#i cannot understand that man & sometimes i prefer to live in blissful ignorance

[waterloo-to-anywhere]

thinking about how carl says "plasticine romance" whereas peter says "hollow romance" in their respective renditions of grimaldi and how that actually fits so well with their individual interpretations of the song...

[btsqualityy]

Assuage: Chapter 4

Yoongi x Reader

Genre: ABO (Alpha/Beta/Omega) dynamics, angst, fluff, smut, enemies to lovers

Warnings: None to note.

Author’s Note: This chapter is the last of the introductory things to the universe and this is where the story will start to pick up more! I hope you guys enjoy it!

A few days later, Yoongi was sitting at the front counter in the hardware shop, sketching out a design for an armoire that an Omega in the pack had put in a order for. Kibum was quickly giving Yoongi more and more responsibilities within the shop, and that included designing some things. He had to admit, it sort of scared him but he also enjoyed it. 

Yoongi had never really been particularly good at anything (except for hunting but that was expected for him being a Prime Alpha), so discovering this hidden talent for woodworking and carpentry was doing wonders for his psyche. 

Just as he added some small designs onto the sketchpad, he heard the telltale ringing of the bell above the front door and when he looked up, he saw you and Hyorin stepping inside. 

“Hi Yoongi!” Hyorin greeted him happily, her hands on her large baby bump as she waddled over to stand in front of the counter.

“Hey Hyorin, Y/N,” he replied stiffly, his eyes narrowing at you when you only nodded at him. “What can I help you with?”

“I just came to put in my formal request for a crib,” Hyorin smiled brightly. “Since Namjoon and I only have a little less than two months until this pup comes, I figured now would be a good time.”

“Yeah, it should be,” Yoongi nodded, reaching over and grabbing the order book and flipping it open to a clean page. “Anything specific that you’d like, such as colors or wood preference?”

“I’d like oak, for the whole thing,” Hyorin began. “And maybe a white or cream canopy.”

“White or cream?” You repeated. “You sure you don’t want something different?”

“Since we don’t know what we’re having, I want it to be gender neutral,” Hyorin shrugged. “And you know how Joon and I feel about the whole “blue for boys and Alphas and pink for girls and Omegas” thing.”

“Hey, I was just making sure,” you held your hands up in surrender. 

“Anything else that you’d want?” Yoongi wondered after writing down what Hyorin had said. 

“Maybe a rattle,” Hyorin added. “Joon was telling me that you guys got a shipment of plastic in from Seoul the other day.”

“We did,” Yoongi nodded. “Anything specific in regards to the design?”

“Whatever you come up with is fine,” Hyorin shrugged. “I’m not picky.”

“Alright, I’ll tell Kibum when he comes back and I’m sure he’ll want to get to work on it right away.”

“Oh no, tell him not to forget about any of your other orders just because of mines,” Hyorin chuckled. “Me and this little one can wait.”

“I’ll make sure to let him know,” Yoongi smiled lightly.

“Well, I have to go because I told Namjoon that I’d sit in on his meeting with Jin,” Hyorin sighed as she looked at the clock on the wall that showcased the time. “I’ll see you later Y/N-ah?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded.

“Ok. Thank you Yoongi, and tell Kibum that I said thank you too,” Hyorin smiled as she turned to walk out of the store. 

“No problem,” Yoongi called out after her, watching as the door to the shop shut behind her before turning to look back at you. “Why is she sitting in on Namjoon’s meeting with Jin?”

“What do you mean, why?” You wondered. “She’s Pack Omega.”

“Exactly, she’s an Omega,” Yoongi nodded. 

“Is this more of your sexist bullshit coming out?” You scoffed. “In our pack, the Pack Alpha and Pack Omega have an equal amount of power. And to answer your question, she’s sitting in on the meeting because Jin is the Head Omega of the pack, which means that he looks out for all of the unmated Omegas and the newly presented Omegas. He wanted to talk to Namjoon about some things and Hyorin is going to be there because she used to be Head Omega before her and Namjoon mated.”

“Oh,” Yoongi uttered.

“Running a pack is a big job, even for two people and Namjoon is smart enough to realize that as good as his intentions might be, he can’t understand what Omegas go through because he’s not one,” you continued. “That’s why he leans on Hyorin sometimes.”

“And the pack still respects him?” Yoongi wondered.

“Of course. Traditionally, the only person that an Alpha will back down for is their mate so he’s not doing anything completely unheard of,” you shrugged.

“It is to me,” Yoongi replied. 

“You know, maybe you should have Tae teach you our pack history and laws if you’re going to stay here,” you suggested.

“I don’t plan on staying,” Yoongi shot back, his eyes widening when you just snorted in reply.

“Please,” you rolled your eyes. “You’re working in the hardware shop with Kibum, which no one has done in years, mind you, because the man is off his rocker half the time. If you think he’s gonna let you leave, then you got another thing coming. You’re definitely staying.”

“Regardless,” Yoongi continued, ignoring your words. “Who said that I wanted to learn more about your pack anyways?”

“It was just a suggestion. I mean, I figured that you were tried of looking like a complete dumbass anytime you talk to someone around here,” you smirked. “But hey, if you wanna stay in the dark, that’s on you.” You then turned around, swiftly walking out of the hardware shop. As the door shut behind you, Yoongi realized that maybe you had a point. He had been staying with your pack for almost a month now and his previous blissful ignorance was quickly turning into just plain ignorance. As he thought about it, he figured that having just a little bit of extra information could help him out.

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

“God, I never thought you’d ask!” Taehyung squealed as he led Yoongi into a large room, where the walls were covered with floor to ceiling bookshelves. They were in the Head Hall, where all of the records of the pack’s history, laws, and every event and birth within the pack were kept. 

“I only want to know the basics Taehyung,” Yoongi tried to say, jumping out of his seat slightly when Taehyung dropped a large book down onto the table in front of him. 

“Our pack is almost 100 years old,” Taehyung smiled as he sat down next to Yoongi. “There’s more than just ‘the basics’ to be learned hyung.”

“Well, where should I start?” Yoongi wondered.

“Start here, with our family,” Taehyung told him as he opened the book and flipped the pages until he was almost to the end. “You don’t have to learn about the beginning of the pack right now, but starting with our parents would be a good point.”

“Ok,” Yoongi nodded, looking down at the page and beginning to read.

Alpha Kim Chan-woo rose to the coveted position of Pack Alpha in our year of 1990 after winning in ritual combat against his Omegean sister, Kim Dohee. In 1993, he was mated to Omega Park Mi-hee who then gave birth to two pups; a son named Namjoon in our year of 1994 and a daughter named Y/N who followed swiftly behind in our year of 1995.

Nothing of significance is to be noted of the family of our Pack Alpha and Pack Omega, until our year of 1998. While on a treaty trip to visit a pack in Daegu, Pack Alpha Chan-woo and Pack Omega Mi-hee came across an orphaned pup. Not being able to bring themselves to leave him alone, they allowed him to come back to pack territory with them, intent on welcoming him into their family.

The council of pack elders were staunchly opposed, citing the issues of lineage that could be encountered once their pups were of age. However, the two of them (especially Pack Alpha Chan-woo) were insistent on giving the abandoned pup a loving home and family. The councils of elders relented and since the little pup could not remember his name, he was dubbed ‘Kim Taehyung’ by Pack Omega Mi-hee, and he served as the last addition to their family.

“Wow,” Yoongi muttered before looking over at Taehyung. “Your parents sound like amazing people.”

“They were,” Taehyung nodded with a soft smile. “Here, we can skip forward a little bit.” Taehyung reached out and flipped forward a few pages, skimming over one before motioning to Yoongi for him to continue reading.

In our year of 2009, Pack Alpha Chan-woo and Pack Omega Mi-hee’s first born son, Namjoon, presented as an Alpha at the age of 15. There was a glorious celebration, as it’s known to be a blessing from the Gods to have a first born son become an Alpha. Their last born son, Taehyung, presented as well two years later as a Beta at the age of 16. This caused a great commotion, as there was only one other living Beta in the pack at the time, and he was an Elder. 

After the presentation of Taehyung, there were many rumors abound as their daughter, Y/N, had not presented yet. Finally, in the autumn of our year 2012, Kim Y/N finally presented and surprised the entire pack. The celebration was unlike any the pack had seen in years, rivalling and even surpassing that of her elder Alpha brother. 

“Why was Y/N’s presentation so important?” Yoongi asked Taehyung. 

“That’s not important,” Taehyung said quickly, making Yoongi’s eye narrow. Taehyung moved forward and shut the book closed, pulling over another one and opening it up. “That’s enough about the history. Why don’t you read some of our laws and beliefs?”

“Alright,” Yoongi replied slowly, looking back down at the book. 

This pack prides itself on being a place where Alphas, Betas, and Omegas are treated fairly and equally. In order to have a harmonious pack, the talents of all three subgenders are needed and without any of them, a pack cannot be fruitful. 

An Alpha’s job, of course, is to be the breadwinner of their respective family. They are also the first line of defense when it comes to the safety of the pack, and are expected to protect it as such. However, Alphas are also expected to respect Betas and Omegas, especially the latter. While a pack wouldn’t be able to survive without it’s Alphas, too many prideful Alphas can lead to the eminent downfall of a pack. It is important for Alphas to be able to take a step back, realize that they don’t have all of the answers, and be able to turn to those who do; all for the good of the pack. 

A Beta’s job is to be the supporter of Alphas and the confidants of Omegas. Betas have a hard job, because they are the closest to our non subgendered humans while still having the feelings, senses and thoughts of subgendered humans. Betas have the ability to not be as clouded by hormones and pheromones' as their Alpha and Omega packmates, which gives them the invaluable role of peacekeeper within a pack. Without Betas, a pack would dissolve into turmoil. However, it can be hard for Betas to remember this so reminding them of their importance is of the utmost priority; all for the good of the pack.

An Omega has what’s arguably the most important job within the pack; they are the main ones who give birth to and teach our pups. Within this pack, Omegas are always to be treated with the utmost respect, as our pack would have no future without them and their guidance. While Omegas are free to do what they please within this pack, many of them chose to stay home with their pups or devote their talents to teaching our pups, which are all extremely selfless decisions. Without them, Alphas would not have people to lean on, Betas would not have anyone to confide in, and the pack would die out. Treating them with the love and respect that they deserve only leads to happy Omegas who are content with their lives; which is all for the good of the pack.

“You know,” Yoongi spoke up suddenly. “I never thought about Omegas this way.”

“How did your old pack view Omegas, hyung?” Taehyung wondered. “I mean, you have to admit that your views are a little...sexist.”

“Basically, Omegas were objects and not people,” Yoongi shrugged. “They were there for Alphas to fuck and that’s it.”

“Ugh, one of those packs,” Taehyung rolled his eyes. “Well, does it make sense? The way that we view and treat Omegas?”

“Actually, yeah it does,” Yoongi admitted. “Like I said, I just never thought about it like this.”

“That’s understandable hyung, and it’s not completely your fault,” Taehyung replied. “We can’t help the way that we’re raised. The only thing that we can do is try to change our mindset, if you want to.”

“I guess that’s true,” Yoongi sighed. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“What’s with the tattoos that you, Y/N, and Namjoon all have?” He wondered.

“Oh, you mean this,” Taehyung smiled, reaching over and lifting up the sleeve of his t-shirt on his left arm, showcasing the small, circular tattoo that was there. “It’s a crest.”

“Your family’s?” Yoongi guessed.

“Yep. After our parents died and Namjoon became Pack Alpha, we all got them since we’re the children of the former Pack Alpha and Omega,” Taehyung explained. “Namjoon has his right on the center of his chest because he’s the center and head of the pack. Y/N has hers on the right side and I have mines of the left because we’re Namjoon’s main supporters and we’re always going to have his back, through anything.”

“That’s amazing,” Yoongi found himself smiling lightly. “I kind of wish I had a family like you guys.”

“You can hyung,” Taehyung said, reaching over and setting his hand on Yoongi’s shoulder. “I know that you keep saying that you don’t plan on staying, but I really don’t want you to go back out there on your own. We can give you a nice life here and you won’t ever have to risk what happened to you before happening again. So, will you stay?” 

Yoongi couldn’t help but to chuckle because despite the façade that he had been putting on in front of Taehyung and everyone else that he talked to, he realized that he had already made his decision a while ago and he had a sneaking feeling that he wouldn’t regret the words that tumbled out of his mouth. 

“Yeah, I’ll stay.”

[devnicolee]

Anniversary Blues

A/N: just some slight angst then fluff... idk, this is random but I decided my weekend needed some of our favorite Mountain King. Enjoy!

