#just gotta rest and survive and enjoy my day as much as possible

[desperatepleasures]

boy I haven't been this low on spoons since I had the rona 😩

[venusfalling]

Little Soldiers in the Trenches - Prologue

fic summary: In 1939, you leave Bucky for school in England. By 1942, with the war at its peak, Bucky thinks you’re dead, but the war brings you back together in the worst way possible.

prologue summary: You’re about to leave New York, so Bucky takes you dancing.

warnings: talk of war

notes: Fluff/Angst, Bucky says goodbye. This is just a short prologue to the rest of the fic. I hope you enjoy!

New York City, June 1939

      “How does it feel to be free, Doll?” Bucky asks, putting an arm around you. It’s the first day of summer, classes are over and Barnard College would be closing its dorms for the next few months. Steve and Bucky had been waiting for you outside the old, white brick building, falling in step next to you when you walk outside. Steve takes the short stack of textbooks from your arms while Bucky grabs your suitcase.       “Feels good.” You smile up at the sun, skin glowing in the warm light. Scandalized mothers look on with their daughters as you loop your arm through both Steve and Bucky’s elbows.       “Well, what do you want to do first?” Steve asks as he stuffs your books in his bag. “We’ve only got you until August, we’ve gotta make the most of it.” Bucky’s smile falters at the reminder that you’ll be leaving for a year before long.       “Don’t worry, Buck,” you say when you notice. “I’ll write you both so much, you’ll get tired of reading.”       “As long as you don’t come back with a British accent, we’ll survive,” Steve jokes, but you can see the worry behind his eyes, as well.       At the end of the summer, you would board a plane bound for England. A study abroad fellowship to finish your mathematics undergraduate degree, a rare opportunity for a woman, but you managed it. Bucky and Steve were proud when you told them, if worried. The geopolitics of Europe made for increasing tensions at the time, and the continent was still recovering from the Great War.       But the quickly fading time left no room for worry or sadness.       “Well, it’s a lovely day, and I’m wearing my favorite skirt, so I think we should head out to the pier for some ice cream after we drop my stuff off at my sister’s apartment.” So, the three of you board the train at the nearest stop, laughing easily with each other as was always the case when you were together.       Your sister was still at work when you arrive home. It was just the two of you since you had both moved to the city. When you received your acceptance letter in the mail, your sister decided you wouldn’t be moving to New York alone and found herself a job as a secretary at a law firm. When you weren’t living in the Barnard dorms, you stayed with her, so her tiny apartment would be home for now. Not that you would be spending too much time there. Between your job as a secretary at Stark Industries and Bucky’s promise to give you the best summer ever with evenings at the movies and Coney Island and your favorite dance halls, it would be a busy few months.       “Jesus, Sunshine, what do you have in here?” Bucky teases as he lifts your heavy suitcase onto your bed.       “Careful, Buck, that has my whole life in there,” you chastise as Steve helps you place your books on a small shelf. He crouches near the base and hands them up to you, pulling the books from his bag and making faces at the titles: Fundamentals of Statistical Analysis, Advanced Applied Calculus, Linear Algebra for the Mathematician, and a series of other books for your studies.       “Well damn, I thought we were your whole life,” he says, gesturing to himself and Steve. You mock a laugh at Bucky’s words, then you stop. They are your whole life.       “You alright?” Steve asks when he notices.       “Yeah,” you sigh, wiping away a stray tear. “I’m just gonna miss y’all when I’m away.”       “We know you will, Sunshine,” Bucky says and places a chaste kiss to the side of your head. He pulls Steve up from the floor, “Come on. Let’s go get that ice cream.” — August 1939, Richard’s Dance Hall

      “Come on, Steve,” you laugh, pulling him to the dance floor. “It’s my last night, you owe me a dance.”       “Fine, fine. Just don’t complain when I step on your toes,” Steve agrees and let’s you lead him to the center of the room. It’s a fast song, but you take it slow, for Steve’s sake. He spins you, your skirt flowing around you in a near perfect circle. You laugh and it brings a smile to his face.       The song is over too soon in your opinion, and is replaced by a slow couple’s song. The melody rings in so softly, it’s almost sad, but it’s one of your favorites — Again by Doris Day and The Mellowmen.       Steve takes your hand in his and puts the other on your waist, but before you can take more than a couple of steps, Bucky walks up.       “Can I cut in?” he asks, holding his hand out. You and Steve nod, but before he disappears you give him a quick peck on the cheek.       “Thanks for the dance, Steve.”       Then it’s Bucky who’s leading you around the dance floor — a simple slow dance, swaying to the music.       The two of you don’t have to say anything, or rather don’t know what to say. You have been dancing around the topic all summer, and, if you’re being honest, all the time you’ve known each other. You like him, might even love him, and you think he loves you too.       You are two glasses of wine in and feeling brave, so you lean up and kiss one of your oldest and best friends. He kisses back and you can feel him smiling against your lips.       “Wait for me?” you ask of Bucky when you pull away.       “I will.” —       The next day, you find yourself waving bye to Bucky, Steve, and your sister at the airport. Luggage in hand, you board the plane, but what was supposed to be a year abroad with letters and photos sent back home quickly becomes a nightmare for you and everyone you love.

[damnation-if]

So I just played ur if and like... one this is a very intriguing game thus far and despite the whole "Haha gotta fuck to survive" thing I can genuinely feel the weight and stakes that would be made from such a traumatic experience on both MC and quite possibly our demoness friend that may or may not be in us right now and her friends. So I am very much invested already

Two, this is also a very funny game holy shit, it's very fun too! MC is already on the verge of a breakdown (if their not already there) and poor dude doesn't even know they have to have sex once a day or they'll croak, which I'm very curious on what exactly that means and the technicalities of such a thing so I'm also very excited to see that

Overall! I just wanted to say I think ur game is really cool so far and I can't wait to see what u decide to do with it :)

thank you so much for your ask! i kept it in my askbox for a while because it made me smile :) i'm really glad you're enjoying the game! and don't worry... Suchebh will be more than happy to go over technicalities with mc in the rest of the chapter haha

sadly even the sexy among us have insecurities... but hopefully in the end they will come out the other side of the story feeling like they achieved a net benefit lmfao

[dredshirtroberts]

I am working on acceptance.

I gotta be real with y'all, thought i had this one down. we were working through the anger and the denial and the depression and the other things, but... acceptance, man. that one sneaks up on you.

because there's a difference between saying you understand that this is the way life is and these are the things that have happened to you and this is where you're at now and how you're going to move forward.

and actually understanding it.

because intellectually i am more than fully aware that there are limits to my abilities, there is pain i will have to endure in order to experience good things, things have happened to me that i should not have had to go through but i did it anyway and now we're here.

and it's another thing altogether to go "and the entire rest of my life will be spent working around these things."

I got to go on an Ooting today, and i enjoyed it. I knew it was happening, I was as prepared and well-rested as i could be, and I made sure i brought everything i could possibly run into needing while out and about. It means bringing along a huge bag, and having to take a seat on a bench every so often, but it's fine.

And i'm still in immense amounts of pain just getting up to go to the bathroom. and I will be, probably tomorrow and Saturday too. i did it right, i did everything right and knew my limits and worked only within those and i still...

I wish I felt less like I was being punished, and I think I've said that before. That this just feels like punishment for having a good time, for enjoying myself. And it always has, and it's the most Catholic thing about me tbh.

I wanted to cry again, slightly earlier. we moved past it, but... it's still there. lingering. it'll probably happen later tonight, and that's... expected.

Perhaps this will be easier to deal with when I am home and no longer masking the fact that i'm at minimum 17 possums in a trench coat. i've been doing amazing at it, i hardly even noticed it was happening until i couldn't anymore while we were out. Thankfully it was just with G and Vx so it was safe, even though it was in public, but it...

sorry. my brain is kind of everywhere. i think what i used to believe was brainfog due to Exercise (a thing i assumed everyone had a struggle with post exertion) might actually be associated more with the pain post-activity and that realistically what's been happening this whole time is i've just been in so much pain i can't string words together in a... coherent way. I mean i can, obviously since i'm writing this, but like. it's hard. is the point.

everything is hard. all of the time. even on easy days things are still hard. and that... that sucks. I think part of the issue with acceptance is that i.. don't want to think about that. About the fact that every. single. day. for the rest of my goddamn life (and up until this point too, let's not like...let's not forget i've already been doing this for several decades now) it's just going to be difficult to do things.

i don't want that to be the case. of course i don't. who would?? who would want life to be exponentially harder day after day after day with no end in sight?

but... i'm going to have to live with it. and part of learning to live with it is accepting that it's real. that there might not be an end until the day i die.

that every joy will come with a price of pain. that every moment of happiness is because i am sacrificing something - or had something sacrificed on my behalf years ago.

one of the way's i've been coping is by framing myself as the Fantasy Protag Who Got To Retire. you get picked for your adventure as a kid, maybe as late as a teen, you go and you get beat up and you get back up and you beat the bad guys. You win. You've survived.

Now what?

your war wounds, your battle scars, your injuries and your mental health don't heal right. Can't heal right - you were doing triage on the field, and never had time to go to a proper healer before it was too late. now all you can do is Manage the Pain.

So i'm managing. I'm 31, about to be 32. there are no more adventures for me unless someone's willing to carry me, or push me. And maybe I'm too tired for adventuring anyway.

idk the metaphor isn't perfect yet, i'm still workshopping it. but... it helps. not a lot, mind. but enough. most days.

i don't have a conclusion here. i just... idk. if you're reading htis and going through the same stuff, hey. i'm sorry that happened to you. i'm sorry this is how things are. come sit in the rocking chair on the porch with me, we'll have some tea and lemonade and we'll watch the adventurers leave town for their quests and remember when we were them. And we'll have quieter adventures in books and art and music and pain. and it'll be okay.

you're not alone and neither am i. Be kind to yourself, you deserve that.

[bl6ckr0s3]

Other News...

While I was at work the other day, Fabian got back to me about my questions regarding transferring to another facility. When I talked to Jesse about it, he told me something similar, but it was the best approach which was also what Rolando, the union rep told me to do. Schedule a tour to take at the facility that I would want to transfer to. That way it gives me a chance to check out the place, get to know the supervisor while I am there, and if I am interested in seeing what to transfer as, they should be able to help with the process a bit faster rather than relying on everything through my job. All I ever heard is that my work place wouldn't want anybody to transfer, they want to keep people there as much as possible. Sorry, you don't revolve around our life. I won't be held down by anybody if I have to leave. Life is too short.

From the way Lex & Joshua spoke after the video recording yesterday, she seems really down to be a part of the band. She will just need compensation for her part if there is traveling involved. JD however would definitely have to rely on being paid because that's the way it is to try to survive living in Los Angeles. I know Joshua will have to start working on the rest of the songs to continue writing out the Dying album, but what's gonna happen if we are going to move to Tenneesee forreals? Well, if we move for reals, we just gotta make sure we have jobs over there and a place to stay. At least things won't be as expensive there as it is here in California. My sister is really wondering if I'm going to be happy over there. I told her i'm sure it would be better than living with the ex in laws in Hawaii because all they did was work me to death and controlled what I do like a slave. I didn't get a chance to really site see or enjoy anything over there, so of course I'm gonna be fucking miserable over there. The next time I go to Hawaii, it will be for a trip and vacation well enjoyed. I want to shoot the Hula and Fire dancers over there for once, check out the beach, and if there's any local shows around check those out, too if possible.

Me & Joshua do plan to fly out to Tennessee sometime during the spring time for a week to scope out the area. I figure it might not be a bad idea to apply for the memphis facilities also because he tried applying for a security job at Graceland which is in Memphis and I heard that living there is cheaper than Nashville. The crime rate is probably not super great, but I'm sure we will tolerate since it's nothing new to us in the past. If we do decide to move forreals by the summer time or even before than, we will have to be prepared just so as long as we can make sure we can pay our phone bill & storage bill for that time being. By next paycheck I need to pay for my registration and smog check for my car. I'm at least 2 weeks late, but I wonder how much charges have accrued for Joshua's Honda Accord?

[sheikahwarriork]

finished season 5 but im gonna talk about season 4 first:

what the fuck happened in season 4? not in the sense "wtf im confused" but in the sense i sincerely cant remember what the hell happened. i finished it like 4 days ago. it's all blurried in my head lmao

-> ok according to wikipedia it was about how they could escape the praimfaya and now I REMEMBER i was ANGRY all the time

it was very frustrating seeing the people coming up with a solution, just for the solution to be destroyed 2 seconds later. NOTHING went WELL when IT COULD

i dont care about gaia. yeah sorry. she could not exist and i wouldnt notice

rip roan i guess. wasted potential

im sorry to say i didnt care about luna either. i thought her character would be better written but OH WELL CANT HAVE SHIT IN THIS SERIE

im so glad jaha died. another headache source gone <3

gotta be honest i respect jasper's whole thing. he desperately wanted to die since the end of season 2, but he found a way to go as he liked. 10/10 character

im not a doctor but im not sure raven could have survived that weird therapy thing she did to herself while listeing to becca and sinclair's voices

anyway that part about raven was very cool because it was *her* talking to herself in the end, and all those things "sinclair" said were actually from raven. shes officially babygirl

that ilian character was so funny. i mean *he* was not funny. i didnt give a shit about him. but octavia banging him was funny

john murphy keeps being the top tier funniest character ever. also hes super cute with emori. what could possibly go wrong?

bellamy is very weird. one season hes smart and doesnt deserve to die, the other season hes the dumbest bitch alive and i want him to explode. like a sinusoid

marcus kane deserves some rest from this serie

THEY WENT UP TO THE SKY???

when raven & co. decided to go to space to escape the disaster i thought "well monty and harper are a couple... murphy and emori are one too.... bellamy and echo 100% are going to fuck (obvious since they met on the cages in mount weather), so that leaves.... CLARKE AND RAVEN!!! MAY THEY HAVE GAYSEX DESPITE FINN'S MEMORY" but nope. clarke remained on the ground. crazy how this serie refuses to realize my ancient thought about clarke and raven getting together to spite finn

about season 5:

i'm surprised myself to say i actually enjoyed season 5?? like it didnt give me headaches!!! i think it is WELL written (crazy i know), best season so far

yes the characters still did questionable things but all their decision were COHERENT. abby taking the pills, octavia being a dispotic ruler, kane allying with diyoza for peace... even the new characters, such as diyoza and mccreary, were well written!!!

FINALLY clarke is a good character. i enjoy her much more now that she has her daughter/little sister to care about. im gonna be honest: when she used to say "im doing it for my people!!!" i hated it bc it felt like hypocrisy, she didnt care about *those people*, she cared about the ideal of humanity surviving. her methods are still the same, but i respect her now, bc with madi i CAN SEE why she's willing to kill a lot of people to save her daughter

bellamy too is a good character now. those 6 years did good to everyone

octavia's character is good too, even if she did a lot of dumb things!! (such as setting of fire the hydrofarm)

LMAO CANNIBALISM.

ohhh bellamy and echo gpt together. what a surprise.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN MURPHY FOUGHT WITH EVERYONE AND BROKE UP WITH EMORI DURING THE SIX YEARS??? i am very sad

raven falling for that guy (dont remember his name) is a bit out of the blue but tbh she deserves to get laid. i think the last time she had sex was with bellamy in season 1? lmao. so its fine

marcus kane still makes me Feel Things

indra good character

didnt quite get madi's character tbh. lets see

mccreary blowing up the planet for the third (4th? lost count) time in a century gave me a little of headache but its ok bc i understood him (dumb but WELL WRITTEN)

so they got on that spaceship for 10 years ok

wait nope monty and harper decided to stay awake and HAD A SON??? ok i guess

i actually respect a lot their decision. monty 10/10 character. im sad he will no longer be in the serie but im not mad hes dead (like i was for lexa and lincoln)

also super healthy couple. monty and harper were alone for like 50 years and didnt go crazy. 10/10 relationship

marcus kane keeps being unable to die. love to see this

btw i'm watching the 100 for the first time in my life but i remember the hype on the internet in like 2015 about this serie

i have Thoughts (just started 3rd season so this is about seasons 1 and 2)

everyone is fucking stupid. like really really stupid. i cant believe humanity survived for 97 years

clarke is smart but also very very stupid. why is a 17 yo in charge

raven is smart, not too stupid. i forgive her

john murphy is the funniest character ever

i remembered there was lesbians but i didnt know who the lesbians were. at first i thought they were clarke and raven bc they fight over a white boy so i thought i would be funny if they were The Lesbians

lexa can step on me

its cool lexa is canonically bi but i cant believe she fell for clarke. lexa deserves better. clarke is too stupid for her

the grounders are RIGHT. they are FUCKING RIGHT. SINCE EPISODE 1. they are NOT stupid

i called finn "white boy" during all the serie. he's such a white boy. he's very very stupid. i'm glad he died and i hated when the sky people wanted to save him from the execution bc THE GROUNDERS WERE RIGHT HE HAD TO DIE. he killed 18 FUCKING DEFENSELESS ELDERS AND CHILDREN

i miss anya. she was such a badass. clarke: "nuuuh i need a sharp and sterile knife-" anya proceeds to BIT HER OWN ARM to get the chip out. 10/10 character

about the mountain weather arc: oh my god they are so stupid. mountain people are so stupid i mean. "ohh we need sky people's bone marrow so we can survive but theres only 47 of them so in order to take all the bone marrow for us they have to die" you know how they could handle this shit?? by fucking ASKING. they KNEW there were other sky people on the ground now. like at least 100 of them i think. so they should have gone to them and say, "hi sorry we are humans who have to live underground bc radiations. but your bone marrow could save us. so can all of you give us a bit of your bone marrow? we offer an alliance and other commodities (medicines etc)". imo sky people would say YES bc bone marrow grows back its not too dangerous to donate it if its just a bit. everybody would be alive by now. and i wouldnt have got a headache

still about mountain weather arc: another way to handle that would have been: asking the 47 kids a bit of their bone marrow and WAITING it to grow back. like donators in real life yk? by 2 years all of the mountain people could have gone on the surface and everybody would be alive now and i wouldnt have got a headache

marcus kane is also a very funny character. hes desperately trying to die since they flowed those 320 people on the arc. and i LOVE he CANT die. everytime he's like "omg finally im going to die" and someone saves him. im sure as soon as he thinks "ok maybe being alive is not so bad" he gets shot

mountain weather arc is truly the most stupid thing that every happened in a tv show. they chose the worst possible way to handle the problem. they acted more stupidly than the kids in season 1. i really cant believe humanity survived for 97 years

the "100" on the spaceship were NEVER exactly one hundred. bc bellamy got inside so they were 101. but during the landing 2 kids died. so they were 99. there is not a single moment in this serie called "the 100" were they are one hundred. this fact is driving me crazy

i truly hope everyone dies bc i hate almost all of them. the only people that imo are allowed to survive are: octavia, jasper, monty, raven, murphy, kane (bc its funny he cant die), and all of the grounders. other peoples are too stupid to live so i hope they die soon so i dont get other headaches (edit: bellamy is on thin ice bc hes funny but hes also very much stupid)

i cant believe mountain weather arc. oh my god it was so stupid

[jasontoddswhitestreak]

fluff prompts 10 & 19 with pietro maximoff would be so cute 🥺

elevator talk

summary: while on a mission with the avengers team you manage to save pietro’s life leading him to want to show his appreciation for you inspired by this prompt list

content warning: pietro maximoff x fem!reader, fluff, slight angst, mentions of blood, set after age of ultron but pietro never dies and civil war doesn’t take place <3

note: i hope i don’t disappoint you with this fluff! i’ve been reading more quicksilver comics recently and this is the outcome of that :)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN! (lmk if you want to see anymore content like this <3)

masterlist

"Remind me again, why did the ENTIRE team need to come on this mission?" You complained, fighting off two grown men while waiting for the signal Tony was supposed to give to tell you it's safe to go inside the building.

