into the growing abyss, and your oathsworn had only a split second to haul you and the foundling into his seat before the old girl was hurtling through the breach.

For a moment you were in free fall, a canyon of aquamarine flying past the window, darkening with every passing second. It felt like slow motion, your legs becoming weightless while the rest of you was anchored to the pilots seat.

*-ka-RuNcH!-*

Rigid muscle and beskar enveloped you as the Razor hit the ground, metal crunching and screeching with the impact. Your deathgrip on the foundling was only matched by the armored grasp around you, keeping the two of you locked safely to Din’s chest. Bulbs flickered and wires sparked in the waning light of the flight deck, though your eyes were so tightly screwed shut you didn’t notice. You took a cautious breath, only now aware that you had been holding it before wrenching an eye open. Beskar dominated your view, the heavy helmet of your husband pressed tightly to your face.

“Are you ok?” came a modulated whisper.

“Yeah, are you?” He nodded against you, and you peeled yourselves apart to inspect the foundling that was encased between your chests. Baby Beans chirruped and ogled at his fussing buir, the two of you knocking into each other while you both checked him for damage. When he’d passed both your inspections you glanced around the cockpit, though you guessed from the sound of the impact most of the damage would be down below.

You practically needed a crowbar to get Din’s arms off of you, his protector’s instinct running at full bore to guard his clan, but you managed to weasel out of his iron grasp. Frigid air gusted up through the ladder hole before you’d even crossed the short distance to the drophatch, making you shudder. Below, the force of the impact had torn the Razor’s walls asunder, breaking apart her riveted seams. Icy wind blew in through the gashes, freezing the mist that sprang from your eyes.

“Oh, my poor Lady…” You whispered, your heart aching from seeing your ship so wounded. Heavy boots made their way down the ladder behind you, and you turned to your oathsworn, “Can… can we fix this?”

“We can try, but you need something warmer.” Stoic as the day you met, Mando strode to the bent lockers and forced his way in, pulling out a heavy parka and draping it around your shoulders. The cold weather garb was entirely too big for you, but it snuggled around you like a warm hug, blocking out the frigid breeze. In your arms the foundling peeped out from the collar, just enough to watch his papa without getting too chilly.

Din was elbow deep in another wrecked cabinet, scrounging up whatever tools he could find to repair the damage. You joined him at the growing pile, holding onto the child with one arm and trying to pick a portable welder up with the other. Hands too full, you ducked into the oversized parka and worked to stuff the baby up under your shirt, cinching your belt under his butt so he wouldn’t fall out. There, stay warm you little fart.

It took a while for the two of you to make enough progress on the broken bird to get her closed up again, but many hands make the work lighter. Ship repair had been your very first duty when you went starborne, and your hands remembered how to bend durasteel to your will, though you would probably need to get to an actual mechanic if you were going to be star-worthy again.

Occasionally you caught the tilt of your Mandalorian’s visor when you fired up the welder or cranked a ratchet against a stubborn bolt, snapping away from you when you’d shoot him a sly wink. Once the cabin was passable, it was time to work on the exterior, but you swatted at Din’s occupied mitts, demanding that the two of you take a rest beforehand. His back cracked when he stood up straight, and though he wouldn’t admit it, a break was a good idea.

“Do you have a kettle or something I can make hot water in? I think I saw a canister of broth we can heat up.” Your repair work on the hull must have been pretty damn efficient, because the parka was beginning to get warm, and you started to shrug it off when you heard the rackety sound of something clattering to the floor.

“B-buir’ika?” Behind you, Din had dropped a heavy tool and was staring at you with that black hole gaze of his.

“Boo-ear-eeka? What does- oh!” You glanced down at yourself and laughed, your tunic protruding with a large, rounded tummy. “Chilly beans!” Bending forward, you pulled your collar down so your oathsworn could see the half-lidded eyes of the cozy foundling hidden below the swell of your breasts. “I didn’t want him to get cold.”

When you looked up from the babe’s sweet face, your armored husband had silently crossed the length of the hold and was nervously reaching towards you, his hands hovering over the lumpy shape in your middle. Gently he set his palms to where the child was bundled, slowly gliding over the taut fabric and making you flush crimson. Din did a double take on your cherry-red face and pulled away, muttering an apology and hastily returning to his duty as kettle-fetcher.

When you’d gotten the foundling out of your shirt and the thin soup heated, you sat down on your regular eating crate with your crew. The three of you took your break quietly since eating or drinking in your presence still made Din a little embarrassed, but between his timidness and the awkward term of endearment the tension in the cabin was so thick you could cut it with a vibro. He usually pressed his back to yours, but now he was hunched over his bowl of broth, sipping silently.

When your cup was empty you got up from your seat, pressed a kiss to each of your boy’s heads, and got your tools around to work on the outside of the Crest. You were garbed and out the exit before Din could protest, though you wouldn’t have listened anyway if he did. Once the ramp closed behind you, you took a deep breath of the glacial air, letting it clear your head. Shore leave was a luxury you rarely got to indulge in during your early years, and your love of having your boots on the ground only got stronger as the years went by.

The basin you had crashed into sprawled beneath the ice sheet high above your head, supported by enormous pillars of frozen water. This had probably been a lake once, or even a small sea, but when the water drained it left behind the frozen aquifer you now found yourself stuck in. High above you the light from where you had fallen through the ice cast frosty sunbeams through the falling snow, faintly illuminating the mythical columns in cobalt and turquoise hues.

Your boots crunched through the ancient permafrost as you made your rounds, taking a mental checklist of the Razor’s damage. Her keel had taken the brunt of the impact, but one of her wingtips was pretty busted up, a twisted panel sending sparks into the cerulean cathedral that would probably take two people to fix.

Out of curiosity you pulled the blinker from somewhere in your parka, relieved to see that it was indeed flashing. If you had thrown your crew to the depths of Niflheim on a busted fob you might never forgive yourself. You wondered what the acoustics would be like in the icy cavern, but the threat of bringing the fragile ice sheet down around your ears kept you quiet. Holding the fob up, you made a wide circle around the ship, trying to pinpoint which way the blinks were fastest. This way… You cast a quick glance over your shoulder at the Crest with her ramps still closed, and started towards your quarry.

~

In the ship's durasteel depths, Din sighed and groaned, unsure how to feel. He hated not being next to you, but he respected you enough to know you might need some space after… that. He tried to distract himself by wiping off the foundling’s mush-mouth with the edge of his cloak, but that almost made things worse. Our foundling.

Everything about The Way encouraged the safety and procreation of younglings, and not only as a riduur but also an Alor he should be fathering many children with you to recover Mandalore’s losses. But you had said you weren’t ready, and he honored your wishes, but even so, his heart ached with the desire to see you filled with his warriors.

He knew he shouldn’t, but that was suddenly all he could imagine, you round and glowing and full…

“Damn it.” He could feel his face flush red, and the honeyglow seeped through his bones all the way down to his guts, forcing him to pull his helmet back on just to regain his composure. When the visor was back over his eyes, he glanced down at the foundling, who was making some kind of face up at him. “This is your fault.”

“Patu!”

~

The Crest was a good distance behind you now, the edges of her wings partially obscured by the ice, but not quite out of eyeshot. The air was stagnant so far below the surface, the cold of it sitting heavy in your lungs and freezing inside your nose. Aside from the towers of frost and fallen snow, the cavern was empty. Enormous, but empty. This fucking fob, there’s nothing here. You were half tempted to chuck the hunk of garbage away or stomp it out, take the loss just to get the fuck out of here, when you felt a subtle breeze waft over you.

You were too far from the breach for it to be coming from above you, and you held perfectly still, trying to determine its source. Too faint, you bent down and scooped up a handful of snow, chucking it high above you and watching the way it fell. That way! Suddenly excited to play Arctic Explorer, you hustled to find the source of the breeze.

Twice more you used the snow as a compass until you were at a colossal glacier, the size of it easily big enough to swallow a large starship. A splotch of dark blue stood out against the ivory, and as you got closer you saw it was a fissure in the ice, a tunnel of some kind. Maybe this is where the water went. The air coming out of it was making your parka flap around you while you held up the fob: flashflashflash. Whatever it is you were tracking had to be down there, and you brushed ice crystals off of your faceplate to flip through your extrasensory settings until thermal flickered to life.

Warm. The air coming out of the tunnel was warm, though only by a few degrees more; not enough to thaw your bones, but enough to register on your visor. You stepped forward, tucking your head into the tunnel. Dark as the depths of an ocean and just as blue, the frozen tube stretched away, darker and darker until it turned to void. Stepping just inside the entrance, you flailed when your boots nearly lost traction.

This is dangerous, I don’t know what’s in there. A gust of air blasted around you as if to warn you away. Could be anything, maybe I should wait for- Ah FUCK!

The thought was knocked from your skull when your boots slipped out from under you and you slid ass over teakettle down the icy channel, vanishing into the dark.

~

The inside of the Crest was immaculate, more ship-shape that she had been in a long time. Din had to keep busy, after the repairs were given another once-over and you still hadn’t returned he had started reshelving all the tools and cookware, and only when the last thing left to do was mop did he give up his endeavors. Where the hell is she? He was getting anxious, more so than he usually was. His hands fidgeted with the strap that crossed his chest, thumbing at each of the slugs in line. She should be back by now.

What if she’s hurt? His hands froze on the leather, his breath catching in his chest. He knew you were capable, but what if something got you, or you fell or… or…

“Kid, let’s go.” The ‘what ifs’ that drained out of his thoughts and down his throat turned to bile in the pit of his stomach, and he had to do something about it. She can be as mad at me as she wants, I don’t care, I just need to know she’s safe. Quickly he grabbed a few supplies, loading up his rucksack with rehearsed precision: bacta, shovel, thermos, jet pack, munitions, rations. The foundling gibbered while his papa wrapped him up in a heavy blanket before setting him in his pram. I’m coming, cyare!

~

The slip-and-slide you had gotten yourself into wooshed past your ears, and you could only curl in a ball to protect yourself as you hurtled through the chasm of ice. The violet hue coming through your visor slowly turned to warmer tones as the temperature steadily increased. You struggled to grab a vibro off of your belt as you spun through the dark, but the singing dagger only scraped against the solid ice, the permafrost so old and strong that not even steel could cut it.

Under you the angle changed sharply, tossing you on your ass over another slope before you were falling through the air. You tucked and rolled when you hit the ground, desperately trying not to get your neck broken. Skittering to a halt, you cautiously let yourself uncurl, but what your eyes saw made you think you had landed on your head.

“Woah.”

~

The top of the Crest was still damaged, though Mando knew you had left with the intent to do repairs. Not up there. Your footprints circled around the old ship in a few loops before heading off into the cavern. Fuck, where did she go? The prints from your shoes still glowed faintly with residual heat on his visor, and he checked on the foundling’s comfort one more time before following your trail.

~

The Universe has a strange way of granting wishes.

Crystalline gravel crunched underfoot as you approached the beach you had landed in front of. Mineral-rich water bubbled and boiled in front of you with volcanic heat, steaming up the chamber you now found yourself in. The thick, viscous ooze was so leden with salts that its edges were caked with jagged deposits that lapped against the sides of tall, crested structures that almost resembled a reef. The subterranean coral ranged in size and height from just below your knees to easily three times your height, almost brushing the stalactites that hung from the vaulted ceiling.

You wished you had a holo-corder or data cube handy, because there was no way anybody had been here before, though maybe for good reason. The colors on your visor ranged from bright yellow to teal to hot motherfuckin’ pink, and you lifted your faceplate up to wipe at the sweat that was beading on your brow. The vibrancy of the reef without your sensors was even more garish in person, caught in the radiant light that seemed to drip from the ceiling on the tails of glow worms.

The ground under your boots sounded like glass breaking as you wandered through the cavern, spellbound by the sprawling grove. It took a herculean effort to bring your gaze down to the fob in your hand: FLASHFLASHFLASH! You held the tracker high, doing a little spin to try and locate the target, letting your feet walk on their own. Maybe the coral is the target? Stopping at a particular orange staghorn, you held the fob to its spongy flesh, nope, not this one…

From fan to tube to spiraling tower you walked, holding the fob up to each one in turn, waiting for a solid link. The reef thickened as you moved away from the lagoon, growing in taller and thicker clusters until you had to scrape your way between them to continue. Under your parka you were sweating like a quacta, but the spiny polyps on some of the branches could easily scratch you without it as you wormed your way between them. The crystalline gravel under you started to make a different noise, from a crunchacrunch to a squishasquash. Beneath your boots, long, dark purple roots were growing, pulsating with the fluid that flowed through their veins. Eww…

~

The silence of the cerulean cathedral weighed heavy on Mando's audio processors, more so than the stillness of the air. He was in full hunter mode, following your tracks to where you were hopefully safe and sound, though if he let himself think anything else he worried he might have a full blown panic attack. No, can’t think about that. Find the quarry, find your wife. Don’t think about her being hurt, or lost or scared or…

From the open pram a chirruping coo echoed softly between the towering pillars of ice, bringing Din’s attention to his son. Though the foundling looked alright, the tips of his ears were turning the faintest shade of blue. Din pulled his cloak off, though he needed it just as much in the sub-zero space, his foundling always came first. The fabric heaped out of the pram, almost covering the child completely. If she were here, would she put the baby in her shirt again to keep him warm?

Suddenly he didn’t need his cloak, the fire in his chest surging out to burn at his ribs and scald his cheeks. He stopped, shaking his head at the embarrassment that sprouted from his scorched insides. You’ve got it bad, Djarin. Your tracks had lost their heat, but he could still clearly see your footprints in the snow, and a flood of determination spurred him on. Find the quarry.

~

The dark purple roots lead you to a grove of anemone shaped corals, their thick tentacles reaching for the jagged sky. At the center of their radials sat a fat, lumpy bulb, protected by fleshy limbs. Draped between the spires, more of the icky veins hung like vines, throbbing and pulsing with whatever goo they were filled with.

Touching the blinker to the closest arm, the flashing red light went solid, bingo! “This is it!” Your excited voice would have echoed in the chamber that you had fallen from, but the sponges soaked up your words. You’d left the puck back on the Crest, but you remember you were here for some kind of shape, eggish or stone like, but the waving arms arched upwards into bare, knobbly tips. Fruitless.

That left the pod in the center, probably some kind of seed in the bottom of its pistil. Gonna have to cut my way though. You turned your attention to the viney spires that blocked your path to the center and pulled a vibro from your now sweat-soaked parka. Cautiously, and without turning on the thrummer, you touched the blade to the creeping flesh.

Your knife sank easily, and the fluid that filled the tentacles oozed readily out over the steel. Oooooh, pretty! Though it was mostly clear, the syrup gleamed with a holographic, oily shine, looking like a melted rainbow as it seeped through the wound. The open gash quickly grew new vines that slimed their way around their host trunk, pulsating with goop. Weird.

What hit you next was the smell, an intoxicating sweetness like honey on fruit sitting out on a hot summer day. If the anemone was poisonous, it had a devilish way of attracting its prey, whatever that might be, because the temptation to lick your knife clean became almost overwhelming. That is the stupidest goddamn idea you’ve ever had, get cuttin’, damn it! You hacked and slashed your way to the center, trying to out-cut the regrowth; but the scent quickly made you feel hazy. You reached out to grab one of the arms for support, your cloudy head threatening to toss you on your ass, and the serpentine buds tried to coil around your wrists. Sonofabitch! Fuck off ya big vegetable. Just… just a little further.