M’Baku x Reader

"Leave us!" you called out, authority reverberating throughout the throne room as you marched down the center aisle to your husband's throne. Like a hunter eyeing its prey, you only had eyes for the man sitting tall and proud at the front of the room as weeks of building frustration propelled you forward. You were so distracted that you did not really pay the rows of soldiers much attention. You tried to be understanding for over a month now. But this was the final straw. You finally had enough.

The chatter in the room ceased almost immediately as the men and women around you looked from you to her husband, waiting for the leader of the Jabari to speak. He simply looked at you with confusion. If you hadn't known him as intimately as you did, the flicker of annoyance and frustration that passed behind his brown eyes would have gone unnoticed. But you noticed and like gasoline to a fire, your anger exploded.  

Once you reached the front of the throne room, you sighed deeply at the sustained presence of others in the room. You turned to find the group gathering their things at a painstakingly slow pace, not with the haste you required and demanded. 

"Are you all suddenly hard of hearing? I said: Leave. Us. Now. Do not make me repeat myself again."

As the Queen of Jabariland, you were known for your gentleness, your compassion, and empathy. The calm to M'Baku's fire. In your two years of marriage, most had never even heard you raise your voice. This was uncharted territory and no one needed to hear or see anything else. They quickly scampered, scurrying from the room as if they were trying to escape a literal fire. You waited for the heavy wooden doors to slam shut behind the last person before you turned back to your husband.

"What is the meaning of this Y/N? I was in the middle of a meeting."

"I know. A meeting that was more important than our anniversary?"

M’Baku’s heart fell into his stomach. That was today. His eyes studied your body, taking note of the black skin-tight dress (his favorite) covering your shape, the makeup on your face and the small gift-wrapped box in your hand. He hung his head, guilt rushing through him, as he remembered the private chef and dinner you planned in the city to celebrate two years of marriage. Though he would never admit it to you, your anniversary had not even been on his radar before you reminded him of this dinner. And it didn't stay on it long because he quickly forgot to add it to his calendar. 

"Y/N… I am sorry. Today has been hec-"

You raised your hand to silence him. His excuses had long grown tiresome, you were not interested in them anymore. "Is everyday not hectic for a chief? That does not excuse broken promises, M'Baku. You are a man of your word, are you not? That is certainly one of the reasons I married you... because you are trustworthy and reliable. So, you are going to need to do a whole hell of a lot better than that." You were not angry that your husband was busy, there was no leader on Earth that was not burdened with too much. And since rejoining Wakanda, your already overflowing workloads had only grown larger. But this was not an ordinary evening, he was not just missing dinner in your private quarters or movie night. It was your anniversary, your night to celebrate your love and commitment to one another, your night to make each other a priority.

"I am sorry, Y/N. I will make it up to you, I promise."

"'You'll make it up to me?' How? When? It is not like you are ever home," you retorted. Your eyes rolled up toward the ceiling as you tried to stop tears of anger from falling before you took a deep breath and continued. "We barely see each other. I fall asleep alone almost every night. I wake up alone every morning. I eat alone, I am basically alone in this marriage. When will you carve out time in your busy schedule to make it up to me? I mean... I just asked you for one night." Your voice trailed off as your anger dissipated and hurt seeped in. 

"I am trying to run an entire tribe, Y/N!" M'Baku said defensively, frustration taking over as his pride could not tolerate an attack from his own wife. " I can't always be with you! And it is unfair for you to be angry at me every time I have to prioritize our people." 

You almost considered just turning on your heels and walking out the door as you listened to him. You knew exactly what moment you were approaching in this argument, his voice steadily rising to the point where he simply shuts down and refuses to listen or see reason any longer. You let out a deep sigh, trying to calm yourself before attempting to explain your position again. 

"I am not asking for always M’Baku! I mean Hanuman! At this point, I am not even asking for sometimes. Merely occasionally. It is not about one dinner. It is about you being emotionally and physically unavailable for over a month. I understand you are running a tribe but lately, it seems like you do not have time for me at all."

For the most part, you had enjoyed a union of marital bliss for the last two years. No real issues, no real arguments. Your marriage and the foundation of your marriage were seemingly solid and unshakable. But something shifted in the last month. Your husband stopped being your husband and he became your coworker. Your marriage stopped being a marriage. It was as if someone extinguished a fire and robbed you of all the intimacy you required to survive. If it did not pertain to a council meeting or tribal business, M'Baku carved out no time to talk to you, much less spend time with you. You had not gotten married to be lonelier than you were before. 

You could justify the late nights, missed dates, lack of intimacy to a point... He gave you many excuses but you made them for him as well. You tried your best to bury your frustration and disappointment, pretending like rarely seeing your spouse did not bother you. Because you did understand he served a higher purpose, his responsibility to your people was too important. But, last week, everything changed for you. You started viewing his absence differently, examining whether he actually had time for you or the little ones he desperately wanted. How could you be a successful couple... successful parents if you existed as co-workers and not as husband and wife? 

"I cannot ignore my responsibilities to be with you every second Y/N! You knew that when we got married." The bark and anger of a scorned chief now fully coloring his words.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "I am simply asking you to remember you have a wife, other obligations outside of these four walls," she argued, gesturing around his throne room. "When was the last time you asked me how I was doing or asked me something unrelated to being chieftess?" you listed. "You claim to want a family but how? When you barely have time for me?"

"That is enough!" He yelled, his fist banging loudly on the arm of his throne as his hubris and exhaustion made him unwilling to continue listening to his wife's very valid criticisms of his behavior. "I said I was sorry Y/N! I will not apologize again. The Jabari are my obligation first and foremost. We can discuss this later in the Golden City when you have calmed down and can see reason."

You scoffed, knowing there would be no later. Tomorrow morning, you were both supposed to head down the mountains for meetings and King T'Challa's birthday party. You saw the jam-packed agenda the Queen planned for the week; there would be little time to breath, let alone have private conversations.

"No! Go by yourself!" Your mind conjuring up the only consequence you could think of.

He immediately shook his head, almost scoffing at your assertion. "Absolutely not. First, your presence is required as chieftess. And second, I am not leaving you here alone for a week."

"It would not be any different than the last month. I will not go down the mountains to smile and put on the show of the happy chieftess when I am everything but happy. You want to be alone? Fine. Enjoy doing your job alone." You turned on your heels to leave him, ignoring the rage painted on his face. However, before you took a step, you whipped back around.

"Oh, I almost forgot. Happy anniversary Lord M’Baku," you stated stiffly, voice void of the love and adoration it usually held for him. You tossed the box at him before you walked out, leaving him alone.

***

You sighed as the masseuse kneaded your tense shoulders and pounded into your back. You preferred M’Baku’s massages… his gentle touches melting away all the tension you housed in your muscles. Usually those massages turned into less medicinal activities, which made you crave them even more. You missed that, especially now, after being deprived of his soft, sensual touches for a month now. But this was a fine alternative for when your stress levels ran too high. The tranquility and meditation was short lived when the shrill sound of your beads, a recent gift from the Wakandan Princess, rang out loudly. You lifted your head to see who was calling before slumping back down angrily. 

I should have known who it was.

Three days had passed since your argument in the throne room, three days since you had spoken to your husband. You ignored his 50 calls a day, they were nonstop and incessant. You knew it was not rational to be this angry over one missed dinner but you stood firm in your position. You refused to speak to him unless he was calling to apologize and promise to change his behavior. Any other conversation was useless

The ringing continued, leaving you frustrated. It was over. Whatever relaxation you hoped to get from this would not be achieved with him bothering you. You politely asked the masseuse to finish up. When she was done, you covered yourself in a thick navy blue robe before calling out to Amari, who stood on the other side of the door. 

"I think I would like to go to the market to do some shopping. Can you prepare the carriage?" you asked when he poked his head into your bedroom door. 

"Are you sure, my lady? There is supposed to be a storm tonight. Lord M'Baku told us to ensure you were safe while you were alone."

You cut your eyes, "My husband does not dictate my movements around my kingdom. This is as much my dominion as his. We will make it back well before the storm. So please, prepare the carriage," you responded coolly.

"Yes, ma’am," he answered, retreating to make preparations.

Less than 20 minutes later, you were off on the winding roads down the mountain for much needed retail therapy.  You knew you would find no real comfort or answers in the racks of clothes but it was the only thing to keep your mind off your very real problems at home. But you figured it was a necessary trip either way, you would need new clothes in a few months anyway.

***

"Lord M’Baku, I was sad to hear Lady Y/N was not able to attend," Nakia offered as she and M'Baku shared an embrace at the entrance of the banquet hall.

"W-well yes, she was sad that she could not attend either. However, she was under the weather and we both felt travel was not in her best interest," he lied, fidgeting with the cuff links on his suit. He was not a fan of lying but admitting to his King that he upset his wife so much that she refused to come did not seem like a better option. 

"Understood. We are happy one of you was able to make it and perhaps we can all get together soon for dinner. The next time you both can make it down the mountains?" T’Challa offered, as he took Nakia's hand again. M'Baku caught the subtle motion with the corner of his eye and a tinge of sadness blossomed inside as he tried to make it through the night without his partner in crime. 

"Y-Yes, that is a great idea. Happy Birthday again, King T'Challa. Will you excuse me?" He saluted his king and queen before finding his seat. He was not in the entertaining mood, nor had he been in the socializing mood any moment since his arrival. He had not really realized how much he relayed on you to survive these hellish events until you weren't there. You made every meeting and event more tolerable, you knew exactly what to say or do, how to charm the right people. His fingers picked at his beads as he contemplated stepping out onto the balcony and calling you. He knew you would likely not answer, like the other 100 times that day. But he needed the silent treatment to end. He missed his wife. 

It only took the length of the ride down the mountains for him to see the error of his ways. Your words echoed in his head every night and free moment since the blow up in the throne room. He wasn't listening then, but he heard the words loud and clear now. He had been absent and unavailable. He could see the path littered with broken promises and miscommunication that led you both to this exact moment. It was entirely his fault. He could always count on you, you never missed a beat, never failed to be present for him. And he was unable to be that for you. He spent most of last night brainstorming ways to make it up to you immediately and ideas to balance his schedule to make more time for you in the future. 

His desperation to go back home showed through the Jabari King's sulkiness the entire evening, only engaging in conversations directed at him with short responses. His internal debate on whether to call you raged on as he listened to the leader of the mining tribe drone on and on about something uninspiring. He feigned interest in her story until his head guard raced up to him.

"We need to return to the mountains. There has been an accident!" He kept his voice low, as to not attract too much attention, but he failed to limit the frenzy, urgency and fear coloring his words. 

Confusion clouded his eyes as he looked up at Dakarai, trying to understand what accident could warrant interrupting an official ball. No one paid the two Jabari any mind as they mingled and danced among themselves. "What kind of accident? Surely the warriors and Lady Y/N can handle it?"

"No! Lady Y/N was in an accident," he stressed. "In her carriage, it hit ice coming up the mountain. She is hurt, the healers are tending to her."

Dakarai was unable to conclude his thought; M'Baku was out of his seat and racing toward T'Challa the nanosecond he heard your name. He resisted the carnal instinct to strangle his guard for wasting precious time and not leading with the critical information first. He caught T'Challa's attention with ease, the King abandoning his conversation immediately at the site of M'Baku's face. M'Baku didn't take a breath as he explained the situation and excused himself from the remainder of the week. 

"Take the Royal Talon. Ayo can have you there in under 20 minutes. Ayo," he motioned for the Dora soldier who arrived at his side in seconds. "We are praying for her. Update us when you can."

M'Baku nodded and shared a salute before he marched quickly behind Ayo. They were loaded in the Talon and zooming toward the snow-capped mountains of Jabariland within five minutes. He paced up and down the small ship, praying silently for her health as it zoomed toward home.

***

M'Baku ignored any and everyone he passed as he ran through the Lodge to your private quarters. He threw the heavy double doors of his bedroom to find you in bed, chatting with his private healer. The healer was replacing a bandage on your head gently when M'Baku approached him. You were listening to the healer tell a story about his daughter while patiently staring around the room. You wanted this examination to end so badly, you were exhausted and just wanted to rest. 

However, your face lit up when M’Baku walked into the room. You felt bad, the clear anxiety etched in his eyes. You both connected eyes and you offered him a small smile, mainly to reassure him that you were indeed ok. You were in pain, sure, but given the state of the carriage when the guard helped you out, you were just thankful everyone walked away. 

“Lord M’Baku, I am glad you were able to get here so quickly. Lady Y/N is going to be fine. No need to worry,”  the doctor prefaced quickly, getting the important information out of the way. “The head wound was pretty bad, which caused a bit of panic. But otherwise, all the injuries will heal with time. And the baby is doing just fine as well, Glory to Hanuman. A strong heartbeat.” He turned to address you, “You are certainly lucky, Lady Y/N. The damage could have been significantly worse.”

