#you lose your sister. you hope its not forever but right now shes gone. and you're so so scared.

[protectorcraft]

thinkin about isat again (big surprise) and it would be a wonder if someone in the gang doesnt develop separation anxiety postgame. like other than siffrin considering that's the entire premise of the games plot, i mean.

[starlightandsouls]

Yours to Save, Yours to Guard

Part 2 of Yours to Have, Yours to Break

Summary: Azriel and Reader pick up the pieces of Cassian's mistake.

Warnings: angst (?), severe panic attack

A/N: it's finally here guys. I actually loved how this one turned out, filled to the brim with lots of angst and emotions that is typical of my work. I feel like last time I rushed the first part so it wasn't as impactful. Anywaysss, I hope you guys like this as much as I do, and please leave a comment telling me what you think. My motivation levels are lowwww rn and your comments always make my day!

Azriel POV

Agony tore through his heart like a viper striking its prey. Its poison seeping through his veins and making an act as simple as breathing seem laborious. How did everything collapse so quickly? How could he let it slip away from him so easily? His love… his nightingale was gone.

After somewhat coming to his senses, he had winnowed straight to his nightingale’s house, knowing that was where she would return. Just like him, she liked being alone when faced with the hurdles life threw at her. Just two sides of the same accursed coin. And that was where he found her; her room in a mess, belongings sprawled everywhere, and his nightingale sitting in the middle of it all, heaving with sobs. He had frozen at the sight, his wretched heart breaking even more. But the sound of her never ending tears had broken him out of his stupor.

Azriel immediately fell to his knees before and tried to grab her hands as he pleaded,

“My love, please, listen to me-”

He hadn’t had the chance to finish his sentenced before you wrenched your hands away from his, as if his very touch burned you. The thought of that pierced through his very being.

“Don’t touch me, you… You fucking cheat!” You roared. To say he was shocked would be an understatement; his nightingale never yelled at anyone, no matter how upset she was. He didn’t even know you were capable of such fury, let alone releasing it at him. You had gotten up from your place at the foot of your bed and had moved away from him to another corner of the room. Pointless as he followed you right away.

“It’s not what it looked like, will you please listen to me?”

“Really, Azriel? Could you sound any more typical right now? You know, if you had the guts to have an affair, you should have at least come up with a better excuse when you were with her,” you spat at him. The hatred burning bright in your eyes made him want to fall to his knees before you. But he knew he had to explain…he had to tell you what happened. This was his one chance, otherwise he’d lose you forever.

“I didn’t! I would never! I swear on my life, I have no idea why Elain was there, or why she did what she did. I had no part of it, I swear to you. Please just think about it. If I wanted to be with her, why would I have made plans with you? To celebrate our anniversary no less?” he pleaded.

“Oh I don’t know, maybe you got tired of me, hm? Why mess around with some ‘commoner’ when you can have the High Lady’s sister?”

What? Where were you getting all this from? Why were you thinking like this? You weren’t like this and neither was he…and you…you knew that.

“Love…please,” Azriel begged as he moved closer trying to reach for your hands. Yet again you evaded him and moved away to another corner. It was as if the two were dancing a dance of push and pull, one always out of reach of the other. You turned around and just…looked at him.

“You know, when she came to me, and with everything she said…I didn’t believe her. Even when every part of my being was begging me to, I thought…my Azriel wouldn’t do that to me. He loves me, not her. Why couldn’t you keep my trust Azriel? Why did you shatter it like this?”

“Told you what? Love, please, if you don’t want to listen to me at least tell me what Elain said to you. So that I can prove to you that it is a lie.” Azriel was genuinely at a loss for words. As the situation progressed, he became more and more confused.

“She came to the bookshop before I left, Elain. At first I thought she was a customer, but no…she was there to steal something else altogether. And imagine how shocked I was when she told me that you have been having an affair with her for the past year. That the only reason the two of you kept it a secret was because of the High Lord. And now that he approves of your relationship, the two of you don’t have to hide anymore. Which is why you were going to break up with me today.”

Azriel fell quiet at that and stared at you for a good five minutes trying to process the words that just came out of your mouth. The sheer insanity of it only worsened his addled mind.

“Darling, that is…she’s lying. How can you believe her? Why would you believe her? What proof did she give you? Why would you trust some stranger over.. me?” Azriel demanded, his own anger rising. He was the innocent one here yet no one seemed to want to listen to him.

“Is it not the truth then?”

“NO!”

It was a battle of wills now. Both of you were simmering with fury right now- you with your rage at being betrayed and Azriel with his frustration at being ignored. Two sides of the same coin indeed.

Knowing he had to be the one to surrender, that be had to placate you if he wanted this relationship to survive, Azriel softened. He extinguished the rage that was threatening to burn their love to the ground and walked closer to you again. He reached for your hands to offer yet another apology, an explanation…anything to get you to show mercy.

But you snatched your hand back with such…disgust, as if his touch had burned you.

“Get your filthy hands off me, you fucking cheat!” you screamed, “don’t touch me!”

Azriel immediately let go of you. A thousand ash arrows could have pierced him on the battlefield and they would have hurt him less than the utter hate and disgust marring your usually soft features.

“Love…” A final plead, a final beg…the last thread holding them together. One last try of reaching out from the darkness he was drowning in.

“I said DON’T TOUCH ME! They were all right about you…you…you’re just another Illyrian brute who uses women as he pleases. I was a fool to think you were different, that you…you loved me.” All the hate had vanished in an instant from your face, replaced by something worse. In its place was a crestfallen defeat, the ravaging fire of fury replaced with silver tears now streaming down your face.

And it was the sight of your tears that told Azriel it was all lost… he had lost. He had sworn an oath once, to you, to himself, that he would never cause you an ounce of heartbreak.

The memory seemed bittersweet now. You had been crying because of some novel that you were reading as a hero had died tragically at the end. In his attempts to cheer you up he had remarked how this made him better than the heroes of novels that you always fawned over, for he never made you cry.

“Sure of ourselves are we?” you had asked with a smirk, your amusement returning to your gaze.

Mission accomplished, he had thought to himself.

“Of course, I never hurt you so there is no reason for you to cry,” he had answered.

“So do you promise then, Shadowsinger, that you will never make me cry?” you had jested.

“I swear on it my nightingale. I will never make you cry, I promise.”

It looked like you were thinking of the same memory, that now seemed almost a millennia ago. Had they been that happy? Was that what their life had been like? Happiness now seemed like a foreign country, whose borders had no room for immigrants like him.

“I’m sorry,” was all he said before he winnowed away to his house in Velaris. Before shadows engulfed him completely, he could have sworn he saw you crumble to the ground.

…………………………………………...............................................

His lounge came into view, exactly as he had left it. But everything seemed strange, foreign. As he stood in the absolute silence of his house, the reality of what had happened settled in on him. He stumbled to the couch, his vision blurring slightly, making the journey troublesome.

Azriel’s heart pounded like a drum in his chest, each beat a painful reminder of the emptiness that now filled his house. The room spun around him, the walls closing in as if trying to crush him under the weight of his despair. He sank to the floor, his back against the couch where he and his nightingale had once spent countless evenings tangled together, laughing, and whispering secrets.

“She’s gone,” he gasped, his voice barely a whisper. His breaths came in shallow, ragged gasps, and he felt like he was suffocating. He clutched his chest, the pressure unbearable. His mind raced with images of you just moments ago; you looking at him with such disgust, you wrenching your hands away from his, your tears streaming down your grief stricken face.

“No, no, no,” he muttered, rocking back and forth. “This can’t be happening. She can’t be gone. My nightingale can’t be gone.”