"Call it a group bonding session." Tony teased while flying near the building in his Iron Man suit, trying to figure out how to lower the shields. Ever since the fall of SHIELD, it became even more difficult to find the remaining Hydra bases and due to the Ultron situation that occurred a few years ago, the difficulty only increased.

"Could we do a little less chitchat and a little more fighting?" Steve demands, you could hear Cap's grunts through your earpiece, making it obvious that he's struggling to fight off the Hydra goons.

You were a couple miles away from the building attempting to make your way closer to it, the enemies clearly noticed your arrival when they saw a person in red and yellow suit flying pass their windows, easily recognising the well known Iron Man.

And because a huge green angry Hulk isn't exactly easy to ignore.

"Clearly Cap can't keep up with us superheroes." Pietro teased, with a blink of an eye he knocked out the enemies surrounding both you and Steve.

"Thanks for the help Sonic, I'd give you some onion rings but I don't have any on me right now." You joked, smirking at the exasperated speedster that stood in front of you.

"I just saved your life and this is how you repay me Prinţesă?" He feigned hurt, placing his hand over heart.

"Saving her life? That's a bit of an exaggeration even for you Piet." Wanda's voice was heard from the comms, she managed to make her way into the building effortlessly, fighting beside Vision.

"Mind your business Wanda." Pietro scoffs biting back the smile forming on his face, he could hear his sisters laugh through the earpiece.

"As much as I love hearing the two of you argue with each other, now may not be the time." Natasha commented, followed by Clint agreeing.

You sighed, knowing they were right, focusing on the mission instead of the twin in front of you, glancing around at your surroundings. You noticed the enemies lined up behind Pietro preparing for an attack. You would've seen it earlier if it wasn't for the conversation distracting you.

You thought it was too late when you saw the bullet fly through the air, aiming directly at Pietro, it felt as though it was moving in slow motion. The piece of metal cutting through the air making its way to the speedster. Not registering the fact that Pietro had super healing abilities your mind recalled what happened in Sokovia. The bullets going through Pietro in every angle possible. Him falling onto the ground, the colour drained from his face, everyone thought he was dead, Wanda included. That was until the speedster managed to spit out a joke about Ultron's good aim.

You didn't register what you were doing until after you did it. Rushing to protect him from the bullet you pushed him out of the way last minute, the bullet barely missed him, you felt the bullet scrape against your arm instead. Pietro fell to the ground with a yelp as you fell on top of him, wincing due to the pain the bullet caused you.

Steve ran over to the two of you after knocking out the culprit.

"They're both down." Steve states, Pietro shakes his head, attempting to sit up, lifting you up and placing you in his lap comfortably.

"Why'd you do that? You know I can take bullets right?" Pietro scowled, glancing over your body to check for anymore injuries besides the bullet wound, his hands were gentle, brushing over your body in a caring manner as he lets the palm of his hands rest on the sides of your face, holding your face in his hands.

"Now i saved your life." You joked, blushing at the position the two of you were currently in and trying to hide the pain the bullet was causing you. You weren't a super soldier or someone with super healing abilities, so jumping in front of a bullet to save someone that could survive getting shot multiple times wasn't smart thinking on your part.

But you couldn't help it.

You wouldn't say you and Pietro were best friends, you did get along well but the twin refrained from getting close to any of the avengers. Your relationship consisted of teasing each other often and bumping into each other constantly during midnight, resulting in the two of you having your own midnight sessions where the two of you sat in the kitchen drinking hot chocolate.

You reminisced on the last time you had your 'midnight session' with Pietro, not being able to focus on what Pietro and Steve were saying to you, there was a loud ringing in your head, echoing as you closed your eyes to stop the headache that was forming, you felt yourself being lifted up in someone's arms.

Maybe you underestimated how bad the bullet wound was.

"Fine weather we're having don't you think?" You laughed, glancing over at the window, the heavy rain pelted against the glass of the compound, that alongside the wind that sounded much louder in your bedroom made it difficult to even attempt to sleep. You could just barely make out the trees in the distance due to the night sky.

"Didn't think you'd show up tonight, don't you need the sleep before our mission tomorrow?" Pietro questioned. He was facing the stove, you could smell the hot chocolate that was heating up. You made your way next to him, grabbing two mugs and placing them next to him before moving to the fridge to grab the whipped cream.

You swapped positions with Pietro, passing the can of whipped cream to him and grabbing the spoon that was used to stir the hot chocolate.

"Oh wait! I made cookies today, we could have them now!" You remembered, grabbing the plate of cookies from the cupboard and placing it on the table, Pietro immediately reached out for one, and then another.

"I don't know if you know this yet but, I love you." Pietro confesses, grabbing another cookie. You pushed the plate away from him before he could grab another.

"You gotta slow down Piet, don't want you emptying the plate before we even get to have the hot chocolate, now do we?" You grinned and he complains, reaching out for another.

"It's nice to know you care so much about my well-being dragă." You rolled your eyes at the smirk plastered on his face. With the blink of an eye he was stood across from you, closer to the plate of cookies, with another in his hand.

The two of you couldn't stop the smiles that formed on your face, even going to bed in a much better mood than you were in previously.

It was hours after the mission, you were patched up as soon as the quinjet landed at the compound. After a long lecture from Steve and the debriefing, you were finally able to be alone, only wanting to go back your room and sleep for days.

You made your way to the elevator that would take you to your floor, too tired to take the stairs. You attempted to fight back the tiredness, blinking harshly to keep yourself awake, missing the blue streak of a superhero making its way into the elevator and right beside you.

"How are you feeling Dragă mea?" Pietro speaks out after a couple moments, you jumped in shock not realising the speedster was next to you.

"Dammit Piet! What did I say about doing that?" You held your hands over your chest, frightened. He looked at you apologetically before moving to the elevator buttons, pressing the button that stops the elevator from moving.

You stared at him as he sighed, struggling to put his thoughts into words.

"Piet... what's wrong?" You whispered, analysing his face and posture, you could tell he was stressed. He turned to look at you, his face softening when your eyes met.

"I can’t lose you prinţesă." He manages to say, making his way to you, reaching out for your hand.

His hand was warm in yours, he held onto your hand tightly, you looked at him confused, raising your hand to rest against his jaw, your thumb stroking his cheek gently.

“You’re not going to lose me, where’s this coming from Pietro?” You asked softly. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest, your head rested against his chest. You could feel his uneven breaths, almost as if he’s on the verge of having a panic attack. Pietro struggled to even out his breath, panic bubbling up inside of him, he can’t lose you. Even the thought of losing you filled him with dread, he doesn’t deserve someone to risk their life for him, especially someone like you.

“How did I manage to get you?” He finally whispers, pulling back to look at you.

That’s when you understood what he was trying to say.

“I don’t want to lose you too, you know? Even the thought of it, it just-” You take a deep breath, smiling solemnly at him. “Every-time we go on a mission I’m terrified Piet, after what happened in Sokovia- after what happened to you. I cant lose you, I care too much about you.” The memories of what happened in Sokovia haunted you. You weren’t close to the Maximoffs then but you understood them, you understood their pain and loss. Similarly to them you had no one, no family, no one to say ‘I love you’ too.

Until now.

“That’s a very complicated way to say you love me, dragă.” He teased, you could see the redness in his eyes from the tears that were threatening to spill.

“Well no one else enjoys my baking as much as you do.” He rolled his eyes in response knowing your referencing the night before, while still holding you in his arms, he reaches out to turn the elevator back on.

No more words were needed to be said, not for now at least. You had each other, and that’s all that mattered to you, for now.

[itsbeaconhillsbaby]

twenty-five and over || tom holland x reader

a/n: what is my work if not slightly belated! happy birthday tom, here’s a little something for you all to celebrate. I am trying to get round to reading and sharing some of the fics that I really love, try to create more love between creators and their work - hit me up with some of your favourite tom writers who I should check out! would love to hear from you! as always, stay safe and big love to you all xo 

word count: 1213 warnings: fluff fluff fluff unless you’re also having a quarter life crisis then this could be triggering (but all very playful) summary: your boyfriend, Tom, is stressed at the very idea of turning 25 and what this next stage of life means

“I’m old.”

You looked up blearily from the kitchen island where you were leaning, scrolling on your phone. It was early morning and you were still half asleep, the surprising warmth of the UK weather having kept you up all night.

“Tom, you’re not old.”

“I’m old.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes I am. Y’know they didn’t even ID me last night...I always get ID’d.” He mumbled into the couch cushions.

“You hate it when they ID you! Plus, you always forget your ID anyway.”

Your boyfriend was lying on his front, sprawled out on the sofa. His curly hair only just visible in amongst the cushions.

“That’s not the point, it’s the principle of it!” You could hear the deep sigh coming from the couch and put a hand over your mouth to stop from laughing. He’d been at this for the past 20 minutes or so.

“Y’know I now have to tick the ‘twenty-five and over’ box when I sign up to things? Like as if I didn’t feel bad about it already, now I get regular reminders?!”

“I mean, on the bright side...at least you’re not the ‘over’ just yet - because then we really would have a problem.”

You swiftly dodge a rogue cushion that was thrown in your direction, and watch as it hit the fridge before falling to the floor with a light thud.

“So what? You agree? You think I’m old too!”

He lifted his head briefly to scowl at you, before planting it face down into the cushions again.

You abandoned your phone on the counter, padding across the wooden floors in your socks and one of Tom’s oversized t-shirts. You kneel on the rug in front of the sofa and rest your chin on the edge.

“Oi, movie star.”

You talk softly, knowing that Tom was sporting a killer headache, his hangover being the very thing that had started this whole conversation.

He moved his head to the side to look at you, pouting.

“What?”

You reached out a hand, tangling your fingers through his soft brown curls placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.

“You’re being silly. You’re not old. But you are the birthday boy, who I might add, is in very high demand today.”

He sighs again, shifting around to lie on his back.

“Can’t I just stay with you?” He drawled out dramatically.

You laugh, as he moved up giving you space to sit on the edge of the sofa. You shake your head, hair falling out of the messy bun you’d put it in last night.

“Nope. You’ve gotta visit your parents before they leave for Scotland, plus Paddy will want to see you. And then you have golf booked with the boys. You love golf.”

“I don’t want to go. I’ll cancel and rearrange.”

He slid his arms around your torso, squeezing him into your side as he pulled you down to him. You laughed. You adored this side of Tom. He wasn’t so willing to show it off publicly, keeping your relationship away from prying eyes as much as possible but in private he was a massive soft touch, constantly craving affection and attention from you.

“No you won’t, you’ll love it when you’re there. You just have to survive without me until three.”

He mumbled his reluctant acceptance into your hair, his nose sliding down the side of your face as he nestled into you. Delicate kisses littered your eyebrow, then your cheek until he made it to your mouth.

“What was that for?”

“Because it’s my birthday, and I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You take a moment to just lie there, tangled together. You let yourself enjoy the clenched sun kissed muscles that were wrapped around you, as soft warm breaths exhaled against your cheek. If it were possible to stay like this all day you would. The curtains billowed in the tiny breeze that blew in, the large bay windows glistening with fragments of golden sunlight as the world slowly woke up.

You kept a hand playing with a coiled lock of his hair, twisting it through your fingers, watching Tom’s eyelashes flutter with sleep.

“C’mon Tom, before you fall asleep on me.”

You placed your own kisses on either side of his temples, then his forehead and along his slightly crooked nosed before regretfully sliding yourself out from his embrace.

He groaned at the loss of you. He covered his eyes with one arm, blocking out the bright sun and held the other out to you.

“I’m old, remember? Help me up?”

You laughed.

“Nice try hot shot, up you get.”

Closing his eyes and giving a deep sigh, he rolled dramatically off the sofa and to his feet.

“See,” you said cheerily, “an old person wouldn’t be able to do that as gracefully as you just did. And with a hangover too!”

You heard him mumbling to himself as he shuffled his way through the apartment, bedroom door shutting with a thud behind him.

////

“ - happy birthday dear Tom, happy birthday to you.”

You sung sweetly, placing the homemade cake with purple frosting on the table in front of Tom. He grinned up at you, tapping his knee and threading his fingers between yours as he pulled you into his lap.

“When did you make this?!”

He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, counting out the 25 flickering candles and admiring your handiwork as he traced patterns on your bare thigh. You’d just been for a romantic birthday dinner at one of Tom’s favourite Japanese restaurants in the city before coming back to yours for dessert.

You’d spent your afternoon manning your work phone whilst simultaneously baking a surprise birthday cake for Tom, piping out the happy birthday message in swirly blue icing.

“I love it. Thank you.” Tom went to blow out his candles when you quickly interrupted.

“Wait! You gotta make a wish.”

“What?”

“You have to close your eyes and make a wish.”

You watch as he closes his eyes, pauses for a couple moments and then leans forwards slightly, tightening his hands around your waist.

Opening his eyes, he blew out the candles, each one dancing above the melting wax before disappearing with an exhale.

“Do you wanna know what I wished for?”

He caresses your cheek with his hand, brushing a thumb across the light pink blush dancing across your cheekbones.

“If you tell me it won’t come true. How about I share something with you instead?

He gently tucked your hair behind your ear, tilting his head and brought his ear to your lips so you could whisper into it. Your eyes connected with each other instantly, stares intense.

“Oh really?” He questions, as your blush deepens.

Before you had a chance to realise what was happening, Tom stood up from the chair, scooping you up bridal-style as you clung to his shoulders and neck. You let out a slight squeal at the sudden movement before letting out peals of laughter.

“Where are we going exactly?” You ask, running a finger over some of the perfect buttery frosting, dolloping a smidge onto the end of his nose.

Nudging doors open with his hip, still cradling you to his chest, he made his way over to the bedroom, lightly depositing you into the middle of the king sized mattress.

“I’m going to show you what 25 really looks like.”

[dameronology]

that’s all {din djarin x reader}

(i’m reposting this bc it wasn’t showing up in the tags and it was stressing me out) 

summary: you’d saved din djarin from himself before. now, with the pain of losing his kid, you’re about to do it all over again. (kinda based on find me here by hayley williams)

warnings: this is...flangst. fluff and angst. swearing. mentions of depression but it’s also a bit ✨positive✨

this is just me trying to be the emotional janitor to...that. i’ve tried to keep it as gender neutral as possible but some of the conversation might imply an afab reader but hopefully it’s vague to be completely objective!!

- jazz

anyways i know i already said it but !! spoilers !! spoilers !! spoilers !!

p.s spot the titanic reference 

Grogu was tiny but the whole he left in your lives was massive.

You always knew you were going to have to give him up - hell, that had been the job in the first place - but you hadn’t expected it to hurt so much. He wasn’t your kid but at the same he completely and entirely was. You’d never expected your first parenting experience to be with a tiny green Jedi but at the same time, you wouldn’t have had it any other way. The next few months were going to be hard; accepting that he wasn’t yours to keep and that he was in a better place was guaranteed to be a long process. It would be worth it in the end but the initial pain was bordering on unbearable.

Din was better at hiding it than you. Admittedly, he did have a thick beskar layer to shield his emotions and pain from the outside world but he couldn’t hide it from you; never from you. Even behind the metal, you could read him like a book. It was a product of spending every waking minute together (his overprotective doing, not yours) and in return, he had learnt every habit and every quirk of yours. He sometimes cursed your ability to read him, especially when it lead to you saying things like you did not just tilt your helmet at me like that, Din Djarin.

He’d been quieter in the days since Luke Skywalker had taken the kid - quieter than usual, at least. Din was already a pretty taciturn person; compared to how he was with other people, he practically spoke your ear off but since you’d landed back on Nevarro, he’d completely kept to himself. It was painful to watch, seeing him rise at the crack of dawn to take a bounty, only to return in the evening with a few more bruises than he’d had that morning. You wanted to say something to do something that would make him snap back to reality, but this was probably his grieving process and you had to respect that. Or, you had to at least try to.

That was, until, it felt like Din was killing both you and him; working himself to the point of exhaustion, barely sleeping and refusing to even acknowledge Greef or Cara. You could deal with him being angsty. You could deal with him grieving. You couldn’t, however, deal with him ignoring you. You had literally vowed to go through all your bad times together and Din Djarin was nothing if not a man of his word. He knew it. You knew it too - and you’d be damned if you’d let him forget it.

It was on a cold - at least by Nevarro standards - morning that you decided it was time to show him some tough love. The Mandalorian had decided to hole out on one of Karga’s old ships that morning, claiming that he wanted to fix it. You were no engineering genius, but given that the old jet’s wings had fallen off, you could see it was past the point of no return and that Din had just been looking for an excuse. He was good at that these days.

‘Din!’ You called. The bay doors were open, but the ship itself was dark and dusty. Tinkering, my ass. As expected, there was no reply. ‘Din! Don’t ignore me.’

Silence.

‘Please?’

You grumbled to yourself, walking further inside the dimly lit ship. Tiny specs of dust were floating in the streams of thin light, leading your path further and further towards the cockpit. Who ever it had belonged it, it pre-dated the Republic, let alone the Empire or new order. You tried to resist the urge to cough, instead choosing to focus on your mission: hunting down the Mandalorian. The tables really had turned, considering he was very rarely the prey.

‘I was talking to Karga.’ You continued - as far as you knew, you were talking to thin air, but you liked your chances. ‘He offered me a bounty puck for...Corellia, is it? For that big, bad guy we didn’t catch last year. You know the one that nearly killed me?’