M’Baku let out a deep sigh of relief, he was so elated to hear that you were indeed alright that he almost missed his last statement. “T-thank you. Th- wait. The baby?” He turned from the doctor to you, waiting for confirmation. If you weren’t so tired, you would have hit yourself in the face for forgetting to tell him not to mention the baby. 

“Surprise?” you offered quietly, with a tentative smile on your face. 

The healer’s eyes widened and he bowed his head, “A-ah… M-My apologies, Chief M’Baku. Lady Y/N found out last week. I assumed you knew.” 

M’Baku smiled politely, mainly to assuage the man’s obvious guilt at spilling his wife’s secret. Of course now, your anger the other night made so much more sense. He, not only missed your anniversary, he ruined what would have been a life-changing surprise. “No need to apologize. S-she had not gotten the chance to tell me. B-but thank you. Could we have some alone time please?” 

He bowed to both of you before quickly exiting, leaving the two of you alone.

“You are supposed to be in the Golden City,” you smiled softly, as you pushed yourself up into a seated position. 

“Well, the well-being of my queen is my top priority, my only priority. When you are in trouble, I come running.” He walked up to you and pulled you into a bone-crushing hug. 

You grimaced silently but held on to him as tightly as you could with one arm in a sling. While you would have loved different circumstances, you hadn’t been in his arms in so long. Your body filled with warmth like he was hot chocolate on a cold day. He shifted and pulled you so you were curled up in his lap, your face buried in the nape of his neck. You stayed like that for a few minutes before he leaned back to look at you. His finger lifted your chin as he examined the bruise growing darker on your cheekbone. 

“None of it is that bad,” you promised. “It is my own fault. Amari warned me not to stay out too late, that a storm was heading through. I lost track of time because… I-I didn’t want to come back here and be alone. I missed you,” you whispered, your fingers played in his beard as you spoke. You had every intention of making him sweat originally but now that he was here? You just wanted to be close to him. “I thought we would make it back in time. Thankfully no one was seriously injured. I am sorry, it was reckless of me.” 

M’Baku shook his head, “Don’t apologize to me my love, this is all my fault. You were right, I have not been the present or attentive husband you need. I get so wrapped up in the tribe and obsessing over every little detail, I lose sight of the bigger picture. I couldn’t last 2 days without you. I am in love with you and I know I can’t do this job… this life without you. You were right, my head hasn’t been here with you and certainly not enough to start our family. I am just sorry it took so long for me to see that. Can you forgive me?” 

Part of you was hesitant to forgive him so quickly. After all, actions did speak louder than words and recognizing your faults did not mean his behavior was going to change. You picked at your nail beds as you responded, “I will always forgive you, my King. I-I j-j-just need to know you are there, you know? I thought about it and I shouldn’t have waited until it built up to say something. If we are upset or disappointed, we are supposed to speak up… talk. And I didn’t do that. I am sorry too.” 

Silence fell over you both for a few moments before you spoke up, “This wasn’t how I wanted you to find out by the way. I had this cute onesie and everything. That was the gift I threw at you.” 

M’Baku’s loud laugh rang out through the bedroom, “I don’t care how I found out. You have made me the happiest man in the world, Y/N. I swear on my life, that you and our child are my first priority, now and always.”

“I will hold you to that,” you giggled as he peppered your face with soft kisses. He picked you up and carried you to the bathroom. He sat you down and filled the oversized bathtub with your favorite bubble bath and hot water. 

“How about this? After the bath, we can pick a movie to watch tonight and a few more for tomorrow?”  

You paused as you tried, pathetically, to strip off your clothes with only one arm. He turned and chuckled before helping you. “What do you mean tomorrow? You still have meetings in the Golden City?” 

“No I do not. T’Challa will understand. I am all yours. I told you, you are my priority.”

“I like the sound of that.” M’Baku helped you into the tub and slid in behind you. You laid against his hard chest, your eyes lulling closed as his finger traced patterns into your stomach. His lips placed soft kisses on your neck. 

“I love you… more than anything,” he said quietly. 

“I love you more.” 

Tags: @muse-of-mbaku @jellybean531 @destinio1 @skysynclair19 @ashanti-notthesinger @gloriousgam3r @archivistofwakanda @leahnicole1219 @mygirlrenee @dramaqueeenamby

[primasveraas-writing]

This is Home

Request: “Finnpoe where Finn keeps slipping into First Order habits/has culture shock with the Resistance?”

Thanks for sending this in!

Ship/drabble requests are open!

WORD COUNT: 2855

XXX

Finn knows he was reborn the day he left the First Order.

Out of blood and pain, he reentered the world. He was given a name. He was held in the embrace of friends who would become family, and the moment they saw him, they loved him.

He was struck down, and he awoke again, taking teetering, unsteady steps as he relearned how to walk. There was fire and water and darkness as he stumbled confusedly on the ship until he ran into Poe, and the universe began to make sense again.

And Finn was reborn.

Yet the past never left him. The sensation of freedom, at last, overtook him- a weight off his chest, blissful as he’d never known before. Finn wasn’t sure if it was rational to expect complete liberation when the ideals of the First Order were so deeply ingrained within him, but he was given a new life and a new identity to make his own.

If he was reborn, then FN-2187 is the ghost that haunts his every step.

On a surface level, everything is fine. He has friends, Poe and Rey, and the whole of the Resistance seems to welcome him with open arms. He is free to do as he pleases, so long as he pitches in around the base, and he doesn’t have to fight in combat unless he chooses to. He has full meals three times a day, and people who smile at him when he passes in the hall. On their new base, he can go outside and smell the fresh air and explore the natural world.

Every morning, Finn wakes up at 0600. It’s the same time the claxon went off in the First Order barracks, and true to his earliest memories, his eyes open routinely, even before the sun dawns over Ajan Kloss. Since duties don't start until 0700 or 0800, depending on rank, Finn watches the sun rise through his window, and tries not to think about how for the first time in his life, he has a window to call his own. He has his own private quarters, and they are deathly silent each day.

Regardless, Finn dresses promptly, then turns to face the light. The sun hasn’t yet crept through the trees into his room, but he knows it will soon. He glances at the chronometer sitting on his bedside table. Yesterday, the sun rose at 0641, the first beams coming through the window slowly, almost one by one. Today, he waits for the sun to rise just a few minutes later. 

This is how Finn bides his time, counting minutes of sunlight because he cannot escape a lifetime of conditioning.

At 0705, Finn rises, stretching his limbs, which are aching after an hour of sitting idly. Poe rises at 0700, and Finn has quickly learned that his friend is someone who can be considered a "morning person." It's a choice, apparently, to wake early and be productive at the start of the day. They make a habit of eating together before much of the base has come to life. In this sense, they are unique: few others willingly wake so early. Even Poe’s activity and enthusiasm are special, but Finn discovers that this is due to his two cups of caf taken daily in the morning. Even so, he's still brighter than Jessika, who refuses to talk until her first cup is empty, consumed slowly and accompanied with tired, sulky eyes.

Poe greets him loudly, smiling wide and clapping the other man on the back. Finn can’t help but respond just as happily, although it’s dampened with exhaustion, even after being awake for just one hour. Poe doesn’t notice, however, or attributes it to the normalcy of life during the war. Either way, Finn is glad no one else knows. He hasn’t told anyone of his sleeplessness, that he can betray the First Order but not shake them in his daily habits.

When they get to the mess, Poe heaps his plate with food, gleefully exclaiming about the freshness of a new dish that has appeared among the standard breakfast options. Finn takes small portions of a few staples, remembering how his stomach ached when he ate too much rich food immediately after joining the Resistance.

Jessika is already at their usual table, glowering at Poe when he says good morning. After Finn asks her why she’s up so early, she tosses back her dark hair, preparing to unload her grievances.

“Someone assigned me training duty,” she says, pointing a finger accusingly at Poe, who only grins in response. “I’m teaching a few new recruits the x-wing basics.” And although she rolls her eyes to puncuate this statement, Finn knows that she doesn’t really mind, aside from requiring an extra cup of caf and some pretend sympathy for the lost hour of rest.

The female pilot sighs, returning to her plate and half-emptied mug. She looks at Finn and shakes her head. “Man, I cannot understand how you don’t eat more. I wake up and I’m starving.” Almost to emphasize her point, she shovels a pile of eggs into her mouth decorously.

“Charming, Pava,” Poe says, snorting. Finn chuckles too, ignoring the sensation of his stomach dropping into the floor. The food provided by the Resistance is far more than he’s used to- so much more than the First Order had ever allotted for their soldiers. It was never enough then, but it didn’t matter. Their job was to function, not to be satisfied.

Still, Finn considers taking more food. His portioning had led to embarrassment one day when his stomach had growled loudly during a Resistance meeting. Most paid him no mind, but Poe, standing next to him, had offered Finn a ration bar, furthering the heat already burning Finn’s cheeks. He had promptly refused, ashamed that his body had ousted his hunger. He was already receiving plenty of food; he shouldn’t need even more.

Despite his thoughts, the meal continues, the pilots beside Finn drawing him out of his reverie. They are a reminder; he is a part of them now, but Finn does not get up to add more food to his plate. He starts the day still hungry.

Most of the day passes normally; by now he knows to smile at his fellow Resistance members in the hall and relax his posture when he walks. Only once does he catch himself looking around in fear of being reprimanded for breaking protocol, but he manages to remember where he is and the right way to behave. He attends a strategy meeting, laughs with his friends, and as the day continues, the knot of anxiety in his stomach begins to unwind.

It’s clearly fine, and Finn tries to show it. Most of the time, Finn doesn’t even feel his heart beating out of his chest; the fact that he can disregard it demonstrates his progress. Even when his voice falters midconversation, after missing Snap’s layered sarcasm minutes into a debate, he recovers quickly enough that they all can laugh and move on. Finn laughs the loudest, failing to notice how Poe refrains, moving slightly closer to his friend.

It’s been a good day, Finn decides, with significantly fewer blunders made than the day before. Finn tries to maintain the conversation before he lets himself get lost in review, thinking over what he should have done better. But by the time he’s in the command room, even after the last meal of the day, his mind wanders, and General Organa, made haughty by extended hours, barks out his name suddenly.

Finn instantly stiffens, snapping to attention. His gaze hardens, staring straight ahead, and his heart thuds in his chest, so loudly that he’ll be scolded for that too. His arms are rods at his side, and Finn braces for Phasma’s raised voice-

“Relax, Finn,” the General says softly. Her tone is as gentle as Finn’s ever heard it, mirroring her comforting touch as she reaches out to grasp Finn's shoulder. "We don't do that here. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

Finn nods, shame burning inside him, fueled by the anxiety that’s made its home within every part of his being. She is looking at him with pity in her eyes, and Finn cannot meet her gaze. Perhaps she realizes this, because she speaks again, this time assuming something closer to her typical conviction.

“To win a battle and to return scarred is still a victory. You have been fighting this battle ever since you got here. Nobody expects you to lose, but no one expects it to be easy, either.” Her words become conversational, as if Finn’s plight were the changing of the seasons. “But one good thing about living on a rebel base is that you’re surrounded by good, patient people. And most of us know a thing or two about change, too.”

She leaves it at that, but her eyes are sparkling. Finn comes back to himself, nodding. That one of the biggest differences between his old life and this new one- he's never felt a mother's gaze until Leia had looked at him, with such an unfamiliar sympathy and love. It's inexplicably wonderful; Finn wants to burst into tears and hug the General all at once. Sometimes he wonders if she would ever let him, but he can't allow himself to ever decide. Instead, he nods again, clearing his throat so he can manage a soft “thank you.”

Leia smiles briefly, then dismisses him for the night, declaring to the whole room that they have free time until duty begins again tomorrow.

***

Weeks pass, and Finn does better. He still doesn’t take more food, but each day, even each hour, he becomes more and more unrecognizable as a First Order trooper. He becomes Finn, who is part of the rebellion all around, born of his friends’ humor, love, and loyalty. It is good, even if he can still sometimes hear his heart pounding in his chest or stiffens whenever an admiral passes by.

At night, he collapses into bed, exhausted from the effort of assimilating into the Resistance. As soon as he’s left off from duty, Finn usually retreats to his quarters, preferring a few moments of peace and quiet to himself, lying on his bed as the world spins around him and he tries to regain a sense of balance between his new life and the one he left behind. He doesn’t wish to go back- of course not- but when he’s exhausted and depleted at the end of the day, he wants something familiar. Which in turn makes him angry, because all that’s ever been familiar was the First Order, and he certainly doesn’t want that. So the cycle continues, and Finn is helpless to it, even if it gets easier day by day. He is still resigned to the hurricane of emotions and tiredness at every quiet moment available to him, when the bustling life in the Resistance slows enough for him to think.