His vision blurred with tears, and he could barely see the room around him. Everything felt surreal, like a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. His fingers dug into the carpet, seeking some grounding, some way to make the pain stop. But nothing helped. The anguish was too deep, too consuming. How could this happen? How had he let this happen? His nightingale was the one gift he had stolen from the Mother. The one happiness he had gotten in this miserable life. It… It wasn’t fair. He always gave up every thing, he did everything for everyone…so why wasn’t he allowed this one happiness? Why did the Mother hate him so much to dangle this beautiful fate in front of him all these years only to snatch it away? Which one of his sins was he being punished for?

Memories of their time together flashed through his mind. Your smile, the way you looked at him with those eyes full of love, the sound of your laughter that always made his heart soar. And now, it was all gone. You were gone. The realization hit him like a sledgehammer, and he doubled over, choking on sobs.

“I need you,” he cried out, his voice breaking. “Please, come back. I can’t do this without you.”

But the silence was his only answer. The home that had once been their sanctuary now felt like a tomb, cold and empty. He tried to stand, but his legs wouldn’t support him. He fell to his knees, his body shaking with the force of his sobs.

“Why did you leave?” he wailed, his voice echoing off the walls. “Why?”

His breath came in shallow gasps, each one a struggle. He felt lightheaded, his vision tunneling. He pressed a hand to his chest, trying to calm himself, but the panic was relentless. It clawed at him, tearing him apart from the inside.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, tears streaming down his face. “I’m so sorry.”

But you weren’t there to hear him. You were gone, and he was alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. He was alone again, like he had always been, like he had always meant to be. The realization tore through him, a fresh wave of agony that left him breathless. He curled into a ball on the floor, his body wracked with sobs, and let the darkness close in.

…………………………………........................................................

Cassian POV:

He had stayed in the training arena long after his brother had left, trying to come up with a possible explanation. Azriel didn’t blow up like that… ever. No matter what trial or pain they were going through, his brother was the one who grounded them all; always a calm, stoic presence. For him to react this way, he knew something major had to have happened. But what?

Cassian knew this mystery could only be solved by the culprit behind it, and his brother had conveniently provided him with a name: Elain.

Immediately he set off to find the particular Archeron sister that had apparently caused his brother so much woe. Knowing Elain, she was in one of two places: the kitchens or the gardens. And the latter seemed to be her choice of the day as that is where he found her; pruning away at some roses, humming a tune, as if she hadn’t… done whatever it is that she had done, but Cassian knew it had to be horrible.

Azriel may be Spymaster, but centuries as General had taught him to read people in an instant, and Elain Archeron despite all her self perceived slyness and schemes, was an open book. He noticed how she stiffened as he approached, how her stabs at the soil got much swifter, he noticed the panic on her face that she tried but failed to school into nonchalance.

“Elain,” he greeted plainly, wanting her to slowly succumb to her panic before he asked her anything.

“Cassian, strange seeing you here. Nesta’s not here if that’s who you are looking for.”

“No, actually, I was looking for you. You haven’t happen to have seen Azriel today have you?” he inquired.

“Az? No…no I haven’t seen him for quite some time actually,” she answered but that one second look of panic, of fear, gave her away. It cemented her as the culprit behind whatever crime she had committed against his brother. Elain then proceeded to grab some flowers she had plucked, put them in a basket, and attempted to walk past him. But he blocked her path and glared right back at her,

“Elain, what the hell did you do?” he demanded, emphasizing every single word.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” again she tried to maneuver past him but he didn’t budge an inch.

“Elain,” he growled, “you’re going to tell me what you did. Right. The. Fuck. Now.”

And that was when she crumbled. She broke down- crocodile tears if you ask him- and recalled every single thing she had done: from eavesdropping his conversation with Nesta, to asking around about the girl Azriel was with by using her name, visiting her bookshop, then ambushing Azriel at the café. At the end of it, Cassian was speechless. He looked at the woman in front of him and saw a stranger. Elain, sweet Elain, always assumed by everyone to be innocent and kind. The crime she had committed twisted her features into something ugly and heinous- mirroring her vile heart.

“How could you?”

“Cauldron! Why doesn’t anyone understand me? I love him!! And he was messing around with that…that bitch. I deserve him, not her!” Elain screamed, a wildness overtaking her expression.

“You do not deserve anything, Elain. You can’t force someone to love you. And you don’t hurt the people you love. What did you think was going to happen, huh? That you would break up Azriel’s relationship, his very happy relationship, and he would what? Run happily to you? Are you honestly that delusional?!” Cassian roared back.

“It doesn’t matter. I wanted him first. What right does she have to just waltz in and steal him from me?”

“She didn’t steal anyone, Elain. Azriel was never yours-”

“Well then at least he’s not hers anymore now either. If I can’t have him, no one can,” she said coolly as if she had told some joke. The calmness with which she said it took out all the fight from his body.

“You’re pathetic,” he whispered. And with that he made to leave.

“Wait, where are you going?” she called after him.

“To find my brother. Rhysand will deal with you.”

What Elain had done was unforgivable; intentionally breaking up his dear brother’s relationship like that, ambushing him with a kiss against his will…was no less than assault. And Cassian had a sinking feeling Rhysand would have a lot to say to the middle Archeron sister.

……………………………………………………………….....................

Flying to the River House, he barged in to find Rhysand. Azriel’s reaction to everything made it clear that the situation was more serious than he had anticipated. He also knew that he needed Rhysand to intervene and help come to solution since Azriel would not listen to a word Cassian said. What the hell. The cat was already out of the bag, he might as well tell Rhys too, just so he can help Cassian clean up this mess.

Thankfully, Feyre was not home. He really didn’t want to tell his High Lady about her own sister’s crimes- he would much rather leave that conversation to Rhys. Speaking of, he found the High Lord in his study going over reports. His brother gave a warm smile as he saw Cassian walk in but his face fell at his expression.

“What’s happened?”

Cassian sighed and recounted the whole debacle, starting from when he first saw Azriel and his girlfriend at the café to his recent conversation with Elain. To say his brother was seething by the end would be an understatement. One thing about Rhys was that he is insanely protective of his family and while Elain might be his sister in law, the three of them had been at each other’s side for five centuries- it was no mystery of who was given priority.

And what Elain had done… His brother never spoke of it but he knew Rhysand was still haunted by his time Under the Mountain, by Amarantha. Even more than before his brother had always been the one to enforce the importance of consent, in every aspect of life, not just intimacy. For Elain to so blatantly ignore his brother’s refusal must have struck a chord with Rhys. The High Lord was now pacing in his office, almost shaking with anger.

“Where is she now?” the High Lord demanded.

Knowing he must be talking about Elain, he answered, “She’s at the House of Wind.”

“Cauldron, I just want to… never mind we’ll deal with her later. Where’s Az?”

“I have no idea. He winnowed away from the training arena and I haven’t seen him since. He wasn’t in his room at the House of Wind, and he’s not here either,” Cassian explained.

“He must be at his own place then. Let’s go.”

“Me? Shouldn’t you go on your own? He seemed really pissed off, Rhysand. Maybe you should go on your own, I don’t want to make anything worse,” Cassian said hesitantly.

“Don’t be a fool, Cass. What’s happened has happened. We can’t change it. But we can make Azriel hear us out right now. Let’s go.”

With that the two brothers winnowed away in search of their third, terrified of what they might find.

……………………………………..................................................

Arriving at Azriel’s place they were met with darkness and a pungent stench of alcohol. Walking further into the house, they found Azriel passed out on his couch, the coffee table littered with empty bottles of vodka. Shit. Shit. Shit. Azriel had only confronted Cassian in the training arena this morning. Just how much had he drank since then in this short period of time. Turning to Rhysand, he saw similar horror in his eyes. Azriel never drank like this. It was usually Cassian who blacked out drunk on nights out, Azriel-ever the vigilant Spymaster- would always remain sober enough to keep track of his surroundings.