There was a crash from the cockpit, and you grinned to yourself. It was a little unethical to scare the man out of hiding with your bullshit, but you were getting desperate.

‘I figured it would be good to get out a bit, try and distract myself, you know?’ You continued. ‘So I was gonna borrow a ship and head out there tomorrow-’

‘- like hell you’re doing that on your own.’  

A six foot mountain of beskar suddenly stepped out from the darkness. Normally, that would have been enough to scare anyone, but not you. You’d married that six foot mountain of beskar. That probably gave you more guts than anyone in the damn galaxy -- until they found out he wasn’t actually that terrifying. Not many people would have taken the Mandalorian seriously if they knew he enjoyed having his hair played with.

You held your hands up in the air, stretching out your fingers to show that there was no puck in sight.

‘You lied.’ Din grunted.

‘And you were ignoring me.’ You shot back. ‘’S going on?’

‘I told you. I was working on the ship-’

‘- nope.’ You cut him off. ‘Try again.’

‘Karga asked me to fix it-’

‘- Still no!’ You snapped. ‘We gonna go three for three or are you gonna finally pull your head out your ass and stop lying to me, Din?’

There wasn’t a single person in the galaxy who dared speak back to the Mandalorian - except you. That was what had made him fall for you in the first place. It was like you couldn’t even see the beskar. You’d always seen him as Din, and never as the Mandalorian, or a warrior. You’d made it clear from the day you met that you wouldn’t take any bullshit from anyone, him included, and he’d always respected that.

‘You have been holing yourself away for weeks.’ You continued. ‘I know it’s hard but you have to accept it. Grogu wasn’t ours to keep - he never was.’

Din didn’t response, instead dropping his gaze down to the floor.’

‘Hey.’ You put a finger at the base of the helmet, tilting his head back up to look at you. ‘Look at me. Talk to me.’

‘I miss him.’ He stated; short and blunt. Fitting, really. ‘And it hurts.’

‘I get that.’ You gently placed your hands on either side of his helmet, fingers splaying out over the cold metal. ‘But it’s better to hurt together. Can I?’

Din nodded, signalling that it was okay for you to take it off. You gently tugged at the helmet, momentarily breaking away from him to place it beside you. It was a relief to see his face after so many weeks of having the beskar between you; the soft brown eyes and slightly crooked smile that met you on the other side felt like home. You could have stared at him forever if the galaxy wasn’t so fucking demanding of your presence.

You’d spent far too long on the other side of the beskar, waiting for him to let you in. And now that you’d got him, now that you’d promised yourselves to one another forever? You weren’t going to let it happen again.

You gently pushed back a few tufts of brown hair, offering him a sad smile. ‘You know we made the right decision, yeah?’

He nodded, leaning into your touch as your hands carded through his hair. ‘I know.’

‘So you gotta stop beating yourself up, baby.’ You stressed. ‘Stop shutting people out - stop shutting me out. I know we don’t have the kid anymore but we are still a family.’

‘I lost the ship. I lost the kid.’ Din quietly spoke. ‘I’m just worried that-’

‘- I’m not going anywhere.’ You shook your head, knowing what he was going to say before the words even left his mouth. ‘Even if you paid me. You are stuck with me, okay? Cursed with me till the day I keel over and die.’

Finally, Din smiled. He looked you dead in the eye and he smiled, eyes creasing at the side as he peered down at you, eventually tightening his arms around your waist. He held your head to his chest, ungloved hand gently clutching you as he rested his chin on your hair. The first time he’d clung onto you like this had been after a rough mission; neither of you had been sure if he was going to make it back and when he did, the first thing he did was pull you into his arms and you stayed there for what felt like hours. That was when Din realised for the first time that he loved you - and now, after weeks of isolating himself and shutting you out, this didn’t feel completely different from that. It was just that this time, it was less of a realisation of more of a reminder.

‘I didn’t expect it to be this bad.’ Din quietly admitted.

‘I know.’ You whispered back, voice slightly muffled by his chest. ‘But pain is only temporary. Dark times pass and we’ll learn to look back on this and enjoy the memories. They won’t always be tainted.’

He’d been in a dark place when he’d met you. It was like he’d been treading water, waiting for the riptides to take him, to stake their claim and remind him of his mortality, to remind him that not even the bravest people can forfeit their ability to hurt. He tried. Maker, he had tried. The icy and emotionless impression he gave to strangers wasn’t an accident. It was a survival mechanism; a defense mechanism. One that you’d chosen to ignore. You’d saved him in every way a person could be saved.

Just as the waves were pulling him under, you’d dragged him out; dragged him to the shore and reminded him that pain was merely part of being human. Most importantly, you’d called his attention to the fact that no matter how much beskar he wore or how impenetrable he acted, that he couldn’t avoid being one. He could run away from bounty hunters and Imperials and the thousands of enemies he’d made but the fact of mortality was always hot on his tail.

Now, you were pulling him up for air all over again.

Eventually, pain stopped being a reminder of his humanity and instead, it was replaced by his love for you. His ability to feel things for you. You’d saved him then and now, you were helping him come up for air all over again. Being human didn’t always mean to hurt - it could just as much mean to love.

‘I’ve got you, okay?’ You tightened your grip on him, eyes meeting his. ‘Whatever you need.’

‘You.’ Din replied. ‘I need you. That’s all.’

a/n: ok i realised i published an identical but slightly different imagine to this in october but...clearly i have a type and that type is imagines where the mandalorian confesses that you’re the only thing he needs because i eat that shit up. consume it whole. i am telling you. i have no regrets. my content might is predictable but HELL at least u can rely on something in these wild times❤️

[balmasedas]

dearly departed. /

(gif is not mine).

PAIRING: din djarin x force sensitive!f-reader.

SUMMARY: au of 2x8 where reader exists instead of grogu (i'm sorry, baby).

WARNINGS: very slight description of torture, violence and blood. major angst.

WORD COUNT: 5k.

——————————————————————————

One day felt like a year.

A week onboard the light cruiser was hell and Moff Gideon was proven to be worse than the devil.

You’d barely slept and hunger constantly gripped your belly. You didn’t felt the urge to scream or to even beg for help, those instincts were long dead by now.

They were fascinated. A real Jedi or, at the very least, a live one, still yet to be properly trained (if you managed to survive this). So it wasn’t a surprise that because of their evil nature and in the name of “curiosity” you were obliged to use the Force until you fainted, over and over again. 

It was a tragedy. In search of what would’ve been your home, you had found one with Din Djarin; and now the memories you'd learned to cherish seemed so far away in time that you started to doubt your mind.

(,,,)

Din sat against a rock; while you rested your back against his chest and between his legs. Just the two of you, the sound of the crackling fire and endless stars above your heads. You felt so little and yet, at the same time, that there was nothing that could stop you from conquering the entire galaxy.

“You got this.” his modulated voice came out lower than usual. 

“Sh!” you silenced him with a half-smile. Your hand was extended, just a couple of meters away a small rock floated in the air, slowly approaching you. You’d tried it at least a dozen times and this one, you decided, would be the last. 

Silence crept over you both. Too expectant to breathe for a few seconds. 

You were certain, so confident. Then, fear invaded you. Your hand started to shake and so did the rock. You could feel yourself slowly losing control, anticipating a seemingly inevitable failure. You didn’t trust your power, having always been relegated to abandoning your true identity for your own (and everyone’s) safety. 

Luckily, Din did have hope in you, and although he respected your wishes of quietness during this moment, it didn’t mean he couldn’t try to ease your mind through other means. After all, the Mandalorian felt more comfortable with actions than he felt with words. 

So he snuck his hand beneath your hair and softly rubbed his thumb behind your ear, a soothing caress he often offered when you needed comfort.

It wasn’t a revelation that then, and only then, you felt enough peace to stabilize the Force and finally close your hand around the object.

“Oh!” both your eyes and mouth were wide open. You half turned towards Din — you were drunk in elation, still not wanting to miss the warmness of his body. “I got it!” you burst. You met his visor, but you could sense his eyes on you. 

“What did I say?” he spoke. “You got this.”

You got this. 

You got this.

“I got this,” you mumbled, trying to hold on to comforting words carefully sheltered in your head.

You had been a prisoner of your own body for over a week now. Traveling only from your cell to the room you were currently held and vice versa. Having to extend your arm obediently when you were told so and use your powers as well. 

Truth be told, there was nothing else you could do, except trying to keep your mind busy and start processing the facts: there were no (nor there would be) allies to your cause. You were alone and whatever the remains of the Empire had in store for you was still yet to be revealed. 

Din would come for you, you were sure of that, but some hopeless part of your now broken soul was unsure he’d make it in time.

The door from your cell opened. A couple of troopers marched towards you. Between them, the man in the white coat you’d regularly seen since your arrival. He introduced himself by squeezing your arm, it was supposed to be gentle. 

He wouldn't have done the same if you weren't cuffed and strapped into a stretcher. You thought about breaking free. Your hands around his neck, fear instead of the cockiness his eyes currently harbored. 

The urge was sharp and violent and you enjoyed it while it lasted.

“How are you doing?” Like shit. You remained impassible. 

He opened a case he’d been carrying and laid out the contents on a tray next to the bed. You knew what it was, you wish you didn’t. Needles of different sizes, scalpers, and syringes. 

You winced when he took a needle and fitted it into a large syringe.

He smiled at you. "Be a good girl and stay still, will you?"

Fuck you. “Okay.” Even though you complied, both troopers were ordered to hold you down.

As usual, every movement from that moment was processed in slow motion. The doctor hovering the needle just a few millimeters over your skin, then, the hard cold steel piercing it. First a pinch; as it went deeper, burn; then ache. You wanted to trash but you couldn’t. 

Your vision swam, and your head went thick. “It’s done.” was the last thing you heard before you blacked out. 

(,,,)

“Are you seeing anything? Or are they supposed to see you?” Din queried, looking around.

You were sitting on top of the Seeing stone, drowned in confusion just like him. Still, you couldn’t help but giggle at his obvious deduction from the name of the place where you currently were.

“Yes, I-” you trailed off and furrowed your brows as you watched him thoroughly inspecting the rock. He was quiet, his thoughts were loud. Or maybe you just knew him too well by then. “… I see you” you tilted your head, reformulating your sentence into a question, “Are you searching for an interrupter, Din?”

He straightened his body and immediately backed away from it “No,” he was quick to deny. You kept your eyes fixated on him, and then a ghost of a smile appeared on your face. Finally, he corrected himself after a defeated sigh, “Yes.” he confessed.

You chuckled. You could’ve kissed him by then, if only you had the chance. 

“I wish Ahsoka Tano would’ve told me more, but that’s not how it works.” 

The Force seemed to be much more complex than you originally thought. And the Jedi you met in Corvus day’s ago should’ve cleared many things —instead, she baffled you, even more, shifting her entire demeanor when she sensed your connection with the Mandalorian. 

Now, you were supposed to make contact with another Jedi without knowing how. 

Din didn’t answer. He had left the previous planet just as frustrated as you, if not more. 

“Well, look at the bright side—” you were cut by the sound of a ship circling the area. Both of you were immediately alarmed by its presence. Din ran to the edge of the mountain and followed it closely with his eyes. An attack craft was no good news. As much as he wished to complete the mission, there was no way he’d risk your safety. Both of you could come back later, he assumed.

He called your name, walking backward. “Time’s up, we gotta go.” he stopped abruptly when he finally turned around and saw you. He’d never seen anything of similar nature. 

Your eyes were shut, strands of your hair floated like feathers in the breeze. Some kind of force shield had been erected around you. He screamed for you again. “Hey! Snap out of it, we gotta get out of here.” but wherever your mind was, it was far away from Tython now.

He even tried to pass through the force shield only to be violently expelled from it.

He grunted. The floor beneath him was hard, the realization he made hit harder: there was no way he could reach you. 

His desperation only could grow when he spotted an unknown subject leaving the craft. “Dank Farrik!” he cursed. His hands were closed in tight fists, his gaze lingered on you. Leaving you was his last preference, he’d promised you he’d never do it until you were safe but it became the only viable option. 

He had no power to interfere in whatever was happening to you up there, but he could take care of the problem on the bottom of that mountain.

Din pulled his blaster from the holder. “I’ll see if I can buy you some time.” he doubted you could hear him, but still he tried. “Can you please hurry up?” there was hesitation in his movement, his steps were slow and uncertain. Walking away from you had never felt so wrong, and yet he had no other choice if he wanted to protect you.

He would later learn that fear, desolation, and regret were very possible and present emotions in him as he could only stand and see the dark troopers taking you away. 

(,,,)

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was your handcuffs.

The second thing was the light reflecting off them. 

Your glance flickered from the Dark saber to Moff Gideon and then to the person he was talking to. 

Until that moment, you weren’t sure if you were awake or hallucinating. But then everything became so real. His armor, his voice. As exhausted as you were, you took your time to caress Din with your eyes. 

He was alive. Whole. Here.

You were in a dream.

He, on the other hand, sensed that his nightmare was far from over. 

“You can keep it, I just want her,” he assured. The object of dispute between Moff Gideon and Bo-Katan had never sparked any interest in him. You were his only priority and his original quest had been long forgotten by then. 

The Moff stood in silence, seemingly analyzing the proposal.

“Very well, I already got what I wanted from her.” he addressed. “All I wanted was to study her blood. You see, the girl is extremely gifted. And has been a blast with rare properties that have the potential to bring order to the galaxy.” 

Din anchored his attention on you. All this talking did nothing but disturb him even more. You were so close and so far. Shut up, he wanted to say. 

Instead, he remained quiet. 

“I see your bond with her.” Din heard it before. Did he also believe what you both had it was dangerous? He didn’t wish or care to know. “Take her. But you will leave my ship immediately and we will go separate ways.”

If Din nodded, you missed it. He took cautious steps towards you. Your heart started to race in anticipation. You could already taste a decent glass of water, the sun kissing your skin, and the end of what was once an endless agony. 

You extended your hand for him to take it. He was only a meter away. 

It seemed so easy.

It would’ve been so easy.

But Moff Gideon bared only greed and darkness in his soul. He surrendered to no one, let alone a Mandalorian.

“No!” your scream ripped through your throat when you saw the Dark saber hovering over Din’s head. He was quick enough to block the hit and the ones that followed after, but the Moff was insatiable and they both disappeared into the hall.

You tugged at the cuffs, trying to get them off but it was impossible. Not when they were neutralizing your power. You were too weak to run, yet you still launched yourself at the door. 

Your legs instantly gave in. You let out a hard groan but didn't stop to recover from the blow. You instantly laid your body on a side and with the own weight of your arms you started dragging yourself on the floor. 

You had no visuals on Gideon and Din, still, the sound of the black saber colliding against beskar outside the room brought you some sense of calm.

They were still fighting, there was still time.

You just had to crawl a little bit more.

But the hallway seemed miles away, you were tired and you'd barely reached the doorframe when all fell silent.

"D–" your voice died before finishing the sentence. The thought of calling him and not receiving an answer infested your mind like a parasite. You wouldn’t survive that memory. 

A rush of adrenaline took over your body, you started moving once again. Frightened, but not hopeless —not yet. 

If Din hadn’t... If Din—

You would make sure to make Gideon pay. Maybe not with your mind, maybe with your own bare hands.

But your revenge would have to wait a few more minutes because someone blocked your path before you could reach the hallway.

Your eyes fixed over the boots in your line of vision. Where those his? You should’ve paid more attention to his clothes. If you did, you wouldn’t be trembling in fear. If you did, you would’ve instantly knew it was him, instead of waiting until he kneeled and reached for you.

He whispered your name. So loving and familiar. So soft it almost went unnoticed. 

Your lips pursed into a tight line, your eyes were filled to the brim with tears. You didn’t want to cry. But your heart felt heavy and all that pain you had accumulated those days had to go somewhere.

It was inevitable to break down. To weep and shake as your thoughts bounced between what could've happened and what didn't.

Din seemed to sense this when he asserted, "I'm here." He quickly took care of the cuffs. You find relief around your wrist, but the pressure didn't seem to budge on your chest. “I’m here.” 

There, on the cold surface of that cell, he hugged you for all the days he couldn’t.

One arm went around your back, his other hand rested against your head, fitting you against his body. You buried your face against his chest. He drew his fingers along the curve of your neck.

The well-known gesture felt completely different. Whereas before the calming effects of it were exclusively destined to you, it seemed that now it was he who needed it the most. He needed to make sure you were there. That you were real, alive, and well.

You vocalized your thoughts once you found the strength to do so, "I thought I lost you."

Din’s arms tightened around you, solid and warm. His heart would’ve broken right there if it weren’t filled with happiness. Your voice was the same. It was home. "No. I'm too stubborn to leave you." had you had the strength to chuckle, you would have. 

You slowly raised your head and, for the first time, observed past his shoulder. You immediately regretted your decision. In the hallway, Moff Gideon laid against the wall, now in shackles, looking straight into your eyes. There was a smirk plastered on his face. 

Din side-glanced the floor. The handcuffs, from which he had freed you, started to shake. Your back, once hunched and languid, was now rigid under his embrace. 

“No,” he muttered. He separated and took your face between his hands. “Look at me.” you ignored him and focused on the man behind him. Gideon’s brow furrowed, his cockiness slowly fading away —the air in his lungs too. "Cyar’ika.” the whisper came out as a plead. His helmet blocked your vision now, his gloved thumbs slid over your cheeks. You blinked the lashes that framed your eyes. They would’ve looked innocent on anyone else. “Don’t. He can’t hurt you no more.” his voice was gentle and reassuring. You believed him. 

He wouldn't hurt you, but he could –and would– hurt Din if given the chance. 

That terrified you, and it was something you couldn't forgive or forget.

Din was waiting for an answer, so you gave him one, “Alright.” Moff Gideon would just have to wait.

You both stared at each other for a moment. You hoped your answer was convincing enough to buy Din's calm. It did, cause he dropped the subject and moved into another, seconds later, “Can you walk?” he asked.

You placed your palm on the floor and held Din's with your other hand. Your legs responded –slowly but steady, you got on your feet.

The Mandalorian held you by the waist, watching with caution until he was sure you could stand by yourself, "We have to go to the bridge" he announced. His voice was low enough to maintain what he was saying between you. “Moff Gideon will go to the front, I’ll stay behind, you can follow me.” you couldn’t tell if it was a proposition or an order. 

“It’s ok. You said it yourself, he can’t hurt me.” Din tittered and shook his head.

“It’s not you who I’m worried about”.

(,,,)

You’d felt at ease once you met the familiar faces that had come to your rescue. Cara didn’t hesitate to hug you when she saw you, while Fennec limited herself to a comradely nod from afar.