~

“Of course this is where she went.” Standing at the crack in the ice, Mando was pacing back and forth with his hands stabbed to his hips. Your tracks ended abruptly at the fissure, and the slick surface told him you had probably slipped and fell into the dark, and he was going to have to jump down after you. The hole stretched far away through the ice, so far that not even his full helmet’s array of sensors could detect the bottom. He rested a boot on the icy surface, giving it an experimental slip. If he fell down the hole as well, he would be no good to either of you.

Every protective instinct told him to jump, go in after you, get you to safety, but his hunter instincts knew better. Fishing the trencher from his bag, he sat down at the entrance and tucked the shovel under his knees, pointy side out. He pulled the foundling’s crib into his lap and carefully started the slide. The shovel blade screeched against the tunnel, and though it couldn’t break the ice it would at least slow him down as he scraped his way through the dark.

~

You were dizzy, the coral’s perfume making you falter. Your goal was so close, but in your haze you were starting to get tangled in the vines that laced through the anemone's arms, and it wasn’t long before they were tangled around your own outstretched limbs. Stupid fern, ger’off me! Yanking against the tendrils only seemed to make things worse, and soon your legs were being caught up as well. Fuckin’shit’it’all. Progress to the core stopped completely, and you stood a moment to catch your breath. Fucksake, this shit is strong! You knew you weren’t moving, but even dazed you could feel something snaking around your boots, and you kicked at the movement, horrified to find that you couldn’t. Shit balls of fucking hell!

The slimy vines coiled around your legs, and you fought valiantly to cut them away, but the more you cut the more seemed to grow like hydras from the anemone's wounds. They were up to your knees, then your waist, and the weight of them started to pull on you until you were dragged to the ground. Struggling in their grasp, they tightened on your arms until you could only writhe like an insect caught in a spiders web. You started to scream, but the creeping thing stuffed itself up under your faceplate and plunged into your mouth.

Something warm and wet oozed between your teeth, and you bit down on the assaulting tendril, only to flood your mouth with more of the sweet syrup. Even in your panic you were taken aback by the taste of it, sweet and rich, almost ambrosial, and a wildly primal instinct told you that you wanted more. Around your limbs the vines were not constricting, merely holding you down, and you took another cautious gulp of the nectar. Your fear began to subside, though in the back of your mind you knew it shouldn’t; you were in a subterranean hellscape, far away from your partner, with some bullshit plant keeping you hostage, but maybe one more taste wouldn’t hurt...

You sucked at the intruder, delighted to find it give you more of the tasty substance, the flavor of it settling warm and snuggly in your belly. Closing your eyes you lapped away, enjoying the hazy, almost drunken feeling that was washing over you. It was blissful and comforting, even wrapped up in the living spires you couldn’t be bothered to care as long as you got to have more.

Something slithered up around your legs and waist, but caught up in the ambrosia you paid it no mind until it was worming its way into the waistband of your pants. Your trousers were pulled down around the tops of your boots, and though the sweltering volcanic atmosphere was making you sweat, the heat burning between your legs almost made the air feel cold. The sudden change in temperature reeled you back to reality, and you tried to spit the vine out while you squirmed in the hydra’s grasp. Another gush of nectar leaked over your tongue, and you greedily sucked it down, feeling another wave of cozy fogginess settle in your head.

Not even the sweetness on your lips could distract you from the feeling of something slimeing its way between your legs, leaving a trail of slick around your entrance. The goop tingled, leaving the same warm and wet feeling behind that it was leaving in your throat. Maker help you it felt good, though some distant instinct screamed to you that it shouldn’t, but you couldn’t hear it if you wanted to. Your back arched, driving your hips against the coils between your thighs, chasing the sensation.

The hydra’s arms pushed their way inside you, many thin strands that sqirmed and writhed, working to stretch you wider. Their efforts slicked past your clit, rubbing the tantalizing ooze around the sensitive little nub while they opened you up. Your hips rocked on their own, though in your captured state you were nearly helpless to chase your own high, but the coral’s limbs worked you up for you. Inside you could feel them, sliding past each other in the warm slick in tandem with the rubbing on your aching clit making you obscenely wetter.

You cried out around the knob still in your mouth as a thicker arm started to push up into you, gliding through the slick nectar. The smaller vines coiled around the newcomer, spiraling up its length as it started to pump in and out of your dripping cunt, adding ridges to the smooth length. Fuck it’s thick! The ties on your legs held you in place as the tendril fucked itself into you, twisting and slimeing around your insides. Hot streams of juice, both yours and the hydra’s, coursed down your thighs almost embarrassingly fast, and you choked and gasped around the spigot while you came.

As if it was emboldened by your orgasm the tentacle surged up into you, leaking what felt like gallons of the wonderful, mind numbing nectar into your fluttering cunt until it was pouring out of you. It thrust against your cervix, dragging the smaller tips around the sensitive muscle. More of the threadlike tendrils tried to push in with the larger one, plucking at your clit and folds and playing you like a sinful harp.

The sensation of it all stoked fire in your core until it was nearly burning you alive, and you gladly let the blaze consume you as the devious creature fucked you stupid. Warm juice practically gushed out of you when you came again, squirting all over the arms that held you captive. Your legs were pulled further apart, anything to open you up to fit more of the sneaky devils in you until you were stretched as wide as you would go, the girth of the serpentis shaft pushing against the bones of your hips from the inside.

Slicked thoroughly, the widest arm rolled against the muscle that protected your womb, and even in your lust-drunk state you could feel it pouring its juices into you. The smaller tendrils followed the nectar up into you where no cock could ever reach, teasing at the rim of the protective coil until it started to relax. More pushed past the ring of muscle until you could feel it gaping, holding you open against the large, blunt tip.

The thrusting stopped, and you mewled sinfully around the vine between your teeth, begging it not to, oh fuck please don’t stop! Whatever aphrodisiac you had been pumped full of was screaming for more more more! Your body hungered for more release, as if you hadn’t drenched the surrounding reef underneath you. You flickered an eye open, but the way your back was curved gave you no vantage of the scene below your waist, but you could see the central pod you had so valiantly tried, and failed, to reach.

From a hole in its top grew the amorphophallus that was filling you so deliciously, and you watched in horror as it pulsed something bulbous up its length. The bulge got closer until it disappeared from your line of view, but it wasn’t long before you felt it, something big pushing against your entrance. You cried out against the gag, but you were held steadfast as the rounded thing forced its way inside you.

The width of it knocked against your hip bones until it was past their crest, and you clenched as best you could around the delicious stretch until you felt something you’ve never felt before. You’ve been fingered, you’ve been fucked and loved and filled to capacity, but the weight of something being deposited in your belly was something wonderfully new. The heft of it felt good, filling and wholesome, though the feeling of terror was still trying to permeate your hazy mind, telling you to run, as if you could. Your hands were bound to your sides, but you wanted to rub at your belly and feel what had been put there. The press of another orb teased at your entrance, and you bucked your hips at it, encouraging another fill.

So good! The unknown object settled in your womb next to the first, the size of them pressing against the back of your abdominal wall, any more and you would be showing. A third bulge made itself known, and you seized your coils around it, letting it bring you to release with its stretch. You came around the vines, and the hydra wormed another pod past your cervix, riding with you through your high. A fourth, a fifth, sixth! You forced an eye open, and the swell of your stomach was visible over the curves of your breasts. Fuuuuck, any more and you really might be fit to burst.

Three more times you were gloriously stretched and drained, the exertion of so many orgasms nearly causing you to faint, but you would do so gladly in your heightened state. One more for good measure pulsed into your swollen belly before the vines receded, and the bindings on your arms and legs withered and died. Gloriously spent, you laid on the ground in a pool of nectar and juices, weakly tugging the vine from your mouth so you could gasp for air. With shaking arms you tried to pry yourself free of the dried tendrils, but the nectar that still filled you felt so good that you almost didn’t want to move, lest it drain out.

The first thing you noticed when the effects began to fade was how much the skin on your abdomen hurt, it felt tight, and you weakly brought a hand up to feel it. Maker above! Your belly was full, and you poked at your protruding middle, feeling the pods inside you slosh around in the devious nectar. Warm goo poured out between your legs, making your eyes roll back from the heat. Through your cloudy mind you thought you heard something, something far away that sounded like shouting. The shouts got closer, and you could almost swear it sounded like your name. Maybe it was.

“Tra’laar!” That was definitely your name, though it sounded distant and fuzzy. You tried to call out to the voice, only to cough up more of the sweet syrup that lined your throat. The taste of it was still as delicious as it had been from the beginning, and another blaze of heat coasted down your spine and made your guts clench and your belly jiggle. Licking your lips you called again, this time with enough force to actually make noise, and the sound of corals being torn apart as something barreled through the reef towards you made itself known.

“Tra-” Mando skittered to a halt somewhere beside you, the sound of your gifted name snagging in his mouth. There you were on the cavern floor, covered in dead vines and some kind of goo, but the most distressing sight of all was your sudden pregnancy. Cautiously he approached you and started untangling your arms and legs, trying to clear the offending tentacles away. He kneeled beside you, his armored hands hovering over your rounded shape. “Riduur’ika? Wh- what happened to you?!” His voice was shaking, barely a whisper coming through his modulator.

“Heeeyyy~” You purred, still buzzed on the herbal wine that had soaked every nerve in your body. “Babe… I think… um. I think there’s something… i-inside… me?”

“Well I can see that!” There was some kind of tone to his voice, wedged somewhere between anger and fear and maybe just a sprinkle of desire. “What did this to you?!”

“I dunno... that wiggly thingie got all up in my bisnatch.” You rubbed at your eyes, trying to get some clarity while your armored companion stressed himself to a frenzy. Mama-hen Mando’s fretting started to make you giggle, and the jostling of your laughs had your tummy jiggling with its fullness. Above you your oathsworn was horrified, but all you could see was his silly visor and his twitchy hands. “Prob’bly need to do something about it, don’t we?”

“Fucking hell, cyare! Yes we need to get whatever that is out of you!” He sounded really upset now, panicked even, and you shook your head trying to shake the daze. You started to sit up, but the weight of your womb made it a struggle. “Hey take it easy! Here, let me help you.” His protector instincts kicked in, and he was wrapping himself up around you to raise you to a seated position. You couldn’t help the way you rubbed at your tummy, still riding the high of the juice that coated your cunt and thighs and stuck to the back of your throat. I wonder if I can bottle this up and sell it.

A soft leather hand placed itself on your swell, moving over your taut skin with a featherlight touch. “This isn’t right,” you heard him say, “I should be the one filling your belly, not some fucking vegetable!”

Stupid chuckles burst out your mouth and made you snort, “Pfft… babe are you jealous some fruit by the foot knocked your girl up?”

“Damn it all yes I’m jealous! Of course I am, I'm your husband! And why aren’t you more upset? You almost look like you’re enjoying this!” You ignored him to swipe a finger through the goop on your leg and bring it up to your lips, slurping noisily at the colorful syrup.

“It’s this stuff, it’s tasty! You should try it!” The snap of his visor told you he wasn’t going to indulge you, but his gentle touch was pressing carefully under the drop of your belly, and you could see him watching the way it wiggled. “Bah, you like this don’t you? Don’t lie to me, bucketboy.”

“No!... Well… maybe a little.” He shook his head, trying not to be disoriented by the same daze you were. “We’re getting this out of you right now! Can you sit up? Get on your knees?” He guided you up off your butt and onto your haunches, the weight of your middle lurching forward from the motion, swaying under you. “Stars above, mesh’la, I-I don’t know how to f-feel about this…” He trailed off, torn between seeing you swollen full and knowing damn well whatever it was could probably kill you. “You’re beautiful…”

“Ha, I knew you liked this, now c’mon and get this fucker out of me, yeah?” How the actual fuck were you supposed to do that? Your partner pulled his gloves off and went for the obvious route, sliding his long, calloused fingers up inside your sopping cunt with a curse. Three of his devious digits went up without a hitch in your overstretched state, teasing around to get a feel of you.

“I didn’t know you stretched this wide, cyare, does… does this feel good?”

You shot him a sideways glare, letting your lips turn up in a mischievous sneer. “Ye-yeah, feels amazing.” the ambrosia was still making you sex crazed, and even with your legs covered in your own arousal you could tell there was still more to give. “Din..?”

“I’m right here, buir’ika, I’ve got you.” He scootched back behind you, wrapping one arm in between your breasts and your belly to hold you in place while he hunted through your slick folds. Din had become an expert at finding that naughty patch of nerves behind your clit that had your muscles tightening around his strong hands in seconds, and you let him work your ecstasy right back up. “That’s it, mesh’la, fucking stars I can feel you, you’re close! Come for me, that’s it, that’s a good girl.”

He pressed his helmeted head against your own, burying the sharp edge of the beskar in the meat of your shoulder while you tightened around him. His other arm pressed down on your swell, and the force of your orgasm squeezed something out of your belly and through your channel, rubbing deliciously against your walls as it passed into his waiting hand.

The seed pod that practically popped out of you was a dark purple egg-shaped thing with swirls of green and blue, matching the description of the bounty puck to a tee. Mando brought the thing around for you to see, rubbing at your side encouragingly. It shimmered in the eerie light of the cavern only briefly before it withered in his hand and flaked away on the volcanic breeze. Gone.

“Um, Mando…” You whispered, feeling a weird mix of arousal and fear ooze down your thoat with the unicorn slime, “I think if we’re gonna get them back to the ship, I think they have to, um, fuck... stay…

“Absolutely not! What if they poison you? What if they break open or s-something and kill you?”

“But the bounty-”

“Fuck the bounty!” He roared, “Fuck everything! I can’t lose you, cyare! I… I won’t, especially for a handful of credits.” The desperation that clawed at his voice stung your heart, but you were determined not to fail in your mission, no matter how creepy it was.

“Din,” you hummed, trying to calm him down, “I’m ok, really! Maybe a little mess- Oh~!” The Mandalorian’s fingers slid right back up your weeping cunt, fucking into you mercilously. His rough fingers slid easily through the slick, and he made up for the lack of friction with sheer determination. “Ah! Ah Din! Din yes! Oh yes!!!” High as a kite you went, coming all over his persistent thrusts. His grip tightened on your middle, and another pod escaped your womb.

“I told you to stop trying to fight me.” Oh fuck he’s using that voice! Dark and husky right in your ear, searing electricity over your flesh and blowing up your ovaries. The voice of a hunter, the voice of an alpha, whether he knew it or not. The timbre of it vibrated so low and strong you couldn’t help but whine against the beskar pressed to your face. “You’re going to stop arguing and you’re going to be a good girl and let me fuck you empty so I can fill you right back up. You’re mine, MY riduur, and the only thing that should be inside you is me!” His command flooded with raw power, and you blasted out another pod or two at his words alone.