It’s on one of these nights, when Finn is halfway undressed and slumped in bed, that Poe comes knocking on his door. Finn, mostly asleep and lethargically watching the sun set through his window, scrambles to his feet, pulling on a pair of pants frantically.

“Coming!” Finn shouts, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, although his heart is racing enough that he’s fully awake already.

Poe is smiling when the door opens, but it quickly fades upon seeing Finn, wrinkled clothes, messy hair, and all. Tenderly, he reaches out to touch the other man’s shoulder, but Finn fights to keep a smile on his face still.

“Can I come in?”

Finn steps aside, allowing Poe into his quarters, almost regretting it when Poe’s critical eyes sweep over the room, taking in the emptiness of it all, including the bed that has already been slept in that evening.

“Take a breath, Finn,” Poe tells him, managing an easy grin once more. “I was just stopping by.”

Finn nods, relaxing his shoulders and posture, leaning into Poe as he speaks, showing calculated interest beyond his genuine appreciation at Poe’s visit.

“So,” the pilot continues, “is this where you disappear to every night?”

Freezing momentarily, as if he’d been caught, Finn has to remember how to talk. Perhaps Poe realizes this, because he speaks again, his tone gentle.

“I was just worried about you, buddy. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Finn shifts uncomfortably, dropping his gaze. “It’s a lot. Every day” His words are timid and painfully soft. “I just want to fit in but it’s all so new.”

Stepping closer to Finn, Poe reaches out to grasp Finn’s arm. “I understand, Finn. But you aren’t alone in this. I know how overwhelming this can be. We’re surrounded by all kinds of beings from around the galaxy during the middle of a war. I know it’s harder for you, but if you ever need anything, just ask.”

Wordlessly, Finn nods, and Poe draws him close, wrapping his arms around Finn’s waist and letting the former stormtrooper bury his face in Poe’s neck. 

***

So Finn does ask. In the morning, when Poe offers him a bite of his food, he tries it and asks for more. Not every day, but sometimes. He asks about species of beings he’s never seen before, to try and understand all parts of the Resistance. He asks how he can help, how he can reach out to people he’s never talked to on the base. He asks how to fit in, how he should address his superiors and compose himself during meetings. He asks medics and Poe and everyone he knows who has faced impossible odds and the anxiety that comes with it on how to find and keep calm. He asks for help when he doesn’t understand something, even after the relevant moment has passed, because Poe is always there afterward, his eyes kind and knowing, and Finn learns that Poe will never stop being there for him. It is gradual and slow, but soon enough, Finn isn’t embarrassed or afraid anymore, to need Poe’s help and patience, and life becomes easier.

So Finn later asks, only partially shy, if he can kiss Poe.

(Poe says yes.)

Then Poe is there, in the early hours, when Finn wakes before dawn. His boyfriend is a light sleeper; as soon as Finn stirs in in his arms, Poe rises too. At first, they start their day together, beginning their daily duties hours earlier, but as time goes on, and Finn feels more at home in Poe’s embrace, he stays in bed longer, even if he can’t fall asleep again. Until, one day, Finn opens his eyes and sees Poe smiling above him. Finn is confused, but upon checking the chronometer next to him, he realizes that it is far past 0600. This does not happen the next day, nor the one after that, but it is the start of a gradual change, one that will continue through to the rest of his life.

They share a cup of caf after, especially when it becomes routine for Poe to wake Finn, despite the latter's grumpy protests. Finn starts by sipping the dark beverage, made strong and without sugary additives, even though it's far too bitter for Finn's preferences. Poe laughs at him when his nose wrinkles at the flavor, but he doesn't mind it when their kisses shortly thereafter still have the lingering warmth and taste of the drink.

Finn discovers his favorite food, a dish made from exotic fruits. The recipe has been passed on from Shara Bey to her son, who recreates it for Finn after a particularly bountiful supply run, and all Finn wants is more, a thousand more lazy afternoons watching Poe cook and mutter to himself in languages from Yavin IV, and kissing Finn periodically as he does it all.

They hold hands in the hall, and Finn finds himself grinning back at his friends, heat flushing his cheeks when Poe tells him how beautiful his smile is. That’s new too, the ease with which he can navigate teasing and sarcasm, and he is overjoyed when Black Squadron falls to pieces at one of his jokes.

Leia smiles at him brightly as ever, and after Finn suggests a new strategy, he realizes she's beaming at him. Once the meeting adjourns, she wraps her arm around his shoulder and tells him she's glad he's home. He does get choked up then, turning away so Leia doesn't see the shine in his eyes, but she is merciful enough to squeeze his arm and walk away, leaving the statement hanging in the air, and Finn to his joy and thoughts.

But she’s right, he thinks, as the Resistance celebrates another victory that night. He’s curled in Poe’s arms, watching the flames of the bonfire flicker into the night, listening to the laughter and shouts of joy from the rest of the base as they drink and party with a sense of carefreeness that is surprisingly common here, even during the war. 

This is home.

[mothercetrion]

It’s Not Easy, Being in Love

Summary: Fujin is grateful that he found the courage to ask Nightwolf out. His long life has never been filled with so much happiness.

Characters: Fujin, Nightwolf

Word Count: 2631

my contribution to the growing love of windwolf... I hope you all enjoy!! :)

warning: very brief mentions of revenancy and past deaths, but it’s really mild

———

When Fujin wakes up in the morning, the first thing that he notices is that Nightwolf is not in the bed next to him.

It is still dark out, so early that Fujin has woken before the sun itself, but he notices the lack of Nightwolf’s presence in their bed instantaneously.

They live in the woods of Earthrealm. When Fujin decided to leave the Sky Temple, he moved in with Nightwolf in his humble home near the place he grew up. It is a wooden log cabin, built by Nightwolf himself, with vast clearings on either side for training, lounging, or whatever they desire. There is a lake up a pathway for swimming or fishing. Fujin can lift them into the trees so they can look out at the world around them for miles. It is a blissful location, a place that both of them are honored to call home.

Fujin rises from their shared bed, putting on warm slippers and wandering out of their bedroom. Moving through the hallways with silent steps, he pulls his long hair into a messy bun, hoping to keep it out of his way until he has the time to brush it later in the morning. It is a grand ordeal, a task that he simply has no time to conquer. He has to find Nightwolf. He is always his top priority.

A glance out the window in the kitchen confirms his suspicions. On their back porch, still dressed in his pajamas and still looking rather tired, sits Nightwolf in their porch swing. He was awaiting the sun’s rising. It isn’t the most common of occurrences—once Nightwolf learned the joys of sleeping in, he took advantage of it rather frequently—but it is a lovely sight to see him enjoying the nature he so strongly loved.

Fujin opens the door to their back porch and steps outside. Nightwolf looks up from the horizon, and he instantly smiles. “You’re up early.”

“You woke up before me,” Fujin says sweetly. He sits down on the swing and moves an arm around Nightwolf’s side. Nightwolf leans into him, allowing Fujin to easily kiss his forehead. “Is there a reason you’ve decided to partake in the sunrise?”

Nightwolf grabs at Fujin’s spare hand, pressing a kiss to the tips of his fingers. “I woke up very early and couldn’t fall back asleep. I decided that this morning was as good as any.”

Fujin nods with a soft sigh. The plague of a lack of sleep… It was an unfortunate situation. “It’s always good to start your mornings with the sunrise,” he muses. “We can always nap later.”

Nightwolf leans over to fully rest on Fujin’s shoulder, returning a sigh. “Very true, my love.”

Fujin cannot help but smile at the sentimental pet name.

It has been well over four years since he had gained the courage to ask Nightwolf to be his. It had been a decision that came with countless days, months, of thought. He refused to make any romantic moves towards Nightwolf—someone he deeply admired and cared about—without being fully sure of his feelings.

And that strong consideration was what made their love stronger. He was sure of it.

The instant that he realized that he had fallen for Nightwolf caused a whirlwind of emotions. Never in Fujin’s life had he fallen for anyone—no god, no mortal, no one. Romantic feelings were something that he desired, but he never met anyone that stirred them within him. That was… until he met Nightwolf.

He saw him for the first time in a passing glance. Raiden had welcomed him on their side for the Mortal Kombat Tournament. Raiden introduced them to one another, and immediately, Fujin found Nightwolf to be respectable. He hailed from the Matoka, a tribe that he spoke so fondly of that Fujin found himself liking them from his kind words alone. He spoke of the importance of his title as Nightwolf in his tribe; he was “undeserving of the honor” to be the best of his people. He worked to prove to them that he was worthy, and he fought to protect them from otherworldly forces.

From his words alone, Fujin knew that he was worthy of the title.

The events of the tournament came. When they were not busy representing Earthrealm, the two of them spent time together. Fujin was drawn to his focus on the future, the love he carried for those close to him, and his unique connection to forces that Fujin would never understand. They bonded over their love for both their families and for Earthrealm. Fujin found himself able to confide in him his deepest concerns, most hidden secrets, after just a few days.

When the calamitous end to several Earthrealm allies came, Nightwolf sacrificed his own life to protect the living protectors of Earthrealm from a corrupted Sindel’s wrath. Fujin was notified, and the moment he found out, he was… devastated. It was the strongest anguish he had felt in his many years of life. He knew the concerns of getting attached to a mortal, especially one who was willing to do anything for his people, but he ignored the warnings passed down for thousands of years. He became attached, and he suffered.

Months later, rumors emerged of restoring some of the Revenants to their human forms. Raiden told him while at the Sky Temple. Fujin was stunned, and he immediately expressed a desire to restore Nightwolf. Raiden teased him of his strong attachment to the Earthrealmer, and Fujin excused it as a love for his desire to protect other people. He sacrificed himself for the sake of others. He was the most selfless man that Fujin had ever met.

“If anyone is worthy of a second chance at life,” Fujin said, “it is someone as honorable as Nightwolf.”

With that, Raiden swore to his brother that he would try as hard as he could to restore him. Thus, when Raiden traveled to the Netherrealm with Johnny and Sonya, he was thankful to the Elder Gods that Nightwolf’s Revenant form came alongside Kuai Liang, Hanzo, and Jax to defeat them.

It was that evening that Raiden came to the Sky Temple and informed Fujin of the delightful news. Alongside several other valuable Earthrealm allies, Nightwolf had been restored to his former self. He was alive.

Fujin was overjoyed at the news. He and Raiden traveled together to the medical ward of the Special Forces base, where the restored Revenants were being monitored. No one wanted them to be sent to live on their own without being sure that they were mentally stable. It was a precaution, if anything. Raiden and Fujin had faith in it.

Sonya told them immediately that Nightwolf seemed well-off. He had high spirits, and he was asking if the others were safe. She also pointed out that he asked about Fujin.

The wind god went to visit him immediately. He was eating some sort of meal when Fujin walked in, and without hesitation, Nightwolf put down his fork and greeted him eagerly. Fujin had never been happier to see a man smile than he had been then.

Nightwolf was cleared to leave the medical ward that day, but a medical advisor urged for him to stay with someone to be extra sure that he would be okay. Nightwolf said that he would prefer if Fujin was there with him.

“Who better to accompany me than someone who can blow my troubles away in the wind?” Nightwolf said.

They decided to reside at the Sky Temple following Raiden’s permission to have Nightwolf as an exclusive guest. He and Fujin shared a bedroom, where they spent their days recovering Nightwolf’s strength through light training and sparring, eating, and resting if Nightwolf even slightly implied that he was tired, even if he insisted that he wasn’t.

Some nights were rough. Despite his positive outlook and insistence on not focusing on the past, Nightwolf had still undergone trauma. He still died. He was still a goon of Quan Chi, forced to be evil against his will. There were nights where Fujin would come back from a walk in the extremely early morning and saw that Nightwolf had not slept a minute. He would discuss his feelings with him, the experiences he faced, as much as he wanted until he was able to get some sleep. There were other nights where Fujin would be woken from his light slumber to see Nightwolf trembling in his bed, woken by a nightmare but being too proud to ask for help. On these nights, upon getting permission, he would hold Nightwolf as he cried; he assured him for as long as it took that he was safe. He would run his hand through his hair with the gentlest of touches, and he would ease Nightwolf to sleep and stay awake the rest of the night, making sure that he got the rest he needed.

Even though the gods did not need as much sleep as Earthrealmers (or even Edenians) to get by, Fujin found himself staying up for days to make sure that Nightwolf was recovering, and the lack of sleep began to take its toll, but he did not change his actions. Raiden asked him about his sudden exhaustion, and Fujin replied simply: “I would do it a thousand times over for him.”

But the days where Nightwolf was defeating Fujin in sparring, eating, and smiling outweighed those rough nights. Fujin saw firsthand how much stronger that Nightwolf was becoming, both physically and mentally, and it was something that made him smile if he ever thought about it. He even sometimes told Nightwolf about his incredible strides towards a happier life. Nightwolf always assured him that it was not a solo effort.