Koska and Bo-Katan had been a completely different story. They didn’t take it lightly when they saw Din in possession of the Darksaber. You glanced at Moff Gideon, his victorious grin made much sense then —he knew of the traditions and what gave power to the saber. He also appreciated how Bo-Katan was as obsessed as him with it —purposely sinking his finger in her wounded pride. 

Although Din had yielded, his peace offering was unwelcomed, as well as his intentions to give her the saber. The last thing you needed was internal conflicts, but you were willing to fight anyone if you had to protect the person you'd care about the most.

The rising tension was —luckily or not— shut down by the alarms going off and then Fennec reporting a breach in the ray shields of the ship.

Moff Gideon, with a disgusting proudness in his voice, announced the dark troopers.

Lines formed between your eyebrows, "Dark troopers?"

Fennec took care of your confusion. "Problems." Her answer was vague, but you could deduce from it, at least, the essential: you'd have to fight against them —inhuman killing machines that doubled your size. The chances of winning were minimal, but you couldn't have gotten this far only to surrender.

You approached the screens and took a seat in front of them. The dark troopers kept coming. Din had trouble fighting with one earlier, and now you were six against too many. Five if they didn't count you. You were still weak, no powers, no Force —you were utterly useless.

Someone softly squeezed your shoulder. You looked up and your eyes met with beskar. "I'm gonna get you out of here." He could try. His words had always given you security. You assumed it was your damaged spirit that doubted them for the first time.

You fixed your eyes on the screen again, Din went to the front among the others. The dark troopers marched towards the bridge. They were getting closer and closer and all you could do was prepare yourself and wait.

"Seal the blast doors!" Fennec commanded Koska.

You looked at the cameras.

They were there.

The two dark troopers in the front started pounding on the door. The material they were made of was resistant, but not indestructible. It was only a matter of minutes before they could get through it.

"You have an impressive fireteam protecting you," Moff Gideon spoke. His voice exuberated confidence. He appreciated his upper hand in the situation and wasn't shy about it. "But I think we all know after a valuable stand, everyone in this room will be dead, but me and the girl."

Din didn't turn to look at you. Gideon's statement probably sent him the same eerie sensation as it did to you.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. The thought of him speaking so lightly of your friends' death almost made you puke.

If only you could've hurt him. You had the will, but not the power.

The alarm went off a second time. All of you looked at your right, throughout the windows: A ship flew past the cruiser. Closer monitoring allowed you to identify it as a lone X-wing fighter. Just one. Cara whispered something about being saved, her voice dripping with sarcasm. 

"Incoming craft, identify yourself." Bo-Katan solicited. Radio silence.

The dark troopers outside stopped pounding at the door. You looked at the cameras outside the bridge. They made a half-way turn on their place and armed themselves. 

Everyone was too baffled to be relieved about it. Everyone but you.

Your eyes were glued to the screen. The hooded figure that disembarked was just a visual confirmation of what you had sensed as soon as the craft had landed in the docking bay. 

There was no more such thing as uneasiness. The air felt lighter —in it, an invisible string pulling you towards the unknown subject.

No. Not unknown. You knew what and who it was —long before he'd displayed his lightsaber. You knew why he was here, as well as his intentions. You just didn't want to acknowledge the consequences of his presence —and what it meant for you. 

You turned around and searched for the Mandalorian, only to find Moff Gideon on his feet and pointing a blaster at Bo Katan.

He fired at her, four or five times, you didn't exactly count —it was enough to knock her out of the way.

There was nothing between you and him now. Whereas he'd expressed before the possibilities of keeping you alive for further studies about the Force, it wasn't a viable option anymore. He would rather kill you than let the Jedi get his hands on you.

You had no way to defend yourself. So you looked at him in the eyes and held your breath, resigned, once again, to a destiny written by foreign hands. 

You waited for the shots but they never came. Instead, the air was knocked out of your chest as you were thrown to the floor by someone. You winced at the harsh contact. At least you didn't have a hole in your body. You had closed your eyes by instinct, blinking felt such a waste of energy by then.

You focused on Din's helmet while he frantically inspected your body for any wounds.

"Are you ok?" he asked.

No, you were not. You were numb, expressionless, stunned, motionless. You felt your throat closing up. To speak would mean abandoning the shelter of your conscious, where you still believed to have more time with him. 

But you didn’t, and Din needed to be aware of this.

Tears welled up in your eyes before you whispered, “It’s time.” 

His posture stiffened above you. Though it was never a serious conversation, he’d recalled both of you touching the subject very on the surface. Always in a light, joking manner. “Oh, what will you do when I’m gone?” you’d ask. Din would follow with a snicker and tease you for the sake of your dynamic. “Get a good night of rest.” Truth be told, you could’ve never fathom to properly rest far from each other.

You wished, or rather begged with your eyes, for him to say something, anything —but he chose silence. Was his nightmare the same as yours? Or had he come to accept, long before you did, your true path? 

He took you gently by the hands and helped you get up. He guided you to the front, slow and steady. 

“Open the door,” the bridge was noiseless. No answer whatsoever to his request. Din insisted, “I said, open the door.”

Fennec raised an eyebrow, aiming at the entrance. “Are you crazy?” all the dark troopers were destroyed, but you couldn’t blame the group for their wariness. It had been a long day, a long journey, too many enemies in your path to trust so easily the person waiting on the other side.

You walked past by Gideon, who laid unconscious on the floor. His attempt to kill you felt so far away in time. Now, you faced something worse and more dreadful than death itself. 

Din ignored the verbal protests and pressed the button himself. The blast doors opened. The green glow of the lightsaber was visible before his body. Everyone waited as he entered the bridge. The sick, anxious feeling in your gut only increased when he withdrew his lightsaber. The memories of your time on the seeing stone came back altogether. You recalled his face, he was in your dream, he was the one who had reached out and —oh, you wished you could retract your cry for help.

“Are you a Jedi?” Din found the courage to ask. 

Yes, he is. You knew his identity before he could tell you so. Luke Skywalker.

“I am,” he confirmed and then looked at you. He reached out a hand, you squeezed Din’s. “Come, please.” you trusted this stranger as if you had known him all your life. The Jedi wasn’t the problem, it was the man standing next to you. 

“She doesn’t want to go with you.” Din’s authoritative tone and firm stand made it clear that he shared the same wishes as you. 

But Luke knew better than to give in to the whims of your hearts. If only they were reason enough to rebel against him, “She is strong with the Force. But talent without training is nothing. I will give my life to protect her, but she will not be safe until she masters her abilities.” 

Your fingers lingered over Din’s as you broke the grip on his hand and took a step forward. For a moment, you considered the option of leaving everything behind without looking back. To spare the pain of goodbye seemed the happiest ending you could get. 

Then you remembered how uncertain and unpleasant the future could be. Very few souls in the galaxy could survive regret, an ‘I should’ve’ was more gut-wrenching than any blast to your chest.

So you turned around and face him one more time. You offered a tremulous smile, drops wet the corner of your lips. 

He, as always, tried to offer some peace of mind you couldn’t find by yourself. “I’ll see you again. I promise.” you hated the bleakness that tainted his voice. Still, you found yourself wordless, nodding at his words. 

You extended your hand, the tip of your fingers brushed his helmet. It was cold, lifeless, so much different from what was inside of it and who you had learned to know. Din’s hand went up and reached for yours, for a moment you thought he’d push it away. Instead, he put it on the helmet and slowly removed it. 

What in the past was deemed unlikely, was now a solid dream.

You lingered on the coffee eyes that studied yours, on the small crease between them above the line of his bold nose. His hair —you wanted to jump in his arms and run your fingers through that hair. Your eyes wandered over his mouth, following its curve and pout, as if he was just about to speak. You wanted to crush your mouth against his lips. 

So you did.

Time stopped in a collision of senses when your lips met his. Your heart pounded in your chest as your knees got weaker. You could only focus on how soft he felt against your mouth, in how addictively he invaded your senses. 

There was raw emotion in the way his fingers closed behind your neck, in how he squeezed you against his body. With your eyes closed, you weren’t sure if your mind had tricked you into a perfect present. 

But then you opened them again and he was there. Closer than ever. 

“We will meet again.” your voice quavered in a whisper. You threw your head back just to take a full picture of his handsome face. Tears fell over his cheeks, you brushed them away with your thumbs. “Someday, somewhere, we’ll get to be together.” you lowered a hand and placed it on his chest. “Until then, keep me here, ok?” 

This time, Din draped both of his arms around your frame and met your lips halfway. It was short, intense, and everything that needed to be said was said with it, “I’ll wait for you as long as I have to, ner runi”. 

You stole him one last kiss before you let him go. 

There was nothing said between you and Luke as you left the bridge side by side. More tears cascaded through your face the further you walked away. You knew this was the way it should be, but never would it hurt so bad. The Mandalorian was supposed to be only an eventuality and ended up being half of your heart. 

You reached the elevator and turned around. It took a massive amount of bravery to look at a loved one in the eyes as you parted ways, so you gathered every cell full of courage in your body and looked at Din. 

You were still crying, so was he. But you had made peace with the past, the present, and the future — both of you knew, one way or another, you were destined to each other, whatever the odds you’d have to face. 

The elevator doors were closing. Your smile grew wider and wider as you realized, not too late, just in time, “I love you, Din Djarin.” he didn’t have to say it back for you to know he felt it too. 

You had promised to find him as soon as you could and you intended to keep your word.

[saphirered]

The Lovers

Spoilers for Campaign 2 Ep141

Man oh man oh man. I've had this one written since the day after the last episode but I've been soooooo hesitant to post it at all 🙈. Anyway... I'm just gonna regardless because it's just sitting there staring at me to either delete or post it 🤭. I hope you enjoy because I'm still so conflicted about his piece of writing 😅. Unless people actually like it I might just end up deleting it after all.

---

Jester had asked you to come along on another journey of the Nein Heroez. She needed your expertise for something but couldn’t get across what for within the twenty-five word limit. Regardless, the opportunity to see and travel with your friends is not one you’re just going to pass on so of course you happily made your way to Nicodranas. Maybe the ocean would do you some good. It’s been a while after all.

In the first few days of your journey Jester had been keeping a close eye on you, watching your responses and reactions. Specifically your reactions to any and all interactions with a certain lavender tiefling. When she was certain your responses to the tiefling in question were not in any way negative and cordial if not friendly you found yourself being paired with him more often than not. Watch, hoisting the sails or dropping them, food shifts and even at the helm a few times.

You caught an argument between Fjord and Jester a few weeks later. Fjord was defending you and telling Jester she couldn’t just play matchmaker after everything that had happened between the previous inhabiter of Kingsley’s body and you and how it might still be a painful subject of not once but twice being faced with someone that’s not the person you loved and lost.

Jester seeing reason in Fjord’s arguments put aside the love story she’d been trying to unfold with you and the poor tiefling as her main characters. The shifts you shared with Kingsley came to a close and would be no more often than any shifts shared with anyone else on the crew.

One day the Nein Heroez made port to stock up on some supplies after being hit by a storm and running short on food. The crew was given some downtime to enjoy the many pleasures port has to offer but you decided to stay back at the ship. You asked Jester for the cards.

You’re sitting crosslegged on the docks watching the sunset as the crew leaves in groups bidding you goodbye while they go. Once the majority of them have left you take out the cards and begin laying them in certain patterns starting with simple ‘yes/no’s onto the past present future and more complicated readings. You’re not paying attention to any particular results but instead study the drawings fondly.

“You’d call me a sentimental fool.” You snicker as the fool card is revealed in front of you.

“Sentimental? Yes. A fool? I’ve yet to decide.” You turn around at the familiar voice seeing the tails of the black sleeveless coat you’ve grown accustomed to seeing around. You pick up the cards and put them back in their order stacking them.

“Oh really? You’d think a few weeks of being not so inconspicuously paired together on any task possible would give you enough time to form an opinion on that?” You tease beginning a new read.

“Maybe that makes me the fool then.” You can almost hear the smirk in his words.

“Care to find out?” You put down card by card face down. You know how to push for certain results. A trick you’d picked up from your former lover. It feels right to use it against him in a strange twisted way like this. Not really him but close enough.

Kingsley sits down to the side, not trusting you to not push him off the docks if he were to make an offensive (in jest of course) remark. Gathering the cards back up you start over. Time for a bit of fun. You push for the first card setting it down face up in front of him.

“The owl and the bear. Some might say the most deadly combination when put together. Be watchful of the owl’s words or you might find yourself at the ends of the bear’s claws.”

“So it was a good idea to sit on this side and avoid meeting my waterlogged demise.”

“Are you doubting my capabilities, Kingsley?” You smirk and watch the tiefling gulp. You move on to the next card making a show of pulling it from the deck and displaying it.

“Look at that! What did I say. The fool has appeared. The cards have spoken. my fool.” You take a bow as if addressing the most pretentious royalty around limited only by your crosslegged position on the docks. Kingsley can’t help but let out a chuckle at your theatrics.

“The cards have spoken indeed! A fool I must be.” He plays along. You begin picking up the two cards and restack the deck.

“Hey hey hey, isn’t there supposed to be three cards for this one? Not two?” You stop. He’s not wrong technically. You raise an eyebrow at him, fan out the cards and allow him to pull one from the deck as per the variant of this reading, putting the fate in the hands of the drawer. Not really of course. Usually you’d still be able to push for a card for them to draw but for this one you’d leave it up to the divines. You’ve had your fun.

And fun it was until Kingsley kept the card for himself, studying it closely. You were curious to see which one he pulled but you hadn’t exactly paid attention to that like you’d otherwise done. You wait for him to either give it back or tell you what it is but he takes a long time.

“So what is it?” You ask, your curiosity getting the better of you. It still takes a good few seconds before he lowers the card so you can see it too.

“Oh.” Is all you manage to vocalise upon seeing the card. The Lovers. The familiar drawing of a lavender tiefling looking at another figure arm outstretched and love in their eyes. The image of the tiefling reaches for the outstretched hand of the other figure; your figure. You’re staring back at your own face and the expression Mollymauk had claimed to have plenty of visual references for to know he could properly draw you but would always ask for one more just to remind him.

“I’m so sorry.” Kingsley hands the card back to you and you keep staring at it. He stays for a little bit to make sure you’re alright as you’re hit with a whirlwind of emotions. Once he’s sure you’re alright he begins to get up.

“I’ll leave you to the rest of your evening. Someone’s gotta make sure these fools drink just enough and start a brawl or two.” You snap out of it putting the card back into the deck.

“Kingsley. It’s alright. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” The whirlwind subsides and you return back to a peaceful state of mind. You offer the tiefling a kind smile and he halts himself sitting back down still somewhat tense. He opens his mouth to say something but is quick to close it again. There’s a moment of silence between the two of you as you shuffle the cards absentmindedly. You catch onto the conflict and hesitation in Kingsley’s features.

“If there’s something you wish to say please do say it.”

“When you said you loved him… I think it never registered it was anything other than the love the others held for him. Strongly yes but I always assumed it was akin to Yasha’s. Why didn’t you say anything?” Kingsley states piecing things together watching you closely.

“It’s not a burden for you to bear.” You pull the Lovers card back up to the top and study it closely.

“I might not know much but I don’t think being faced with your dead lover’s body inhabited by someone not him doesn’t bother anyone. That’s just cruel.”

“It doesn’t bother me. Not anymore. I’ve grieved Molly when he died. I grieved him again when Lucien returned. I’ve gone through it all and accepted he’s not coming back and that’s okay. Everything comes to an end at some point. I don’t think it’s cruelty. I think everything is as it should be.” You speak honestly stroking your thumb over the card.

“I have so many questions.” Kingsley states. You get it. He woke up one day, recovering from death not knowing who he is or was before that moment beyond emotions and flashes of a past that didn’t feel like his. That’s exactly why you wanted to spare him another previous relation to figure out. Yes it might make things slightly more difficult for you but that’s not his fault. That’s no one’s fault.

“And I believe Beau gave you her notebook so you can read back about your predecessors. But you’re not ready for that yet, are you? That’s okay. Don’t read it until you feel ready.” Kingsley’s head shoots up to look at you. Why do you understand him? Maybe you’re wiser than he gives you credit for but he thinks you’re already pretty wise.

“Expectations. Everyone expected something of me but I didn’t live up to it. I’m not who he used to be and that disappoints people. But from you, you never expected anything from me. Why?” He’s piecing it together bit by bit. You never slipped up. Never asked him to put on a coat that wasn’t his or asked him if he remembered something. You never even asked him if he recalled anything about you or sought to involve yourself in his life without his permission.

“It’s unfair to expect someone to be or become someone they’re not and never will be. You get to be your own person free of the constraints of the past.” The answer is simple. There’s no deceit or doubt. No hidden message or intent behind it.

“How is it you of all people can say that without pain or regret or wishing it were different?” You turn the card back around and put it back in the deck in its place and put the cards away. You take a second before answering trying to formulate a proper answer as Kingsley waits studying every micro expression.

“Bear with me for this one.” You start and he nods. “Lucien was born lonely forced to fend for himself and make friends out of the need to survive. Molly rose from a grave alone and scared. He was taken in by friends but he had to find a home his home with them. He found that home and got kindness and love. You awoke surrounded by friends, no family you didn’t even know but would still love you regardless. No matter what, you’d always have a home with them. You’d be neither alone nor lonely unless you choose to be.” You explain and take breath before you continue.

“You plant random seeds in the ground it’s very unlikely you’re going to receive the same flower twice. The only similarity they have is that they are seeds and will grow as long as they have the right foundations to do so. When I look upon you I see Kingsley Tealeaf, a man that became a sailor after we brought him back from the Astral Sea. There may be similarities, your roots may even be the same but you are not the same. You are separate.”

Kingsley takes in your words very carefully with a sense of understanding and something with in him he couldn't quite pinpoint until now. Acceptance and content. Whatever might have been holding him back before, he’ll have to come to terms with that. That’s the past and if the past comes searching for him one day, so be it. Until then, Kingsley Tealeaf has a life of his own to live and to enjoy. Enjoy all life has to offer, to its fullest and don’t hold back.

Let the sailor become captain of his own ship knowing he has a home and a family that will welcome him with open arms to return to. Let the eight be nine despite the expectations of others. Be free and be happy. Live content.

[y0itsbri]

gallavich week 2021 - day 2 - fantasy au w/ inspo from this wonderful prompt list by @ianandmickeygallavich // @gallavichthings

You're Not Getting Cold Fins Now, Are Ya?

word count: 6.3k

(click on art for better quality)

Mickey truly enjoyed being a fisherman. He liked the solitude that came with the job -- no one on his ass trying to tell him what to do or that what he's doing was wrong when it definitely wasn't. He was always a resourceful little bastard, and his confidence at sea was not unwarranted. He knew how to do shit, and how to do shit right -- crewmates be damned. Nothing but him and the water, just the way he liked it.