You were gone, soaked to the core with desire until all you could do was moan into the armor that held you steady. Bonelessly you gave him everything you had, drenching his arms and knees with your holographic slick. Determined as ever, your armored protector pumped into you, cupping your whole pussy in his palm while he stuffed you with his fingers. When you’d rocketed the fifth seed out, you nearly fainted in his arms, drained of all your energy. Your mind was fuzzy, but you could almost pick up the sound of a question making its way over the roaring blood in your ears. “Huh?”

“How many more?” You shook your head, and a furious growl reverberated against your skull. His soaked hand slid out of you and shook itself somewhere nearby, sending melted rainbow goo flying. When the arm coiled around your belly left you, you nearly toppled, but he caught you swiftly. “Drink.” Metal was pressed to your lips, and the broth you had abandoned earlier graced your syrup-coated throat. You’d never been so thirsty, chugging it down until you were coughing, and the hand that held you reached up to cup your jaw, imploring you to swallow.

When the thermos left your lips, you leaned back against your heavily armored partner, letting his beskar hold you up. You were tired of the appetizer that was his fingers, and your swollen belly hungered for the real deal. You needed him. “Dindin… please… please I want your cock!” The body behind you couldn’t go any stiffer, and you felt his clothed erection rub against the curve of your ass. “I know you’re hard, fuck me, please?”

“Not til you’ve done as you're told.” His rasping voice was edged with heavy breaths, whether from the effort of claiming your clutch or trying not to cum in his pants you couldn’t be sure, but it sounded fucking hot as hell either way. Plated arms wrapped around you again, and you were pulled backwards into his lap with your knees thrown over his legs. He prodded your belly, trying to get a count of how many more orgasms he was going to give you. “Four… maybe five…”

Din went for your clit, spinning tight, vicious circles around the engorged nub and making you scream. “D-D-Din!!! Oh yeees! F-fuck me! Please p-please I-I want you in me!” He only hummed against you, rubbing his groin up against your ass to tease you while you came again. He stuffed an ungloved hand up your shirt to find your breasts, tugging and pinching at the sensitive buds until he could feel you shaking in his grasp and pleading for his thick, girthy cock to plow into you and scramble your guts even more than they already were.

For you he was taking charge of the situation, being the anchor you needed to get through this, but behind his faceless armor he was trying not to lose his goddamn mind at the sight of you. Where you sat on him he could grind himself against your soft thighs, and even through the layers of duraweave he could easily imagine himself sliding his length through your slick heat, drenching himself in your cum. Filling that belly. “Come for me again, cyar’ika.” He had to distract himself from his perverted thoughts, though that was becoming an impossible chore. Here you were in his arms, looking like some kind of glowing goddess with your womb as heavy as it was, and he cursed the Universe for giving him exactly what he’d wished for.

Damnation flowed through his modulator at the sound of your begging. “Is that right, cyare? You want me to stuff my cock in this soaked pussy of yours? You’re gonna have to earn it.” He was conflicted about talking to you in such a way, but something about the way he was speaking to you made your muscles clench around his fingers while you moaned against his armor. “You like it when I f-fuck you like this? I know you love these hands, cyar’ika, but if you want me to give you my cock you’re gonna have to come! Come so I can fuck that beatiful belly of yours full!”

Maybe he was talking to himself more than you, but you whined in his arms nonetheless as your walls squeezed and flooded. Another hot wave of slick coated his wrist, and he tossed the seedpod away, diving right back in for the next. His strong palm kneaded at your tummy, taking another count, two, maybe three more. He knew he should still be worried, terrified even, but damn it if he wasn’t harder than beskar. His cock was straining against the inside of his pant leg, desperate to grant his own desires.

“D-Din… w-wait…” He almost didn’t hear you, the thunder of his heartbeat roaring as loud as it was in his helmet, but your wobby arm came back around and patted his leg. “Th-thermos…” The canister was at your lips in a heartbeat, but you pushed it away. “C… Catch…”

Oh! The broth was poured out into the massive puddle under you, whatever, might as well add soup to the mix. He prodded your guts once more, palpating the hard lumps that still sat inside you, two left? “Cyare, that’s it, almost done. Come on, come all over my fucking fingers so I can b-bury my cock in you where it belongs!” You cried into the armor, heat searing from where he was pressed against you to your fluttering muscles to bare down on his fingers with your impending final climax. Dark, sultry praises rasped out of his modulator, so close to your ear you could feel the heat of his breath. “That’s it, ner riduur, one more and you can have my cock. One more and I'll stuff you with my own seed. You want that? Come for me so I can fill you up and breed you like I know you want me to!”

You nodded against him, making some kind of affirmation noise, but the last pod would be the toughest to pull, and he need to make you cum your fucking brains out if he was going to get it. He stopped his thrusts to tease at your stretched walls, rubbing his calloused fingertips against your slicked core. “What was that, riddur’ika? I can’t hear you.”

“Y-yes Din, please…” You were breathless, your words dryer than a desert as they scratched their way past your chapped lips. He laughed darkly against you, reminding you that you should probably stop teaching him new tricks.

“Yes what?”

“Breed me! Din please you big fucking jerk pump me full! I wanna be full of you!”

The cold metal of the thermos was pressed to your folds, making you cry out from the sting of it, but a hot fingertip groped at your clit, spinning one last mindblowing orgasm out of you that nearly rendered you unconscious. The metallic plonk that came from between your legs told you the pod had been captured, hopefully with enough of the nectar to keep it from drying out. Hunting is stupid. Din’s dry hand dug into the flesh of your stomach, searching for any more of the bullshit you had been filled with.

“There. Are you ok, cyar’ika?” Something like a nod wobbled your head, though the darkness coming in around the edges of your eyes told you that might be a lie. “You did so well! It’s all over now, let’s get you back up to the- cyar’ika stay with me!” Limply you laid against him, ignoring his exhausted pleas to slump against the rock hard tent pushing against your ass, trying to get him to make good on his word. You’d never been so spent in your life, as if you’d squirted out your very soul. Blinking your eyes open, you hazily saw the tilted visor of your oathsworn and shot him a lecherous grin.

“You gonna fuck me now like you said you would?”

Mando was rarely as grateful for his armor as he was right now, the cold, emotionless beskar hiding his sweat soaked face and lust-drunk eyes. The way you were watching his visor made him think you could hear the cogwheels in his head spinning out of control. Yes, yes a thousand times yes! Beautiful creature of the stars, more wondrous than any constellation. Her cunt is so perfect, so warm and wet and beautiful and literally gushing with her arousal, just begging for me to fill it. To fill her, Her womb is open, ready and waiting for my seed to be planted, a fertile haven for my younglings. They’ll be so strong, born with daggers in their teeth and songs in their hearts. I want to see her filled. I need to!

“No.” His reply barked dryly through his modulator, chewing on the sound of his denial. “We need to get out of here right now in case that fucking thing decides it wants to go for round two.” The arms that held you together wrapped around your back and under your knees, lifting you gently away from the mess. Weakly you held onto his neck, barely aware of the reef as it passed you by. Staring up at him through tired, tear-washed lashes you were filled with warmth, though not the heat you had felt from the hydra’s nectar. Better than that. Still, though the pleasant sensation was thrumming in your heart and your cunt, you were a bit peeved that he wasn’t going to give you what you’d begged for.

“You suck”

“I know.” The back of his mind roared with desire from hearing you literally beg for him to fuck you full, making his cock throb painfully against his duraweave. Keep it together, Djarin. Stars above he didn’t want to, he wanted to make good on the filthy promises he had poured over you, but there was no telling what else was lurking in the reef. He had to get you to safety, get you to the ship, and maybe then he could indulge himself. Mark you as his territory from the inside. Shaky fingers dug up under the edge of his helmet, and the feel of your skin against his face made him halt. “What is it, ner cyare’se?”

“You’re… you’re a good man. And a good dad.” The Mandalorian froze solid at that one, cocking his visor at you sharply. A new pull made itself known in his chest, something tugging on his heartstrings. Your eyes were closed, having long since given up the ghost as you started to fade away, and it took massive effort for you to drag them back open to see him. “Even if you do fucking suck s’metimes. You take good care’a me, ‘n Beans too, we’re v’ry lucky to have you.” Your words slurred, and you tried to lick your lips to get them to cooperate, but only found more of the ambrosia stuck to your face. You wouldn’t be cognizant much longer. “Thank you, Din.”

His name being spoken by you was more addictive than any spice, and paired with the praise you were whispering against his metal he nearly melted right down to the ground with you. That was all he ever wanted to be. A good man, a good husband, a good buir. Honeyglow flooded his bones, soft and warm and gentle, the polar opposite of the beskar he was covered in. He felt you curl a lock of his hair around in your fingers, the gentle tug on his scalp making him rumble. The life of a hunter was fucked up, to be sure, but as long as he had you and his son, it was bearable.

You kissed at the chest plate you were pressed to, the one that hid the embodiment of your vows safely next to his heart. He pressed his helmet to your brow, and the way you hummed against him in his arms made him want to run back to the Crest where you could have some privacy and peel his armor away, give you what you had so desperately begged him for. Maybe it was the way you were laying so limply against his cuirass, but you seemed so small to him in that moment, like without him wrapped around your body you would dissipate on the volcanic breeze like the pods had. Protect her.

“You’re… welcome.”

Your fucked-out face nuzzled against him, and he couldn’t help but hug you even tighter, making the scent of you coast up under the edge of his armor. It was different, fragrant and succulent though it was probably the juice that still clung to your legs and face. The scent of you was still there, just enhanced by the aroma, made stronger. He took a deep breath of you before continuing through the reef, almost tripping over a low coral when he wavered. Wavered? Why am I wavering?

The sound of a deep, indulgent inhale caught your ears, and you flickered an eye open to see him burrowing the front of his helmet in the fabric covering your breasts. Against you his chest ballooned fully, holding the scent of you in his lungs until it stuttered through his modulator with a curse. You giggled weakly, “Smells good, don’t it?” A low grumble made the plates against you vibrate, telling you the siren scent of the anemone was seeping into his brain. “If you think it smells good you should see how good it tastes! Try some n’ then get’cher self some sloppy seconds, I know you wanna~”

“No! The last thing we need is for me to get caught up in whatever the hell pumped you full of… quarries.” The imagery of that made you chuckle, silly, stupid laughs that bounced off his armor. He was practically jogging now, though you could feel him stumble through the stoney gravel every once in a while as the perfume of the anemone grove started to sink into his synapses. “We’re almost out of here, just a little further…”

“Bah, alright party pooper. I’ll getcha when we get back aboard.”

“Sure, let’s go with that.”

You curled against him, feeling his arms go somehow even tighter. The living fortress that was your Mandalorian carried you with declining ease through the reef, and you could tell from the engine purring away under his armor that he was not nearly as composed as he sounded. One more poke, for good measure. “I love you, Din.”

“And I you, cyare.” His response came out a little cold, but only because he was desperately trying not to melt away into the same puddle of goo you had been turned into. Again you whispered his name, gliding through his ears like a song, and his heart ached to kiss you, to taste the flesh that hugged his Creed-sworn secret so well. He hadn’t heard it in so long before you came, and though his old alor knew it, it was forbidden, meaningless. But coming from you it was powerful, strong enough to bring him to his knees if they weren’t so busy wading through hell and highwater.

Vaguely you were aware of your egress, though most of it flickered in and out of your lust-lost mind. The warmth of the cavern fell away to be replaced with the cold, rushing air of the tunnel as you rocketed back up to the basin. Maybe you were dreaming of the sound of boots crunching through snow, or the soft gibbering of the founding, you couldn’t be sure, but it was pleasant nonetheless. You heard words being spoken from time to time as well, all of them muddied and faint. Maybe they were Basic, maybe Mando’a, but all of them sounded like they cared. Like every syllable and intonation humming through the iron on your cheek was spoken for you alone.

Your Mandalorian carried you diligently back to your broken chariot, trying his best to make small talk with the foundling as he floated along behind. The child seemed worried at the state of his adopted parents, And Din rattled off every reassurance that he could think of, but his legs were starting to weaken from the scent of the nectar so close to his helmet. He marched on through the glacial basin almost on autopilot until the Razor came into view. Warm air sent flurries of snow around him and his crew as the ramp fell open, and blearily he made his way inside.

He had to do something about the state of the two of you, but his knees locked and froze him to the spot, demanding he take a moment to breathe. There it was again, the fruity, summery scent of you that made his dick throb. Damn it all. Shaky steps hauled him through the cabin, and he laid you down on the little cot you both shared. He needed to get your soaked clothes off, but in order to do that he would have to get out of his own armor first. He shrugged off the helmet, though the metal had been protecting him from the temptation of you more than he realized, and the heat that gooped its way through his body from the pungency of your scent nearly threw him to the floor.

Din punched the buttons on his vambrace, closing up the foundling for the night whether he was ready for bed or not. Sorry kid. He peeled his armor away, setting the beskar aside and tossing the soaked fabric into the fresher. Next came your own clothes, and at first he worried he might wake you. Stars knew you needed the rest, but you made no indication that you even knew he was there.

Your limbs flopped like jelly while he tore off your clothes to be chucked into the fresher along with his until you were beautifully naked. Spread like a feast before him on the narrow bed, he couldn’t help but lick his lips. Little shimmers here and there told him that you were still coated in the hydra’s goo, and his first thought was to grab a washcloth to clean you up, but you stretched your lovely arms and made the splashes of color dance like melted candy on your skin, making his mouth water at the sight and giving him a much better idea. Maybe just… just a taste.

~

The faint whirring of the Crests innards caught your attention, and you came back to consciousness with agonizing slowness. You were laying on your bedroll, tucked safely away in the durasteel depths of your ship, though you weren’t sure if it was dark or if you still had your eyes closed. Warm fog settled in your head and wafted through your bones, a mindless comfort that left you blissfully numb. It could have been whatever the hydra had left in you, or more likely, it was whatever activity was going on below your waist. Your breath hitched in your throat, surprising you, but not as surprising as the stars that flashed behind your eyes. “Ah~!”

From between your legs a lusty groan shot right up your cunt and made you fist your hands in the plush fabric underneath you while you came. How is there anything left!? A broad tongue lapped at your clit, slurping away at the remnants of the nectar that coated your folds. The smooth muscle dragged itself through your slit, drinking in everything you were giving before sliding right back to that sensitive little bud to tease circles around it.

“Mesh’la.. I’m.. I’m sorry, I c-couldn’t help it, you taste so good~” The Mandalorian’s baritone rocked you to your core, and another flick of his tongue had you coming all over his face again. “P-please… forgive me.”

“F-f-forgive? Bahh… I told ya it was good, now get lickin’, bucket boy.” You tangled a hand in his curls, pushing him back down to enjoy his just desserts. His tongue fucked into you with reckless abandon, hungry and desperate for the taste of you. He dug his arms under your thighs and forced your mound as tightly up against his face as he could, and you heard him gasp for air between gulps. Exhaustion and pleasure tugged your eyes back closed, and you teetered in and out of consciousness, being brought back to the realm of the living with each fresh wave of ecstasy. Something rhythmic moved against your leg, the muscles in his shoulder thrumming away at something well out of sight. Is he jerking off?