Rhysand walked over and gently shook Azriel awake, emitting several groans from the passed out male.

“Az, wake up brother,” Rhysand prodded him gently.

Azriel only let out another groan in response and covered his eyes with his arm, burrowing in further into the couch.

“C’mon none of that,” Rhysand said, pushing him again. Eventually, Rhysand managed to get Azriel up and sitting on the couch. The sway to his body and his unfocused eyes confirmed what they were already suspecting: Azriel was very, very drunk.

Out of nowhere, Azriel made to get up but his intoxication was clearly affecting his motor skills as he stumbled and would have face planted on the floor but luckily Rhysand caught him in his arms.

“Easy there brother…”

“I’m fine,” Azriel grumbled before pushing off of Rhys. His slurred words telling that he was very much not fine. Azriel then made to walk to the kitchen when his eyes landed on him. Cassian steeled himself, readying himself for another onslaught of Azriel’s accusations, knowing full well he deserved them. Honestly he would have preferred the yelling. Because Azriel said… nothing. The utter defeat in his brother’s eyes made Cassian want to die almost. Azriel only pushed past Cassian to the kitchen, not even sparing him another glance.

The two of them assumed perhaps Azriel was getting a glass of water but were immediately proven wrong when they saw him rummaging through cabinets and pulling out yet another bottle of vodka.

“Hey now, none of that. You’ve had enough Azriel,” Rhysand exclaimed, the authority in his voice urging Az to listen.

“Yeah, I’ve just about had enough with all this,” Azriel said with a wry laugh, still stumbling where he stood when he took another sip of the bottle. The bastard was going to give himself alcohol poisoning at this rate if he didn’t slow down. Not being able to watch any longer, Cassian rushed forward to grab the bottle from his brother’s hands only to be pushed right back,

“Don’t fucking touch me. This is… it’s all your fault,” Azriel barked.

“Okay so we’re talking now, good,” Rhysand said all of a sudden. Azriel laughed a dry laugh,

“I have nothing to say to anyone, get the hell out.”

“Az, we know you’re upset” Rhysand started but was interrupted by Azriel,

“Upset doesn’t even begin to describe what I’m feeling right now, Rhysand. So why don’t you take your fake sympathy and pity and shove it up your ass.”

With that Azriel pushed past the two of them and moved towards his room. Cassian followed, knowing he had to get through to Az right now if they wanted any chance to fix this mess.

“Azriel listen to me-” Cassian started, pushing past the door when Azriel tried to slam it in his face, “No you’re going to listen whether you like it or not. Yes, I knew about your girlfriend. I saw the two of you at the café by the Sidra because I’d been out to get some things for Nesta and the girls. Yes, I was upset and hurt that you didn’t tell me, especially after I found out that you had been courting her for two years. And yes I told Nesta, which I realize was a mistake as well. It was not my place to tell her. But I was only discussing it with my mate because I was upset about it. And she swore not to tell anyone either. I… I didn’t tell Elain. She was eavesdropping our conversation from our bedroom door and she asked around about you girlfriend through her name. I didn’t tell her Az, let alone send her there. I… I would never ruin your happiness like that, brother.”

Cassian was panting at the end of his rant, out of breath from all the emotions he had let out, but he knew he had to get through to Azriel right now. Or else this misunderstanding would only get worse. Rhysand now stood behind him, ready to jump in between his two brothers in case he needed to.

Azriel only stared back at him as a single tear made its way down his face,

“It doesn’t matter… none of it matters. My nightingale.. she’s gone. She left. She left me and I can’t… I can’t breathe… I can’t…”

Cassian saw the sudden shift in his brother; how Azriel’s panicked gaze flitted across the room quicker than his shadows, how he began to grab at his chest, his neck. Immediately Cassian moved to his brother,

“Hey, Az. Just breathe okay. You’re alright, “ Cassian tried comforting his brother, wanting to ground him before he spiraled into a full on panic attack. He put Azriel’s hand on his own chest, trying to get Az to match his breathing.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re okay, you’re safe,” Cassian repeated the mantra he had uttered a thousand times to his brother. Despite his stoic attitude, out of all of them, Azriel had always been more prone to panic attacks, had been since childhood. Perhaps it was his silent, secretive nature, Azriel always kept his issues to himself, never voicing them to anyone or complaining. Maybe bottling up everything in such a way was what caused his brother to collapse from time to time. There’s only so much a person can take, even if they are as strong as his brother.

Eventually Azriel’s breaths calmed and he crumbled in Cassian’s arms. Slowly the two fell to the floor and Azriel… just cried. Cassian looked at Rhysand who had a similarly shocked expression. They had never, ever seen Azriel break down like this. Cassian was at a loss for words, and it must have seemed like it too, because Rhys walked over and kneeled by them too.

“Hey, it’s going to be alright, Az. I know all seems lost right now but we’ll fix this. I swear it,” Rhys comforted.

“You can’t… fix anything,” Azriel let out amidst his sobs, “she’s gone, she doesn’t even want to see me.”

As Azriel’s sobs got more violent, the two brothers became more and more concerned. None of their attempts to calm him down were working and at this rate they were worried he might as well spiral into another panic attack. .

“Why does this always happen to me? I do everything for everyone… I always give up everything. Why can’t I have this one thing? Why can’t anyone love me? Why does everyone always leave?” Azriel lamented, hiccupping because of the tears.

To say Cassian’s heart broke in that moment would be an understatement. It was then that he swore to the Mother that he would fix this for his brother, even if he had to give up everything he had for it.

…............................................................................................

Cassian had left Azriel with Rhysand after he had pried your name and whereabouts from Azriel. It had been difficult with Az not even wanting to mention your name but eventually he had succumbed to Cassian’s persistence. He was ashamed to admit that he had used his brother’s still drunken state to pry information out of him but whatever. It was for a good cause.

Now he was standing outside your door. He had first visited The Quill- a bookshop he now knew you owned, Nesta would be delighted- but unfortunately it was closed for the day. Knocking he waited for a response but got none. Not knowing what else to do, he knocked again. Azriel hadn’t mentioned another location, if you weren’t here Cassian didn’t know what he would do.

He was about to knock again when a muffled voice called out,

“I’m coming!”

So you were home. Great. As Cassian was preparing what to say the door opened and… shit. There you were, looking just as bad as Azriel; swollen eyes, puffy face, red nose. All indicators of a long crying session. Cassian wanted to kick himself: just how many people had he hurt with his hot headedness.

“Yes? Can I help you?”

It was at your question that Cassian realized that he had been gawking at you, which instantly snapped him out of his stupor.

“Yes, sorry about that. I was hoping we could talk for a moment. I’m Cassian, Azriel’s brother?”

He hoped that Az had at least mentioned him to you otherwise this was going to be a very difficult conversation. However, your face fell as he mentioned Azriel’s name-shit- and you began to close the door in his face as you said,

“I have nothing to say to you. Goodbye.”

And you had almost slammed the door in Cassian’s face but he wrenched his feet in between the door,

“Look I’m sorry. I know you’re angry and hurt and you have every right to be but please… please listen to me. I won’t take long, just a moment… Please.”

Internally Cassian begged every deity out there to bless you with some mercy, some understanding. And despite recent events proving otherwise, it seemed just this once fate was on his side as you opened the door to let him in and took him to your drawing room. Crossing your arms in front you, you stared back at him with a fiery gaze, daring him to say whatever it is he wanted to say. Feisty. He was beginning to see why his brother liked you.