He often sold his fish at the market in the small coastal town where he and his sister, Mandy, reside. Her charisma luring customers to their stand, promising the best of the best -- and it wasn't even a lie anymore. Lately, Mickey's produce was the freshest and somehow the most beautiful, catching somewhat exotic fish with vibrant colors that none of the other fishermen were able to attract. Mandy had once trapped him in the corner, demanding answers to questions like how on earth he alone could come up with all this? She thought he was secretly a pirate, raiding other ships, stealing their best, and dumping the rest -- you can't fucking afford to go to jail again, dumbass! Time after time, he reassured her that it was just dumb fucking luck until she caved and let him go, not withholding a dubious glare. Despite what he told her, and even told himself, he was a bit suspicious. He was not a lucky man.

With an ungraceful leap, he had heaved himself out of his boat, the water well deeper than his knees, but his overalls keeping him as dry as he could be. His beef jerky strip hanged out of his mouth as he marveled towards the tree line in front of him. If he didn't feel so damn calm, he might have been a bit frightened at his new surrounding -- but it felt right. He also felt like he was being watched. His eyes scanned past the trees and over to the rocky ledge where water was splashing high and mighty, creating a silvery mist. He saw a patch of orange-ish red shimmering against the water. It was surely too shallow for any fish or octopus that size to be this close to shore. He turned around to make sure he boat was firmly anchored this time before he ventured over to the rocks. But as soon as he turned around again, the orange thing had disappeared. Huh.

With an ungraceful leap, he had heaved himself out of his boat, the water well deeper than his knees, but his overalls keeping him as dry as he could be. His beef jerky strip hanged out of his mouth as he marveled towards the tree line in front of him. If he didn't feel so damn calm, he might have been a bit frightened at his new surrounding -- but it felt right. He also felt like he was being watched. His eyes scanned past the trees and over to the rocky ledge where water was splashing high and mighty, creating a silvery mist. He saw a patch of orange-ish red shimmering against the water. It was surely too shallow for any fish or octopus that size to be this close to shore. He turned around to make sure he boat was firmly anchored this time before he ventured over to the rocks. But as soon as he turned around again, the orange thing had disappeared. Huh.

Mickey sat himself in the sand, reveling in the feeling of being on land again. As often as he flipped between land and sea, the difference never failed to startle him. He dragged his hands through the sand, feeling like some fancy exfoliator Mandy was always trying to get him to use. He was adamantly watching the colorful rocks bead through his fingertips. A larger stone caught in his palm. He held it up to the sun where it was peeking out from behind the clouds. At first glance, it looked like any other stone -- kind of a boring sea foam color, but in the sun, it sparkled like green embers. He rested the stone atop his knee and turned his attention to a bird squawking from the rocks. Noisy fucker. He furrowed his eyebrows wondering what could have happened for the bird to cause such a fuss. Stuck in his tangle of thoughts and oblivious to the world, a wave swept over him -- even above his overalls.

Mickey leapt up in surprise, "Motherfuck-!" In all his joust movements, he managed his lose the stone... and his dignity. He didn't have a spare change of clothes on his boat because it was supposed to be a short trip. He didn't plan on falling asleep and ending up on an island god-knows-where. So there he sat, pouting, in just his boxers and hat while he let the remainder of his clothes air dry with what little sun there was. He could've sworn he heard someone laughing at him -- giggling, even. He glared towards the squawking bird before determining it was his own paranoia. Mandy had him do all that therapy shit awhile back, so he knows how he can get sometimes and how it's a 'trauma response' or some bullshit that actually made a hell of a lot of sense now that he thought about it.

He pulled out an orange from the front pocket of his overalls, still half damp in the sand. He nibbled on it, tossing his peels as far into the tide as he could, watching it float... float... disappear. Whatever creature was down there must really fuckin' like oranges. It was quick, but exciting none-the-less. Mickey no longer felt sluggish like his impromptu nap that landed him on this island might have suggested. He felt alive.

The sun placement told him that it was time to head back if he had any chance of making it back to the coast before sundown. Fuck! His fish! He picked up his clothes and half-jogged half-stumbled back to his boat, expecting the fish he had caught earlier in the day to have gotten tainted by now. He shoved his legs into his mostly-dry overalls and waded out to his boat. To his surprise, the fish looked good -- almost better than when he caught them.

Now Mickey may not be the most observant, but even he knew something was a little suspicious (something a little fishy is going on here🤔). If he didn't know then, he definitely knew when he turned to see the green ember stone -- his stone -- resting on top of his ice box. The fuck? He picked up the stone, smoothing over it's edges with his thumb, leaving a sparkling trail where his fingers had just touched. So it wasn't just from the sunlight, interesting. He secured the rock inside the zipper pocket on his overalls, then double checking to make sure it was still there. Whatever force on his side might be into second chances, but he didn't want to test his new luck with third chances.

He really had to get going now. He gave the island a once over as he pulled out his map, subtly marking his new uncharted oasis. This was something else.

--

Since his initial discovery, Mickey had come back to the island several times, and all the more prepared. He kept spare clothes on him at all times now, in case the tide one again decided to have a personal vendetta against him and his overalls -- which of course it had. He also brought more beef jerky, tools, and a tent. He was determined to see more than just the coast the next time he returned.

He had told Mandy that he was going to stop at another port for the night so as not to wait up for him that evening, which wasn't unheard of. With the amount of overnight stays on his isolated island as of lately, however, Mandy thought he had a secret lover a few ports over, teasing and making kissy faces at him whenever she could. "Who is she, Mick? Oh, c'mon, I tell you about my hookups!" "Yeah, and I wish you fuckin' didn't." "Whatever, anyways, she's gotta have a name. Wait! Oh my god! He? Is it a guy? Mickey!" "Mandy, no." She could be annoying as hell when she wanted to, but she mostly knew when to stop.

As much as Mickey denied a secret lover, there was definitely a secret something, but he couldn't place his finger on exactly what it was. He knew there was like the red-ish, orange-ish glow that flickered beneath the surface of the water. And he knew there was feelings. Which sounded weird as hell -- even to himself. He should have just played along with Mandy's hookup in another port theory. Hell, he should find a hookup in another port. That would be a lot simpler than whatever this was. But he just couldn't get himself to stay away from this mystical island. His fish business was doing better than ever, so he had no real excuse to stay away.

He had managed to map out the geography and topography of the island after a few visits -- Mickey knew his shit. No one lived on this island. It looked like no one has ever lived on this island. It was a small, and it was beautiful, but he still couldn't find the source of whatever force drew him here -- at least when he was actively searching for it. He continued throwing his orange peels in the ocean to be devoured by his... friend? He tried to throw his apple cores in, but his creature was apparently not a fan. He didn't blame them, to be honest.

He began to talk to himself and even sing to himself more and more on the island. He thought he may have heard the laughter again, and even some off-key humming or whistles along to his tunes. Mickey didn't even care if it was the paranoia or if he was having some odd hallucination at this point. He just felt entirely too good.

--

Which is why he didn't see it coming. If he hadn't been so distracted by this siren-like callings, he would have noticed the storm coming. He was Mickey fucking Milkovich, damnit. He knew his shit! Which is why he knew that he could secure the boat as best as humanly possible, and it still wouldn't survive the storm surge unscathed. He hoped that whatever force looking out for him would look out for his boat. He said a quick prayer -- and he wasn't religious by any means -- as he double checked to make sure he had his 'lucky' stone, his backpack, and his map, then hiked inland where he knew there was a cave for shelter.

He had escaped the start of the downpour, but only barely. The dark clouds loomed overhead, chasing out any hopes of a light, easy rain. Mickey huddled against the inner wall of the cave, nibbling at one of his jerky strips, and cursing the lack of cell phone signal on this fucking island that doesn't even fucking exist according to any map he's ever fucking seen. To say he was having a bad day was an understatement. He couldn't do much but wait, and he quickly fell asleep to the pitter patter of the water dripping outside the cave.

He awoke to a sharp burning on his chest. The fuck?! His so-called 'lucky' stone was hot. And glowing. And so was most of the other rocks in the cave. Now this was definitely something. The stones obviously did not want him to stay still as they grew hotter and glowed brighter, but this time alternating and lighting up a path down a miniscule stream he hadn't noticed before. The storm had long stopped, and he hoped these bewitched stones would at least lead him to the shore so he can check on whatever remains of his boat.

Mickey followed the path to the shore, luckily, but more towards the rocks that he noticed on his first visit. He hardly saw the rocks now as he was drawn to a heap of familiar orange-ish red-ish laid up on shore. He fully expected it to disappear again so he refused to even blink, inching closer. It was alive -- for sure -- that was good, but it was battered from the storm. It looked scaley... but also had hair? It grunted and rolled over. Yup. That was a man. But also a fish.

Mickey thought his hallucination were playing entirely too many games on him now but he physically could not bring himself to turn away, as much as he swore he wanted to. He wanted out. He was insane. That was the only explanation, because obviously mermaids weren't real. He was sleeping, he had to be. He would wake up in his bed next door to Mandy's and all of this would go away. Hell, maybe the whole island was in his dreams. Maybe he was trapped in a very realistic coma. He looked around for something to wake him the fuck up when he heard the creature groan again.

Fuuuuuck, now Mickey was involved. The tide had pulled back far enough that left the creature stranded on the land. The stone grew hotter yet against his chest. "Alright, alright, I fuckin' got it, thank you," he grumbled. The creature turned it's startled head towards his. They locked eyes -- green embers. Of course.

"It's you, isn't it? All this time?" Mickey asked as the creature weakly tried to hide his face. Mickey didn't know why. It was a beautiful face, somehow covered in freckles that sparkled.

"Nah, man, it's cool, right? We've been having fun, eating oranges and shit?"

The creature unburied its head and quietly whistled one of Mickey's favorite songs, earning a chuckle out of Mickey as he awkwardly lifted the half-man half-fish in some semblance of a firefighter carry. Mickey expected the creature to be slick and cold, but he was soft and warm. Odd, but not unpleasant. They were almost to the water now.

"Yeah, Rain on Me by Ariana Grande and Lady Gaga. Fuckin' banger. Don't tell my fuckin' sister about this. She'd never let me live this down."

The red-headed creature tilted its head in confusion.

"Lady Gaga? Ya know, Mother Monster?"

He seemed to startle at the word 'monster' as he wiggled, escaping Mickey's grip into the water, disappearing into the dark sea. Frowning, in a last attempt at communication.

Mickey wasn't having it. Nah. The creature had been luring him for weeks. Hanging out with him for weeks. Even called out to him with some fuckin' moon stone type things. And now it wanted to disappear? He didn't fucking get it. He kept talking to himself as he paced along the shore.

"You're not getting cold fins now, are you?" Mickey teased, "Wait, fuck, is that offensive? Fuck, I'm sorry, please just come back."

He was acting fucking pathetic. He buried his face in his hands. Fuck. His brain was fucked. His life was fucked. His boat was fucked. His boat.

Mickey nearly tripped as he stumbled back to his boat. Or more like where he docked his boat. All that remained was his anchor. The rest had been mangled and scattered along the shore. He could probably get it fixed eventually since he had the little foresight to keep his tools safe in his backpack. But until then, he was stuck on an island, that apparently didn't exist, with a companion, who apparently didn't want to be perceived, and a dwindling supply of beef jerky. Great.

--

It had been a depressing night. Without Mandy's overenthusiastic presence or his new friend's feel-good aura, Mickey was especially pessimistic. He hardly got any sleep, his brain racking all the ways he could possibly fix his boat. Mickey Milkovich knew his shit, but he was beginning to feel a little doomed. He took out his 'unlucky' stone from it's secure pocket, fidgeting with it like he does when he's nervous. The thing was cold (one could say it was stone cold😎).

Feeling hopeless, he stormed back to the shore, tossing his last orange into the water, intent on yelling at the water until he died a peaceful death.

"C'mon, man," his voice came out sounding more like pleading than yelling, but what can you do? "I don't give a fuck if you're a man or a fish. I need you to help me fix my fucking boat! You got me into this mess, you get me out of it!"

He collapsed in the moonlight. He was absolutely not on the verge of crying. He was focusing on his breathing so intently that he barely heard his voice.

Holy fuck, though. He finally got why the legends always referred to mermaids as sirens. He would follow this voice anywhere. It was as disturbing as it was comforting.

Mickey was knocked out of his trance as his previously-tossed orange rolled to a stop at his feet.

"I said, I'm sorry." The siren's red hair poked out of the ocean several feet in front of him. Mickey continued to stare. How the fuck did this motherfucker's freckles glow brighter than the stars in the sky above them?

"I never meant to cause you harm. Swear. I even brought you the best fish I could find. My family lectured me about cannibalism or some shit, but I just wanted any excuse to see you again."

Mickey stared in awe. The creature's voice ringing through his ears prettier than any choir he had ever heard. He had got to get himself together. He was supposed to be mad. Right!

"What about my fuckin' boat? You realize I actually have to leave this place eventually, right, Red?" Maybe Mickey was being a bit harsh considering he was basically in the middle of some magical doomsday. But he was still ridiculously frustrated at his current situation.

"Hmm," the creature considered, "my name is Ian." Ian. Ian. Ian. The name chimed through his head. "And I was thinking about your boat. I tried to save it before it was too late, but I ended up too close to the shore, and the tide was ridiculous, and hence I got stranded and we got off to the wrong... fin." Ian gave Mickey a dumbass smirk, clearly proud of himself.

Okay, it did ease the tension, Mickey would give him that. Mickey was silent for a bit too long again.

"And what is your name?" Ian mused, "I've got to stop calling you That-One-Hot-Fisherman in my head."

Mickey nearly choked, and tried to cover it up by rubbing his hand against his lips, "Mikhailo." He had no idea why he was compelled to share his real name. He hadn't used that name in years -- only liking it from the sound of his mother's mouth. He corrected himself, "Well, it's Mickey. That's what I go by."

"Okay, well, Mickey Mikhailo, shall we get started on rebuilding your boat now or do you want to wait until morning?" Ian looked both devious and sincere. It was maddeningly confusing.

If Mickey swooned at the way a fucking fish said his name, that was nobody's business. But he couldn't deny he was exhausted. His stone was warm against his chest, comfortingly so, not hot like before. He managed to mumbled out a "in the morning" before falling into the peaceful sleep he had been so desperately craving.

--

Mickey awoke to sunshine in his face and a bird pecking at his thigh -- the pocket where his final jerky stick remained.

"Fuck off you fucking fuck!" He shooed haphazardly while rubbing fucking literal sand out of his eyes. God, what a nightmare.

"I see someone's not a morning person," teased an orange blob from the water. Mickey rubbed his eyes again. Right. Ian.

"Fuck off, fish genius over there."

"That's not any way to treat your only chance of getting off the island anytime soon," Ian pouted.

Fish genius had a point.

"Sorry," Mickey grumbled. He was never one for apologies, but man did he need to stay on this creature's good side. But, he was all good sides as far as Mickey was concerned. In the daylight, he could see how Ian's orange hair curled into little rings when it air dried. It looked real fuckin' soft. He couldn't remember if he had the chance to touch it yesterday on their fucking rescue mission. He needed to distract himself before he said something he regretted. He was not about to be flirting with a fish. He wasn't!

"Ya got any more oranges you can toss my way? Fuckin' starving."

Ian pointed at the one sandy orange a few feet from where Mickey had slept, "Just yours that you tried to hit me with, thank you very much."

"You like the peels, though." Mickey said as he tossed a piece into the ocean, floating several yards away from where Ian's head bobbed out of the water.

That took Ian aback, "Damn, I thought I was slicker than that."

"Not that slick, man."

"Hmm." Ian briefly considered before speeding over to the peel and devouring it quickly, "I can get you some sea food -- as your people say."

"Ain't that basically illegal for you, Red? Ain't you technically sea food?" Mickey musing, tossing another piece of his orange peel into the water.

Ian rolled his eyes. "I-an." He sounded it out slowly. "But I mean, circle of life and all that." He chased the orange peel, twisting it in his fingertips, awaiting Mickey's response.

"Nah, it's cool, don't worry about it, I-an. I don't really want any part in your whole fucked up moral dilemma situation. Got enough of those myself."

Mickey avoided Ian's attempt at eye contact, and Ian didn't push the conversation any further. He seemed tentative again. Mickey didn't want to lose him again.

"So... boat stuff?" Mickey huffed as he stood up, turning to his mangled beauty.

"Yeah," Ian did that dumbass smirk again that had Mickey fucking blushing, "Boat stuff."

--

Ian explained that he had spent most of the night gathering the parts that he could find in the water, and even some special mud and sea weed looking things that he promised would hold it together if Mickey's tools couldn't. Mickey took offense to the lack of faith Ian had in his skills, but he eventually agreed that it was at least somewhat warranted given their current predicament.

Mickey spent the morning gathering boat parts from land, and by midday, he felt hopeful. It was a 'finding treasure in the trash' kind of moment, but it was enough for now.

Ian and Mickey had fell into idle conversations as Mickey worked to restore his boat and Ian gazed onward, bobbing in the waves.

"So, you have a sister named Mandy?" Ian asked after a slice of silent had washed over them.

"What, are you a psychic, too?" Mickey laughed nervously under his breath.

Ian rolled his eyes like that was the stupidest thing he's ever heard. "No, smartass, I'm a good listener." He paused. "You talk about her a lot."

"Wasn't sure if you were real or if I was crazy." Was all Mickey managed to respond. Ian was really more of the conversation carrier and neither of them seemed to mind.

"Do you have any other family or friends?" Ian wondered, this time genuinely curious.

"Considering I'm talking to you right now, what do you think?"

Ian silently stared at Mickey until his watch became uncomfortable and Mickey felt the urge to continue.

"Mandy's the only one that sticks around. She actually cares about me -- fixes me dinner, drags me out to meet her friends, even makes sure I get enough sleep -- she's fuckin' crazy."

"It sounds like she loves you."

"Yeah. Dunno why."

"You're a good person, Mickey."

Mickey flashed Ian his knuckles reading 'FUCK U-UP' in faded black ink. "Yeah, I'm a real stand-up guy."

"No, I mean it." And Ian just looked so genuine that all Mickey could do was believe it for once in his goddamn life. All it took was for a fish to tell him. Yeah, that makes perfect sense.

"What's your social circle look like? Couple of dolphins, maybe a crab?"

"Maybe," Ian confessed. Shit, maybe this was some real life Little Mermaid. "But I also have five siblings."