In his hand he was going to town on his aching shaft, using the glittering goo that still flowed readily from your gloriously wet pussy to coat himself in. The coral’s effect had been burrowing into his brain stem from the moment he could smell it, calling to him like some kind of siren; but finally getting to taste it was an otherworldly experience. You had been through enough for one hunt, and though he craved release like a sex crazed animal he would happily content himself with just getting a taste of the ambrosial sweetness while you relaxed.

It hadn’t taken him long to coax the rainbow juices from your stretched folds, and even less time to slick himself with it. For a brief moment he thought he would just lap enough from your wellspring to get himself off, but soon he found himself unable to tear his face away from your delicious cunt, slurping away at the honeyed slick until he was nearly drowning in it. He dragged the colorful fluid around the tip of his cock, almost creaming himself right then and there with the warm tingly sensation that dribbled down his length.

Stars above you were juicy, wet and engorged against his frenzied tongue, though the rest of your body was boneless against him. He didn’t mind holding your legs up on his shoulders while he lovingly cleaned the nectar from the core of your body, in fact he was delighted to be of service. Lost in his indulgences he almost didn’t feel you tug on his hair, bringing his eyes up to meet your own.

“You… you can… in me… please... “ Nothing remained of your shattered mind, but you almost felt bad that he was trying to take care of himself when you were right there, ready and waiting. He shook his head against your leaking slit, dragging himself up for air to answer you, making the hazy emergency lights of the cabin sparkle in the wetness that covered his mouth and chin.

“I shouldn’t, you need to… to rest… ”

“Should’a thought about that before you started tonguin' me. Now get up here and fuck me like you said you would!”

You were starting to wonder if he liked being bossed around, because he growled against your core and yanked you back towards him, burying himself balls deep in one swift thrust. His wet mouth crashed against your own, giving you a taste of your own medicine. Fuck he wasn’t kidding, that’s delcious! He thrust into you with ragged strokes, messy and out of time. Muscular arms wrapped around your body, flooding your senses with the combined scent of him and the intoxicating perfume of the sunken grove.

Din hugged you close to his sweaty chest, digging fingers into the back of your head and the swell of your ass so he could rocket into your wonderous coils, punching the blunt tip of his cock against your tired cervix. His kisses were frantic but messy, all tongue and teeth and heated breaths as if you could do any better. You were almost surprised that you could feel him as stretched out as you were, but the spear of a Mandalorian was nothing to be scoffed at. The girthy thing rutted against your walls, bottoming out with every desperate thrust.

“Not… gonna… last… much... “ He choked on his own words, making a half dozen more ragged thrusts before blasting you full of his cum, painting your walls with his seed. The ring of muscle fluttered against his weeping tip, almost like a tongue that was greedily sucking his cum into your depths. That’s the only seeds she should be filled with, he thought blearily, my seed. His hips twitched against you, giving a few more staggered thrusts to milk himself to completion in your forgiving heat.

Din was panting, driven nearly to exhaustion by the effort of making good on his promises to fuck you senseless. Under him your own breath was stuttered, your chest crushed by his weight. He coiled his arms around you and rolled you both sideways, using the last of his strength to tuck you up under his arm and lay your head on his chest. You murmured something fondly against him as he lazily threaded his fingers through your hair, brushing it out of your face as best he could, but the soft breathing against his skin told him you probably didn’t notice. Soft kisses danced over your face, more for his enjoyment than your own, a fact made apparent by the cutest little snore in his ears. Sleep well, my love. And thank you. For everything.

He could lay there forever, with the weight of you on his chest and the hot slick sliding down his thighs, if he died right then and there he would die a very happy man. His fingers tried valiantly to run themselves down the curve of your spine, but there was no energy left in his body to power them, and he let them rest in the dip of your hips. Your breaths came slowly, a gentle rise and fall that heated his skin where you were pressed tightly against the crook of his neck. Din kissed your forehead again before tangling his limbs around you and burying his nose in your hair. Tomorrow we can get the exterior fixed, the inside is warm enough for now.

A gentle smile tugged at the edges of his lips, making his whiskers catch your hair. And maybe if it’s too cold for the foundling, she’ll keep him in her shirt again. Din couldn’t help but hum at the thought, you all cute and round, even if it was only temporary. By marriage you were a buir to his foundling, as truly as you would be if you had sworn the Creed, but the thought of you carrying his own flesh-and-blood ad’ika was the guiltiest pleasure he could imagine. Now that he knew what you would look like all full and heavy he could more easily indulge those devious thoughts. It was probably wrong to recall the image of you laying on that vibrant nest of tentacles, glowing and radiant and full. And in need. Needing me to care for her.

He wouldn’t admit it, and he knew you were tough enough to take care of yourself as long as you didn’t go sliding down any mysterious chasms, but he loved being needed by you. He loved that the name you had screamed for in that sunken grove was his, that you needed him to rescue you, needed him to pull the pods from your belly. Needed him to breed you. He could hear you in his mind again, you desperately begging him to fill your womb with his warriors, but you had only done so while drunk on the hydra’s wine. Was there any truth to it? Probably not, he’d practically demanded that you beg for it.

But what if there was?

Tired fingers pulled you impossibly closer to him, as if to invite you to sleep in his ribcage, curled up next to his heart. You grumbled in your sleep, murmuring something about tater tots before letting loose a beastly snore. The Mandalorian rolled his eyes, that’s her, that’s my mesh’la, my cyare, my riduur.

And maybe, when the time is right, when the bounties have been collected and the universe doesn’t seem so hostile. Maybe when we find another convert, or even just start one of our own. Someday, maybe...

Maybe I can call her my buir’ika as well.

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taste test {kaz brekker x reader}

   there are guests today.

    little information was given to you, but you don’t mind; you’re not here to entertain anyone. you’re here to do your job and move on. who the king associates with is honestly none of your concern. 

   you’ll leave the assassins to the royal guards.

    you wake on the day to witness the palace in hysterics. chefs bustle around like headless chickens, maids and butlers ironing uniforms that have not had a crinkle in them since the war. the scent of food - a cacophany of it - rises to the surface, making you crinkle your nose at the onslaught of different options. all you want is a slice of toast to prepare you for the day, but the thought of walking into that kitchen has you cuddling up in bed for a few minutes longer.

    you’ll have to eat that food pretty soon. just a small bite, just enough to get a taste. a hint. 

   you close your eyes.

    the peace doesn’t last long, because it never does. a knock sounds at your door, startling you from your reverie. you roll over, not even bothering to cover yourself when you call out, “come in!”

    a palace guard - rico - peaks his bald head round the door and raises a brow. “still sleeping?”

   “clearly not.”

    “good. you need to be up and at your post in thirty minutes; we have guests today.”

   you pull the quilt over your head. “don’t remind me.” you peak an eye over the top, raising a brow. “who are the guests?”

   rico narrows his eyes. “you haven’t been told?”

   “well, no. i never really asked.”

    “then i’ll leave it as a surprise.” he claps his hands, like you’re some kind of dog. “get ready. i don’t want to come back up here again.”

   “then don’t,” you reply, but he’s already disappeared.

    you drag yourself from bed to do as he ordered. there’s no point arguing with the palace guards - they seem to think they own the place, even though they live basically under the thumb of every other individual walking the grounds. even you, the lowest of the low, can manipulate them into doing what you want if you just try hard enough. a few sweet words and a confident tone, and they’re like putty in your hands.

    but the truth is, you don’t care enough about todays events to put on that confident tone. you pull your clothes on, fiddle with your bow tie, and head downstairs to see what the day has in store for you.

    breakfast, lunch, and dinner. 

    a risky day ahead.

    you’re required to be at the kings side long before the guests arrive. you’ve never questioned it. the rules of the palace have never made any sense to you, but you go along with them, because you don’t want to get into any more trouble than you already have. that’s why you find yourself stood by the kings side in silence, hands clasped in front of you, trays of delicious breakfast foods being delivered by hasty, sweaty porters.

    the dining room is swathed in beautiful decor. banners hang from the ceiling, red and gold colours matching the grand wallpaper all around. the fancy carpet has been rolled out, tucked beneath the long, mahogany dining table and stretching all the way to the double doors ready to greet the guests. 

   even the king is dressed well for the occasion, which is another surprise. though the king hardly looks like a peasant, he makes a point to put in as little effort with his appearance as possible, just to show people that he can get anyone to fear him from personality alone. his riches and fancy fabrics have nothing to do with his power.

    but today he wears his finest silk coat, the buttons straining against his round stomach. his beard has been freshly trimmed, and you watch his hand rock back and forth amongst the hairs. a few stray ones float from his chin to the table, and you quickly swipe them away. the king doesn’t even notice; he continues staring at the doors, one dark skinned knuckle tight around the arms of his throne-like chair. 

     finally, after what feels like forever, the double doors up ahead are pushed open. two palace guards dressed in red hold them in place, and a man is ushered in.

    a man you recognise immediately.

    he’s got a cane now, which is different. there’s those gloves on his hands, the sides of his head still shaved, with that shaggy, dark mess still perched on top, a school boys haircut that looks most out of place on someone with blood on his hands. he’s frowning, because that’s what kaz brekker does - the king shows his power through his booming voice and cruel choices. kaz brekker shows his power through his expressions. 

    you don’t meet his eyes, though you don’t look away. kaz has his gaze on the king, not even noticing you standing at his side, and for that you are thankful; you don’t think you want to look into those blue eyes again. you promised yourself you wouldn’t, not before the nightmares disappear.

    the king slowly stands. he rubs his beard one final time for good measure before saying, “you’re late, kaz.”

    “call me mr brekker,” kaz replies, before gesturing to an empty seat at the end of the table - the seat farthest from the king. “shall we sit?”

    you swallow; you’re familiar with this attitude from him, but you’ve been in the kings presence too long now to pretend kaz isn’t on thin ice. 

    the king, however, is clearly in a docile mood, as he nods and sits down. the food in the centre of the table goes unnoticed for a while as the two stare at each other, waiting for the other to crack and begin the conversation. you fiddle with your fingers, uncertain whether kaz has seen you, whether he recognises you, whether he’s just keeping a straight face because he’s kaz, and he’s a professional.

    finally, the king clicks his fingers at you. “stack my plate. you know the drill.”

   you burst into action, bustling round the table, scooping up different assortments of breakfast foods you know the king enjoys; he’s got his bacon, and his eggs, and the bread, pancakes on the side. you slather beans along the rim of his plate and place a single hash brown in the residue, just as he likes it.

   and then you sit down, and pick apart the entire thing.

    you can feel kaz’s eyes burning into you as you work, but you pay him no attention. you have to focus, because this is kind of a life or death situation. you sniff the food first, though this very rarely shows you anything you might need to worry about. it’s too fresh, still warm in your fingers when you lift it to your nose. you can smell only the warmth of it all, but you take the precaution anyway, just to show the king you know what you’re doing.

    and then you nibble the edges, heart thumping with nerves rather than poison entering your body. that’s what you’re looking for - poison, an assassination attempt. even in his own palace, the king is paranoid. his own staff have turned against him before. you’re not entirely surprised.

    you chew, swallow, pause, repeat.

    “all clear.”

   you hand the plate back, tuck your hands in your lap and look down at the table at kaz. he’s staring at you, an eyebrow raised, and you understand immediately that he recognises you, probably knew you worked here before he even entered the premise.

   was he here for you?

   you banish the thought and look away. you wait until the king has started digging in before excusing yourself and exiting, your job for the morning complete. at lunch, you will have to repeat the process, and again at dinner, but until then, you have the morning to yourself.

    you walk through the gardens, because fresh air is all you need right now. your heart is hammering, and you curse yourself for it - kaz brekker has not been in your life for months. he shouldn’t have a grip on you. he shouldn’t even know you are here, and yet he does, because of course he does. kaz doesn’t step foot anywhere until he knows the ins-and-outs of the entire place. he keeps his ducks all in a neat row, and you were a fool to believe you had escaped it.

    it’s not like kaz is a bad man. he’s evil, certainly, with horrible actions under his belt, but you can understand his reasoning. he kills a man, and maybe that’s an overexaggeration, but the man was also seconds away from traumatising a poor woman walking home from work. kaz takes a life, saving the day in the process. it’s how he works, how he’s always worked for as long as you’ve known him.

   and you’ve known him for a while.

   you haven’t been by his side in months, but someone like kaz brekker is someone you never forget. once you know kaz, you never stop knowing him, which is a curse more than anything else. oh, how you wish you could wipe the slate clean, pretend you never got involved with him and his gang in the first place. but that was your decision - your stupid, careless decision - and you need to face the consequences.

    having him here, at your place of work, was a consequence.

    you sit down by the stream just outside the palace grounds. a duckling struts past, paying you no attention whatsoever. a stray lilipad floats gently through the water, spurred on by the tiny breeze ketterdam has for you today.

     you like to come here sometimes, just to clear your head a little bit. nobody else bothers with the nice scenery and the nature; they think it’s a waste of time. if it wasn’t for the gardener, this place would be a wasteland, left to shrivel and disappear into shadow. you’re thankful it’s been kept pleasant, though - it’s a good place for someone who wants to have no thoughts for a little while.

    you lean down and run your fingertips along the water. it’s cold, and a weed gets tangled between your fingers. you lift it from the water with a wince, flicking your wrist to get it off-

    a cane clamps down on your fingers, shoving your hand into the grass.

   you inhale sharply, straightening up but not turning around.

    “so easy to startle,” kaz hums. “you’re losing your touch, y/n.”

    you twist your hand and catch the bottom of his cane, using it to pull yourself to your feet. kaz doesn’t stumble, but you never expected him to; kaz doesn’t stumble. he’s much too stubborn for that.

    you whirl around, and there he is, that frown on his face, his head tilted like he’s analysing you even before you’ve said two words. a heat festers in your belly. you don’t know if you want to hug him or slam your fist into his nose. 

    “so this is where you ended up, is it?” he glances at the grand gardens, the glistening lake, the ducklings swimming past. “you’ve surprised me, i gotta say. i never thought you’d be into such grandeur.”

   you fold your arms over your chest, cheeks heating up. you will admit, the palace is certainly not the place you thought to find yourself, either; after living in the barrel your entire life, you had grown used to dirt stained clothes, weeks without washing, hunger pains. this was different. this was a different type of hell, a hell in fancy clothes.

    “cat got your tongue?” kaz continues, swinging that stupid cane back and forth. “shame. i think we have a lot to talk about.”

   “why are you here?”

   “ah, asking the right questions now!”

   “just tell me, kaz. tell me, and then we can go our separate ways - just like you wanted.”

    his expression falters for a moment, so quick that it’s clear he doesn’t want you noticing the power you still have over him, even just a little. 

    “fine,” he says. “let’s walk.”

   you do just that, hands tucked into pockets, head tilted down. it’s easier to talk to him when you’re not subject to his facial expressions, too - handling both of them is too much. 

    “you want to know why i’m here,” he begins. “i’m here looking for you.”

    your stomach drops, even though that was kind of what you were expecting. 

    he pauses, giving you a chance to fill in the silence with your own thoughts, but you don’t even look up.

    he barrels on. “we had a tip-off from someone that you were working here now. no one else believed it, but me? i know you a little better than them. i was surprised, but i could picture it. you’ve always been irrational when you’re desperate.”

   you wince. “you don’t know me at all, kaz.”

    he smiled at the sky in response, like you had walked into his trap.