“If Azriel has sent you here to offer some made up apologies, I would recommend you save your time and leave,” you said before Cassian could get anything out.

“No, not an apology, an explanation.”

You scoffed and started to move away but Cassian continued before you could leave,

“Look whatever happened that day in the café, it wasn’t Azriel’s fault. It was…mine.”

He could see how your ears piqued up at that as you turned to him with inquisitive eyes. He had your attention then… good. So Cassian began again and told his tale, explaining Elain overhearing his conversation with Nesta, her vile schemes and also her long held affections for his brother. But he made it a point to reiterate how his brother had never returned those affections and that it was only after Cassian found out about you that he understood why- because his heart already belonged to another, to you.

“So please, if you want to take out your anger on anyone, take it out on me, take it out on Elain, but please do not punish my brother. He has no fault in all of this, and he can’t live without you. I know that now.”

Cassian had left after that, knowing you needed some time to process everything. He only hoped that he had done enough for his brother, and that the two lovers could find their way back to each other again.

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

Having cleared the misunderstanding between the two lovers, Cassian and Rhysand’s attentions had turned to the culprit: Elain. Rhys’s fury had returned full force when he was face to face with her. As he had raged and yelled, at one point Cassian thought Rhysand might end up killing Elain altogether- Azriel’s breakdown only acting as fuel to the fire. Seeing Azriel cry as he did had sparked a violent need for revenge in the two brothers.

In the end, Elain had survived- Cassian suspected probably because of Feyre. But Rhysand would no longer tolerate her in Velaris, even for Feyre. As punishment, Rhysand had sent her to Wind Haven where she would stay for the foreseeable future. With no allowance form Rhys, she would have to earn her keep by working in the camp, as all the “commoners” did. Cassian had almost laughed when Rhysand had thrown Elain’s insult to you right back at her. With that out of the way, Cassian had turned to you and his brother.

As it turns out, his brother and his lover were equally stubborn. Despite the air being cleared between the two of you, both parties being absolved of guilt, neither of you was willing to take the first step. Azriel was still convinced that you wanted nothing to do with him, that you did not want to see him. And you… you had somehow managed to convince yourself that in the argument that had taken place between you and Azriel, you had hurt him to such a measure that you could not face him.

Ultimately, Cassian wanted to slam his head against a wall. Neither of you was willing to budge so he knew he had to take matters into his own hands. Therefore he had concocted a simple plan. He had convinced Azriel to take an evening stroll with him, claiming that his brother had spent too many days locked up in his house, drinking and brooding, that he needed some fresh air. In the end it had taken a direct order from Rhysand to get Azriel out of the house. Cassian knew his brother did not like to play rank with them but in this case it was necessary. If he was left to his own devices Azriel would most likely wither away in his home.

Well, they had gone flying and had even stopped at a restaurant where Cassian had forced his brother to eat- because Azriel did look like a walking corpse. It was when they were walking by the Sidra thkat the second component of his plan arrived- you.

The two lovers froze as they spotted each other. Now that the two were face to face, they had to talk.

“Oh, damn it. I was supposed to take Nesta flying. Well I better leave. Enjoy your walk Azriel.” With that Cassian took to the sky but not before he saw his brother’s accusatory glare. As he soared to the clouds, he sent a prayer to the Mother to soften both your hearts and allow the two of you to work out your differences- if only for the sake of your love.

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

Azriel POV:

The scene was rather poetic; two lovers mirroring each other’s pain. Your eyes looked hollow and sunken, as he was sure his did as well, indicative of long nights spent crying instead of sleeping.

He knew he couldn’t walk away, as much as his mind was begging him to. He wasn’t that cowardly. So he slowly approached you, allowing you the chance to walk away, but thankfully you moved to him as well.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his voice hoarse from days of not using it- he hadn’t really fell like talking to anyone. You nodded and the pair walked over to the bench that gave a brilliant view of the river in front of them, yet at the moment all seemed bland and gray.

“So…”

“I’m sorry,” the two of you said at the same time.

“Sorry? Nightingale, what are you sorry for? It was my fault… I…” Azriel didn’t know what his fault was but he knew his darling was not to be blamed.

“No, you have done nothing wrong. Your brother, Cassian, he explained everything, everything that the bitch did,” you spat out, “It is my fault Azriel. You… You did nothing at all. That bitch kissed you against your will and I blamed you for it. And I am so sorry for that, Azriel.”

Azriel was at a loss. He had walked into this conversation expecting to be confronted and now… he was confused.

“I should have listened to you, I should have stopped to think but I didn’t and I’m so sorry Azriel,” you cried, tears lining your eyes.

“Its okay, nightingale. It was the heat of the moment, you didn’t have to time to react to what you saw. I probably would have reacted the same.”

And it was true. With how possessive he was, Azriel knew seeing his nightingale with another man would not have ended well.

“But you came to me… You came to my house to explain yourself even when you had done nothing wrong… And I didn’t even listen, and I said such horrible things. I’m so so sorry Azriel,” you said amidst tears as your head fell into your hands.

Instantly, he took you into his arms. And just like that he felt whole again. You were where you belonged, and that’s all that matters. But you pulled away and took his hands in your own,

“I need you to know, Azriel. I did not mean anything I said, not a single thing. Everything I said about your hands and you… I meant none of it. I was just so angry and I used your insecurities against you and I am so so sorry for that. Please, I understand if you do not wish to be with me any longer, but please forgive me. I won’t ever be able to forgive myself for hurting you like that, I’m so so sorry Az.”

With that you broke down into tears and Azriel pulled you back into his arms, every part of his soul begging him to comfort you, to provide solace.

“Love, its okay, I forgive you. I know you did not mean it, because I know my nightingale holds no malice for anyone in her heart. Yes it did hurt in the moment but we were both not thinking straight in the moment.”

“You shouldn’t forgive me so easily,” you remarked as you wiped away some tears.

“I think that should be for me to decide, no?”

A strange silence fell between them, one that had had no place in their relationship before. It was the gnawing kind that slowly began to suffocate you. The two of you had resolved the misunderstanding but so much had been done, so much had been said, that they didn’t know how to move past it. So they sat quietly side by side, staring at the river before them, wondering to themselves if it could carry away their woe as well.

No matter how much he tried to ignore it, there was one question that was gnawing at the back of his mind. Azriel knew if he wanted any hope for their relationship to survive, he had to ask it now. Otherwise they could try to move past this together and dance around it, ignoring it’s presence as it slowly suffocated Azriel to death.

“Why didn’t you come for me, when Cassian had told you the truth?”

You turned to glance at him, the pain shining through your eyes, then turned back to the River as you answered,

“I was afraid, afraid that you would turn me away. Already I had convinced myself that I did not deserve you… everything that happened only cemented the fact that I would only hurt you.”

That- was not what he was expecting. He had thought perhaps you had already given up on their relationship, maybe you didn’t think him worth the effort. To think that you thought yourself unworthy… it wasn’t like you. Some deep instinct of his told him there was more. He wasn’t the Spymaster for nothing.

“Where is this coming from, love?”

“I don’t know, Azriel. I’ve just been struggling so much these past few months. Freya, she made these new friends that we’ve been hanging out with. And she told them about us, our relationship, and the things they said have been getting to my head. They found it very hard to imagine that you would date someone like me. They always commented how you could always find someone richer or belonging to a more royal family. And one of them… one of them even said that because you go to all these different courts, you probably have loads of affairs. And you… You were gone for so long, and I know it was for work, I understand that completely, I knew that when we got together. But they wouldn’t stop saying it. So when Elain showed up to my shop… everything she said and then what I saw at the café, it was like vindication for my fears. Like you had proven them right. I got so caught up in their hate- that I lost track of us in between.”