"Y'all all got bright-ass fins? Or is that just you?" Mickey still couldn't believe this was his reality right now, but shit, might as well hear about all of Ariel's siblings.

"My little sister, Debbie, she's orange like me. My mom had a theory that our colors are reflective of like our auras or something. She was always hanging around this old-as-balls sea turtle spouting off whatever nonsense he remembered. Some of it makes sense, though. My oldest sister, Fiona, is purple. Then there's my brothers -- Lip is blue, Carl is green, and Liam is yellow."

"Mandy has black hair like me. But she has a nose piercing, and I ain't getting one of those anytime soon."

Ian smiled that Mickey was even trying to draw some sort of semblance between their drastically different worlds. But it felt so natural, Mickey couldn't help it.

Mickey felt his lucky stone grow warm, again. Ian wasn't in any trouble, though. He was literally right fuckin' here. And he was happy. Mickey was happy, too.

--

By nightfall, they had called it quits. Mickey had ended up using some of Ian's 'special' tools, earning a fair amount of teasing from Ian himself. Whatever. The red-head had been protecting him so far. He trusted him -- even if that thought was terrifying. The mud would dry in the moonlight, and Ian assured Mickey that he would be set by morning.

Mickey was fucking hungry after a long day's work. It was high tide and Ian had something different in mind.

"Now that we're talking," Ian started. "I've been wanting to show you this."

Mickey waited for further instructions.

"Follow the stones, I'll meet you there, promise."

Mickey trusted the fucker despite his innate inability to trust anyone else, so he followed the stones into the thick of the forest. He knew the island. He had mapped the thing. He didn't know what Ian could possibly want to show him that he hadn't already seen.

The path stopped glowing near the bottom of a cliff. He knew about the cliff. But what he didn't know was that the cliff was a waterfall.

"Woah."

"Pretty cool, huh? Only happens with lots of rain."

Ian had prepared them a fish dinner set on another rocky edge, like the one on the other side of the island.

"Ian. You're a fish. This ain't right."

"First of all, I'm a mammal. Second, it's fine. They tell me when they're ready to die so I have a clear conscious as far as I'm concerned."

"Dude. I knew this was fucked up, but that is fucked up."

"Dude," Ian mocked him, "We're in the middle of the fucking ocean. Do you have any better ideas, or are you just gonna be all pissy? Least you can do is eat with me."

Mickey's jerky supply was officially gone. Fish genius had another point.

Mickey wouldn't admit it to anyone, but Ian's dinner was even better than Mandy's were.

--

Morning came and Mickey found himself not wanting to leave. Of course, he knew he had to, so he would.

"So, Red, I guess this is goodbye?"

"Only for now. You'll be back." Ian winked. Mickey knew he would.

"This is stupid, but like, you can't go back with me? Like, we make a pretty good team."

Mickey was visibly uncomfortable at his moment of vulnerability, and Ian took pity on him with a gentle smile. "Unless I want to get hunted, I'm better off here. It's safer."

"Right, right." That made sense. Mickey didn't even want to think about the possibility of Ian getting hurt. There had been rumors about mermaids in the area, but he had always assumed them to be tall tales. He knew enough of the fishermen were heavy drinkers and supposed that played a factor in their truth-telling.

"My mother is on land now, but she wouldn't choose to help me. Learned that the hard way."

Mickey frowned. He knew what it was like to have a parent that would trade you for literally anything else. But he was more curious about another part of Ian's story.

"What do you mean your mom is on land? Like she was captured or something?"

"No, nothing like that. More like she's got two legs that she uses to chase whatever thrilling experience she can. Another one of her wacky theories was that her 'true love's kiss' gave her the ability to shapeshift between her land and water forms whenever she wanted."

"Huh."

"All my siblings think she's crazy. The idea was tempting enough for awhile, though. Fiona had gotten real close to this sailor named Steve. He promised her the world and she believed him. But their bond wasn't enough to shift. Fiona was sure he was her soulmate. He still comes around sometimes. And then there's Debbie, who almost got killed trying to woo some girl at the port. I think my mother is just a hopeless romantic. But hope can be dangerous sometimes."

Mickey listened on to this story that sounded more like a children's bedtime story -- all this princess nonsense about a true love's kiss made him think that maybe this red-head was Ariel. He suppressed a laugh when he saw the worried look in Ian's eyes.

"Well whatever it is, she sounds pretty lucky."

Ian smiled softly, sadly. "Yeah."

"Hey," Mickey said gently. "I'll see you around, okay?"

"Okay."

And with that, Mickey sailed his patchwork boat back to whatever wrath Mandy was about to unleash on him.

--

The door creaked as Mickey made his way into the apartment he shares with his sister. He was nearly tackled on sight.

"Mickey, what the fuck!" Mandy punched his shoulder before crushing him into another hug. "I was so worried about you, you little shit!" "Ow! Jesus, I'm alive. Would you calm your tits?!"

Mandy gave him one more punch for good measure, "Where the fuck have you been? Three days, Mikhailo Aleksandr, three days! Tell me you didn't get that bitch up at the other port pregnant. I'm not taking in anymore rug rats."

"Bad storm. Boat wreck. And ya know what," Mickey threw his hands into the air, "I wish I would have got someone pregnant. Instead, I was stranded at sea, so maybe be a little bit nicer to me?"

"Fuck." She slumped a bit, "How did you manage to get back? Did you call one of your pirate buddies?"

"Jesus Christ, Mandy. I'm not a pirate -- even though they are dope as fuck, by the way. I just so happen to have a few brain cells -- something you don't know anything about."

Mandy rolled her eyes, "Competent enough to sail straight into a storm, huh?

Mickey flipped her off, "Good to be home, sis."

Mandy smiled, "C'mon, I'll make you some real food. I'm sick just thinking about you surviving off fuckin' jerky for half a week."

-- Mickey picked up a couple shifts at Mandy's bar the next week and a half to make up for three days of lost produce and another week for the time it took to properly fix his boat. He trusted Ian's magic mud well enough, but he didn't want to push his luck.

He wore short sleeve button-ups when he was bartending. He didn't have the comfortable luxury of built in inner pockets like with his fishing overalls, so he sewed his own. He couldn't stand the idea of not having his lucky stone close to his heart.

One night while he was slinging drinks, he mind at sea, he felt the stone grow hot and hotter. Fuck! It nearly burned his skin. He took it out from its pocket tossing it back and forth between his hands. It was glowing again. He felt nauseous. This had to mean Ian was in danger, right? Like last time in the cave? He wasn't on the island. He didn't have some magic pathway leading him exactly where he needed to go. What if he didn't get there in time?

He must have looked as insane as he felt because he felt a cautious hand on his shoulder. "Mick, take a fifteen."

"Got it." Mickey headed out back. Mandy would assume he was just having a smoke. But he ran. He hoped to hell that he was on the right track. The stone glowed brighter so he took that as a good sign.

He was out of breath as he rounded the corner and ended up at the docks. The stone's glow died down and it grew cold. Something was very wrong. What the fuck?

"Ian!" He probably looked like a psychopath screaming at the sea. Maybe he wasn't far from it.

This was the dock his boat was usually parked at. He was on his way to his old spot. Maybe--

A flash of red caught his eye in the dark water. No fish that red was ever this close to shore. His stomach crumbled. Oh my God, Ian.

Mickey dropped to ground, trying to get a better look at what was wrong. Wrapped in fishing nets was Ian, his skin a sickly shade of blue that wasn't from the moonlight.

Mickey made quick work of the fishing net with his pocket knife, careful not to cut Ian's slightly cold body. Was he too late? He couldn't be too late. He was here now. Everything would be fine.

Tapping into the adrenaline coursing through his veins, Mickey heaved Ian's large body onto the dock planks. His eyes were closed, but he was breathing at least.

"Ian. Ian, look at me. You're safe now, okay?" Mickey turned around, making sure he was alone. Luckily, no one was out at the water this time of night. Mickey pulled Ian's head into his lap and brushed his fingers through Ian's hair. Fuckin' finally. It was soft. So soft. "Hey, Red, wanna hook me up with whatever conditioner you got under the sea?" He laughed at himself to keep from crying.

Ian murmured something, lips barely parting.

Mickey stopped his caresses, "What was that, Mumbles?"

"Said you're a dumbass." Ian repeated. It was quiet, but his sass rang through. He was alive alright.

"I know." Mickey smiled for real this time. He placed a gentle kiss on Ian's forehead near his hairline. Ian's eyes fluttered open as they held each others' gaze.

They were distracted when Mickey's stone glowed bright again. Probably brighter than it has ever been before. The color shifted from it's usual green ember to resemble more of an icy blue. The boys watched as it began to shake on the ground -- where Mickey had dropped it when he spotted Ian's body. The stone continued to vibrate violently until it burst. Green and blue specks of light joining the stars in the sky above them. Mickey was so entranced by the light that he didn't notice when something else began to shift.

Ian's shimmering red-orange tail was replaced by two, long, freckled legs. Ian's eyes grew wide as he hit Mickey's arm.

"The fuck you hitting me for -- holy shit."

"Maybe my mom wasn't crazy."

"Maybe not." Mickey traced Ian's new legs with his fingertips. "How do you feel? Pretty big change, champ."

"It feels right... which is weird." Ian concluded after a moment, wiggling his toes.

"You're weird, so it makes sense." Mickey nodded, like it was obvious.

Ian rolled his eyes, "Shut up."

Mickey cocked his head as his lips upturned into a smirk, "Make me."

Mickey had expected Ian to still be chilled from the water, but he wasn't. He was warm and soft. So there they stayed, tightly wrapped in each others' arms under the dancing green-blue stars and the sound of gentle waves knocking into boats.

--

It was safe to say that Mickey had entirely forgot about returning to his shift at the bar that night. They had decided to sneak Ian into Mickey's room before the fishermen got their early start on the day ay the docks. It was still dark when they slowly opened his apartment's front door, knocking into each other and trying not to laugh at their bizarre situation.

Mandy flicked on the larger kitchen light, ready to give her brother an ear-full for leaving her alone to serve the bar creeps all night when she noticed he wasn't alone. He was accompanied by a tall, gorgeous, red-headed man, who appeared to only have eyes for her brother, not even noticing her presence.

"I thought you said you didn't have any bitches?" Mandy said, hoping to burst them out of their little bubble.

Mickey mumbled a quiet fuck under his breath. And surprisingly, Ian was the first to speak up, "Uh, you must be Mandy? I'm Ian. I'm uh- just visiting town."

"Mhm, whatever you say. Mick, next time, at least tell me when you're ditching work for a booty call, yeah?" She said after an appreciative glance Ian's way, bumping Mickey's hip as she walked past them to her room down the hall.

"Oh, work. Yeah, my bad." Mickey had genuinely forgot. Something about soulmates kind of clouding his judgement.

"Pasta's on the stove -- goodnight, dumbass and company!" She called before slamming her door closed.

Ian erupted into a fistful of giggles, "So much for sneaking in, huh?"

"Whatever, do you want some pasta, or are you sticking straight to cannibalism and orange peels?" Mickey teased.

"I'll have whatever you're having, stud." Ian squeezed the back of Mickey's neck.

--

After their late night/ early morning pasta, they had curled up in Mickey's bed, facing each other in silence, their eyes saying all the words that they didn't need to say out loud. Until-

"Fuck!" Ian's abrupt comment startled Mickey, even causing a hitch in Mandy's snoring in the next room over. Softer, he continued, "Your lucky stone, Mick. It's gone." He looked sad. He wanted to fix it.

Mickey brought his hand up to Ian's cheek, brushing it softly. "I don't need it, man. I have you."

Ian covered Mickey's hand with his own, then brought their hands to his lips, kissing each of Mickey's tattooed knuckles gently, like they held the secrets of the universe. Mickey smiled.

"I am the luckiest man in the world." And he was.

[babbushka]

The Rabbi Is Coming

Flip Zimmerman x Reader (Darling Jewish Wife AU)

A/N: This oneshot is based entirely off of one of my favorite videos of all time, Company is Coming by Chris Fleming. Every time I see it, it reminds me of preparing for my own family holiday gatherings, so I’ve taken it and run with it lol. I just wanted to write something short and silly for Passover, lol, and I hope you enjoy! 

Also inspired by this prompt sent in by anonymous: From your Passover prompts, will you please do this one for Flip? It sounds just like him!“They tried to kill us. We survived. Let’s eat.”

2k, crack treated seriously lol, humor. Putting a small cw for the Zimmerman’s son, in case folks don’t like reading about kids (this is the last time he’s mentioned for a while I promise lol)

                                                ----------------------

Early in the morning, just after sunrise, Flip yawns and stretches awake. The golden light of morning shines through the curtains that gently move from the breeze of the ceiling fan, and a melody of chirping birds signal the official start of morning. Despite having to get up early for work every day, Flip isn’t much of a morning person. But something about Springtime and the warmth that’s on the way makes him appreciate getting up, even on the weekends.  

“Good morning, sunshine, light of my life – ” Flip rolls over onto his side, ready to coax you out of your sleep as well, ready to kiss you and start the day together, but when he reaches you’re your sleep-snuggled body, he finds the bed empty, and frowns.

Sitting up, he looks around the bedroom. Your side of the covers are neatly made, and Flip can only blink, his frown deepening. He clears his throat, raspy from disuse overnight, “(Y/N)?”

It isn’t until he hears the vacuum cleaner going downstairs, followed by a frustrated groan echoing through the house, that he remembers just what day it is, and falls back onto his pillow with a wince, lighting up a cigarette and scrubbing a hand over his face with a low,

“…Oh shit.”

He checks the clock, sees that it’s practically seven o’clock, and gets out of bed. Pulling on a casual t-shirt and a pair of worn jeans, he leaves his room to see his son standing tentatively in his own doorway, as loud sounds come from downstairs.

“Pop?” The five year old asks with no small amount of hesitation in his voice, immediately reaches for Flip, who scoops him up and balances him on his hip.  

“Mornin’ honey.” Flip kisses his son’s cheek, and the boy giggles, clinging to him as Flip walks down the stairs.

He’s obviously annoyed that it’s not you who gets to wake him up and carry him downstairs, as he normally prefers, but Flip doesn’t know how to tell him that today isn’t a normal day. Still, the boy is always filled with questions, and his little eyebrows furrow into an all too familiar frown as they move closer to the chaos that is you deciding to vacuum first thing in the morning.

“Why is Mama acting like that?” He demands to know, as the two of them stop at the landing, watching as you, still in your pajamas, are fighting with furniture.

“Tonight’s the first night of Pesach.” Flip explains.

“So?” His son challenges, and Flip wants to laugh, because he agrees with the kid, but when you get into a mood like this, there’s no stopping you.

“So, there’s a very special guest coming for dinner tonight, and she wants to make sure the house looks nice and clean for him.” Flip sets the boy down, and he purses his lips, like he’s trying to assess the validity of that, eventually settling on complaining,

“But we already cleaned the house.”

Flip sighs, because he’s right, you spent the entire week cleaning to prepare for Passover. It wasn’t like a normal house cleaning, Passover had special rules that had to be obeyed. One of which, was the complete and total elimination of chametz, or food made from leavened dough. The other, was the koshering of the kitchen.

But he wasn’t so sure his five year old would care to hear about all that this early.

“I know son. Let’s go see what she fixed up for breakfast,” Flip leads his son through the living room carefully, before crouching down to his level and saying very seriously, “And then when you’re done eating, just do whatever Mama says, you hear me? Whatever she says.”

Just then, you come barreling through the living room with the vacuum and a tangle of cord in your hand, shouting at a completely inappropriate volume for the hour, “Zeeskiet if you haven’t made your bed just throw it away it’s too late to make it now!”

The boy looks up at Flip, and Flip immediately shakes his head and amends, “Not that.”

Flip is a good helper. He likes to help, and he wants to help, but sometimes when you get like this, it’s a danger to himself and everyone around for him to try and insert himself into a situation where you are a hurricane of anxious energy. He busies himself with getting your son settled at the kitchen table, giving him a big breakfast of fresh fruit, nuts, and yogurt, before bracing himself to venture back towards the dining room.  

“The Rabbi is coming – get rid of the couches we can’t let people know we sit!” You shout, pointing an aggressive finger at one of the dining chairs, “This chair needs to be pushed in, there cannot be any signs of living in this house.”

Flip is quick to do as you say, even though what you’re saying is nonsense – he knows better than to point that out.

“I don’t care if we have to throw everything out,” You’re mostly talking to yourself at this point, just…loudly, and aggressively, “I want this place looking like a contemporary fusion restaurant by noon.”

It was a miracle and a half that the Rabbi agreed to lead your Seder dinner, and to say that the pressure was getting to you was the understatement of the century. You had everything picked out, what you were going to wear, what Flip and the kids were going to wear; you’d been cooking and prepping all week, and now the day was finally here and you were totally freaking out.

“Flip?” You shout, walking in circles around the dining room, trying to get rid of any possible point of contamination of chametz.

“Yeah?” Flip replies, already knowing that because he’s in the other room, you probably can’t hear him. He already is walking towards you when he hears you again.

“Phil!” You call a little sharper, and Flip huffs out a laugh, his suspicion correct.

“I’m right here ketsl, what can I do?” Flip startles you by suddenly being behind directly behind you, and you throw your hands up in exasperation.

“Oh my god – we need more pillows.” You gesture to the den where the conversation pit is decked out entirely with pillows. “Can you fluff the pillows? I need these things looking fluffed.”

Flip does exactly as he’s told, and the rest of the morning follows suit.

You wandered around the house cleaning; vacuuming sweeping dusting sanitizing every possible surface, the floors, even the ceiling, shouting out random demands and requests like:

We need more flowers. We gotta put flowers in every window. Philly can you put flowers in the kitchen?

We can’t have any clothes! Everyone take off your clothes!

At that, your son cast a semi-distressed look to Flip and asked, an uncertain, “Pop?”

“Not that either!” Flip immediately answered, lest his son think it’s okay to go running around in the nude tonight.

Somewhere around hour two, your mood shifts from manic to meltdown. Your son had been instructed to make sure his toys were all nicely put away in his room, mostly to keep him out of trouble or to prevent any accidental tripping over wires. Flip though, is still running around trying to keep up with you, out of breath from your own chaos.

“What is this?” You yank the perfectly good little towel out of the oven door handle where Flip had just watched you place it, and near-tears, you groan, “This is a dish towel! We need a hand towel! What are we, barbarians?”

He’s about to say something, try to console you or at the very least calm you down, but then you come to a complete and sudden stand-still and point out, “Phil oh god there’s muffins on the counter.”