“I would be nowhere without you, Fujin,” he said. “I am forever indebted to you.”

Perhaps it was then that Fujin began to fall for him. But he didn’t realize it.

Around three weeks after beginning his stay at the Sky Temple, Nightwolf announced that he felt as though he was healthy enough to live on his own once more. He wanted to return to the States and live with his people, and he wanted to begin the rest of his life. He would still honor Earthrealm in kombat whenever his assistance was required, but he wanted to begin life on his own. He thanked Raiden and Fujin for offering their home to him, and before he left, he thanked Fujin for giving him the strength to carry on. He swore that Fujin was a lifelong ally, and he was forever indebted to him.

With that, Nightwolf went home.

And Fujin missed him.

He missed the smell of the woods that came off of him no matter what. He missed his soft humming when he was sharpening his weaponry. He missed his whispered thank-yous to the Great Spirit every night before he slept. Fujin missed Nightwolf so strongly that he wandered the Sky Temple in hopes of finding something to occupy his mind of something that wasn’t the warrior.

Three more weeks following his departure, coupled with the fact that Fujin wrote back and forth with Nightwolf nearly daily, Fujin came to realize that he had fallen for Nightwolf. It wasn’t friendship that drove him to care for Nightwolf so strongly. It was love.

In honesty, Fujin did not know what to think. Would he pursue his feelings? Was it worth it falling for a mortal? Did Nightwolf… reciprocate his feelings? He hadn’t a clue.

And one eve, over dinner, he confessed to Raiden these feelings of uncertainty. Raiden, to be blunt, was stunned.

He had always warned Fujin of the dangers of getting strongly attached to Earthrealmers. Their short lifespans compared to those of gods always left their hearts shattered. Raiden did not want him to go through that pain. Fujin simply cast his gaze away from his brother and uttered words that left Raiden silent for several seconds.

“To see him smile, Raiden… To be in his life,” he said, “is worth my heart shattering a thousand times. I need this time with him before he is gone.”

With that, Raiden knew there was no convincing him of anything different. His heart was set. He never told him to find Nightwolf, but he told him that the day was still young. Fujin had no other plans. He needed to follow his heart.

And with that, Fujin left for Earthrealm. He knew that Nightwolf lived among the Matoka in the United States, but his exact location was unknown. But he would search for miles to see him.

Fujin’s arrival was met with shocked stares from the Matoka. He said to them, “I need to speak to Nightwolf. It is urgent.”

Fortunately for him, Nightwolf was there. He pleaded him to speak to him in private, and he was grateful that Nightwolf granted him such a thing.

And with his heart on his sleeve and exactly no thoughts in his brain as to what he would say, Fujin spoke. “Nightwolf, I have traveled all this way to tell you my feelings about you. My true feelings. I… I hope that you will listen to my words with the most open of hearts.”

Fujin let out a nervous sigh. “Please know that no matter how you take these words, I care so deeply about you. These months of knowing you, these months of hoping for your rescue… I have realized how big of an impact you have made on me. I have realized just how important you are to me, and I mean that in a way that… that is far beyond the protection of Earthrealm. It’s—It’s more along the lines of love.”

Nightwolf’s warm expression turned surprised in an instant. But his smile remained as Fujin continued. “I have been warned throughout my existence that becoming attached to mortals is a mistake. But… But knowing you is the furthest thing from a mistake. Knowing you is one of the greatest things that I have been blessed to experience. There is no one in this world like you, no one that I have ever met in my life is as selfless, honorable, and kind as you. Your love for your people, your love for Earthrealm… It’s amazing. It’s beautiful.” Fujin’s hands began to shake as the meaning of his own words sank into his heart.

They felt right. It was the truth.

“I suppose that what I have come here to say is…” Fujin couldn’t help but laugh. “I have fallen for you, Nightwolf. Will you give me the opportunity to show you how fond I am of you?”

Nightwolf’s kind smile had only grown. He took a step forward and grabbed Fujin’s shaking hands, squeezing them. Fujin smiled back.

“Oh, Fujin… Of course I will.”

Something beautiful begins.

And in the present day, the sun begins to rise in a beautiful sky.

Nightwolf lifts himself from Fujin’s shoulder to get a good look. The sky quickly becomes filled with an array of colors—reds, oranges, pinks, blues. The beauty of the sky leaves both Fujin and Nightwolf speechless for several minutes. No two sunrises are the same. It’s something that they both adore beyond measure.

When the sky has become mostly blue, Fujin turns to Nightwolf with a kind smile. “Care for breakfast, love?”

Nightwolf returns the smile, and he kisses Fujin’s nose. “I would want nothing more.”

Fujin moves his kiss to Nightwolf’s lips before he can fully lean away. And there they sit, on a porch swing and in love.

Falling in love is never an easy thing. But what can make life better than someone you can love with all your heart?

[leahkayidgaf]

Unchain Me

What horrors do my depths hold? Only my thoughts and words foretell the things I'm capable of. You know nothing of the demons that possess me. Or perhaps I posses them, as I am responsible for my actions. It seems just yesterday I was a small happy child, full of innocence, yet not ignorant. Simply not have bathed in the experiences that ruin ones conscience- moments that rip your soul apart to lost fragments, leaving no hope to find and piece back together. Wholeness...a word so foreign. I cannot remember the last time I felt complete. The mirror shows me a lie. Shattered reflection of who I once was. Somebody I do not recognize. The dissociation makes me feel alien. I do not fit in, among people. Among life. I don't belong here. Things have changed so drastically, I can barely remember who I was. Before things fucked me up. Before I felt like I was living trapped in a hell co-created by either the Universe or God(s)...whatever controls and generates our existence..and me of course..my choices have contributed to the reality I live in. However sometimes I wonder how much I can actually control. Things seem to happen on their own accord, with no regard to the destructive impact they leave in their wake. Mostly those "things" are people. We fuck up everything good, don't we. That's what the world seems to be. A major fucking fuck up. Sure, there's the beautiful and the good. But to what ratio?

Speaking for myself, as I cannot judge the moral balance of others, light and dark cannot be fully balanced. It's either or. We restrain the bad, but the ugly comes out along with the good. Or you keep it in..and hide all your demons deep down inside the dungeon in your chest until they lock you inside your own head and drive you insane.

"You're the sweetest girl I've ever met".

Well honey, you haven't seen the bitter side in its full glory. The monster is chained to my thoughts and shackled in my mind. At times I wonder whether this madness will consume me. The glimpses I see make me wonder how long it will take to completely go off the rails.

The potential malice I possess scares the shit out of me. Had I no self control I would not be here today. Many people wouldn't be here today. I could have landed in hot water times too hard to count. Yet here I am, why?

I feel rotten inside. The good in me has washed away long before we met. I don't deserve anything good. I do not deserve you. I cannot forgive myself for my sins or mistakes. I cannot change my past or present. The future seems bleak. Why are we born? Purpose seems pointless. Love seems hopeless. One day it'll all be gone. Something I have accepted, yes..but to live with that truth...I'd prefer not to.

You're the only one who keeps me in check. Makes me feel boundaries, makes me feel real. But your demons clash with mine, although you choose to put them on display and you know nothing about the torture in my brain. I'm a stronghold and I will never reveal the evil inside of my heart. I try to forget past thoughts, actions, and words. At times I forget and live in a fake bliss, then I remember who I am and the disgust makes me want to put a knife through me.

Sanity...

It slips away by the minute...

How long do I do this?

Weeks, months, years?

Pretend to be the perfect daughter, even though I'm nor man, nor woman, and nowhere near what my parents would want. 

Pretend like I want to be here, among wild, barbaric, uncivilized, humans that destroy more than they can build.

There is but one thing left for me here. Someone who doesn't understand their own worth. But perhaps they do. Maybe what they don't understand is the pain they cause when they push me away and keep me out.

When that happens, everything that gives me that trapped feeling amplifies by a tenfold. And I lose any remaining control I had over myself.

I love him. I love him with all my heart and soul. Or whatever good part that's left of me. I wish we'd balance each other out more, instead of self-destruct. Or maybe I don't give a shit if I self-destruct. Perhaps after so many years it's all it's been leading to it. I'm way past exhaustion, I'm wasting away. All that keeps me intact is you. And drugs. You make me feel happy and safe. Drugs make me feel like times stops and or speeds up. It takes me to a different frequency, one where I'm calm and forget reality, delving into my subconscious to try and extract anything that would contribute something positive to my life. So far it has only opened my eyes and showed me that time shoots like lightning and in a split of a second everything can change, for the bad usually. Moments that pass by so fast and you're not even there to experience them. And "poof", they're gone. Tomorrow I might wake up being 22, no highschool degree, no college ambitions...just a fucked up brain missing the past, hating the present, and not certain if I want to see a future.

[woundedblackbird]

About

Name: William “Billy” Russo

AKA: Blackbird, Billy the Beaut, Jigsaw

Age: 36

Date of Birth: March 26th

Star Sign: Aries

Gender: Cisgender male

Sexuality: Bisexual, female preference

Occupation: Unemployed (Level 5, Redemption Arc)

Formerly: Lieutenant (level 2 + 3), ANVIL CEO (level 4)

Canon Media: Netflix’s Punisher series

NSFW Factlist: Switch, BDSM, slight sadomasochism

P E R S O N A L I T Y

GENERAL (Plus Jigsaw notes)

Billy has always been the selfish sort. Perhaps, had he not spent his formative years taking care of himself in various group and foster homes, he might have come out differently. As it is, he has grown used to having only himself to rely on. While charismatic and capable of great acts of charity, he will always put himself first. It is how he has learned to survive. His desperate need for self preservation leads him to committing some very violent and unforgivable acts, and while he does retain some guilt for what he's done, he excuses it by reminding himself that nobody else will look out for him, if he doesn't take care of himself.

His confidence comes mostly from his good looks, despite some insecurity stemming from a childhood trauma relating to his prettiness. Billy is more than aware of how attractive he is, and will use it to his advantage, preening at any compliments thrown his way. Though he might ignore this personality flaw, Billy has never quite managed to shake that childish desire for praise. Oddly, this need is particularly strong around Frank Castle.

(Note: This need remains even after the disfigurement, but in a far more twisted manner than before. He is also more erratic, prone to anger and arguably quite mentally unstable in his Jigsaw persona. He has outbursts where he appears entirely overwhelmed with emotion, and is unable to control his actions or words for the duration. It can last up to half hour at a time, and appears to be increasing. Recovery is always difficult, often spent shaking and weeping. Naturally, he does not like people to witness this and survive.)

REDEMPTION ARC

In this private AU, we witness a "what if" scenario with Billy. Given a second chance by Death herself ( @terrifiesall ), Billy is returned to his life with a new purpose; to do what he can to right his wrongs. Here we witness a shift in his previously selfish behaviour. He is quite sure that no matter what he does, he will still go to Hell; and yet he tries regardless. There appears to be no "moral dessert," no obvious gain in it for him and yet he tries. The loyalty that he ought to have clung to, the love for Frank's family, the understanding that what he did was wrong- all are present. Albeit it too late. Even with the resurrection of Frank Jr ( @juniorcastle ), there are still two dead people he cannot apologise to.

All in all, he is much the same person albeit it working toward a better version of himself. He will never completely change, and he knows this; but the fact that he is trying to be less selfish, and allowing himself to rely on others is a huge step in the right direction for him. Especially considering he willingly seeks out Dinah Madani ( @charmerlikeme ) and Frank ( @ravenwithagun ) in order to apologise to them, and more or less throw himself on their mercy. He also engages in a relationship of sorts with Natasha Romanoff ( @domina-natasha ) who gives him the punishment he feels he still needs, and who acts as a sort of guidance system.

Essentially, my baby boy is making big strides in this AU and I am proud of him.

H I S T O R Y

"You had a choice. Me, I never did. You saw to that. And yet here I am. You know, all those years in those group homes gives you a lot of time to think. And now I'm returning the favor. Maybe you did me a solid, you know? I mean, the way I see it, you want weak kids, give 'em everything. But if you If you want 'em strong, treat 'em hard."

William Russo was born the only child of a Carla Russo, a meth addict who frequently forgot her child and his needs, seeking only the sweet release her cravings brought her. Too busy chasing the next fix, her son was left to fend for himself in the broken down house they called a home. Forever filled with wastrels and vagrants, with little food to go around. There was no time made for compassion or games, nobody there to kiss him goodnight or wipe away the tears when they came. It gave him great pleasure in his adulthood to confine the woman to a dreary hospital bed.

Little William Russo hardened quickly, and knew just how to defend himself by the time he found himself at the group home; ironically named 'Ray of Hope'. It wasn't long before one of the volunteers noticed just how pretty the little gutter rat was, and his attentions left him with several large bruises and left eleven year old Billy with a broken arm and a lifetime of trauma.