    “i hope you didn’t come here thinking you can coax me back to the barrel,” you continue. “that’s not going to happen.”

    his jaw clenches, head still tilted towards the sun. his skin is a little darker now, a little more tan. he’s probably been out and about, you think, causing havok in the sunshine, ruining people’s holidays because he can.

    “i thought you would say that,” he says. “so i’m bringing the problem to you.”

   you nearly stumble. “what?” freezing in the middle of the path, you grab his arm and whirl him around, forcing him to look at you. “what have you done, kaz? what problem?”

    “she asked for you.”

    “kaz-”

   “inej is sick.”

    your breath falters. those words, so simple, yet so . . . unexpected. inej ghafa - the wraith, your best friend, the girl designed to be indestructible. that’s why kaz picked her. that’s why she worked alongside you. that’s what made you the best damn crew in ketterdam.

    “sick.” 

    kaz nods, shrugging his arm from your grip. “sick. ill. not well. poorly. whatever you want to call it. she’s not doing good, and the only person she’s asking for is you.”

    “so where is she?” you whirl around. “is she here?”

   “not walking alongside us, no.”

   you scowl. “i mean at the palace, kaz. is she at the palace?”

   “she will be.” kaz pulls a golden watch from his pocket. “in about three hours. that should give your employer plenty of time to set my room up and make some space in the hospital wing, don’t you think?”

   you close your eyes, trying desperately to steady the thumping of your heart. he could be lying, and you know that, but what if he isn’t? what is inej really is on her death bed, and you never even got to say goodbye?

    the thought terrifies you to the point your hands begin to tremble. when you open your eyes, kaz is staring at them, and you’re almost certain there is something close to pity sparking there.

   you quickly snap your arms behind your back and nod. “fine. okay. i’ll see her. but once i’ve done what i can, you leave. both of you.”

    kaz studies your face. the fire in your stomach burns even brighter, forcing you to look away and keep walking.

    kaz follows, all soft footsteps. “i’m not here to bring up the past, y/n. i hope you know that.”

    “you can understand why i find that hard to believe.”

   “well, yes. but i’m serious. what we had, it means nothing now. you’re a different person, and so am i. we can let it go.”

    you swallow the lump in your throat, trying to pretend those words are exactly what you wanted to hear. but a knot twists in your heart, almost to the point of pain.

   you take a deep breath and glance at him over your shoulder. he’s only a few steps behind, but his presence is so large, so there that you nearly trip. 

   and then you say, “we never had anything, kaz. remember that.”

----

   it’s like you’re trying to hurt each other.

   that’s how it’s always been between you and kaz, but at one point, it felt natural. it was a bit of fun. a few snide remarks here and there, followed by kaz confessing he thinks your eyes are a very pretty colour. a bit of sparring, followed by you telling kaz he’s the most important person in your life. 

   this time, however, the mere sight of him is a torment, one you don’t find fun in the slightest.

    the king tasks you with leading kaz through the palace. this was a job you fully expected to be given, but it doesn’t make it any easier. kaz stops to examine every little thing, tracing his fingers along artefacts you would be murdered for touching.     

   you swat his hand away when he reaches for a bust of the kings father. “stop it. if you knock that over, he’ll have you hanged.”

    kaz raises a brow before touching a gloved fingertip to the stone. you groan and march off, trying to ignore the butterflies at the sound of his soft, hidden chuckle echoing behind you.   

   you show him his room, a beautifully decorated space much grander than any room the king has ever given you. kaz whistles when he walks in, looking at the wine bucket on his chest of drawers, and the freshly made bed with the thick linens, and a view to die for.

    “spoiled,” he says.

   you roll your eyes. “i’ll leave you to get comfortable.”

    “or.” he whirls, catching your arm. his fingers slot in the crook of your elbow, the leather of his gloves sparking unwanted familiarity within you. “you can stay, and we can talk some more.”

   “i have things to do, kaz.” you rip your arm from his grip. “the king will be having lunch soon, and i need to be there.”

    kaz scoffs, slowly sliding the knot out of his tie and slipping it from beneath his collar, like undressing in front of you is no big deal. “so you can do what? potentially die? you know, y/n, i once thought you were a tough son of a bitch, but the longer i’m here, the more i’m realising just how weak you are.”

    ouch.

   “we’ve all got to make a living somehow,” you reply. “you murder people, i keep the king safe.”

    “the same king you wanted to assassinate a few months ago?” he tilts his head, pursing his lips. “what a drastic change of heart.”

   “go to hell, kaz.”

    he raises a hand. “wait for me outside; i’ll come to lunch with you and your king.”

   you pause. “has he invited you?”

   “i don’t need an invite.”

    “you’re not permitted to be there-”

   “i’ll be there.” he starts unbuttoning his shirt. “i want to watch you in action. you’ve always been very good in action.” he smirks, and you know he’s just teasing you, trying to get a reaction. your cheeks heat up, but you quickly turn on your heel and scurry out before he can notice. 

    you don’t wait on him outside. instead, you hurry to the dining hall, where the king is already seated. he looks up when you enter, fingers already tangled in his beard. his wife sits beside him, grand and tall and everything a queen should be. she scowls when you enter, but you ignore her, immediately taking your seat by the king and fanning a napkin over your lap.

    “sorry,” you say. “kaz brekker kept me.”

    “it’s mr brekker,” the queen snaps. “have some respect for our guests.”

   “y/n can call me kaz.”

   you close your eyes, listening to the thump of his feet and cane against the carpet. 

   “y/n can call me kaz,” he repeats, lowering himself in the chair at the head of the table. “mr brekker is a little too formal for them.”

     “mr brekker,” the queen exclaims, fanning her reddening face. “i wasn’t aware you would be joining us for lunch!” 

   you nearly roll your eyes at her flustered state - okay, so kaz is attractive. he’s also half her age.

    kaz leans back in his seat, tapping his fingertips together. “oh, no, i’m not eating. i’m just here to observe.” at the confused silence, he shrugs. “i have nothing better to do, and i’ve always been fascinated with the hobbies y/n takes on. such a talented soul they are.”

    you’ve never heard kaz speak so formal before, and you have half a mind to laugh. instead, you glance over to see his own lips trembling in his attempts to keep a straight face - he finds this just as amusing as you do. messing with the royals, it’s all a game to him. they are the fools. 

    “do you two know each other?” the king asks, handing you his stacked plate.

   “no,” you snap. kaz grins behind his glove, staring at you over his fingers as you hasten to add, “no, we don’t. i just met him today.”

    the king nods slowly, not quite sure whether to believe you or not. you don’t give him a chance to doubt any further before picking up your knife and fork and cutting a small chunk from a slice of tofu. you go through the usual routine with everything on his plate, but all the while, kaz stares. you feel his eyes like a fire sinking into the side of your face, putting you off from paying proper attention. you pop the cut-off’s in your mouth and chew, turning to meet his gaze, as if making eye contact with him is some kind of power move. however, he actually looks a bit. . . worried? concerned? you’ve never seen that expression on his face before, and it makes your stomach flip as you swallow the food.

    you give a final nod, handing the plate back to the king. you repeat the process with the queen before standing, straightening your trousers and excusing yourself.

    kaz’s chair screeches as he stands.

    “mr brekker, would you not care for some lunch?” the queen asks.

    “no.” he turns and follows you out the dining room, catching your arm when you try and run. “what the hell?”

    you spin, snatching your arm away. “can you stop grabbing me?”

    “what happens if their food actually has been poisoned?”

    “then i get poisoned.”

   he raises a brow, skin paling. “and do they have someone on hand for if that happens?”

   “on hand to do what?”

   “don’t play stupid, y/n. on hand to save your fucking life.”

   you scowl; it’s been a long time since you’ve heard kaz curse, and it shames you to feel the same thrill run over you. 

    “i get sent to the infirmary,” you reply. “but it’s never happened before.”

    “never happened-” he shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “this is the kind of life you want to live? you left the barrel for this?”

    “no life is as bad as the barrel.”

    kaz’s lips tighten, eyes fluttering closed for the briefest moment before he opens them again and says, “you left the place where people loved you, cared about you, and you came here. to this shit hole. you’re risking your life for them, and you have the nerve to tell me this life isn’t as bad as the barrel?”

    even to you it sounds ridiculous, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. 

    “the barrel wasn’t a life,” you say. “the barrel was a beginning for me, but i’ve moved on.”

    “you don’t move on from that.”

   “maybe not mentally, but i can damn well get away physically.” you lean in, lowering your voice. “i just wish you’d let me.”

    his eyes scan your face, drawing attention to just how close you are to him. his breath fans your cheeks. you can make out every line on his lips, every crease in his face. you could lean forward if you wanted to, close that distance.

    you step back, once again straightening your trousers. “tell me when inej arrives and i’ll come meet her in the infirmary.”

    kaz doesn’t say anything. he watches you leave, and part of you - a retched, traitorous part - is disappointed he doesn’t follow. 

   ----

    inej really is sick.

   “so it’s true,” you say, sauntering into the infirmary. “the wraith has been beaten.”

    you’re trying to jest, but there’s little humour to be felt when she looks like that. her dark skin is pale and sickly, warm drops of sweat clinging to her forehead and rolling down her neck. she’s dressed in only a thin night gown, revealing collar bones and stretched skin where her muscles once were. 

   she looks up, bloodshot eyes meeting your own, and even in sickness, she manages a smile when she sees you. that’s enough to have you breaking. you rush to her bedside and bundle her in your arms, nearly sobbing with relief at the feel of her pressed against you, her hands in your hair, her mouth inches from your ear.

   she whispers, “it’s you.”

   you pull away, nodding. “yes. it’s me.”

    “what are you doing here?”

    you pull a chair over and sit down. “that’s not important.”

    “yes, it is.”

   “i’ll explain later.” you lean forward, pushing a strand of hair away from her face. “you talk first; what’s going on?”

   inej coughs into her elbow; something rattles in your throat, and you try desperately to hide your wince. “i just got sick. i fell in the brig a few days ago, and i don’t think the water was very healthy.”

   “of course it wasn’t,” you grumble. “it’s the barrel, you stupid girl. what did you expect?”

    “i cleaned myself pretty well afterwards,” she defends. 

   “clearly not well enough.” you place a hand to her cheek. “has anyone come to see you?”

   “some man in a coat,” she replies, nuzzling down in the pillows. “he checked my temperature and my blood pressure and all that stuff. said he’d be back soon.”

   “and he didn’t seem . . . concerned?”

   inej shrugs. “i didn’t look him in the eye. men like him don’t sit right with me, y/n. i let him do his job, but i’m not looking at him. i’m not giving him ideas.”

   you nod. there is a silence, but those are okay between you and inej. 

    finally, you reach over and take her hand. her palms are clammy, cold, but her grip is strong. 

    “i’m sorry i wasn’t there to help you.”

    her head snaps around, eyes widening. “y/n-”

   “i know you always say you understand why i left, but it’s just. . . i don’t know. i feel guilty about it. i feel selfish sometimes, and you’ve had to travel all the way here whilst you’re in this state all because i wasn’t there to-”

    “has kaz been making you feel guilty?”

   your mouth snaps closed. “i don’t. . . i don’t think so?”

    inej sighs, head dropping back into the pillows. “don’t listen to him. i understand why you left; i always have. kaz just. . . i don’t think he ever got over it when you disappeared. it was like a part of him went with you.” she shrugs. “a part of him did go - you.”

    silence again, because you have no idea how to respond to that. kaz was hurt when you left, and you know that, but he’s kaz. he’s tough. he’s been through everything a person should never have to go through. the thought of his final straw being you is almost laughable to think about.

    “he loved you,” inej continues, even though you don’t want her to. “he really, really loved you.”

    “past tense,” you whisper. “not any more.”

    inej smiles sadly, and that’s all you need to see to understand you’re right - he’s moved on. he’s here with you now, but that means nothing in the grand scheme of things. he’s here on business. he doesn’t care about you, and he said it himself - whatever the two of you had is gone, non-existent. you thought you had come to terms with that, but seeing the confirmation on inej’s face makes you feel suddenly exhausted.

    “well this isn’t about kaz and i,” you say, pulling your shoulders back. “come on. tell me what’s been going on since i left.”

   ---

    you’re trying to sleep when you hear the bang.

    trying being the key word. always. every night, you put your best efforts into drifting to sleep, but it never seems to work how you want it to. you toss and turn for hours on end, drifting in and out of your associative state, but not really falling asleep. time just passes, and then it’s day time, and you’re working again.

   tonight is no different.

   the bang is loud, just next door to your room. your ears immediately prick - the palace guards aren’t moving towards it. you’re already awake, so you may as well see to it yourself.

   you swing your legs out of bed, grab your dressing gown and walk into the hallway. glancing back and forth, you see nothing out of the ordinary.

   the bang sounds again.

   you narrow your eyes, walking further down the hallway. turning a corner, the bang sounds one final time before a pair of shoes flies at the wall and crashes to the floor in a heap.

   you rush forward, eyes wide. “what the-”

   kaz spins, another pair of expensive shoes already in his hand. “oh. did i wake you?”

    dazed, you snatch the shoes into your possession and toss them to the floor. “what the fuck are you doing, kaz? people are trying to sleep!”

    “i was also trying to sleep,” kaz replies. “i am one of those people, so why are you yelling at me?”

   you rub your eyes in frustration - sometimes talking to him is like pulling teeth.

   “oh, come on,” kaz says. “i was just doing a bit of late night cleaning. this room is a fucking shit hole.”

    you raise a brow, sighing. “what are you on about? this room was pristine when you came.”

    “yeah, well, i thought so too. and then i found this.” he motions for you to enter the room, and though you know it’s a bad idea, you do so. he hooks his foot around something beneath his bed, and pulls out a box overflowing with expensive shoes.

   you narrow your eyes. “what’s the problem?”

   “rich men shoes,” he says, like that explains everything. after knowing kaz as deeply as you do, it kind of does make sense.

   you sigh again, kicking the box back beneath the bed. “go to sleep, kaz.”

    “i can’t.”

    “try.”

   “you know i can’t.”

   you pause, overcome with a sudden chill. you wrap the dressing gown tighter around your body, trying to refrain from looking at him - he’s still dressed in the fancy clothes he wore this morning, but the top button is pulled loose, and his hair is a mess. his eyes droop a little, evidence that he really wants to sleep, but genuinely just can’t.

   and you know why.

   “i’m not asking you to stay with me,” he continues, grabbing a pair of socks from the floor. “i’m just saying - you have no right telling me to sleep when you know what it’s like.”

    “are they bad again?”

    kaz purses his lips. “they’ve been bad for a while.”

   a while. that’s how he always phrases it. when he says it’s been a while, he means it’s been a while since you left the crows, left him. 

    you swallow, looking to the ceiling like the intricate design will give you clarity. “i can get you tea or something. a fresh blanket. whiskey.”

    “trying to get me drunk?”

   “kaz, i’m serious.” you meet his eyes. “you look terrible.”

    he laughs, a sly sound that reeks more of danger than amusement. “thank you.”

    “let me get you something.” you turn, but he catches your elbow. you glance back just as he drops his hand like your flesh has burned him, an uncharacteristic redness adorning his cheeks.