Frowning, Flip whirled around and wondered how the fuck those even got there. All of your friends knew that there was absolutely no leavened product allowed in the house, Rabbi or no, and he’s trying to wrack his brain around where they came from as you back against the wall.

“Oh my god oh – that’s it -- we have to go into the witness protection program folks!” You chuckle humorously, effectively giving up. “Shalom Rabbi! Welcome to the Zimmerman household. We live outside. We eat mud. And sticks.”

At this, you give one big overwhelmed sigh, and a little sob hiccups out of your chest.

“Hey,” Flip frowns, kicking himself for not trying to get you to take a breather earlier than this, “Hey it’s going to be okay.”

Flip gets down on the floor with you, and pulls you into a tight hug. You shove your face under his neck and cry it out, and Flip soothes your back. He knows how big of a deal tonight is for you, and he wants to do everything he can to make you happy, but letting this go on any longer won’t be good for anyone.

“I’ll get rid of the muffins, we won’t tell anyone about it, okay?” He pulls you to face him, your eyes wet and wide, your chin wobbling. He thinks you’re so ridiculous, working yourself up like this, but he loves you so much to see it regardless.

“Did you fluff the pillows?” You ask in a small sad voice, and Flip nods seriously, brushing some of your stray locks that escaped the scarf you have wrapped around your head to protect your hair, away from your face.

“Yes ketsl, I fluffed the pillows.” He kisses each of your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, your forehead.

“Okay, alright okay, everyone calm down.” You say, wiping your tears away and taking deep measured breaths, suddenly asking, “What time is it?”

“Uhh,” Flip cranes his head around to try and catch a good glimpse at the clock on the wall, wondering how the hell it’s only, “Nine-thirty.”

You blink, and blink again, and then shuffle to sit upright there on the kitchen floor.

“Oh.” You reply, pursing your lips and scratching the side of your jaw. “In that case…I’m going to take a nap.”

Flip chuckles and lets you go. You’re too much all the time, and that’s exactly why he loves you. He’s never met anyone who cares as much about something like this, than you, and he wants you to go relax while he takes care of everything.

And he does, his son a proper helper as you snooze in bed, already having worked yourself to exhaustion and needing your strength back for the long dinner that’s going to come. The offending muffins are given to a neighbor, the surfaces re-sanitized, the kitchen all prepared. Your son even sets the table all by himself, enjoying being tall for his age thanks to Flip’s genetics.

When evening falls much later, and all your other guests have arrived, you feel your pulse spike as the doorbell rings. You’re dressed to the nines, as is everyone else, but Flip thinks that you’re the most radiant thing in the universe. You’re holding your son on your hip as Flip opens the door, already extending a hand for him to shake.

“Shalom Rabbi, thank you so much for joining us tonight, we can’t tell you how much of an honor it is.” You beam, as if you hadn’t had a total breakdown only that morning, as Flip invites the Rabbi inside.

“Of course Mr. and Mrs. Zimmerman, the honor is mine. And may I say, you have a beautiful home.” He looks around appreciatively, giving a nod of approval that has all the air rushing out of your lungs.

“I’m thrilled to hear you think so.” You grin, leading him through your home and into the dining room where your other guests have been happily entertaining themselves, “Shall we get started then?”

“They tried to kill us, we survived, let’s eat!” Flip announces, and that has everyone laughing, including the Rabbi.

And as the Seder commences, Flip looks across the table and gives his son a wink. In return, he lets out a small giggling laugh, glad that all the preparations and chaos you put them through have successfully paid off.

                                                     ------------------

Taggin’ some Flip lovin’ friends! @mochabucky​​ @sacklerscumrag​​ @artsymaddie​​ @bitchydecisions​​ @direnightshade​​ @reyloaddict55​​ @thembohux​​  @sunflowersinthesnow​​ @babayagakeanu​​ @safarigirlsp​​  @steeevienicks​​  @the-unmanaged-mischief​​ @materialisthicc​​  @hswritingrecs​​  @han68000​​ @rosi3ba3z​​ @chapterhappygirl​​​ @loverofallthings​​​  @bxnnywriting​ @groovetoob​ 

[bodyswapmischief]

Carrying my Father's Weight

I can't believe the person I was looking at was me. I looked at myself in the mirror and I patted my beefy stomach. Although it might not seem like it, this was the fittest I've been, since puberty. I ended highschool weighing 280lbs. Coming into college I feared the freshman 15. But, I knew I couldn't let that happen. Now, I stand here weighing 220lbs. My first year of college completed and ready to go home. Even though I don't have abs yet, I can't wait to show off my progress.

However, I would be lying if I didn't say I dreaded going back and seeing my dad. He's not mean or abusive. In fact he was a really good dad. Growing up, it was just me and him. After my mom died, my dad's whole life changed. Instead of falling into a depression, he started working out. He transformed from average chubby dad body to hot as fuck personal trainer.

However his good genetics skipped me. As a kid I was skinny. But once puberty hit, my metabolism just went down the drain. And, I piled on weight non stop. It felt awkward being the fat son of a personal trainer. He tried hard to make me feel better about myself. We went to doctors but nothing worked. But, I still felt like shit looking at him walk around shirtless, get all the attention from my ladies, and be admired by my teachers and friends. Most people couldn't believe I was his son.

The worst part is that by the time I was a senior in highschool, we looked the same age. How is that possible, you wonder. I have know idea, and I would like the answer myself. It probably help he had me when he was young. He was 16 when he got my mom pregnant. But still, he looked like he was in his mid 20s. I on the other hand, probably, prematurely aged because how fat I was. Instead of looking 17, I looked like I was, also l, in my mid 20s. Most people thought we were brothers and a few people mistaked me for the older brother.

But, it wasn't all bad. Yeah, I did get made fun of, by my friends. But, looking older than my age made me popular. Having a full beard and beer belly was all the ID to by beer for all my friends to underage drink. Nonetheless, I enjoyed my time away from my dad. It was a nice break. But, in a way I missed him, too.

But, upon landing, I was looking at something I never expected to see. I saw my dad. But he was not the fit 200lb man of pure muscle. No, staring at me was as 300lb man of pure fat. His stomach is sagging. There are fat filled breast were his pecs once were. And, he begins to waddle his way towards me. His face looks aged ... more like a man in his late 40s. Yet, a smile on his fat filled face. I recognize that he is using my old clothes.

He tells me I look good, strong, and like I have been working out. But, I'm completely shocked. He ask me questions. And, I give mindless answers. For most of the ride home I stay silent. His tries to tell me that an injury caused him to have to stop working out. And, as soon as he stopped working out the weight just piled on. But, it doesn't make sense. And, after awhile I don't care if it makes sense. I'm finally the hot one. I start making some fat jokes. His face gets red, but he laughs. He tells me "I guessed I had those coming."

It was late when we got home and we both were incredibly tired. I took my stuff to my room and instantly lied on my bed. Ideas of hanging out with my friends and new fat dad filled my mind.

But, as the sun rose. I notice my body feels groggy and sore. My lower back is in so much pain. So, I tried to roll on my side. But, I struggle. My eyes shoot awake has I recognized the sensation. It like I am 280lbs again with a big belly in the way. I tear off the blankets and use all my energy to sit up. Ripped pieces of fabric, lay under my fat body. My belly hangs between my legs and my hairy breast sit on the shelf of my stomach. I look the fattest I ever have been. I look even fatter than my dad was yesterday. I start to notice that my body seems hairier and specks of grey are sprinkled in.

I waddle to the closest mirror and panic. I saw my face, but it looked older. I look like I was in my 40s. I went on the scale and it read 320lbs. This was in fact the biggest I have ever been. I squeezed into the biggest clothes, I had. But, now they are too tight. My sweat pants are skin tight. And my shirt doesn't fully cover my beach ball stomach.

I stumble through the hallway and down the stairs, in a hurry, calling for my dad. As, I enter the kitchen, I have to lean against a counter. My heart is beating fast and I am out of breath. A young man enters the kitchen from the back door. He looked no older than 20. He looks at me and smiles.

"Hey, Dad, you good. I just came back from my run. You should join me. But, by that tight sweat stained shirt ... It looks like coming down the stairs is exercise enough." He laughs as he rubbed his sweaty chiseled abs.

I immediately recognized him, although this is the youngest I have ever seen him. This new young jock infront of me is my dad. "Dad, what the fuck is going on..." I say between breathes, I can feel all this confusion and excitement affecting my heart.

My dad, in his new young body just laughs. "My memory charms never did work on you. Well, I guess your old enough to know, now. I mean you are my son after all. Our family are descendants of an ancient race. We have abilities that help us survive. But, I have been shunned and cursed. I have the ability to trade any aspect of a person body. I can steal everything if I want to ... to become them. But, I abused this power and my own kind cursed me to gain weight at an incredibly fast speed. I knew eventually I would have to leave this body and trade it for a completely knew fit body, like I have done a thousand time before. But, I grew tired of not having an identity to call my own. And, out of all my vessels this was the best."

The man talking to me was not the father I knew. There was evil in his eyes. My heavy body shook as he threw me from my seat onto the floor. My back in even more pain. He chokes me with one hand and caresses my face with the other.

He continues, "That's were you coming in. Being my spawn, you also gained a gift. The more fat you have, the faster your metabolism becomes. And, you body naturally forms muscle. You have the gift of vitality. So, since you were young I drained you of your muscle. I fed you my fat. But, since you've been away from me our connection was weak. But, now that your back I dumped months worth of fat into you. I may have gotten greedy by taking some of your youth. But, don't worry I'll keep you as young as you need to be to stay alive. Oh, and I believe your college days are over. Now to the world, you'll be my over weight father and I'll be the all star son. It been thousands of years since I've been able to enjoy a body, with out the fear of gaining weight. No more jumping in and out of lives. Now that you know the truth, I don't have to hold back. All the weight that I gain will instantly go to you. No more careful planning like when you were just a boy. By my calculation. With my endless fat supply and your ability to burn off fat ... your weight will balance out at the good old size of 400lbs. So, 80 more pounds to go untill your at your permanent weight. So enjoy this size will you can big guy."

My dad stops choking me and pats my stomach. "Your gonna be one big fat daddy. But, I'll take care of you pops. Now, you should rush to a store and get fatter clothes, before nothing in this house fits you anymore. But, by the looks of it, it's already too late. Guess you gotta get creative, and remember all the credit cards are under my name. I'm going to break you boy. I'm going drill into to your head the you will for the rest of eternity be a big fat giant blob of walking fat. Living under you "son"s" shadow. Now, while you figure out how to adjust to your 400lb life. I'm gonna finally have some fun. And don't think of trying something funny becuase weight gain isn't even the worst thing I can do to you."

By this point tears are rushing down my face. My dad puts on a shirt, grabs the keys and walks out the door. I struggle to stand, as I feel my body very slowly gain weight. The shirt I was wearing rips off my body. Through the mirror I can see new roles of fat forming. I waddle to the scale. It now reads 233.56lbs and counting. The sweats and underwear have big rips do to my fat ass. I hold my gut in my hands. I wipe the tears from my eyes. And, I think "what the fuck just happened and what am I gonna do."

[cloudy-leonhart]

sneaky mouse. | bertholdt h.

honey’s notes: this drabfic is mostly dedicated to @bertlebear , as you know, she’s my wonderful moot and I have made this drabfic to celebrate her recent milestone! Please greet her a happy 500 and enjoy the fic!!

summary: you and bertholdt can’t remember the last time you guys have spent time together, you can’t help but snoop around the corps’ and hold your tall boyfriend in your arms, looking up at the stars without anyone interrupting you. (lowercase intended)

female reader.

pairing: bertholdt hoover x reader.

tw: swearing. 

theme: fluff. like, sickeningly sweet fluff. a lil uh, kissing here and there. 

recommended song: happiness by rex orange county.

you looked around the corners, as you held your nightgown close to you, the survey corps had retreated for the day, most soldiers were relieved as they wished nothing but to rest. Although, you wished nothing else but to see your boyfriend, bertholdt.

you missed his warm embrace, you can’t help but break corps’ rules as you planned to meet with bertholdt outside. you could feel your stomach do flips, the excitement making you fidget and the possibility of being caught making your hands sweat, and worry a bit. 

you swiftly walked up to the door which led to the outside of your cabin, you could see from the door, a tall figure stood outside, fidgeting and pacing, you laughed silently as you approached him, his face becoming less and less blurry as you came closer to him, feeling mischievous, you had pounced on the poor boy.

bertholdt had almost shouted for his life as he felt your arms embrace him, his heart speeding. He turned around as you laughed softly. “Reader, you shouldn’t do that. I could shit my pants for all you know.” He scolded jokingly as you pouted, smiling soon after.

“let’s get away from here for a bit, I think I’d shit my pants if captain levi catches us.” you whispered, pulling him into a random direction, bertholdt could feel his heart melt as you looked back to strike him a smile, you guys jogged into a field, he glanced behind him as the corps’ cabins slowly shrunk in his vision.

“bertie, look at the stars, tonight. they are so pretty.” You mumbled, your head rolling back as your eyes scanned the midnight sky, the stars sparkled in your eyes as you felt completely entranced by the moon and it’s little stars. “not to be very corny, but I prefer to look at you than the night sky.” He mumbled as he held you in his arms.

bertholdt and you had sat on a hill, enjoying each other’s company in comfortable silence. you switched your gaze from the stars to the man that captured your heart, you both stared into each other’s eyes, absolutely enamored.

“god, I don’t think I can stop looking at you.” bertholdt stated out loud, as you felt your cheeks warm. “you’re flustered.” he pointed out, smiling. “bert, stop!” you whined out as you squirmed in his arms. you could feel the vibrations in his chest as he let out a laugh, he couldn’t help it. you were adorable.

he leaned down a bit, his head leaning down to plant a kiss on your forehead. you felt his warm lips make contact with your forehead, your eyelids fluttered close as you basked in bertholdt’s affection, appreciating that someone could give you so much love in such a cruel world. 

you had long changed positions and was now sitting in bertholdt’s warm lap, he held your lips as you snuggled your way into your boyfriend’s crook of the neck. you let out a content sigh as you held each other closely, almost a drowsiness overcoming you. “I want to get married after this whole thing, bert. Promise me you’ll survive and we’ll get to say our vows?” you sleepily mumbled, a hum coming out from bertholdt.

you could just assume that it was a hum of agreement. you shared a few kisses, you felt happy that his and yours lips fit like a puzzle. you both completed each other. bertholdt’s hold on you tightened, afraid that you’d disappear from his arms if he ever loosened his hold on you. you peppered kisses on his face as he just looked over your face lovingly, memorizing every wrinkle, ever sparkle in your eyes.

god, he loves you so much. his heart tightened, almost painful as he realized that you truly are the love of his life. “bertie, we should go back, it’s almost morning.” you mumbled, your eyes on the verge of closing and letting sleep over take you. “you getting sleepy, lovely?” he mumbled as he leaned down to snuggle his face into your neck. 

you giggled softly, his hair tickling your cheek, as you nodded slightly, confirming that you were sleepy. “okay, but you gotta promise me you’ll meet me here again.” he looked at you as he lazily smiled. you nodded, putting your pinky out.

“pinky promise.” bertholdt rolled his eyes playfully at your childish behaviour as he clasped your pinky with his own. “alright, let’s go.” as you walked back to the cabin, bertholdt’s hold on your hand tightened, still a bit reluctant to let you go. 

“goodnight, bert, I love you.” you greeted him a goodbye before retreating back to your cabin, your hand instantly cooling, your hand already missing the presence of his.

“i love you too, reader.” bertholdt more so mumbled into the air as he too, started to retreat to his cabin. not before stopping and watching you disappear from behind the cabin door. 

he wonders, would you accept him and run away to a better life, if he ever told you why he’s truly in paradis?

[buck-buck-boose]

I'll Love You 'Til I Die

Masterlist | Playlist

Summary: A Brooklyn schoolgirl fell in love with James Buchanan Barnes at the tender age of nine. With this love she made a vow, promising to love him until her very last breath.

Pairing: Bucky x OFC

Warnings: Language, violence

Word Count: 4.3k

Author's Note: I am... so sorry for taking so long. I was not expecting the start of the semester to be so hectic. I can't promise I'll go back to posting as regularly as during the summer, but I can promise that I'm not disappearing. I promise. I WILL SEE THIS FANFIC THROUGH EVEN IF IT KILLS ME. Thank you for the kind words and support while I've been MIA. Enjoy a chunky chapter.

Chapter Twenty-Four: Little Saint Lottie

October 27, 1943

“I’m worried about her, Betty.”

“I know, Gladys. I know.”

Lottie couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten a full night’s rest. Days seemed to bleed into each other, with no slumber to distinguish today from tomorrow. It wasn’t long after arriving at Azzano that she realized that he wasn’t waiting for her. Bucky was gone. In his place, dozens of men awaited her arrival with sunken eyes and twitching lips that begged for relief, whether it be through a healing touch or a final blow to the head.

When the realization hit Lottie, there wasn’t much she could do besides throwing herself into her work; if she couldn’t help Bucky, the least she could do was help his brothers in arms. Although anxiety ate her up from the inside out, Lottie had confidence in Bucky’s abilities. He wouldn’t let himself die in some POW camp, he just wouldn’t. Because then who would take care of her and Steve? He’d fight tooth and nail to get back to them, she just knew it.

She threw herself into her work, rarely stopping long enough to have a proper conversation or a full meal; this bad habit of hers came to a halt, though, when she came upon a boisterous redhead in need of stitches. Lottie had been deep in thought while examining the gash above his forehead when the soldier cracked a grin and peered up at her without moving his head too much.

“Do I know you from somewhere?”

Lottie shook her head, “I’m afraid not, Private—” she glanced at his dog tags, “—O’Connor.”

“Ever done pinup? Maybe I know you from one of those cheesecakes we’ve got hanging up.” The man— more of a boy really, with his lanky frame and jovial smile —wiggled his eyebrows and ruined her diligent work of cleaning the blood from his wound.

The question left Lottie flustered; the idea of dozens of men gawking at her scantily clad figure left her feeling mortified, “Certainly not! I find that my talents are better suited for healing.”

O’Connor nodded and inspected her face carefully as she went to work on his gash once more. “I’ve got it!” Lottie nearly jumped away from him when he clapped his hands together, “You’re Little Saint Lottie, in the flesh!” The boy crowed his revelation, earning him glares from the other men recovering in the medic tent.

Lottie nearly dropped the needle that she’d been preparing to thread, “Excuse me?”