"What, you don't trust him? Ours is not to reason why, Frankie boy. Ours is but to do or die." "That's from a poem about a bunch of guys who got their asses handed to 'em on the back of bad intel, right?" "You are shitting me. You read a poem?"

Frank was like a brother, that much Billy knew. Of course, he didn't particularly know what a brother would be like. Hell, no family connection was a feasible concept to him. Still, Frank had his back and he had Frank's. Billy figured that was enough to make the man family. The two men were inseparable from the beginning, even more so after the events in Basra. Something about being trapped, facing death together and coming out on top bonded people. He met Frank's family when they were both on leave, and instantly bonded with the children, particularly "Little Frank". He'd never known anything about family, but they did their best to teach him. Billy would have done anything for Frank, for his family. For the warm feeling in his soul when he was in their company.

Until something better came along.

Then? Well then... he just couldn't help himself.

"We didn't want our lives to just be gray. We wanted them to mean something. We wanted to be a part of something bigger than ourselves! And here at Anvil, if you are recruited you will find that something. A new brotherhood to call your own. Something to fight for. To live for even."

Orange. Rawlins... he offered everything Billy had ever wanted. Nothing shined more to a penniless orphan than the promise of good money. It seemed he had nothing to lose, and everything to gain. He had an out from an operation he'd long begun to despise; it was too dirty, too risky. He had nothing against the idea of bringing drugs into the country- it was going to happen, why not let it be the army? The method however, and the way it would look if it were to come out? He didn't like that. There'd be no coming back from that.

Frank wouldn't leave, but Billy didn't have the patience to wait for him.

Getting into bed with Rawlins may well have been a mistake, something he would come to regret. He ought to have known really, how dangerous it would be to trust a man like that. A man who could construct an operation like Cerberus without batting an eye but the allure of what he was offering was too much. Billy couldn't help himself. One day, an orphan with nothing to his name and the next? CEO of his own company. His own private, military contracting company where he called the shots.

Ignoring of course, the influence Rawlins would continue to hold over him.

"He didn't have to be alone. We could've helped him." "Yeah. He didn't want any help. He wanted to kill every bastard who had a hand in it." "I miss him. And I could see it. Even before what happened. He was changing. He was finding it harder and harder to come back."

It felt dirty. It felt wrong. He refused to take part.

He still didn't tell Frank.

It would be easy to tell himself that it was too late, that there was very little he could do to stop it. It would be easy to claim that there was no way of getting through to Frank without being stopped, that there would be nothing Frank could do, anyway. The man was a good soldier, but he was up against men just as efficient. There was little use in telling the sheep it was headed to slaughter. The fear would only make things worse. Better to go out in blissful ignorance. So he kept quiet, and hoped the operatives would do a quick and efficient job.

When the news came in, it finally hit him. Maria and the kids had been like a family to him, alongside Frank. Until that moment it hadn't felt real; he'd been able to distance himself from the idea. It wasn't him who pulled the trigger, but knowing the deed was done... made it real. That night, he drank an entire bottle of whiskey, and moved on.

At that point, loss was almost an old friend.

Then came Frank's rampage, and Billy watched the birth and death of The Punisher through the media of New York. It struck him as odd that the man hadn't reached out, hadn't called out to he or Curtis to help him in his quest for vengeance. Somehow, despite knowing he'd played a hand in the betrayal of Frank, despite knowing he could have done something to prevent the murder of his family- he felt hurt.

"Sometimes I think the only way to get by in this world is to step off it for a while, you know? And if it helps, I also had a shitty day." "So, what are we gonna do about that?" "I'm open to suggestions."

Madani was the best assignment he was ever given. The Homeland agent who got too close to discovering Castle, to discovering Rawlins and operation Cerberus. It was a suggestion at first, to get close to her, see what she knew. Happily, she made first contact. No doubt his name had surfaced in her own investigation, and she had no suspicions about how eager he was to talk. How happily he accepted her advances. They had been expected, almost premeditated. After all, he was no stranger to the effect he had on women.

As much as he would like to deny it, Dinah grew on him. He felt genuine concern when he saw the bruising on her ribs, hesitated when she came within his cross hairs. With everything that happened, he didn't want to hurt her. Even as he lied to her face, deceived her, murdered her partner in cold blood... there was a small part of him that liked her, enjoyed her company. But Billy had never known what love was like, save for the glimpses he saw of Frank and Maria. So in the end, he only knew how to love himself.

In that moment on the carousel, he acted on impulse. Had he known it was Dinah would he have hesitated? Perhaps not, but it’s impossible to know. The truth is, it all happened so fast... he had no idea who he was pulling the trigger on. In that moment, it was kill or be killed.

Billy had no intention of dying that night.

"So what? You're just gonna take them all on yourself? How's that going for you so far? Why don't you just let Homeland do it, man? Madani, she she wants them just as bad as you do. Hey. You really think this is what Maria would've wanted for you? We didn't have a choice back then. Now we do."

It was a bittersweet thing, seeing Frank again. For a long time he'd thought the man dead. Hell, he'd mourned him long enough- long nights sat by the makeshift grave Curtis put together, drinking themselves into a stupor and rambling on in nostalgic recollections. To learn that he'd been alive all this time had inspired a feeling of betrayal that threatened to outweigh the truth of his own failings. When he saw Frank again, he didn't know how he felt.

Rawlins wanted the man dead. Told Billy as such the moment Frank reared his head, but Billy couldn't do it. Much as he liked to claim himself an independent man with no real attachments- he couldn't bring himself to kill his only friend. Perhaps had he known the trouble Frank would cause him in the future, he might have reconsidered.

In the end he conceded to playing bait. To luring Frank out into the open with a false offer of asylum; shipping his friend out to another country where he could eke out his remaining days in peace. Frank, predictable bastard that he was; wouldn't take the offer. Even as he scowled out across the empty docks, Billy couldn't help but feel a twinge of relief. Inaction had been an acceptable excuse in the deaths of the Castle family, but he wasn't yet comfortable playing a direct part in the murder of the one remaining member. Still, Frank knew too much, and when the man finally put the dots together- would do what he could to utterly destroy Rawlins, Billy... everything he'd worked so hard for. Even when he helped Frank put Rawlins down, he knew there was no escaping it; Castle was gunning for him, too.

There was nothing for it, Frank had to die.

It was self preservation.

"Attachments are a weakness, Frank. I never had anybody." "You had us, Bill." "The Punisher? What a crock of shit."

In the end, it was always going to come down to him and Frank.

In the end, it was going to be one man standing.

Billy was determined to be that man, but he'd underestimated the utter brutality that Frank Castle was capable of. There had been a time where perhaps he would have stood a chance at besting him, back when the two of them were training daily, fighting daily. With Anvil, the suits, the position of power... he'd softened. Or at least, it was the excuse he gave himself as Frank slammed him into the ground.

Everything had been set up for his success. The location, the carousel... it had been designed to throw Frank into a sense of confusion, throw him off his game and leave him vulnerable. The blood, the screams and the crying were supposed to trigger Castle's PTSD and tip the scales in Billy's favour. Were it not for Madani's interference, Billy likes to think he might have stood a chance at winning.

The sheer agony that exploded across his face as Castle dragged him down the smashed glass was the salt in the wound of his defeat. Time and time again Frank slammed his face into the jagged mess and Billy saw his own terror reflected back to him over and over in the shards. He pleaded, begged with Frank to finish it; to kill him, but Frank refused. Frank Castle, The Punisher; the man who never left an enemy alive decided to spare him. To let Billy live with his mutilated face and remember his crimes.

P O S T  S E A S O N  O N E (2 ROUTES)

CANON DIVERGENT

coming soon

SEASON TWO

coming soon (well, as soon as the season does)

[joyfullynervouscreator]

The Walkers pt 2

The second part of Ullrae’s story.

part 1                part 2                part 3                part 4

As you grow stronger, you begin to roam farther from the house, hunting to improve your skills. Beorn usually follows, though he does not interfere in your kills until you have eaten your fill; then he finishes the rest and helps you bury the bones. At ‘home’ – you wonder sometimes at how quickly it has become home to you, even with no formal agreement between you and Beorn – you do not eat meat, living off vegetables and oat grains, milk and honey. Caring for the animals is simple, but it brings you great joy just to be able to see the sky; being around living beings that don’t smell like hate and blood is nearly euphoric.

It is a good life, though it takes you months to stop flinching away from Beorn if he reaches for you while you’re eating, to stop the ingrained habit of eating quickly in case someone takes your food away.

You speak, more words than you have spoken since your family died, more words than you thought you remembered. You are silent, working when it suits you. Beorn is a kind teacher, helping you with the things you do not know, though you are surprised at how many skills you still remember learning as a child.

You spend days as a lynx, resting on a shaded branch in one of the large trees, surveying Beorn’s gardens. The fear of pursuers remains, though Beorn tells you he slaughtered all the hunters, for he also claims there were no pale orcs among them. You know Bolg and Azog will not simply let their pet flee; you remain on guard, one ear cocked to listen for the snarl of wargs, your nose primed to catch the scent of orcs.

 You’ve spent a few years with Beorn before you notice that you like watching him, watch the strength in his bodies. At first, you wonder if is a peculiar form of gratitude that makes you act so, makes you want him to notice you… as a female. It is strange to you, to feel desire. You’ve spent so many years banishing any thought of physical intimacy that this simple want scares you. It takes you months to work out that you love him as more than simply a friend and Scildere – he has told you his word for what he is; a protector of the clan, even if his clan is long-dead and replaced by his animals and you – but the knowledge does not fill you with joy.

Beorn loves his mate – as he should, you recognize rationally, ignoring the snarled ‘mine!’ that echoes in your head at the thought – and ever since he’s found you, he’s been filled with hope that he might not have been the only one to escape; someone else might have fled, just like you did. You try to tell him what happened to those who ran; Beorn is the only one who managed, you’re fairly sure. The hunters were always happy to throw a Walker’s pelt to the floor at Azog’s feet and you watched many such pelts; determined not to give them the satisfaction of showing any response to the crushing of your hope every time they came back with another corpse. If not for Beorn discovering you, you too would have been such a corpse – or, worse, you would have survived to be chained up once more.

The worst part is that you know exactly what happened to Beorn’s mate, listening to him describe her features, both woman and bear. You did not learn her name, but you met the Walker who was his mate – the mother of his child. You think Beorn knows, the way he looks at you when it finally fits in your head and you realise you hold the power to take his hope away, just like the hunters did to you, the power to kill the light in his eyes.

You flee.

You cannot do that to him, you will not. Even if you are lying to him by keeping quiet, it is still better than telling him what happened to her, what happened to his Berveig… and her cub.

For days, you refuse to walk as a human, knowing that Beorn – even if he has learned some of your sounds as you have learned his – cannot speak with you properly in lynx form, cannot understand your growls and yips. He is worried, you know, and it makes you feel worse about the lie, though also more determined to keep the secret. You love this man, this bear, even if it is futile, even if he will never love you; take you for his own, his mate.

“You are keeping something from me, Ullrae,” he accuses quietly, on the fourth day. “You do not want to be woman, because you think I will read it in your face, so you stay lynx, hoping I will forget. I will not forget, Ullrae,” you know he won’t, know that you are at an impasse, “I saw it in your face; you met Berveig in the stronghold; you must know what happened to her.” His voice breaks on her name, breaks your heart.

You do not respond, and Beorn falls silent. He spends the rest of the day sitting beneath your tree – you claimed it almost as soon as you were strong enough to climb – in utter silence. When the sun has set, he sighs, getting to his feet and walking into the house.

You leap, darting off through the gloaming.

You hunt, though your mind is whirling, bringing down a couple of rabbits and eating them quickly.

After five days, you return to the house, walking through the door in your human body, naked and knowing there are grassy stains on your skin, leaves in your hair. You do not care. Beorn looks up from the small block of wood he’s been carving and you find yourself wrapped in his arms in the next moment. You cling to him, stealing the pleasure of his scent for as long as he lets you, holding you close as he trembles.

“I thought… you had left me,” he whispers hoarsely. You shake your head.

“I needed to think.”

“Please, tell me… what happened to my mate?” Beorn asks, plaintive and wistful, and your heart breaks for him.

“She is dead,” you say, cupping his face gently, letting him read the truth of that in your eyes, “one of many who were killed as entertainment. I am sorry.”

“How?” he asks, his arms suddenly lax as he sinks into his chair; the light of hope dying – just as you knew it would. You bite your lip, your eyes filling with tears for the pain in his face; the defeated posture of his body.

“I will not say,” you tell him, and you will not. It was the deal you made with yourself. You will give him the knowledge he wanted, but you will never tell him how, nor will you tell him about the cub’s fate. Stroking his cheek gently, you are unprepared for the way he flinches away from you. It hurts.