   “didn’t mean to touch you,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck. “but i’m serious; i don’t need anything. it’s useless anyway.”

    everything is useless. every remedy he’s ever been given has never worked. the only remedy for insomnia that has worked for kaz brekker is you.

   but you can’t do that to him. you can’t do that to yourself. 

    “okay,” you mumble. “just. . . stop making so much noise, alright?”

   “did i really wake you?”

    “i couldn’t sleep either.”

    you stare at each other. it’s like you’re waiting for the other to break. you hate that you kind of want him to break.

    his adams apple bobs. “make yourself some tea, then. i’ll be a bit quieter.”

    you nod. “thanks.”

   “how’s inej, by the way? did you see her?”

    “i did. she seems. . . okay.” you shrug. “the doctors are going to do everything they can to help her get back to normal. then you can go back to the barrel.”

    kaz nods, though his movements are slower this time around, shoulders a little more slumped. neither of you say anything else as you walk out, tugging your dressing gown a little tighter around your body. 

   you don’t take his advice. you don’t need tea, or whiskey, or a fresh blanket; with kaz’s words and his expressions and him, you know there is no way you’re getting to sleep any time soon, no matter what remedy you use.

    ----

     “good morning, royalty.”

    the king looks up from his breakfast, the very breakfast you have just tested for poison. it sits weirdly in your stomach this morning; after a sleepless night, your appetite has deserted you, but you have no choice besides eating.

   kaz strolls into the room, dressed in a suit. his white shirt sits against his chest, and his sleeves are rolled up to reveal the crow tattoo on his arm. you awkwardly rub your own crow tattoo, suddenly very aware of how permanent it is.

    “good morning, mr brekker,” the king says. “again, you surprise me with your presence. we weren’t expecting you for breakfast.”

    “i am just full of surprises.” he sits down in his usual seat and meets your eyes. “how are you this morning, y/n?”

    “y/n was just about to leave,” the king replies, as you knew he would; he likes hearing your voice as little as possible. 

    kaz, however, keeps his eyes on you. “i asked y/n. not you.”

    you stare straight at him, a silent warning. “i’m good, mr brekker. well-rested.”

    “you can call me kaz.” he leans back, grinning. “i’m glad to hear it. maybe you and i can take a walk amongst the duck pond again later on.”

   there he goes, putting on that god awful formal accent that he thinks is so funny. 

    you scowl. “i’m a bit busy today, mr brekker.”

   “kaz.”

   “he asked you to call him kaz, y/n,” the king snaps.

   kaz nods. “i asked you to call me kaz, y/n.”

   you bite your lip, pushing back the retort that so desperately wants to rise. he’s just sat there, grinning with no shame. the king is looking straight at him, and he doesn’t even care.

    “any duties you’ve been given today can be postponed until later,” the king says. “mr brekker is our guest, and if he wants your company, your company he shall receive.”

    kaz’s grin gets wider, and oh, you want so desperately to punch him square in the face. instead, you force a smile, turning to the king to tell him just how honoured you would be to give kaz brekker your company on this fine morning.

   and that’s how you find yourself strolling through the gardens with kaz, yet again.

    “you’re unbelieable,” you mumble, arms folded over your chest like a school kid having a tantrum. 

    “i’m good,” he replies. “you know i’m good, y/n. i don’t know why you act surprised.”

    “he’s the king, kaz,” you hiss. “can you not tone it down a little?”

   “tone what down?”

   “the-” you gesture vaguely, though the only word you can conjure is flirting, and there’s no way in hell you’re letting that slip into the conversation. “the shit. tone down the shit!”

   “i’m not scared of him. i know you want me to be, but i’m not.”

    “oh yes. how could i forget? kaz brekker isn’t scared of anything.”

    kaz scoffs. “kaz brekker is scared of plenty of things - men aren’t one of them.”

   such a kaz thing to say. the most frustrating bit about it was that he was telling the truth.

    “i told inej what your job is here,” he continues after a moment of tense silence.  

   “oh?”

   “she understands. says you’ve always been one to do anything to survive.”

   you shrug. she’s right. 

    “that worries me, you know.”

    “nothing worries you, kaz.”

   “the thought of you in danger does.”

   you shake your head. “don’t start this now. you said it yourself; what we had was nothing.”

    “why can’t i worry about you without it having to mean something bigger?”

    “because everything you say means something bigger.”

   kaz falls silent. he knows it’s true, and so do you. kaz has never been able to speak his full extent, always letting people think less of him so he can take them by surprise when the time is right. you have learned first hand how frustrating that can be, but it was also a part of him you grew to love. it was what made him so intelligent, so cunning. it was what made him kaz. 

 “are you not ever worried you’re going to get unlucky one day?”

   you glance over. he keeps his head ducked down, one hand curled around the head of his cane, the other tucked into his pocket. “i know what i signed up for. getting poisoned was kind of part of the risk.”

    “since when did you even know how to identify poisons?”

   your lips twitch. “jesper taught me.”

   kaz rolls his eyes skyward, running a hand through his hair; the sun glows against his tan skin. “of course he did. honestly, the shit you two got up to when i wasn’t around-”

    “we had fun,” you say. “we could only do that when you weren’t hovering over our shoulders.”

   kaz glares. 

   you look to the floor, afraid to smile at him, afraid to open this conversation into something even mildly pleasant; if you can get through this entire visit without thinking of kaz fondly, maybe it will make all of it a bit easier. maybe you’ll be able to trick yourself into thinking you’ve moved on, grown stronger since your time in the barrel.

        “how is jesper?” you ask, because you suddenly feel like you can’t help it.

   kaz shrugs. “how jesper always is.”

    “worse?”

    “for a while. he didn’t take you leaving very well, but he straightened himself out.” kaz tugs on his lapels. “he always does.”

    “yeah. he does.”    

    you wonder about jesper sometimes. it hurts to know he took your leave badly, though you should have known; jesper has never been one to handle his feelings well. that was your job on his behalf. you would often sit with him at night, just to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid. you once handcuffed him to his bed post to stop him heading out into the gambling hall of the hotel you were staying in.

    he was the only one you could ever really properly speak to about what was going on between you and kaz. inej understood kaz, but jesper was kaz’s right-hand man. he was the one kaz would go to about things like that.

    “does jesper know how to make your brew?”

    there is no moment of confusion, like he was expecting the question. “i’m sure he does. i never ask him to make it, though.”

    your nostrils flare. “kaz-”

   “listen, the nightmares aren’t going to disappear,” he says, raising a silencing hand that you swat away before he can think it works. “i don’t need some special brew helping me sleep.”

   “no, you’ll just stay awake until you drop dead.”

   kaz grins, sharp as knives. “that’ll be the way to go, won’t it?”

   you shove his shoulder, suddenly furious. he looks over, still grinning, because kaz has always found your frustration amusing. he used to say you looked like a chipmunk who just got their nuts stolen.

    “for someone so smart,” you hiss, “you’re pretty stupid.”

   “because i won’t indulge in your famous sleep remedy?”

   “because you’ll let yourself suffer before asking for help.”

    his smile fades. “i only ask certain people for help, y/n. it’s not my fault those people keep leaving.”

    your heart drops; there he goes again with the impersonal little jabs, knowing he’s cutting you so, so deep. you don’t even humour him with a response, instead quickening your pace until you begin to feel like he isn’t even there.

    but that’s impossible, because he’s kaz brekker. he’s yours. even when he truly isn’t there, it’s like he’s walking right beside you, and you’re beginning to get very annoyed by the attachment. it’s not fair on you, and it’s not fair on kaz, but neither of you seem able to help it.

   you continue walking until the cold gets a little too much. then you head back to the palace in silence. 

----

    final meal of the day. you will make sure it’s not poisoned, and then you will go to bed.

    kaz is there, as per usual. the king and queen don’t even act shocked any more, simply welcoming him into the dining hall. oftentimes, he’ll stroll in by your side, his cane clicking against the marble and that smug little smile playing on his face. you always ignore him, even though the king says it’s disrespectful to do so. 

   tonight, you do just that. you take your seat beside the king, gather up his food and start the process. the beef is smothered in gravy, making the scent test a little difficult, but you give it a go anyway, because it’s protocol by now. 

   kaz watches from afar, one finger pressed to his lips. he’s lounging back like he’s comfortable, like sitting in a palace is what he does every day. his eyes are narrowed, focused.

    you pop the beef into your mouth and chew; nothing.

   you move onto the potatoes. nothing.

    finally, you dip your fork into the sweetcorn and raise it to your lips.

    kaz slaps the fork from your hand. he makes no noise. one minute he is sat at the head of the table, and the next he is by your side, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you from your seat.

   the queen shrieks as the fork flies directly at her, sweetcorn and all. a glass of wine tips over when kaz pulls you to your feet, your knee slamming against the underside of the table. palace guards run inside, but none of them know what to do - nobody in the room shouldn’t be there, and so they stand by the door, glancing at each other.

   your eyes, however, are trained on kaz.

   “what. the. fuck?” you hiss under your breath as the king tends to his startled wife.

   kaz meets your eyes dead on. “you really need to get better at your job.” he grabs your arm and starts for the door. the king hollers after him, demanding to know what is going on, but kaz pays him no attention, and you have no idea why you’re not fighting any of this. your heart is hammering in your chest at a million miles per hour, and you have so many questions, but it’s just reflex by now to trust kaz. 

    he drags you through the halls until reaching his room, where he pushes open the door and leads you inside. it is only then, when it is just the two of you, that you come to your senses, replaying that scene over and over in your head.

   you whirl around, yanking your arm from his grip so harshly that you stumble back. “what the hell was that, kaz?”

    “how much training did they actually give you before throwing you in to risk your life everyday?”

   “why do you care?”

   he starts pulling his tie loose, not even looking at you. “just tell me.”

   you fold your arms over your chest, trying desperately to keep your attention away from the way his gloved fingers tug and pull at the knot on his tie. “i did a course at the start where i could identify all the different types of poisons.”

   he quirks an eyebrow. “that all?”

   “it was enough.”

   “if it was enough, y/n, you would have noticed the soft spots in the sweetcorn.”

    your head snaps up. soft spots?

   he hums, despite you saying nothing in response. “wilde yolk makes food go soft in certain places. it also kills people in about ten seconds if consumed in even the tiniest amount.” he looks up, flicking his tie off completely. “did you not learn that in your course?”

   you bite your lip and look away. you were so distracted at that dinner table these days, focusing mostly on kaz brekker at the end of the table. you had no idea he was examining your food just as much as you should have been. you had no idea he was keeping an eye out for you.

    “so is this experience enough to get you to move back to the barrel?”

   your eyes snap up. he’s staring right at you. he doesn’t even look fazed by his question.

   and that makes you so, so angry. in seconds, you have gone from grateful to furious; only kaz can elicit that response from you.

   you step back, glaring. “so that’s what this is then? you came all the way here to drag me back to the barrel?”

     “well, no. i came here to get inej help, but she seems to be healing up pretty well with all the goods your people are giving her.” he shrugs, bottom lip protruding. “so i thought i’d try my hand at this.”

     “you are unbelievable.”

   kaz raises a brow. “are you getting mad at me?”

   “you are unbelievable!” you want to throw something at him. you want to break down and cry. you kind of want to go with him. “it’s like you haven’t listened to a word i’ve said. are you that self-centred, kaz?”

    “you know i am.”

    you close your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. maybe you’re overreacting. maybe you really are better off in the barrel, where you were born and raised, where you learned everything you ever knew. but here, with kaz being the one to drag you back - it reminds you so harshly that you’re his. you are his, and that is all anyone will ever see you as, and that thought. . . you don’t know how to feel about that thought.

     “this isn’t the life for you, y/n,” he continues. “you know it isn’t. once the barrel has you, it doesn’t let you go. we’ve all learned that the hard way.”

   “is that what you are?” you spit. “the hard way?”

   he shrugs. “you should be grateful it’s me and not someone worse.”

   “there is no one worse, kaz.”

   his lips twitch, the only sign that your words have actually struck a nerve. “you mean that, do you?”

   “don’t act like you’re the good guy. you know you’re evil. you’re proud of it! that’s why i had to leave. that’s why i’m in here risking my life every single fucking day! i wanted to get away from you!”

   and oh, saints, this isn’t going how you wanted it to go. the words are spilling from your mouth before you can stop them, mind racing too quick for your mouth to catch up. his face continues falling with every word, but you don’t stop. 

    “saints, kaz, when are you ever going to grow the fuck up? you walk around pretending you have everything under control, that you own the place, but you’re nothing - nothing - without the rest of us. you would be dead twenty times over if it wasn’t for that little crew of yours, the people you have under your god damn thumb.” you step forward, teeth gritted. “kaz dirtyhands brekker can’t even take his own fucking gloves off.”

    “is that what you want?” he steps closer, so close your chests are almost touching. his face is red, a line of sweat glittering upon his upper lip that only ever shows itself when he’s furious, out of his mind with anger. “you want the gloves to come off? fine.”

   and then he plucks the gloves from his hands and throws them on the floor.

    his hands. the hands you have seen only twice in the years you have known him, the hands that have never touched your bare skin. suddenly they are in full view, free reign to do whatever you want with them, but all you can do is step back, one hand covering your mouth as you try and process what you’ve said, what kaz has done, how the situation could have taken such a harsh, grim turn.

    but kaz isn’t finished. kaz is never finished. 

    “is this what you want, y/n?” he demands. “you need me to bear myself completely for you to believe i’m in love with you? or is this not enough?”

   “kaz-”

    “what else is it going to take, huh? tell me.”

   “kaz, i’m-”

   “what about this?”

   he’s crazy. he’s crazy, and making mistakes, and you know this because he reaches forward and cups your face in his bare hands, flesh against flesh. shock ricochets through you, eyes widening as kaz lets out an anguished groan, his own eyes slipping closed. you feel his fingers trembling upon your skin.

   you wrench away from him, gasping.

    he immediately spins around, clutching his hands to his chest. he groans low in his throat, pressing his head against the wall. sweat trickles down the back of his neck, disappearing beneath his collar. you catch a single tear run down his cheek that he can’t wipe away because then his fingers will be touching his skin, and he hates that. it kills him. you know it does.

    you rush forward, placing a hand safely on his jacket-covered shoulder. his breathing is ragged and shaky.

   “kaz,” you pant. “oh god, kaz, i’m so sorry. i’m so, so sorry. why did you do that?” you whirl around frantically. “your gloves. where are your gloves?”

   he doesn’t reply. you’re talking to yourself at this point. you spot his gloves on the floor and grab them, immediately handing them back without so much as a brush of your fingertips against his. he’s hurried and distressed when he tugs them back on, clenching his fist over and over again, as if to ensure his hands are safely hidden beneath the leather.

   he doesn’t turn around. you stand behind him, one hand pressed to your chest, eyes swimming in tears you didn’t even feel rising to the surface.

   “kaz,” you whisper. “i’m. . . i didn’t mean. . .”