“Ah, it’s a funny story,” O’Connor chuckled, “Y’see, Sarge had this little photo he’d take everywhere. Always had it in his pocket, tucked in his helmet, you name it. Wouldn’t let the damn thing go. Anyway, we stole it out of his fatigues one day while he was cleaning up in some river ‘cause we wanted to see what the big deal was. Once we saw it was some dame—” Lottie shot him a look, “—lady, we started yanking his chain about it. He was just about as obsessed with that photo as my Ma is with her holy cards, so when he finally told us your name, we dubbed you ‘Little Saint Lottie,’ patron saint of the one hundred and seventh. That kinda pissed him off, but it’s not like you’re his girl, y’know? Though he sure acted like you were.”

Lottie was speechless. About halfway through his story, her mouth had dropped open and her hands had fallen to her lap. Here she was, looking dumb as an ox, while the soldier in front of her chuckled with childish glee.

“Me and the guys would even ask for your intercession whenever the chaplain came by to pray with us. Poor guy had no clue which saint we were talkin’ about. We tried to give it a place of honor in the tent but Sarge made us run laps when he found out we’d nicked it again.”

O’Connor nearly doubled over in laughter as he watched Lottie’s expression grow in horror. “Well as I’m sure Bucky— Sergeant Barnes has told you, I’m no saint. I’m just a nurse. Now hold still, unless you want these stitches to be more painful than they already are.” Before she could stop herself, the question came tumbling out of her mouth, “Speaking of Sergeant Barnes, do you know—” she fumbled with the needle as she made the first stitch, “—is he alright? Did you see him?” The soldier let out a hiss of pain, “Yeah, I got a glimpse of him while they were takin’ him away. He was battered but alright. There’s no man quite like Sarge, I know he’ll be back. He’d fight tooth and nail to get back. That’s what he said at least, ‘cause he always went on and on about how you needed him and all that. He sure talked about you an awful lot for a guy who hasn’t even asked you to go steady.”

Lottie’s breath hitched at the final comment, the mere idea of going steady with Bucky reducing her to a stuttering schoolgirl. She began to tie off his stitches, “We’ve been best friends for over a decade, it’s perfectly normal to care for each other deeply without bringing affection into it.”

O’Connor shrugged, which jostled her arm slightly, “I’ve never heard a guy talk about his best friend like that.”

Lottie didn’t respond. She gave his fully sutured wound one last glance, “Looks like you’re all set. Now don’t do anything stupid to get it infected.”

He gave her a crooked grin and wiggled his eyebrows, Lottie nearly scolded him but held her tongue, “As you wish, Saint Lottie.”

Lottie rolled her eyes and moved along to the next bed, where another soldier waited with a smile just as wide. It seemed that these men had become pleased as punch to know their patroness had come to grace them with her presence.

The USO’s visit to their camp took Lottie completely by surprise. She’d spent so much time floating from one medic tent to the next that she’d ended up completely out of the loop of the camp’s other goings-on. It wasn’t until she saw the fully-erected stage in the middle of camp that she realized. Her heart beat powerfully within her; with Steve here, she would be one step closer to finding Bucky. One step closer to bringing him home. “They say he’s gonna be here in a few hours,” Mary beamed, obviously giddy to see the Star-Spangled Man up close and in the flesh.

Lottie returned her smile, though it was weak. The weariness was starting to catch up to her, making her feel much older than a youthful twenty-three. Her stomach was in knots with anxiety; she needed to get to Steve as soon as possible.

Betty stood with them as they watched the hustle and bustle of preparations, “I’m pretty sure we’re the only ones looking forward to seeing Captain America. All these boys care about is seeing a bunch of girls dancing for them on stage, not some hunk of meat in a red, white, and blue suit.”

Nancy, who had just joined the conversation, scoffed, “It’s quite disappointing how little you think of these men and their patriotism.”

Gladys rolled her eyes, “They’re still men, Nancy. Scantily clad women or a guy singing about war bonds? They’re gonna prefer the women.”

Several hours later, Gladys was indeed proven right. Although he’d been driven off-stage with jeers and taunts, Lottie was waiting for him with a warm embrace.

“Hey, Lottie,” She could hear the smile in his voice, she felt its warm timbre as it surrounded her and reminded her of home.

“Good to see ya, Stevie.”

Steve pulled away from her and gazed around the camp, a grimace growing on his features, “Things don’t look to good around here.”

Lottie nodded, a twin grimace gracing her lips, “The hundred and seventh started out with two hundred men. Now they’ve only got fifty left. They’re barely holding on.”

Steve’s gaze shot to hers the moment she mentioned the one hundred and seventh, “Lottie that’s— this is Bucky’s—” The desperate look in his eyes made her own calm exterior begin to crack.

“Stevie, I know,” she whispered, a lump forming in her throat and tears pricking at her eyes, “I know, and I’m sorry. He’s not here. They— Those bastards took him, damn them!” For the first time since arriving at camp, Lottie cried. She sobbed and clung to Steve once more, feeling every bit like a scared little girl from days gone by.

Steve rested his hand against her back, “I’ll get him out, Lottie. He’s gotta be alive and I’ll get him out.”

She shook her head and wiped the hot tears from her cheeks, “No, Steve. You’re not going alone. I’m coming with you.”

“Lottie, you know I can’t put you in harm’s way like that—”

“Steve. I’m serious. What do you think I was doing that whole time I was with the SSR? Yes, we were making the serum, but they nearly trained us to death. I can shoot, I can use my knife. I can’t let you go without me.” Her voice was starting to crack, “We have to find Bucky together.”

There was silence between the two of them until Steve finally conceded, a wary gaze in his eyes, “Fine. But you need to be by my side the whole time.” Lottie nodded her chest warming with hope. “C’mon, we need to have a conversation with Colonel Philipps.”

The two of them jogged to his tent with their coats held above their heads to shield them from a sudden shower of rain. They entered the colonel’s tent, looking comical with their wet hair and heaving chests. Around them, soldiers and officials paced to and fro, examining maps or signing off various forms. If Lottie squinted, she could just barely make out the words. Letters of condolences; heartbreakingly clinical letters of regret for the losses of these sons, these brothers, these boys.

“Colonel Phillips,” Steve began, “Are you planning a rescue mission? For the surviving prisoners from the Battle of Azzano?”

The colonel looked back at him with a straight face, “Yeah, it’s called winning the war.”

Steve’s blond eyebrows furrowed, “But if you know where they are why not at least—”

“They’re thirty miles behind the lines. Through some of the most heavily fortified territory in Europe. We’d lose more men than we’d save, but I don’t expect you to understand that because you’re a chorus girl,” before Lottie could protest, he shot her a glance as well, “and you’re just a nurse.”

Steve’s gaze on Colonel Phillips was cool, “I think I understand just fine.”

The colonel pushed past them, “Well then understand it somewhere else. Now if I read the posters correctly, you’ve got someplace to be in thirty minutes.”

“Yes sir, I do.”

Steve grabbed Lottie’s hand and pulled her behind him, “C’mon, we’ve gotta get going. You go get changed.”

Lottie nodded; her medical uniform would impede this mission so she’d need to wear the fatigues that the government had finally issued to them. Her heart raced a mile a minute as she scrambled back to the nurse’s tent to change. She knew that Colonel Philipps would be terribly angry once he found out she’d shirked her night duties, but her loyalties to Bucky took precedence. The recovering soldiers were left in the capable hands of her peers. She swore as she nearly toppled over while yanking her boots on; it was rather hard to get dressed in such a hurry. By the time she was ready and had exited the tent, she was met with the somber faces of Agent Carter and Steve.

“Agent Carter, what are you doing?” For a moment, she feared that they’d already been caught, that the SSR was already putting an end to their mission.

The other woman pursed her lips, “I’m here to help.”

A mere half-hour later and they found themselves in the SSR’s plane, headed to Krausberg, where the POW camp was located. Howard Stark called out to them from the cockpit, “We should be able to drop you right at their doorstep.”

Fear was starting to creep into Lottie’s mind and burrowed itself deep within her gut. She heard the conversation continue all around her, but she was still processing the daunting mission before her. She and Steve up against Hydra. All alone. Even Bucky had struggled against them; he’d lost to them in the Battle of Azzano. Bucky. That’s what worried her most. It’s what filled her with the most fear. If she and Steve got through the Hydra camp safe and sound only to find that he was dead, Lottie wasn’t sure how she’d deal with it. She’d probably go mad, in all honesty. She’d end up in some institution, crying over lucky pennies and charcoal drawings while being molly-coddled by some woman in white. How tragic that would be.

Before her thoughts could become any darker, Lottie was jolted back to reality by the sound of bullets against metal. Steve grabbed his shield and her arm, urging her to join him by the plane’s exit.

Agent Carter shot up from her seat, “Get back here! We’re taking you all the way in!”

He turned to respond, “As soon as I’m clear, you turn this thing around and get the hell out of here!” “You can’t give me orders!”

A smile grew on his face, “The hell I can’t! I’m a captain!”

Steve shifted his goggles and nudged Lottie, “It’s go time. When you see me pull the chute out, you do the same.”

Lottie nodded with a quiet determination, and together, they jumped.

Entering the base was painstakingly quiet; once they’d snuck into a truck and eliminated the guards inside, Steve and Lottie were left to mouth words and offer silent support through unwavering gazes. Once they’d safely passed the gate of the base, they exited the truck and swiftly dealt with any opposition.

Steve led her across the base with caution, giving hand signals when it was safe to turn a corner and sprint across a patch of unobstructed space. The two of them traveled with the shadows, avoiding any spotlights that could catch them in the act. Lottie scarcely felt that she could breathe, it was as if one exhale would reveal their presence to the multitude of guards.

Once they entered the main building, the two of them found themselves in what seemed to be a factory. There were giant sheets of metal everywhere and huge bombs seemed to surround them. Amongst them all, Hydra soldiers transported other metal parts and containers of glowing blue material. That did not bode well with Lottie at all.

Lottie spotted some guards walking to a lower level, jangling keys in hand. “Steve, they might be guarding the prisoners.” Her whisper was barely audible, fear keeping her from speaking any louder.

“The blueprints said they were below the manufacturing level. C’mon.”

They followed the guards onto a walkway that had large circular grates that cut into the metal, each forming the ceiling of small cells that the poor prisoners had been separated into. Lottie and Steve knocked the guards out and stole their keys. The two dropped to the same level as the cells and began unlocking their doors.

One of the soldiers gazed at them through the bars of his cell, “Who are you supposed to be?”

Steve panted from stress, “I’m Captain America.” He gave Lottie an expectant look.

“I guess I’m Little Saint Lottie,” she responded somewhat sarcastically, referencing the retrospectively comical nickname that was developed by the one hundred and seventh.

Some of the men cracked grins, “So you’ve heard our prayers, huh?”

“Loud and clear. Now let’s get you out of here, yeah?”

She tried to ignore the growing horror inside of her upon the realization that none of these men had brilliant blue eyes. Not a dimpled chin in sight.

“Is there anybody else? I’m looking for a Sergeant James Barnes.” It seemed that the same horror was growing within Steve.

A man in a scarlet beret responded, his British accent prim and proper, “There’s an isolation ward in the factory, but no one’s ever come back from it.”

“Alright,” Steve nodded, “The tree line is northwest, 80 yards past the gate. Get out fast and give ‘em hell. We’ll meet you guys out in the clearing with anyone else we find.”

“Wait, you know what you’re doing?” “Yeah. I’ve knocked out Adolf Hitler over two hundred times.”

Lottie couldn’t help but stare at Steve in amazement. Gone was that awkward boy from Brooklyn. He was a man now, a leader who could do anything he put his mind to. He’d grown so much, not just physically, but in his character.

While the prisoners worked their way out of the base, Steve and Lottie began their search for the isolation wards. Lottie tried to ignore the sounds of explosions and men crying out from below them while they traveled across metal catwalks. She could only hope that the cries of pain were coming from Hydra soldiers.

After turning several corners, they found themselves in an old hallway, surrounded by brick on both sides. They hurried down the corridor out of desperation; they knew they were running out of time. Lottie stopped suddenly when she heard a groan. It was close. She drew her weapon and dragged Steve into the room, her heart stuttering and her palms slick with sweat.

“Sergeant. Three-two-five-five-seven…” That voice. Oh, how she knew that voice; she loved it so. Lottie heard it whenever she found the time to fall asleep. It crept into her sweetest dreams but tore her apart whenever it wiggled its way into her nightmares.

Bucky lay in front of them, strapped down to a table; his lips moved ever so slightly as he repeated the same phrase over and over again.

She rushed to his side alongside Steve and nearly let out a cry of happiness. Had the situation not been so dire, she would’ve descended upon him with a bone-crushing embrace and great big sobs of joy by that point.

Lottie whispered a quiet, “Bucky?” His eyes were glazed over and his mouth agape, “Is that— is that—”

“It’s us, Buck,” Steve nodded reassuringly as he tore at the straps across Bucky’s chest. Bucky looked up at him, taking his face in,

“Us?”

“Me and Lottie,” he nodded, tugging her closer so that the two of them could be in Bucky’s field of vision.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked at him, finally feeling whole again. She’d gotten her Brooklyn boys back. Bucky only looked back in confusion, “Little Lottie, she— she’s always been here. Always. Stayed with me the whole time.”

It was Lottie and Steve’s turn for confusion. Lottie brushed the hair back from his forehead to calm him down and ground him, “Bucky, I’ve been with the SSR this whole time. We’re here to rescue you.”

Steve nodded and dragged him off the table, “I thought you were dead.”

Bucky was obviously having a hard time processing everything that was happening, “I thought you were smaller.”

Lottie listened as the gunfire intensified, “Come on, we need to move.” Steve threw one of Bucky’s arms over his shoulder and the two fell into step behind her.

“What happened to you?” Bucky grunted out, pain etched into his voice.

“I joined the army.”

“Did it hurt?”

Steve was growing agitated, “A little.”

“Is it permanent?”

“So far.” Lottie huffed, “I’d sure hope so after all that effort I put into it.”

Bucky mustered out a befuddled, “Huh?”

“I helped to create the serum that made him like that.”

“So that’s why you left without saying a word.” Bucky’s tone was only slightly accusatory.

Lottie muttered a weak “Yeah.” They’d need to have a lengthier conversation once he wasn’t struggling to walk five yards.

As they crossed the catwalks to get towards the exit, the factory below them began to combust. Huge flames erupted from the metal contraptions and triggered explosions all around them. They hastily climbed the metal stairs to get to higher ground.

“Captain America, how exciting!” A thick German accent cut through the noise of explosions and gunfire. “I am a great fan of your films!” Before them stood two men; one was a short little fellow clad in a jacket and fedora. The other was tall and wore a distinguished Hydra uniform with its menacing crest emblazoned on his shoulder.

The taller of the two gave Captain America a once over as he strode across the catwalk that separated them, “So, Dr. Erskine managed it after all. Not exactly an improvement, but still, impressive.”

“You’ve got no idea,” Steve snarled and punched the man in the face. The swift blow caused a blotch of redness to appear near his eye and a sinking feeling of realization settled into Lottie’s stomach. This was Schmidt, the monster who used the serum prototype.

Before she could say anything, Schmidt struck back and left a dent in Steve’s shield, “Haven’t I?”

There was a brief scuffle before Schmidt backed off while the other man pulled a lever, pulling the catwalk apart. With a grin, Schmidt began pulling at the skin of his face and revealed fiery red muscle and tissue beneath, just as Lottie had seen when she first began experimenting with the formula. “You are deluded, Captain. You pretend to be a simple soldier, but in reality, you are just afraid to admit that we have left humanity behind. Unlike you, I embrace it proudly. Without fear!”

“Then how come you’re running?”

Steve never got an answer. Schmidt and the other man had already boarded an elevator and left them standing on the catwalk, nearly helpless.

Another explosion went off, cueing the trio to leave, “C’mon, let’s go. Up.” Lottie instructed the men to follow her, though she wasn’t too sure how to escape the factory. All she knew was that they needed to keep ascending the stairs.

When they reached the top of the stairs, they were faced with a metal beam that led to a catwalk with an exit. It was terrifyingly slim, with only enough room to place one foot in front of the other.

“Ladies first,” Bucky murmured, “but I’ll be right behind you.” Lottie felt sure of herself knowing that at least she wouldn’t have to cross on her own.

She took a tentative first step, testing how well it would hold her weight. Lottie tried not to look down at the fiery pit below while she carefully moved along the beam. It was a comfort to have Bucky behind her with his chest nearly pressed against her back as he followed her every step. Lottie had just scrambled over the railing of the catwalk when a jarring explosion shifted the beam’s position and sent it careening downwards. She gasped in horror as Bucky leaped to grab onto the catwalk.

“There’s gotta be a rope or something!”

Steve stared at the two of them from across the pit, “Just go! Get out of here!”

Bucky slammed his fist on the railing, desperation tearing at his voice, “No, not without you!”

“Steve, please! We can’t just leave you here!” Lottie pleaded. Steve couldn’t die, not like this.

With a look of determination, Steve backed up and made a running jump to clear the gap between the two catwalks. An explosion threatened to swallow him up, but he made it over safely, although a little worse for wear.

Lottie and Bucky could only stare in amazement. Steve nodded to them both, “Let’s get outta here.”

Several ladders and a whole lot of dodging later, the trio found themselves trudging towards the tree line.

It was silent amongst the three of them; painfully, dreadfully silent. She decided it was time to break the silence, “Bucky, I—”

“Look, Little Lottie, I know you’re sorry, alright? And I forgive you. Even though you lied to my face and left without saying goodbye, I had a whole lotta time to spend forgiving you.”

Now that the fear of being caught by Hydra soldiers had fully subsided, Lottie allowed herself to let out a sob of joy and nearly threw herself at Bucky. She almost apologized for the force of her embrace since it was likely to hurt a man who’d been captured by Hydra, but he didn’t show any sign of pain. She’d need to remember that for later.

“I missed you so much, Bucky. I really did,” Lottie nearly whimpered. Gosh, she sure sounded lovesick. “I missed you too, Little Lottie.” His embrace was sure and strong, and with it, a flood of memories came back to her. Nights on her fire escape. A birthday evening spent swing dancing. A lucky penny slipped into her hand. For the first time in months, Lottie finally felt whole. Her heart that had been splintered into shards of pain and hopelessness had finally begun to mend itself back together. While she found comfort in his arms and forgiveness, she knew there were still so many words left unsaid; words that he needed and deserved to hear.

“Yeah, I missed you guys too,” Steve muttered, obviously peeved that he was being left out of their moment.

“Aw, come on, Stevie,” Lottie grinned and pulled away from Bucky a little to allow Steve to join their hug.

“And if I remember correctly, Bucky, I think it’s actually Little Saint Lottie now,” she grinned. While she couldn’t see his face at the moment, she just knew it was turning a gorgeous shade of scarlet, based on the sputtering coming out of his mouth.