“Tell me!” he demands, gripping your arm, but you shake your head.

“You are Scildere, Beorn, but in this… let me protect you,” you ask quietly, uncowed by his darkening temper. “Let the knowledge that she died be the end of it. Do not ask me again.” Beorn does not speak.

 Life goes on after that, as it always does, but something is different. There is anger in Beorn, a new kind; one which is aimed at you and it tears at your heart, even as it firms your resolve.

 Months later, you wake up feeling strangely hot. Turning to Beorn, who has been sleeping in the same bed with you since he found you, you nose into his neck with a light whine, the male scent of him assaulting your senses and causing a flood of desire to wash over you. Rubbing yourself against the planes of his body, you writhe on the bed, seeking something you cannot name.

“Ullrae?” he whispers sleepily, wrinkling his nose lightly.

“Beorn…” you moan breathily, your tongue darting out to lap at his skin, taste him. When you lift your leg, straddling one of his hard thighs, you nearly hiss at finding the friction you need. Beorn’s eyes snap open, his hands wrapping tight around your upper arms as he stares at you. You moan, rubbing yourself against him as you enjoy the powerful grip, this show of dominant strength. You purr into his throat, nipping lightly at the skin. Beorn sucks in a deep breath. The next thing you know, you’re on your back, staring up at an enraged man, snarling down at you. It makes you melt with lust, rather than fear, but even as you spread your legs to cradle him, part of your mind is panicking at what is happening to you.

“You’re in heat.” Beorn says, sounding stunned. You nod, whimpering as you offer him your throat, lost in needing frenzy already. Beorn curses. He picks you up, a flash of something like pain crossing his face as you wrap your long legs around him, rubbing your aching core against him, enjoying the hardness that is all male. You want it inside you, want to be claimed, cared for, wanted. Mewling into his neck, every step he takes a mixture of torture and bliss, you don’t care where you’re going. When he sets you down on a pile of straw, your roll over, enjoying the grassy scent as you push yourself up on your hands and knees, looking back at him with a needy whine. Beorn’s eyes are black; you can see him straining against his trousers – you sleep naked, but Beorn had always worn linen trousers to bed. You whine again, tempting him by bowing your back, pushing your arse into the air. The air is thick with the smell of your musk.

The door slams shut, the outside latch locking you in.

 It’s been three days. You’re exhausted, having succumbed to the desire to mate over and over, though you have only your own fingers to try to stop the burning. It is not enough. You have cried, and cursed, begged and screamed at Beorn, though you know he hasn’t been near the barn in three days. When it finally stops, you can’t move, too tired to even whimper when he picks you up, brings you into the kitchen to feed you a thin porridge with plenty of cream. You snarl.

“Please, Ullrae,” Beorn says, pushing the bowl towards you, “you must eat.”

You know he is right, and as soon as the first bite hits your empty stomach – there is water from a rain barrel fed into the barn, but you’ve had no mind to consider sustenance – you shovel it down, sighing in bliss when he pours you a large mug of fresh milk. You fall asleep as soon as it is finished.

 “That was your first heat,” Beorn states when you wake up in your bed – it is his bed, but you’ve never wanted your own, preferring the safety of sleeping with Beorn. You nod.

“You have to be adult in human skin before they start,” you whisper, “but they never happened to me… I always assumed I was… broken,” you admit, thinking back to the dark years in the stronghold. You whimper. Now that it’s over, you have the capacity to feel beyond the need for a male – any male, if you’re honest, though you know you’d feel the strongest about Beorn – rutting into you. “I’m sorry,” you weep, because you are; you may want him, even now feel a frisson of lust for him, but you know Beorn does not feel for you that way. He was mated before; it’s a bond you can’t touch.

“Hush now, wild thing,” he murmurs, picking you up and letting you cry into his chest, overwhelmed by the relief that you’re not broken and the very real fear that he will send you away now. Beorn strokes your hair, petting you calmly. “Do you know how often this will happen? How soon?” he asks, his voice deep and soothing.

“3 or 4 years,” you whisper, “more if I have a cub, probably.” You feel him stiffen at that, breaking your heart as he silently dashes the hope you might have had that he would one day – maybe many years from now, but you could wait – give you his cub. You’re only fertile while the heat lasts, but you’re already dreading the next one. This was torture; a different kind than the one inflicted by Azog’s whips and knives, but torture all the same. Beorn keeps petting your hair.

“Well, we have 3 years to come up with a better solution,” he mutters, but you know there isn’t one; know that he will not give you what you truly need.

 ��The first time Beorn kisses you, he is angry. It was a silly row about him leaving a cupboard open and you banging your head against it, escalating until you were snarling at each other.

“Do not tell me how to act in my own home!” he growls, but you do not care to hear the warning signs. “You’re not my mate, Ullrae!”

“No, your mate is dead!” you scream, “and this is my home too!” It’s been two decades since Beorn saved you, made this place yours as much as his.

“Do not speak of her!” he snarls, shaking you. You snap your teeth at him. “You’ve never had love, you don’t know what I lost!”

“Berveig is dead, Beorn!” you bellow, “Let her rest! Stop using your dead mate to punish me for being alive!” Pulling at the ties of your shift, you let the fabric drop to the floor, longing to lope through the night air in your other skin. Beorn catches your arm. The kiss is a surprise, a hard meeting of mouths that suddenly gentles; Beorn’s arms wrapping around you. You mewl – surprised and pleased, but still angry – scratching your nails down his chest. Beorn pulls back, his large hands still wrapped around your arms.

“Ullrae…” he whispers, staring at you as though he is seeing right through you. “I’m sorry,” he falters, his mouth opening and closing a few times without words.

“I love, Beorn,” you mutter, all the fight leaving you. “I will never have love, you’re right, but it does not mean I do not feel it.” You turn away from him – it’s an old wound, the knowledge that he does not love you, but it still hurts – breaking free of his hold.

“Ullrae!” he calls, but you do not turn around, shifting in mid-air and running off into the night.

  You slink back in the early hours of sunrise, knowing that Beorn is not home; his scent has gone north-east. Silently, you pack a few things, bundle them up in a way that your lynx shape can carry. With a final pat to the dogs, you leave Beorn’s home, masking your trail as you go. You don’t think he will follow, but you do it anyway; it is more useful than crying for the life you have left behind.

  When he gives up trying to track her, Beorn returns to his cold home, hoping beyond hope that Ullrae’s golden eyes will smile at him when he walks in but knowing that she is not in the house. She’s been back while he was gone, and for a moment he feels hope that she simply left to think, that he only imagined the pain in her eyes as she spoke of loving… him. The small ember is doused as soon as he steps into the kitchen, seeing only the small piece of paper on the table.

                          Beorn,

When you read this, I will be gone. I am not coming back. I thank you for all that you have done for me, and I hope you will remember me fondly.

I am sorry, but you are right. I have never been mated, and still I have acted as though I am yours. It was wrong of me.

As I do not intend to return, it seems only fair that I tell you the ending of Berveig’s story, as I have so long refused to do. I do not regret keeping this knowledge to myself, for I know it will bring you only pain. For that, however, I am sorry; I have never wished harm on you.

I first met Berveig when she was brought to Azog’s throne room; chains around her neck and shackles on her hands and feet. The orcs were jeering, though I did not know their speech then, so I cannot tell you what they called her. She was placed in a cage, after Azog’s favourite had whipped her while he called for her to change – it was one of the first commands I learned, watching him find joy in watching the shifting of bones and flesh to move from one form to another. Often, he would whip the Walkers mid-shift… their screams still echo in my head.

Berveig’s teeth were pulled the next day. Then he removed her claws, carving open her paws and detaching them that way. Every day, he cut something else; a finger, part of an ear, a toe; small things, while he yelled taunts I did not understand, but which made her roar in fury and terror.

It took me some time to realise why she was scared. Most of the Walkers in the cages would give up their fight, their lives, but Berveig fought every day.

I brought her water; things the Orcs called food, I cleaned her wounds when Azog felt like it. She did not speak to me. I do not think she had much mind left to care about Azog’s servant – I would not, in her place – but she knew what I was. She stared at me with hatred at first, watching me serve him wine, feed him, follow his many commands. I did not care. To me, she was little more than my Master’s new toy, an object of amusement to him, and the longer she lived, the less pain he would inflict on me.

One night, Azog’s torment made her pass out. I don’t know if she faked it or truly fainted, but I know she watched as I took her place as the evening’s entertainment, dancing at the end of my chain, my clothes cut off by Azog’s blade.

In the morning, Berveig spoke to me. It was only one word, ‘walker’, but I nodded. Berveig’s mangled hand reached out to grab mine, bringing it to her belly.

I knew, in that moment, why she fought so fiercely, and why Azog played with her so carefully.

Berveig was carrying a cub.

I kept my face blank, but I nodded at her, accepting the secret of the knowledge – one female to another.

Of course, her secret did not remain so, as she grew larger, and I have my doubts it was ever a secret to begin with.

I cannot bear to write down the many tortures they used on her while the cub grew in her belly.

Before the birth – though not so long before it would have happened naturally – Azog grew tired of waiting. He cut the babe from her body, watched as she pleaded for her child, her son.

I held the cub, who somehow knew to breathe, while I watched the life leave her eyes.

His name was chosen in one of my brief conversations with her: Æristhyth, her hope for resurrection of her clan.

I cared for him, as best I could, though I had no milk to give him. He was beautiful, fur the colour of good soil and eyes as blue as summer skies.

Azog laughed when he took the babe from me, made me watch as he was carved to pieces.

As I write this, my tears make the ink run, as I remember both of them once more; Berveig and Æristhyth were among the first of the many I watched die, but I… I cared for them, even before I knew her name.

I never wanted you to have these images of the lady you love, my darling Beorn, and I hope you will one day forgive me for telling you. Perhaps you may even forgive me for staying silent until I am already too far away to answer your questions.

I know you will be angry, but I can only say this:

I love you. I love you, and I would never wish to hurt you. I love you – more than I believed I could, but I accept that you do not feel the same.

I hope that you will be well, and, please, do not hate me for keeping my secret for all these years.

 All my love,

 Ullrae, daughter of Léona.

[my-mystic-messenger]

How would everyone in the RFA + Saeran + V react to MC coming out as ftm trans? I really adore how you do requests, and would like to see this one, if you don't mind. Sorry if it's already been done before

I put writing this off for so long… I just feared people would give me shit for it, because I knew exactly that what I was about to write would not be happy. Jumin’s was especially hard to write, because he’s my baby but such is life. Well here goes nothing, ya’ll 

|| REQUEST ARE (ALWAYS) OPEN!! ||

♬Zen♬

“Idon’t understand…you are already a girl. If this is about youwanting to wear more colourful and flashy clothes, I don’t mind. Itwill take some getting used to, but you can do whatever you want toexpress yourself”, he said, smiling at you with confusion writtenall over his face. You returned the smile, sighing at his naïveness.“No, babe, not transvestite; transsexual or transgender if youwill.” Zen’s face became even more puzzled. You could only assumethat for someone who didn’t inform themselves those terms but allsound like the same difference with a whole lot of confusion on top.“I feel like I am a man so I want to become one.” Zen blinked,obviously trying to process what you were saying. Well, at least he’dgotten the message so that was a start. “I heard of that before”he said, nodding slowly. “Are you…sure about it? Maybe it’s justa phase.”

You’dexpected as much. Zen had never been much on the tolerant side whenit came to these things. Even in the chats he’d made some homophobiccomments and he’d hated Seven’s crossdressing. Not to mention thewhole debacle with Vanderwood. Honestly, you’d just wanted to get itoff your chest. “I’m sure. I’ve felt like this since I was a childand for the longest of times I’ve tried to suppress and ignore it butI can’t do that anymore. I want to become a man”, you said with asmuch determination as possible, hoping that your voice wasn’tquivering with the nerves you were feeling. Then he said what you’ddreaded and feared and yet expected the most: “But…I’m not gay?”You’d hoped for a different outcome, obviously, but thanks to havingprepared for this one you didn’t cry. Which was a good thing, seeingas you were in public. “I know”, you said, nodding slowly.

“Whichis why I am telling you know before starting my transition. I’mgiving you an out. I’d rather we break up now, as friends, than endup hating each other during or after the entire process.” Both ofyou were silent for a while after that. Zen looked tense anduncomfortable, obviously avoiding your eye. “I’m sorry”, heeventually said, head hanging low. “I love you but just the thoughtof you…and the…”, he struggled before you cut him off with ahand gesture and a smile. “Say no more. I know what you mean and Iunderstand. You can’t change your sexuality as much as I can’t changewho I am. Expecting as much would be selfish and cruel.” You heldout your hand for Zen to take, patiently waiting until he did so.“Don’t give up on me though.” He shook his head. “Never”, hesaid and he kept his promise. Despite taking a lot of getting used tohe stuck by your side.