   “you got what you wanted, didn’t you?” he mumbles, straightening up. “i’m not asking you to return to the barrel with me so you can serve me, or whatever you think this is. i’m asking you to return so i can have you there. so we can be together again.” he glances over his shoulder. “as it should be.”

   you stare at him, wanting to respond, wanting to tell him to go to hell, but you can’t lie. never before have you been able to look kaz in the eye and lie, and maybe that’s why you say nothing. he’s right in every sense - you and him are meant to be by each other’s side, no matter what. barrel born and raised, nobody understands you quite like he does.

   but admitting that, throwing away every barrier you have worked so hard to put up . . . you can’t do it.

    kaz waits a moment longer before laughing half-heartedly, sounding more exhausted than anything else. he lowers his head, black hair falling in his face before he swipes it out of the way, looks at you and says, “get out.”

     “kaz-”

   “stop saying my name.” he turns, tossing his tie onto the bed. “get. out. inej and i will be gone tomorrow.”

    you swallow thickly, pushing away the tears. and then you do as he said, because standing in his presence for much longer is going to send you into a spiral you don’t think you’ll be able to crawl out of again. you’ve been down that road before, and it took everything in you not to be consumed.

    ----

    “why do you look like you’ve been crying?” inej asks. she’s sat up now, a tray of soup perched on her lap. the colouring has come back to her skin, and she stands up whenever she wants to. whatever the palace medics did for her is working wonders, which you suppose is one thing you should be grateful for.

    you lean over and dip a slice of bread in her soup. 

   “are you checking if it’s been poisoned?” inej jokes, and when you don’t respond, she sighs. “you and kaz have a fight?”

    you wince, which is answer enough.

   “what about this time?”

   “he wants me to go back to the barrel with you.”

    inej pauses, eyes still cast to her soup. you look at her, stomach curling in sudden realisation.

   “wait,” you say. “did you know that was his plan this entire time?”

   “no,” she replies, though she looks sheepish. “i genuinely was sick. kaz just. . . came along for the ride when he heard you were here.” she looks up and groans. “you can’t act surprised, y/n. what were you expecting? for him to just walk out and leave you here?”

   “that would have been the right thing to do, yes.”

   “well,  you know kaz better than that. use your brain.” she waves a hand in your direction. “pass me another slice of bread and tell me about this argument.”

   you don’t want to. all day you have been thinking about the feel of his hands on your face, his flesh against your own, the anguished groan ripped from his throat. he put himself through that to prove - what? that he loves you? that’s what he said, but it was only a few days prior he was claiming what you and him had was nothing. it was forgotten, and you were happy about that for the briefest moment. if kaz moved on, you could too. 

    but then he took the gloves off, and it was just. . . messed up again. you were left confused and guilty and pining, and you hated yourself for it. it was as if all that hard work you had put in to forget about kaz had been thrown out the window - trust kaz to come in and ruin everything.

    “i can see what you’re thinking, you know,” says inej suddenly.

   “can you?”

     “take it from me,” she says. “kaz is never going to get over you. he’s never going to let you go. he’s never going to stop trying for you. he’s a stubborn bastard, and a stubborn bastard is even worse when they’re in love - which kaz is. disastrously, madly in love.”

    “he said we were nothing.”

    “he’s a stubborn and prideful bastard.��

    you close your eyes, heart thumping. “i don’t know what to do, inej.”

   “well, do you love him back?”

   your eyes fly open. “what kind of question is that?”

   she shrugs. “an obvious one, but i want to know the answer.”

    you know the answer. your brain screams it at you. you have felt the answer in your bones every day since you left the barrel, and yet speaking it aloud feels like a betrayal of yourself from yourself.

    so you look away, and as inej always claims, she can see exactly what you’re thinking.

    a soft chuckle slips past her lips. “the barrel never leaves a person, y/n. and apparently, neither does kaz brekker.”

    “what are you suggesting?”

   inej shrugs. “kaz and i are leaving for ketterdam in the morning. there’s definitely room for a third person.”

----

   you don’t sleep that night. neither does kaz.

   you can hear him pacing back and forth in his room, no doubt replaying the days events over and over in his mind in the same way you are. his hands against your skin, his eyes piercing your own, those words he spoke that left you tingling all over.

    even now, laying in bed, you can’t get over what he said. i love you. that was the jidst of it, and though you had heard that confession from him a few times in the past, it was different this time around. it was kaz trying to prove himself, which he never did before. if someone didn’t take kaz at face value, he wouldn’t bother. 

    and you have to admit, hearing him say those words was like a shot to the chest. they are the very words that have been on the tip of your tongue for months now, spoken only in dreams when you finally allow yourself to sleep. you can say them to no one else - just kaz. always, always just kaz.

   and maybe this realisation is the reason you find yourself getting dressed at six in the morning. maybe this realisation is the reason you pack all your things into the ruck sack you came to the palace with. maybe this realisation is the reason you tip-toe to the courtyard, avoiding the eyes of the staff who all look at you like you’re some kind of prisoner escaping your cell.

    it’s still dark. the grass is wet beneath your thin shoes, the jacket you have pulled on doing little to protect you from the icy winds coming from the ocean just feet away from the palace’s front door. hovering on the banks is a boat, a boat you recognise as The Mast, one of the many boats kaz has won from different people around ketterdam.

   you nearly cry at the sight of it.

   you don’t waste time waiting on kaz and inej - you don’t want to have this discussion with either of them until you’re safely on the water, until you can’t change your mind. 

   you clamber onto the boat, giving a sheepish smile to the stunned crew member - Daryl, you think he’s called - as he stares at you approaching. he offers you a hand when you finally reach the deck, his eyes never leaving your own.

    “morning,” you say. “i’m y/n.”

   “i know,” daryl replies, before tipping his hat. “it’s wonderful to have you back on board.”

    you smile awkwardly, unsure how to respond; how much do the crew actually know about what happened between you and the crows? how many people bore witness to that god awful aftermath?

   you decide not to wait around to hear the answer. instead, you tell daryl you’re going down to the cabins, and he doesn’t argue. you disappear beneath the deck, finding the first room with a bed and immediately claiming it as your own; despite the lack of sleep, you are not tired in the slightest. you can’t get kaz out of your head, how he is going to react when the boat eventually docks and he sees you strolling off of it, greeted by that rancid ketterdam air. back in the barrel.

    you lay down on the bed and stare at the ceiling. you will fall asleep eventually. you’ll trick yourself into it.

    and then the door opens.

    your eyes snap open with it; you must have fallen asleep eventually. groggily, you lift your head and look at the intruder - and your heart immediately falls.

   “kaz.”

    he looks crazed, hair stuck up, eyes wild. behind him stands inej, grinning from ear to ear, though the minute kaz steps into the room, she disappears into the shadows, leaving you and dirtyhands alone.

    his eyes never leave yours as he approaches. he marches to your bedside, grabs your hand and pulls you up.

   “kaz-”

    he shoves you against the wall, gun pressed to your temple. you inhale sharply, though you can’t claim to be surprised or scared. you stare into his eyes, watching his own trace your features, looking for any sign that you are here in bad company.

    “kaz,” you whisper, because it’s always his name that fights past your lips. “it’s me. i’m going home.”

    his grip slackens. the gun crashes to the floor, and before you can say anything, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into him. you are careful to rest your head upon his shoulder, not touching his flesh, but feeling him nonetheless. tears spring to your eyes, dribbling down the bridge of your nose and soaking the shoulder of his fancy suede jacket - one he stole from the kings wardrobe, you notice.

    but you don’t pull away, afraid to go without his touch for another second.

    “is this what you want?” he asks, voice muffled by your hair. “is this really what you’ve decided?”

    “yes.” you pull away, hands sliding down his arms. “you’re right, kaz. the barrel is . . . it’s a shit hole, but it’s where i belong. it’s all i know. and you and me. . . we have to do this thing together.”

    he narrows his eyes. “what thing?”

   “everything.”

   the corners of his mouth twitch. you can imagine kissing those lips, drawing him close and embracing in that way lovers often do. however, you’re content, happy even, with the way things are. you hold his gloved hands, and he says he loves you. you confide in him, and he confides in you, and sometimes you fight like children, but in the end, he will have your back no matter what.

    “everything,” he repeats. “yeah.” he slips his gloved hands into the sleeve of your jacket, tracing his fingers along your crow tattoo, the one he matched, the one everyone matched when they decided to let the barrel take them over. you shiver, biting your lower lip. “you still have it.”

    “i could hardly get rid of it,” you reply. kaz looks up, and you sigh. “i would never get rid of it, kaz. no matter what.”

     he nods, rolling your sleeve back down. he pulls it over your wrist, covering your fingers before leaning down and pressing a kiss to the soft, rain soaked fabric. 

    he looks up at you again. “yes. no matter what.” 

[simpingforsoftboys]

Not Everyone Gets A Happily Ever After

ft. Iwaoi, Atsumu Miya

!Gender Neutral Reader!

Pt 2 to this

*Male readers just pretend that you and Tsumu have a mix of female and male friends each who can be both groomsmen and bridesmaids 

Anon thank you for requesting- I live for angst and this was super fun to write- even if I cried while doing so. IwaOi is my comfort ship but they’re not perfect. People make mistakes- in life, love, and everything and anything in between. Sometimes they repeat those mistakes, other times they learn from them, either way everything happens for a reason and sometimes it’s for the better. Unfortunately, not everyone winds up happy with the results- and that’s okay. 

Also I kind of made it into a song fic (listen to Sign of the Times by Harry Styles while you read)!

Just stop your crying

Hajime and Toru were sitting in the second row on your side of the aisle, pretending that they couldn’t feel the sharp gazes from your family and friends. They had some nerve showing up to your wedding, despite being invited, especially after spending five or so years treating you like an outsider in your own relationship. The reception itself hadn’t yet started, Atsumu had just stepped onto stage- his twin right beside him as the best man.

It's a sign of the times

Atsumu was looking incredibly dapper in his midnight blue suit, his blonde hair combed perfectly to the side. He looked incredibly anxious, whispering to his brother if he looked alright. Hajime thought it was a stupid question- obviously he looked great- but then again he supposed he would have done the same, had he been in Atsumu’s shoes.

Welcome to the final show

Toru’s gaze flitted to the front row where your parents and close friends were sitting. Some were commenting on his and Hajime’s choice to attend the wedding still, but it was your mother’s words that surprised him.

“I’m glad it’s Atsumu (s)he’s marrying, he’ll treat them right.” That woman had been like his aunty since childhood, hearing her say that caused another crack in his heart.

Hope you're wearing your best clothes

His suit’s collar felt like it was strangling him, Hajime reached up to loosen it slightly. Despite doing so, he still found that he had trouble breathing.

You can't bribe the door on your way to the sky

The trainer wondered if he and Toru would go to hell for breaking your heart- only to mend it again with false promises, for telling you that they loved you when it had been lust the whole time.

You look pretty good down here

Maybe they were already damned to an eternity in hell. 

But you ain't really good 

They were good liars- him and Toru- maybe that’s why they were able to lie to you, to themselves, and to each other. Lied about their true feelings, convinced themselves it was lust and not love. 

If we never learned, we been here before

It felt familiar, Toru thought, being here, like when he got invited to weddings in the past and he’d only bring Hajime as his plus one. 

“You wouldn’t enjoy it Y/n- so I’ll just bring Haji okay? We’ll be back in no time- I promise!” The brunette had told you mournfully, as if they weren’t going to be staying in the Bahama’s for a week in order to attend a wedding. Now that he thinks about it, all the fees were covered- they totally could have brought you if they wanted.

Why are we always stuck and running from

He pretended he didn’t hear the hitch of your breath once his back was turned to you, not wanting to deal with your water works. 

‘It’s fine,’ he had told himself, ‘(s)he’s just being dramatic.’ It’s not like it was the first time they’ve gone without Y/n after all. 

The bullets

The bullets

We never learned, we’ve been here before

Yes, it was a familiar sight. Sitting together side by side in a wedding venue, awaiting the arrival of the bride/groom. Yet, there was a stark difference this time. This wedding wasn’t for just some coworker or old friend, this was your wedding. 

Why are we always stuck and running from

The bullets

The bullets

Just stop your crying

Someone squeezed his hand- it was Hajime- his normally piercing olive green eyes were cloudy with unshed tears. They hadn’t even laid eyes on you yet and the two of them were already ready to start sobbing. Semi Eita- who had been one of your close friends in high school- gave them a judgmental look.

It's a sign of the times

‘Why are you two crying? You had plenty of chances before now. Get over it.’ His fiery gaze told them, it was then directed elsewhere- since the music had started and the groomsmen and bridesmaids began streaming down the aisle. It was a little later than usual, apparently there had been an issue with the flower girl- so they had the wedding party wait a moment.

We gotta get away from here

We gotta get away from here

Just stop your crying

Others were tearing up all around them, but Hajime and Toru remained ignorant to them. The ring bearer- a little boy- they recognized him as your siblings youngest son, since they had accompanied you to see him be born. The kid was about six or seven now, and he was every bit as charming as you were.

It will be alright

He strode down the aisle proudly, chin raised in a way that reminded them of you. When you were feeling particularly stubborn or prideful, you would raise your chin just like that. 

They told me that the end is near

Next up was the flower girl- or flower girls. Hajime didn’t recognize them whatsoever, they must have been around your nephews age. It was likely that they were from Atsumu’s side of the family. The girls scattered white rose petals down the aisle, it was a magical sight- watching them flutter to the ground. 

We gotta get away from here

They had been expecting this moment, ever since they agreed to attend the wedding.

Just stop crying

To his right, he heard Toru stifle a sob. 

Have the time of your life

It was you. Hajime couldn’t remember when he last saw that smile on your face. You were donned in white, smiling from ear to ear- hair done perfectly, eyes tearing up- but for a different reason from them. You were happy. Excited. Today was the day, not sparing them a glance, the only person who mattered to you was at the end of the aisle, waiting for you to join him. 

Breaking through the atmosphere

Taking a step onto the raised platform, facing Atsumu, you let the tears fall. Unbeknownst to you, Toru and Hajime cried alongside you.

Things are pretty good from here

“Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today in the presence of these witnesses, to join Miya Atsumu and L/n Y/n in matrimony commended to be honorable among all; and therefore is not to be entered into lightly but reverently, passionately, lovingly and solemnly. Into this - these two persons present now come to be joined. If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together - let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

Remember everything will be alright

Toru’s entire body tensed up. Hajime placed a firm hand on the setter’s thigh, preventing him from even considering objecting. Semi cast the two of them a evil look, promising violence should they dare to object.

We can meet again somewhere

 "Miya Atsumu and L/n Y/n, if it is your desire to take the vows which will legally unite you at this time, please respond, 'It is,’.”

Somewhere far away from here

Atsumu and you continue staring lovingly at one another, not even hesitating a second before saying “It is.”

If we never learned, we been here before

“Do you, Miya Atsumu, take L/n Y/n to be your lawfully wedded wife/husband? From this day forward, to have and to hold, for better, for worse, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?”

The entire audience held their breath in anticipation- as if there were any reason to doubt his love for Y/n. Even Toru and Hajime couldn’t find it within them to wish he declined. Y/n deserved a loving husband- even if it was just one person- so long as he would dedicate himself to her/him entirely.

Why are we always stuck and running from

“Course I do.”

The bullets

Everyone’s gazes fell upon you.

The bullets

“Do you, L/n Y/n , take Atsumu Miya, to be your lawfully wedded husband? From this day forward, to have and to hold, for better, for worse, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?”