You again started crying at the end of the rant, it providing a much needed catharsis. Azriel was…speechless. He knew first hand how painful such insecurities were and to imagine that yours had dug so deep that you doubted their relationship… That you doubted yourself, made him want to stab his own heart out. Taking you into his arms, he whispered,

“My love, your are not wrong for having fears or insecurities. Everyone has them. You should have told me about them. That was your one mistake, you should have let me help you.”

Turning to look at him, you gazed into his eyes as if searching them for some way out of this mess.

“How do we move past this, Azriel?” You asked sadly.

“Well, we start by forgiving each other. And by promising that we never let a third get in between us again; whether that’s Freya, Elain, my brothers, anyone. Never again, nightingale. Whatever issues we have, whatever fears, we solve them together. Can you promise that?”

“Yes, my love, j promise,” you answered with a smile.

Pulling away, he wiped the tears from your face and asked with a smirk,

“So we’re together again?” he asked with a smirk and you answered by throwing yourself into his arms. And as he held you in his arms, Azriel swore it was then that he took his first breath in weeks. He knew this was far from over. He knew it would take time to rebuild their relationship and their trust in each other to way it was, knew it would take time to fight away your insecurities along side his own. But in this moment, he only shuffled closer to you, inhaling your scent to give solace to his weary heart.

“Well, it is way past the date, but would you be interested in a belated, anniversary breakfast my lady?”

In answer you only let out a laugh of your own, the sound more melodious to Azriel than the sweetest opera, and you took his hand in your own as the two of you began to walk towards your favorite café, where all this heartbreak had started.

The two of you walked hand in hand to the same café, hearts beating as one, to a new start.

Taglist: @i-am-infinite, @going-through-shit @cleverzonkwombatsludge @minnieoo @rcarbo1 @tele86 @freyagallileaevans @paleidiot @mariahoedt @ratgirl2020 @starryhiraeth @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @topaz125 @theravenphoenix26 @circe143

[albertasunrise]

Hope - Getting Your Hopes Up

Masterlist

Summary: After Joel loses his wife and your best friend during childbirth. You support him as he takes on parenthood on his own at 22. But when feelings start to develop, you battle with the guilt you feel for falling for your best friend’s husband.

Relationships: Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3 I choose to give none. Read at own risk. 18+… this is to avoid spoilers! (So first chapter's a little short but I promise its building... Gonna be away for a few days one a work trip but will try get some more updates out in a few days)

Series Masterlist - Part 1

Joel had instantly sensed that something had changed between you both after the visit to Tommy’s and not for the better. You were more guarded around him. Kept a sort of, metaphorical and sometimes physical, distance from him at all times and he just couldn’t understand what had changed. He had thought the visit had gone well. You and Tommy had hit it off and his brother hadn’t stopped thanking you for the help you were so generously bestowing on him and his daughter.

Maybe that was it.

You were fed up with the sleepless nights and taking care of not only Sarah but him also. When you said you were going to move in and help, he hadn’t thought to ask how long you planned to do that. It had been a few months now. Perhaps you were at the end of your tether and he couldn’t expect you to do this forever.

You on the other hand were wracked with guilt. The feelings you had developed for Joel and the statement he’d made at Tommy’s had led you to avoid any sort of close contact with him. You thought by distancing yourself from him that it would get easier to cope with them but you were wrong. It just confused you further. His sad eyes would follow you as you flitted around the house cleaning or cooking or tending to Sarah. You knew you weren't dealing with this in the right way but there wasn't an instruction manual on this.

'Idiots guide to dealing with your crush on your dead best friend's husband.'

Yeah, there wasn't anything out there to help you navigate these feelings you felt. Then, on a rare and much-needed night out 3 months later with the girls, your friend Linda suggested you try something new.

"Speed dating?" You snorted as you sipped your Mojito.

"Don't knock it till you've tried it." Linda defended, pointing her forefinger at you as she smirked at your reaction "My sister met her fiancé doing it and they're an amazing couple."

"I'm not exactly looking for a husband right now." You chuckled, glancing at Hanna that was watching this interaction with amusement.

"Well, my tall dark and handsome over there would probably happily help you with your dry spell." She chuckled, motioning at the man who had, unbeknown to you, been glancing at you all evening "He's not been able to take his eyes off of you."

"I don't know." You grumbled, smiling at him sweetly before looking back at your friends "I don't know if I-"

"He's coming over." Linda grinned as she playfully elbowed you.

"I think it's time for another round." Piped up Hanna, winking at you "Linda, could you help."

"No… No, no Pleas-" You didn't get to finish your sentence before they were up and leaving you to fend for yourself.

Mr tall dark and handsome seemed to falter a moment before schooling his features and heading over to your table.

"Hi." He said softly, giving you a sweet smile and you felt yourself relax a little as you replied with a quiet "Hey." Back.

"Your friends are about as subtle as a dump truck." He joked and you snorted.

"Understatement."

"I'm Alec." He said, holding his hand out to shake which you accepted as you gave him your name in return.

"I uh… I gotta confess something." He said, scratching the back of his neck bashfully and you felt your pulse quicken "I uh, I'm not very good at this. I just got divorced and my buddy over there dragged me out to find someone to wet my wick."

"Think my friends were trying to achieve something similar." You chuckled "Been going through a bit of a dry spell." You confessed, your cheeks burning in embarrassment.

"Well, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I pretty much noticed you the moment you walked in with your friends and I… Well, I decided that if there was anyone I wanted to try this whole 'dating' thing with again, it was you."

"I could be a psycho for all you know." You scoffed "How could you possibly know that I was the girl you wanted?"

"Because you're the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." He stated plainly, ripping the air from your lungs "You have honest eyes."

"Honest eyes?" You chuckled and he nodded.

"You can tell a lot about a person from their eyes."

You smiled at his statement. Finding yourself taken by his dark hair and piercing blue eyes. You continued to talk, even when your friends returned with the round of drinks they had promised. They eventually left, demanding you call them with the details to which you rolled your eyes before hugging them goodbye. You stayed at the bar a little while longer. Getting to know Alec intimately. What he liked to read, cook, and do on the weekends. You learned that he had a two-year-old that he had sole custody of. The mother not wanting to be tied down by family. He lit up when you asked if he had a picture and he was quick to pull out a Polaroid that he kept in his wallet.

"My uh… My parents have Noah for the night." He said, smiling nervously at you as he took his shot "Did you uh… do you fancy coming back to my place?"

"Definitely!"

Joel was sitting staring at his mug of coffee when you made your entrance that following morning. He looked up at you briefly before returning to staring at the mug in his hands, watching the steam rise from the drink and fade into nothingness.

"Good night?" He asked, desperately trying to keep his voice steady.

"Great night." You replied, pulling a mug from the cupboard and pouring yourself some coffee from the machine "Really needed it."

"Good." He replied plainly "Glad you enjoyed yourself."

"I did." You continued, completely unaware of the tone Joel was setting "I didn't realise how badly I needed to let my hair down. The last few months haven't allowed for much fun." You chuckled and Joel scoffed.

"Sorry, we're such bores." He grumbled, taking a large swig of his coffee and your brows drew together as you turned to face him.

"You know I didn't mean it that way." You argued, feeling your heart tug a little at the thought he would think you didn't enjoy his company.

"You didn't come home last night." He stated and you felt even more confused by his attitude.

"I uh… I met someone last night and we hooked up." You replied casually, shrugging your shoulders as you blew on the coffee in your grasp.

Joel felt jealousy lick at his soul but he knew he had no right to feel that way. You were only there to help him with Sarah. He had said it himself. You and he were just friends. Nothing more.