★Yoosung★

He’dstruggled a lot when you’d first told him. The two of you had beentogether four years at that point, which at twenty-four was a bigdeal, especially considering your special circumstances. Not onlythat but you’d just recently gotten married, lived together, had akitten together and Yoosung had even mentioned wanting kids. Inshort, the two of you had a life together that Yoosung had consideredto be perfect as it was. The fact that you’d prefer to be a manunderstandably was a shock and quite the disruption. For one, yourmarriage would no longer be legal so you’d basically have to get adivorce the second you officially changed your gender. Secondly,biological children would no longer be an option, something that madeYoosung especially sad. He’d been so excited to be a father,especially if the child was to have your heart and cute smile. Allthat was gone now.There were many more problems, Yoosungknown as much, but he’d chosen to ignore them in favour of blissfulignorance. You were still you, no matter the package, right? All theother problems, like his families and societies reaction as well asthe fact that he wasn’t even attracted to men, were surprisingly easyto ignore in favour of staying by your side like he’d gotten used to.For four years you’d been his muse, his driving force. Only for youand thanks to you had he become the man he was now and Yoosungfeared, above all, that losing you would mean losing himself. Justthe way he did once Rika had disappeared from his life. You weren’tdead, of course, but you still wouldn’t be as much a part of hisdaily routine as you were now. So he said he was fine and fought hisway through his own doubt, deciding to stay with you during theentire process of your transition

Youknew from the beginning that things would change. Of course theywould, as you as a person would change. Finally you could beyourself! Sadly, things didn’t change quite as positively as you’dhoped them to. Despite saying he was fine Yoosung started to keep hisdistance. The day you legally changed your gender and your marriagegot revoked he didn’t speak a word the entire day. You also barelytouched anymore, let alone have sex. Both of you felt isolateddespite being together and both of you started to become more andmore lonely for it. When you tried to talk to Yoosung about it hesaid he was fine. You knew he wasn’t, but what else could you do. Acouple of days later it all seemed to finally fall into place andYoosung came to you, looking for conversation. You talked and youboth decided that neither of you were happy anymore. It didn’t makesense to stay together, so you didn’t.

♨Jaehee♨

Bythe time you’d finally gathered the courage to tell Jaehee you’d beena nervous wreck. It had taken her months upon months to evenentertain the thought that the two of you were more than justplatonic girlfriends, and then some more until she’d finally gottencomfortable with the two of you actually dating. One of her mainconcerns had been the fact that people would talk, that society wouldnever allow you to be together the way you wanted to be and that thetwo of you would suffer for it. Frankly you didn’t even want toimagine how she would react now, mere months after getting together,to the fact that you wanted to change your gender, that you wereactually a man. Just in case you’d prepared for the worst. That wayit wouldn’t hurt as much if it came down to it. However, once you’dactually told her, Jaehee had been astonishingly calm.

She’dasked for a little time to consider everything and obviously you’dgranted her as much. It was the least you could do after droppingsuch a bomb on her. You decided to go to your parents for a while,give her some space to consider all the options like you knew shewould. By the time you returned home Jaehee had been waiting for you,folders filled with all sorts of research she’d done. That eveningshe’d sat you down and explained the whole thing to you instead ofthe other way around. She knew things you hadn’t even considered!Like for example which doctors would be most qualified and how tocover the cost as best as possible. After all, neither of you wererich and while the café was running quite well, it was far frombeing profitable enough to just afford surgery like that. Still, withJaehee’s support and her by your side you were ready to takeeverything on.

Luckilyshe stayed by your side throughout the entire transition as well asafterwards. It was a very hard time and sometimes things got tensebut the two of you got through it all. About a year afterwards Jaeheeeven opened up to you about the fact that she preferred you the wayyou were now. When you’d asked her why she’d explained that not onlywas she more attracted to men, she also liked how your personalityhad changed ever so slightly. You hadn’t even noticed, but she saidthat you smiled much more now and that you seemed more confident thanyou used to be. Not only that but she also liked the way you’d becomea little more protective and aggressive as well. Just how much sheliked your new side she showed you that night. You chose to show yourgratitude for her never ending by finally putting a ring on herfinger.

♛Jumin♛

Youput off telling Jumin for a very long time. So much so that youstarted hating yourself for it. Not only were you stuck in a body youdid not feel was right for you, but you were also being a horrible,stalling coward. However, you knew that your fear was more thanjustified. Jumin and you had rushed into your relationship, passionso all consuming and intense that marriage just could not bepostponed for even a moment longer. You had to have one another andso you did. However, the problem with rushing it that things alwaysget left behind at one point or another. You never had the time toreally and fully get to know one another. The kind of getting to knowone another that takes years and cannot just be felt or skipped. Thekind of knowing one another where you would have been able to mentionyour doubts about yourself and your gender.

Youwere staring at your wedding ring, sitting at the dinner table as youwaited for Jumin to come home. When you heard the door open youinstantly got up, heart beating a mile a minute. The smile Jumin hadhad on his face upon first entering quickly disappeared when he sawthe nervous state you were in, the way you were fidgeting with yourring. He suspected horrible things. Everything from you demandingdivorce to having cheated on him with some other man. Despitepicturing the worst of scenarios never in a million years had heexpected the things you actually told him. The news left himcompletely shocked, sagging into the free chair at the table, pale aswhite as chalk itself. You barely dared to talk, but you just had toknow what was going through his head. Jumin was so dangerously quietand it made you only the more nervous.

A couple of minuteslater he took a deep breath, exhaled through the nose and looked upwith you. His eyes were cold and neutral, like he was preparing forsome kind of business deal, and you could feel the tears springing toyour eyes. “Do you insist on getting sex reassignment surgery?”Your lips were quivering at this point, the first tear running downyour cheek. “Jumin I -”, you began, but he cut you off. “Yes orno.” You nodded, voice barely a whisper when you replied: “Yes, Ido.” That is when he nodded and got up. “If that is how thingsare I fear that our relationship should come to an end. I am neitherinterested in the male gender nor do I find what you are planning todo moral. I am sorry that things have to end this way.” That nighthe’d merely walked out, giving you time to pack your things and leavein private. The next time you saw him was as you signed your divorcepapers.

☼Saeyoung/Seven☼

TellingSaeyoung hadn’t been such a big deal. You had neither really plannedsomething special for it, like sitting him down with dissertationsand pamphlets on the topic, nor had you expected any kind of specialreaction. For one he’d always been the one who liked to wear womensclothing more than you do. People thought he only did it for certaincases and maybe had like five to ten outfits tops? Wrong. Very wrong.His secret closet was bigger than the bedroom in Rika’s apartment andfrankly he had some good shit in there! Like Gucci’s newest springseason type of stuff. Had you not decided to finally give up yourfable attempt to hold onto your femininity you would have been verypissed at him for not telling you about his clothes collection aswell as not sharing it with you. Selfish prick, you would have lookedgood in some of those!

You’dtold him during breakfast and he hadn’t even blinked. He’d justcontinued eating his toast, begging you to pass him some of the salt.The next time it had been brought up it was Saeyoung asking you whenyou planned to start taking the hormones as well as whether you’dlooked at doctors already, because he’d dug up some dirt about someof them so you better pick wisely. After about a year of hormonesyour body had changed quite a bit and you finally felt ready to havethe operation. Once more Saeyoing merely asked you for the date so hecould clear his schedule and be there. He’d probably have offered todo it himself had you given him the opportunity. You’d seen somesuspicious looking books lying around. Joke aside, though, you werehappy that he was supportive of it all. Hell, he even financed theentire thing!

Bythe time you got out of surgery he was waiting for you, eager to see.Obviously a lot of things were swollen so there wasn’t much to see,but the fact that his excitement mirrored yours made you happy. Onthe way home you thanked him for staying so uncommonly calm,admitting that you yourself had been horribly nervous. Him being socool about it had really helped. Saeyoung had laughed and admittedthat he’d almost had three heart attacks during your surgery –obviously he’d hacked the cameras and watched the entire thing –but that he’d known it was the best thing for you. When the swellingwas finally down you couldn’t wait to see your new body in fullglory. You loved it! And from the way Saeyoung looked at it, so didhe. “Man, I can’t wait to get that dick inside of me. Also, my dickinside of you. So many new possibilities!” 

☀Saeran☀

Whenyou told Saeran he literally didn’t care. Like literally. Not in amean kind of way like ‘I don’t give a fuck, it’s just a phase anyway’kind of way. More like a 'good for you, what else is new’ kind ofway. You’d been so surprised you felt taken aback. Had he nothingelse to say? This was quite a big deal to you. You were about to getentirely different genitalia. Everything would change, even smallthings like your voice and body hair and stuff and all he did wasshrug and continue watching some sci-fi movie you couldn’t rememberthe name from? Well fine, at least you didn’t have to fight over it,so you took it as a win. Still, you prepared yourself for some sortof reaction nevertheless. After all news as big as this tend to hitpeople a little later sometimes. You waited and you waited, ready toexplain everything to him, but no reaction ever came leaving youconfused.Months on hormone therapy passed, your voicegradually dropping, hair growing in places it hadn’t before and fatrepositioning itself on your body. You’d even started working out tobuild some muscle and your entire wardrobe had started to change aswell. Still, no reaction came. The two of you just went about yourdaily routine like every other day. One day he even offered to go tothe gym with you because he felt like he was getting a little toolazy now that he didn’t have to do all that footwork for Magenta andMint Eye anymore. And you’d actually gone, just like that. You’dworked out side by side,  like the fact that you could lift more thanhim and had more muscle definition was nothing the two of you shouldmaybe talk about. Even after you’d finally gotten the surgerysuccessfully a nice penis hanging between your legs, he said nothing.

Itwas you who finally snapped. “For fucks sake, Saeran! I have agoddamn cock between my legs and you have nothing to say?!” He’dlooked up from the book head been reading, looked at your dick andthen at your face. “It looks more realistic than I thought itwould?” You’d barely stopped yourself from face-palming. “No Imean damn it, Saeran, I am a man now. Do you have any feelings aboutthat? Any at all?” Once more he just shrugged. “No, I don’t.Listen, I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again; I don’t care forwomen. I also don’t care for men. Sex was nothing I even consideredwhile under Magenta and when I did it was because I liked you, notyour genitalia. If you feel more comfortable this way I am happy foryou. After everything we’ve been through, this is no big deal butjust so you know, I’m not taking it up the ass. I’m a pitcher.”

📷Jihyun/V📷

You’dbeen afraid of telling V for many reasons. Mainly because you’dfallen in love with him and losing him was the last thing you wanted,but suspected would happen. On top of that you feared that he mightaccuse you of leading him on or betraying him which was the lastthing you wanted him to think or feel after everything he’d beenthrough with Rika. By the time you’d worked up the courage to tellhim you’d imagined and prepared for every possible outcome fromhorrible bad to very good. You had an apology prepared and an entirespeech about how it was out of your hand and how it would make youhappier and that you hoped he would understand. When you’d finallystammered out an explanation, heart beating a mile a minute, V hadmerely blinked in confused before his featured had evened out andhe’d smiled just the faintest bitIt had been a worse reactionthat you’d first expected. A smile might seem like a good thing, butin this case it really wasn’t. For one you didn’t lose V, as hedidn’t break up with you. Sadly what you thought of as a blessingquickly turned into a curse. Despite the happy go lucky mask V wasputting on you knew that he wasn’t happy at all. You’d learned toread through those things ages ago. Which only made the entiresituation the more uncomfortable, since his discomfort about yourgender only made the entire thing sour for you as well. It gotespecially bad after a couple months of hormone therapy when youfirst started really going to the doctors more regularly and allthat, since your sex assignment surgery date was nearing. V insistedto come to all your appointments with you which would have been awonderful thing, had it not been so horribly forced,Shortlybefore your due date everything finally blew up. “V, just fuckingbreak up with me if you can’t live with the fact that I am soon goingto have a penis. I won’t judge you, okay? I get it, you’re not intomen”, you’d snapped, heaving your breaths as the anger overwhelmedyou. “But I love you…” His voice had been so small, you’d felta little bad. “No, V, you love the idea of me. The one that is soongoing to completely die before your eyes when I get surgery and comeout a different person than the one you fell in love with. Iappreciate you trying to be there for me but honestly I just feellike I’m dragging you along. I know you’re feel guilty for not beingthere for Rika or maybe you feel obliged because I talked you intogetting your eyes fixed, but there is no reason to. Just…say theword and move on. Please?” After that you’d finally talked about itproperly and decided that it was the best decision to in fact breakup, move on and give each other time to heal…maybe with someoneelse.

[hughshannon1994]

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