We never learned, we been here before

You’re wiping your tears away, that wide smile- Hajime realizes that in all his years of knowing you he has never seen you this happy- never slipping from your face. 

Why are we always stuck and running from

“I do.”

The bullets

The ring bearer comes up, shining rings placed a top the red, velvet pillow.

The bullets

Toru’s never hated red as much as he does now. Not even when he was playing desperately against Japan during the Olympics.

Just stop your crying

“Atsumu, please take the ring you have selected for Y/n. As you place it on her/his finger, repeat after me: 'With this ring, I thee wed.’”

It’s a sign of the times

Your groom picks up your shining gold and diamond wedding ring/band and delicately slips it on your ring finger. 

We gotta get away from here

“Y/n, I’ve been enraptured by yer beauty since the first time I saw ya. Even before I fell for ya I’ve always admired how kind hearted and understandin’ ya were. There’s not enough words t’ capture or explain my love for ya. So I want to spend the rest of my life tryin. Yer it for me Y/n... so I can say without a second thought. With this ring, I thee wed.” He murmurs, salty tears spill from his eyes. He’s finally going to get the s/o of his dreams, he realizes. 

We gotta get away from here

Hajime and Toru hold onto each other with vice like grips. They realize it too. There’s no do overs.

Just stop your crying

“Y/n, please take the ring you have selected for Atsumu. As you place it on his finger, repeat after me: 'With this ring, I thee wed.’”

It will be alright

Your hand reaches for the single wedding band still resting on the pillow. It shines brilliantly between your fingers. 

They told me that the end is near

“Atsumu, you’ve been there for me time and time again. You lifted me off the ground when I was broken, kissed my tears away from my eyes, and helped me learn how to love again. You’ve seen me at my best and my worst and loved me through it all. And it’s with complete faith and love that I say this. With this ring, I thee wed.” Atsumu’s wedding band matches yours, and slides on his finger perfectly.

We gotta get away from here

If we never learned, we been here before

The vows had been short but sweet. Toru would have been able to recite a whole paper- had he stood in Atsumu’s shoes. 

Why are we always stuck and running from

“Seeing as the two of you have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, by authority vested in me by the state, I now pronounce you husband and wife/husband. You may kiss your bride/groom!”

The bullets

But he’s not in Atsumu’s shoes.

The bullets

You yank Atsumu down and press a passionate kiss to his lips, throwing your arms around his neck to pull him closer. He reciprocates immediately- all tongue and open mouthed. Neither of you pay any mind to the fact that everyone is watching you make out. All you see is each other. 

We never learned, we’ve been here before

Neither is Hajime. 

Why are we always stuck and running from

The bullets

The bullets

There’s no second chances.

We don't talk enough

No talking it over.

We should open up

You weren’t L/n Y/n any longer.

Before it's all too much

You’re now Miya Y/n.

Will we ever learn?

Devoted to and utterly in love with Miya Atsumu.

We've been here before

Is this what it had been like for you?

It's just what we know

Watching the two of them be so in love- eyes locked on each other- with no care in the world about who was watching.

Stop your crying baby

About who they were hurting.

It's a sign of the times

They didn’t even get the chance to ask why you did it- why you stuck around for so long and loved them, despite them not feeling the same. 

Now they never would get that chance again.

We gotta get away

We got to get away

We got to get away

We got to get away

We got to get away

We got to, we got to

We got to, we got to

We got to, we got to

[xhanisai]

Confront the boundary line of good and evil in my heart

AO3 / FFN

Summary: 

It wasn't her fault! No way whatsoever! But still... Still... 'It really does hurt so bad...so much, I can't take it!'

~(x)~ . . . Tick. Tock. "I'm so sorry Chat Noir! I didn't mean to- I just- I just completely broke down and she was right there and I needed someone-" "It's okay, Bug. I understand, don't apologise," Tick. Tock. "It's not okay at all! You've wanted to know for so long, so patiently and I have always said no- and then look at me now! A hypocrite! This is probably a huge sucker-punch for you and I hate that I've always kept on hurting you back then but now, this takes the cake-" "N-No, I'm fine, honest...really. What matters is your happiness and wellbeing-" "But what about you!?" "..." Tick- "...Kid, talk to me, please. The way you're staring out into space is scaring me." The subdued, raspy voice belonging to the ancient being of destruction went unheard. The boy in question continued to observe the empty space in front, sitting on top of his bed with his knees tucked under his chin and his arms folded in front, hiding the lower half of his face. If one were to enter the room, they would instantly freeze from the glower of the boy's fiery emerald greens that were begging to pool with unshed tears and the aura of his stone-cold demeanour. From the waft of his internal turmoil, even a blind person would be able to pick up that he was currently the host of bad luck. "...Adrien...I want to help, I want to understand, so talk to me!" Once again, Plagg was left ignored, leaving him no choice but to float back down to his pillow and direct his pleading kitten eyes at the blonde, his tiny heart shattered from the state of his chosen. Alas, even he was helpless, his feline ears and whiskers drooping with sorrow. 'But you won't understand. You never did and you never will. No one will ever understand.' Adrien didn't even flinch, didn't even bat an eye. He was a statue of apathy and aloofness; though deep down inside, he was a maelstrom of agonising pain. Oh, so much pain. It was excruciating. He wanted to suit up and claw through the rooves of Paris whilst screaming in anguish. He wanted to find every billboard that had his face on it and tear through it all like paper. He wanted to shred and pulverise his useless, traitorous heart along with its despicable feelings and emotions. But most importantly, he wanted to rip the magical ring off his finger and throw it into La Seine with all his might and then cry for the rest of eternity. And he hates that he feels that way. Absolutely, ridiculously, hates that he feels betrayed. Self-loathing and disgust have taken over his body like a puppet and rendered him completely useless, like a toy forgotten at the bottom of the box, never to see the light of day ever again. The feeling of uselessness and pure shame replaced the blood running through his veins and numbed him to the point where he was equivalent to a powerless machine. He felt his throbbing heart fall deeper and deeper into the pit of his stomach. It wasn't her fault! No way whatsoever! But still... Still... 'It really does hurt so bad...so much, I can't take it!' The younger, softer, naive part of himself which was usually tucked away within the dark, hidden crevices of his heart, screamed as if the rest of humanity's lives depended on it. It was taking Adrien everything to keep him out. 'Is it too much to ask for only one constant in my life? Is it too much to ask for one thing to remain the same? Is it too much for anyone to stop keeping me at arm's length!?' . It is. . It is. . Deep down inside, below the platinum chains and iron bars of solid, concrete denial, he always knew that Ladybug never considered him as close as he did with her. And why should she? Just because he performed an act of common, proper human decency and helped an old man get his walking stick back? Just because he was gifted with the power to destroy anything he touches in order to save the day? Just because he knew how to fight possessed villains alongside her? Just because he's in love with her? . "I'm literally the worst." Adrien finally spoke out loud ever since he returned from...that patrol many hours ago. Despite his words, his soul couldn't help but weep and pray that it was all one huge, cruel nightmare. A twisted, sick joke that whatever deities out there have concocted up just for him. Anything! Yet, this was his reality. "I disagree." The boy snapped his gaze towards the kwami, his brows furrowing for elaboration on the little God's part. "I may not be human but I do have feelings and I can empathise. I've existed from the beginning of time and I've witnessed many, many things in my lifetime." Plagg then floated towards him, settling on Adrien's arm so that he was face to face. "You're not in the wrong here, kid. It's okay to feel like this-" "No, it's not!" Adrien's sudden outburst had the kwami shoot away in surprise, the boy instantly turning baffled at his own harsh reaction and then visibly paling even further. He caught sight of his own reflection on a nearby mirror, cringing at the monstrous mess that looked back. With a frustrated sigh, he leapt off the bed, solemnly treading towards his windows, fingers digging into his upper arms as if he was hugging himself. . The luminous moon that shone through the night sky, what was once a beacon of freedom in the past, never looked so unappealing to the distraught hero. His usually glittering eyes were vacant, devoid of any joy and hope whilst his lips were etched in a permanent frown. How many fake smiles and empty words of wisdom did he force out in front of his Lady earlier on? He's lost count. And how many more times will he have to keep doing that, knowing that there will always be another person out that there that Ladybug trusts more than she'll ever trust him? . "I stand by with what I said," Plagg quipped once more, his host quietly surprised with how the little God managed to get so close without him realising. "The two of you have been thrust into a messy situation with very little guidance and a whole bunch of rules which only complicated it further." He then directed his eyes from the moon to the boy. "Yes, I agree that Ladybug's decision in confiding with someone about her identity was a good idea, but as a result of that, it's brought you so much pain. You are not the worst and it's okay to cry it out. It's okay to tell her how you really feel." He placed one of his tiny hands on Adrien's cheek, ears and whiskers still weighed with melancholy as the boy allowed his eyes to prick with tears. One drop. Two drops. Three drops. Four. "It shouldn't hurt- I...I shouldn't be so selfish! Even if she never told me, I was able to tell that she wasn't able to handle her civilian life any longer, especially after becoming the Guardian- I'm supposed to protect her and be by her side! Not throw a tantrum like a three-year-old just because I'm not the one she decided to tell about her secret identity! And then adding my own stupid feelings and insecurities to her plate? I'll be a burden!" The dam was broken and the overwhelming feelings within Adrien cascaded like a tsunami. "You have plenty on your plate as well-" "But I'm used to it, she isn't. I was born and raised to deal with these kinds of things anyway so it's a no brainer for me to shut up and accept it all with a smile-" He paused abruptly, a wet gasp escaping his throat as he leaned against the glass for support when even more realisation sunk in. 'I have been dealing with so many responsibilities ever since I was born...and that puts us on the same boat...so why couldn't she have confided with me then?' Adrien dropped to his knees, fingernails scraping against his scalp as he tried to fight back against those negative thoughts and questions. 'Why am I never good enough? Not for Maman, not for Père and now...not for Ladybug...?' 'Why am I even here then?'

"Adrien...you don't need to put a mask on when you're with me. Cry it all out. I'm not gonna sit by and watch you destroy yourself from inside out because of your inability to address your true feelings. I'm right here, I'll even destroy all the wretched butterflies that dare to come by- so please, let it all out," "I can't! If I do, I'll never be able to go back and nothing will be the same again-" "And if you don't, then things will change for the worse and trust me, kid, that is the last thing you need." Finally, Plagg's words unravelled the obstacles that slowed down the flood and Adrien couldn't help but give in. His body shook and a whole new fresh wave of tears pooled down his eyes, teeth biting down on his lip to prevent the sobs from bursting out. . "...It hurts Plagg...it hurts so much! I love her...and I trust her so much but it hurts! I know she trusts me on a level and I know that multiple times she's mentioned that I'm irreplaceable but dammit! Why does it all feel like a lie!? She did the right thing in telling her civilian best friend, she finally has someone to look after herself- but why does it feel so wrong? Why is my heart in so much pain? Why can't I stop crying? If Ladybug won't lean on me, then what am I here for? And if I can't lean on Ladybug...who...who do I have?" . "...I may not be much and I may talk about nothing but cheese...but you'll always have me, kid," "I want to believe you, I want to so badly, Plagg...but I can't. I feel so alone...I've always been alone... ...And I'll always be alone..." . . . A couple of hours ago, just shy under midnight on a lone, hidden rooftop, if a curious civilian looked up, they would have seen Ladybug and Chat Noir locked in an embrace. However, what they would have noticed first was the absolutely broken, heartwrenching expression Noir wore... ...As if his entire world has fallen apart... . . . ~(x)~ A/N: Just wondering if I should make a sequel and give these two poor cats a happy ending~

[mylifeincinema]

My Week(s) in Reviews: October 31, 2021

Happy Halloween!!

I got distracted last week and forgot to post, so there’s a bunch this week. Let’s get to it...

The French Dispatch (Wes Anderson, 2021)

(Unsurprisingly) delightful. It is indeed a love letter to journalists; one that only Wes Anderson could deliver. Cleverly and creatively constructed to maximize not only the truly fantastic cast and screenplay, but also the always beautiful Yeoman cinematography, the trademark mind-blowing, meticulous production design one has come to expect from a Wes Anderson film and yet another magnificently whimsical score by the yet-to-disappoint Alexandre Desplat. This doesn’t quite break into my top three Wes films, but it’s one I’ll surely grow to love even more with time, and I wouldn’t be surprised to one day find it breaking into the top five. - 9.5/10

Dune (Denis Villeneuve, 2021)

A technical marvel that would’ve benefited greatly from more open dialogue about just how much of a Part 1 it actually is, and it essentially not having an ending. (Really, imagine if we got The Fellowship of the Ring in cinemas before The Two Towers even got green-lit.) The pacing can be a bit off in places, especially in the final act, but the visuals and Villeneuve’s direction save it from ever becoming a bore. It’s also impossibly well-cast, and while some of the more interesting casting choices seem wasted, here, I’m excited to see how they’re utilized in the next film. - 8.5/10

Halloween Kills (David Gordon Green, 2021)

A shockingly stupid, painfully acted, complete and utter mess of a film. The only time it isn't tone-deaf as to what kind of film it is is when it has Michael Myers butchering people. Thankfully that happens often, and many of the kills are so ludicrously over-the-top and enjoyable, that it makes the shitshow occurring between them somewhat bearable. - 4.5/10

The Night House (David Bruckner, 2021)

A great lead performance, an effective atmosphere throughout and a solid sense of confusion fuel this otherwise stagnant indie-horror film. - 6/10

The Last Duel (Ridley Scott, 2021)

An insanely effective film. The cast is uniformly brilliant, and all of Scott’s choices bring the creatively told, thematically poignant screenplay to life in ways as vividly raw as they are technically impressive. All three leads should be seeing some serious awards attention in the coming months (though I imagine Comer’s performance is too understated and will be lost in the raging sea that is awards season, and Driver will likely be campaigned more for his work in House of Gucci than this). - 9/10

Old (M. Night Shyamalan, 2021)

Stupid. I’m too bored by it to say anything more. The world needs more high-concept sci-fi/horror, not to mention more starring vehicles for the likes of Vicky Krieps, Gael García Bernal and Thomasin McKenzie, but not like this. Not like this. - 3/10

Escape Room: Tournament of Champions (Adam Robitel, 2021)

Did we really need all that ‘previously on’ bullshit at the beginning of this? Do we really think so little of movie-goers, these days? I mean, I know this is the type of ‘horror’ movie marketed toward the very bottom of the movie-going barrel, but... c’mon. Like the first, some of the actual escape room stuff is actually kinda fun, but even more than the first, it’s all so rushed that the little fun there is is quickly drained from it. Then there’s the forced sequel prep that robs the entire third act of any suspense whatsoever (that that there was much to begin with). Yikes... how tedious. - 2/10

Hitman’s Wife’s Bodyguard (Patrick Hughes, 2021)

Mind-numbingly dumb. Silly. Painfully edited. Excessively vulgar. And actually quite a bit of fun. Sure, it’s about as dumb and predictable and formulaic as can be, but thanks to Ryan Reynolds and Salma Hayek, it’s all of those things in a way that’s not so insufferable, and occasionally even kinda charming. - 5/10

Enjoy!

-Timothy Patrick Boyer.