"Right, well, would have appreciated a heads up that you weren't coming back." He grumbled, downing the last of his coffee before standing to grab himself a refill "I was worried."

You opened your mouth to argue but stopped in your tracks. You were living under his roof and you should have probably given him a heads up.

"I know sorry." You sighed "Didn't mean to worry ya." You continued as you scraped a hand over your mouth "I wasn't really thinking about you at the time."

"Figures." He snarled and you felt your fuse burn out.

"You know, I think perhaps I should move back home now." You piped up and Joel's eyes widened as he turned on his heel to look at you "Sarah's nearly 5 months old now. You don't need my help anymore."

"I-"

"I'll still be around if you need help but I think it's best if I just go home. I'm only getting in the way now."

"You're not…" Joel trailed off as he tried to find the words to say to stop you from doing this.

From leaving him.

"Sarah's so used to you being around. What if she doesn't like just me being there."

"She'll forget about me in no time." You said softly, starting to feel guilty about the decision you were making "It'll be fine Joel." You assured him "You're a great father!… You don't need me."

You moved out that night. It didn't take you long to pack the clothes you'd brought with you, packing them into your car before saying your goodbyes to Joel and Sarah and driving home. Tears flowed freely down your cheeks as you watched them disappear in the rearview mirror. You hated to leave them but you knew that if you wanted to remain friends, you had to leave. It was the right thing to do.

In the two months that followed, your and Joel's relationship started to mend. You were able to laugh together again. You continued to take care of Sarah on the days he wasn't able to but your evenings were taken up by your new relationship with Alec and his adorable son. The relationship flourished with each date and kiss you shared.

Joel watched from the sidelines as you fell hard and fast for this man. The green monster he had tried to tamp down was trying to crawl its way out every time he was near the two of you. Weekends with you, Alec and Noah had become a common occurrence. Noah seemed to enjoy showing Sarah how to play and she seemed to be just as taken by him.

"Maybe there are wedding bells in their future." Alec joked one Saturday as he watched Noah lay on his tummy on Sarah's play mat beside her. playing with her assortment of toys as she watched him with a wide grin on her face.

"They are super cute together." You piped up, chuckling as Alec wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close so he could kiss you sweetly.

"Not as cute as you too." Chuckled Tommy from his seat beside his brother "It's actually a little sickening." He said as he mimed himself vomiting and you rolled your eyes at him and flipped him off.

"You're just jealous." You teased the younger Miller as you returned to arranging the sides and cutlery on the table.

"Not much time for relationships right now." He replied with a shrug as he took a swig of his beer "What about you brother?"

"Hmm?" Joel hummed as he looked at his brother "What about me?"

"You been on any dates?"

"I'm a widow with a baby." Joel scoffed "Not much time to date between naps, changed diapers and bottle feeds."

"You know we would happily have her for an evening if wanted a night off!" You piped up, looking up at Alec who smiled and nodded at you in agreement.

"I hear there's a speed dating event going on this weekend and the Rising Sun." Alec announced as he scooped up the burgers and placed them on a bun "Didn't a friend of yours meet her fiancé at one?"

"Friend's sister but yes." You replied, "They're like the perfect couple I swear!"

"I'm not looking to date right now." Joel growled, wishing desperately for this conversation to end.

"Oh come on brother, you can't remain alone forever."

"My wife, Sarah's mum, has been dead less than a year." He snapped and rendered you all silent "I lost…" He tried off as his eyes zoned in on you, noting Alec's hand on your hip and how you leaned into him as he planned a tender kiss on your temple.

"Sorry, Joel." Piped up Tommy, pulling his attention away from you and to his brother beside him "We didn't mean-"

"I know." Joel stopped Tommy in his tracks, giving him a reassuring look as the necks of their beers clinked together "I'm just not sure I'm ready for anything new right now."

"You know where we are when you are." Alec piped up "We're here for you."

"Always." You said, giving Joel a nod before looking up at Alec adoringly.

Joel said nothing more. He watched as you and Alec shared what could only be described as a loving kiss and Joel could do nothing but watch. Muttering what he was about to say under his breath as he sipped his beer.

"I lost my chance with her." His eyes didn't leave you as you giggled at Alec cheekily grabbing your ass as you started to carry the burgers over to the table "I blew my chance at loving her."

Next

For updates follow @albertasunrise-ficsblog

[electrictoes]

I read a few theories for the traumatic experience she's gonna suffer that would lead to her leaving after this shooting, mostly about the position of the shot for Amanda like, 1 she could have been pregnant and she lost it, or 2 the wound affected her uterus so she can't have kids anymore now. I wish this not be the truth honestly because jesus fuck she has suffered enough now this too? Maybe this time was the only time she WANTED to be pregnant but can't? Kill me now, hell no!😭

So I think it could also just be: she was terrified to die and not being able to see her kids and Sonny anymore. You could clearly see it when that killer was about to 'finish the job' she saw herself dying in that second, she begged him not to, she thought she was gonna die in that moment. So now THIS is her trauma, she will have nightmares over this moment for weeks and PTSD, I hope she will talk to Hanover but it's not gonna be easy. The last time she was shot she was a different person, she was alone, her life was a mess, she had really very low self-esteem, she didn't think she deserved good thing or happiness, didn't even know what that looked like, if she would have die with that sniper shot she thought maybe she didn't have much to lose for herself, maybe she was ok with that (and this makes me so sad because she always deserved happiness!!). But NOW?? Now she finally got into that place in her life where she loves herself, she knows she deserves happiness and she HAS so much love in her life, real love, her girls are her life they love her unconditionally and she has Carisi too who loves her the same, she has Liv who loves her like a sister and Fin, she has her own found family, so now she was terrified to die and to lose everything and to leave them behind. I believe that's the trauma she's gonna have for the rest of her episodes. But I know she would have pull it through because she is Amanda fucking Rollins damn it! her leaving is just that Dick, forever pissed.

I've seen those theories too and I do very much fear that's the road they're going down. I do not want that to be the case. You're right - this whole situation is already traumatic enough - for a character who has been through a hell of a lot of trauma already, who is a survivor of SA, who has gone on a huge journey to get to where she is now. She doesn't need any more trauma, and the way the show treats its female characters makes me so mad - both Amanda and Liv deserve happiness that doesn't come after even more suffering. What message does the show want to send - that survivors can overcome their experiences and live happy, fulfilled lives? Or that your next trauma is just around the corner and your recovery will be knocked off track semi-regularly? Amanda in s24 has so, so much more to live for than Amanda in s14. You're completely right that she was a different person then and being shot now, seeing all those things in her mind - all the people who've become her family - of course she doesn't want to die, of course she pleads for her life. It absolutely is more than enough trauma on its own. I'm just not convinced the writers see it that way. I've talked before about Amanda's growth and her journey and how much it means - to me, to so, so many people. Getting rid of her is a huge mistake, but doing it this way is even worse. I hope that those theories are wrong - I hope that when she leaves it's a reflection on all she could have lost and left behind, and not because they've added yet another layer to her suffering.

[angelwiththeblue-box]

ALLLLLLLL RIGHT!!!

so. picture this. the year is i dont fucking know. local man morpheus nolastname manages to get so far into death's good graces that she's like yk what im going to not take you ever and morpheus is like bro thats sick as fuck are u my sister now and death is like mmm no.

and then she ditches him for three hundred odd years. morpheus goes through the ropes, watches the people around him die. he starts keeping journals of everything that goes wrong so that he doesnt forget any of the worst things. eventually he turns into this cold-hearted fucker who is trying his level best to escape. he makes a deal with like. idk a death god or something (probably an incarnation of the corinthian -- HOLD UP NO ITS RODERICK BURGESS) to help him capture death (but not hurt her!!! morpheus still loves her in his own way)

so things happen and death comes back to morpheus but not intentionally. maybe she gets caught on a job or something wrong place wrong time morpheus pretends not to know her and she doesnt recognise him until hes like AHA IT IS I MORPHEUS REMEMBER ME and shes like oh heyyyyyy buddy how you doing and hes like NOT FUCKING GOOD and proceeds to tell her why all of her plans are rubbish and she's a terrible person and for fucks sake PLEASE KILL HIM!!! this does not happen what does happen is that he helps roderick burgess capture her!! along the way they run into morpheus' archnemesis, a man named hob gadling. idk what they're archnemeses of possibly highwaymen shit idk

so they have some fun banter death Senses stuff and then things happen yadda yadda morpheus and death are on thin strings because morpheus still desperately wants to get out like he is so tired of everything living and dying and dropping like fucking mayflies

anyway back to morpheus' house which is probably just fawney rig where death is like morpheus i know you are more than this i remember you being kind and in love with storytelling please rememeber that and morpheus is like i dont remember that part of me that part of me is gone now thanks to you and then he pulls up with roderick burgess and they're like either you bring back randall (because yeah that cheeky fuck is still on that) and kill morpheus or we trap you here for good and death is like first off no i cant bring back your dead fucking son are you crazy and two bad news morpheus you cant ask for my gift after ive already refused it (this is a straight up LIE there is always a way out but morpheus secretly still loves humanity and death is still holding out hope)

and so theyre like fucking fine so basically the ritual to trap you forever requires the death of a mortal so theyre initially going to kill alex burgess which death does NOT LIKE and is staunchly againsrt BUT THEN!!! the police pull up and are like LORD BURGESS/LORD MORPHEUS!! HOB GADLING HAS BEEN CAPTURED!! HE IS TO HANG IN THE GALLOWS IN HALF AN HOUR!

and morpheus manages to convince burgess to change the sacrifice from alex to hob mostly because he doesnt want burgess to lose another son but he passes it off as like. idk practicality or something so they go to the hanging and death manages to get herself out of her traps and so cut to the hanging right

hob gadling is terrified out of his mind but hes cracking jokes to stay sane and morpheus pulls up in a carriage and goes and stands next to him on the stage because the whole damn town knows about their issues TM and morpheus wants a front row seat to hob's demise and hob is still just trying to make the people like him enough to save him and hes like hey listen what about a kiss from a lord before i die (homophobia whos she never heard of her) and morpheus obliges and is like oh fuck and hob is like oh fuck and the DEATH pulls up (roderick burgess is still in the carriage) and gets there just as hob is about to be hung but he recognises her in the crowd and is like OH SHIT I CAN STALL MORE DEATH DEATH and she sees what hes doing and also she doesnt have an appt with him today something must be up and so she cracks jokes WITH HIM and then burgess is like ENOUGH and pops out and goes to kill hob and very nearly succeeds and his whole ritual thing starts to wreak havoc on the town and morpheus has to watch and he has no idea how to stop it and he turns to death and goes "HELP ME JESUS CHRST I CARE ABOUT THEM WHY DO I CARE ABOUT THEM HOW DO I STOP THIS" and death is like YESSSSSSS and shes like hob gadling is the catalyst if you save him it will end all of this but the blow burgess gave him was fatal and then death is like i could refuse him my gift and after a moment where the rushing in morpheus' ears is the only thing he hears he remembers the kiss and he tells death to take away her gift

nothing happens, she doesnt gesture or anything, but in that instant, the spell dies. hob gadling was never meant to die, but it only mattered when death actively refused to give him her gift.

anyway they fix things burgess dies blah blah morpheus and death and hob go and have a drink (there is Flirting happening with morpheus and hob) and morpheus is like is it true that you cant ever kill me and death is like no that was a lie but come on do you really want to die and she makes some implications (side eye over to where hob is having a laugh in the corner) and morpheus is like no i suppose not but i dont wish to continue as i am and he decides to seek out those like him (like mad hettie or others) and just. tell their stories. that will be his job. he will be the prince of stories. the thing is, the people that live the longest always have the best tales to tell.

~~~~~

THAT CAME OUT IN LIKE TWENTY MINUTES HOLY FUCK

double points if you can guess what this is an au of

this is great i love it

[elibabayblog]

She comes out to you

'I wonder if Zendaya wants to hangout tonight?' You wonder.

Not long after you ask yourself that question she texts you.

My Crushh🥵: can we talk?

Me: alright...are you okay?

My Crushh🥵: yeah I'm fine but we need to talk now

Me: okay...where should we meet?

My Crushh🥵: my house, my parents are gone for now

Me: okay I'm on my way

I pack up my things and head out my house. Mom was at the store and dad was still at work. My younger sister was at cheer practice. So I grabbed my bike and starting riding towards her house.

'What was so important she can't tell me on the phone?'

Maybe if you didn't know but Zendaya my crush. Girl crush. Yeah I'm gay. Its not that she's stright is what hurts me. What hurts me is that she knows that I like her yet she won't reject me. She's making me feel like I have a chance and I know I don't. It's eating me up inside. But because she means so much to me I would never tell her that.

I arrive outside her house.

"ZENDAYA IM HERE! OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!" You scream.

She opens the door almost right away.

"Hurry inside." She mumbles, pulling you inside the door.

"Z calm down what's the problem?" You ask her taking her hands.

"Don't do this to me y/n!"

"Zendaya do what? I'm only trying to be here for you."

"I know y/n but I'm scared."

"Z scared of what?" You ask.

"I'm bisexual." She speaks slowly.

You stare at her in shock. Bi? When did she find out? Why am I just finding out? Is she joking?

"Are you serious?" You ask her.

"Yes I'm serious, why would I lie about something like this?"

"Maybe to play a joke on me! I don't know!"

She walks over to the couch where you are seated.

"No y/n this isn't a joke. I am bisexual, and I like you."

You start laughing.

"Okay, okay very funny, now where they. Bring out the cameras and your friends. Stop rolling guys that was a very funny joke."

"Friends? Cameras? What are you talking about? There is no one else in here but you and me."

"Wait, so you really like me?" You ask stunned.

"Yes y/n I like YOU. There is not joke. My friends aren't here. There are no cameras. This is 100% real. This is me. I like you foreal and I hope you like me back."

Like her back??? Is she crazy!!? You had been in love with her since you looked at her! Of course you like her back!

"U-uh- ye- ma- n-" you couldn't even get the words out correctly.

"Thats alright. I knew that was to much to be asking. I really did think you liked me."

Y/n say something before you lose her forever.

"I do like you Zendaya. I love you. I didn't think you felt the same way because I was gay. I love you so damn much." You say pulling her into your embrace.

You hug her tightly.

"I promise y/n I'll never let you go again." She says.

"The feelings mutual Zendaya."

[starshipsofstarlord]

Could I request a Bucky Barnes x reader smut? Basically she and Bucky have been together for some time and maybe it’d be a little angst where the two are talking about the future and Bucky not thinking he can ever have a normal future? Which would result in soft smut and later reader being revealed as pregnant so Bucky finally gets his family

I’m Home

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary | based on the request ^^

Warnings | angst, smut, oral sex (m receiving), fluff, pregnancy, mentions of death

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

The Wilson’s boat rocked sturdily upon the water, swaying as the boats worked aboard. Your hand held the weight of a silver spanner, twirling it in your fist as though it were a knife, thinking of the long road ahead of you. Sam had the shield now, that was a good start, but still, there was a ways to go until the world recognised him as the captain that he was meant to be.

There was so much destruction ongoing in the world, what with the flag smashers, and whomever the power broker was, and surely, you knew on the shallow surface, that there would be masses more problems to arise. It was exhausting, to know that there was no end to the war on earth, and that you were surely going to be fighting the threats until you could no more.

Bucky felt the same; he had just gone from one war to another, losing everyone that he cared about along the way. Steve had given everything up to finally find peace, and yet, the two did not share the same opportunity. An escape was never laid at your feet, instead, the pair of you were trapped in the cycle of cruelty, being blended around in a shredder by reality.

“Hey.” A voice confiscated you from the lonesome containment of your thoughts; it was Sam’s hosting sister, Sarah. I’m her own way, though you doubted that she would never admit such a thing, she was a hero. She had become a widow, and not to mention she remained a stable mother to keep her boys afloat, as well as nurturing half the kids that lived within close proximity.

“Hi Sarah.” You put the tool down, giving her your ample attention as you stood, tugging your fingers into the loops of your jeans as you stepped out of the boat, and onto the dock. “Anything I can help with?” It hadn’t passed your attention that Sam and Bucky had disappeared, but not into ash like last time. Instead, they had walked off in the direction of the house, most likely meddling about with a ball, in the back yard with Jim and Jody.

“I just came to let you know I’ve made the sofa up for you and Bucky. Are you sure you’ll be all good, I could always kick Sam outta his bed and make him sleep on the living room floor?” The two of you had nightmares, if you were to be separated from him for even a night, it was certain that the pair of you would greatly suffer. That was something you didn’t want to burden any of the Wilson’s with, screaming in the middle of the night because flashes from your past struck an unconscious nerve.

“All good, and thank you Sarah. You didn’t have to let us stay here, we both appreciate it, a hell of a lot.” One thing that you had learnt throughout your years was to show gratitude. The smallest amount shared had the ability to spring up moods, and had even set you on a much more heroic path than the one that you had been originally been placed upon.

“You’ve earned your stay.” Sam’s sister shrugged with modesty, acknowledging the help that you and Bucky had not only given to Sam, but to her family’s legacy. The two of you had aided with fixing the old wreckage that had now returned to the form of a boat, keeping it afloat rather than permitting it to sink from the quarrels that Sam had with himself regarding fixing the damned yet meaningful port of transport.

“This life you have, it’s great. I get it’s not easy, but it’s beautiful. You have two wonderful kids, that you’ve done such a great job raising, and not to mention, these community that you have is so loving and kind, even to us outsiders.” The pair of you had paused outside of her front door, speaking. “Sam is lucky to have you, he truly is.”

“Well, maybe one day this life could be something similar to what you’ll have.” The sister of your friend smiled, though your mirroring expression retracted. In a stumble of thought, you shook your head, not believing that possibility. This all was... perfect. That was something that you had never had, nor would you think that you’d ever be permitted such a peaceful lifestyle.

“I don’t think that would work out.” You sincerely mumbled, feeling the sad swelling in your chest at the prospect of all the luxuries that life had denied both you and Bucky of. It wasn’t fair all the same, but the two of you were used to being denied human rights, let alone the simplicity of nothing more than a life together. “As nice as it sounds, me and Buck aren’t really cut out for all this I suppose.”

“The world does not choose who can and cannot have a family, there’s always a way. Just because you haven’t had the most ideal line of story does not at all mean that you can’t make it work, from as much as i know, you two deserve a life together, that doesn’t include being shot at, or shooting at other people. Sometimes, you’ve just gotta go for it, and hope for the best.” She gave you a final nod, before heading inside, and you trailed after her into her her residency.

The two of you went your separate ways, and there, you saw Bucky, sat up on the sofa, his hands clasped together as his eyes stared towards the tan bag, that concealed not the shape, but the Stars and Stripes of the infamous shield. It was much a relief that it was no longer in Walker’s toxic clutch, however its presence, among other things, were taking a clear toll on your boyfriend.

“You ever feel like we’re stuck?” The air was tense around you both as he spoke solemnly, it diverting to match the mood of his question. “Like we’re us, and I love us, but it makes me think that it’s it. Just me and you, on this path for the rest of our lives, never getting a compensated break, nor an average person’s future. I want this, what these people here have, not the combat that is aided by this metal arm, or the associations that stick to us like life lines.”

“All the time, it’s on my mind James.” With a sigh, you came to sit beside him on the couch, resting your head against his bionic shoulder. “I ever wonder if there’s a timeline of you and me where there’s none of this ruckus, we just have a nice little house in a quiet and accepting place, and maybe a kid or two in the future.”

“I’d give anything up for that.” He looked at you, almost wide eyed, as his hand slithered down onto your knee cap, rubbing small circles as he wore a blunt and endearing smile upon his infatuating lips. “I mean that Buck, that sounds...”

“Perfect?” He asked, leaning closer as he grabs your chin with his wondrous fingers, his nose brushing alongside your own as his puckered lips fell upon yours, earning a small hun of content from within you. “Because you’re perfect to me, and no matter what life we are encased in, I want to share it with you. I want stare at the night sky and watch the moonlight illuminate the side of your face, and the stars reflect in your entrapping eyes, that I want to look into like a medium’s orbs forever, because that is how I will see the future that I ever so hope for.”

“How long have you been working on that one Barnes, because you are usually not that smooth?” A small laugh erupted from your mouth, but you were quickly silenced as you felt a cold metal hand slither up and beneath the back of your tank top, rubbing along the seam of your spine, as his lips ran down the column of your throat, evoking small and delicate whimpers out of you.

“Shut up doll, because I really want to fuck you now, and those words leaving your mouth are making it kinda hard to concentrate.” A furrow imbedded between his brows, as you tilted your head at him, a smirk proclaiming your expression as you pulled the material over your head, and reached behind yourself to unclip the back of your bra.

“Kinda hard to concentrate, hun?” You asked nonchalantly as his gaze zeroed in on your bare breasts, his hands smoothing along your ribcage as he adjusted his grip of you so that he was palming at your breasts, and squeezing the nipples. “I want you in me baby, I’ve practically gone days without you inside of me.” Licking your lips, you reached down to palm your beloved through his layers, earning a positive groan from the former assassin.

“Hours, you mean. I fingered you on the road trip here.” Yes, that was true, however, it was only his fingers, not even the metal ones, and whilst you loved what they alone could do, he had to be discreet as you were sat on the back of the truck, which had carried the primary parts for the Wilson’s family boat. If you were to scream out, they’d have surely thought that you’d fallen off the back of the truck and pull over, or if they had much sense, they’d have noticed that there was more going on than two passengers sat side by side on the journey to their small neighbourhood by the docks,

“You heard me Barnes, otherwise I’m sure Sam wouldn’t have any problem if I came to his room in this state of undress that I am currently portraying.” Growling was never Bucky’s fortes, however the sound aggressively ripped through the tunnel of his throat, as he threw off his grey top, quickly unfastening his belt, as he awaited for you to strip the rest of your clothing before him.

But rather than doing so, as he stood before you, your hand had trouble resisting the sight of his cock that had bobbed to attention, and thus, you wrapped it around his toned flesh, giving it a couple jerks that had his head reeling back, before you tongued his tip, moaning to yourself at the taste of him invading your sensitive taste buds. “Love your cock.”

As soon as you said that, Bucky gently gathered your head in a ponytail so that it was free from bombarding your face, and groaned as quiet as he could as you sucked him in your mouth, running your tongue up the side of his shaft. “Is that a part of your dream world baby doll, the sight of my cock throbbing to be inching down that perfect little throat of yours?”

To answer him, you pressed your head down deeper, humming around him as your eyes ogled up at the sight of your super soldier, who was trying his hardest to keep his eyes open, and attuned to the sight of you. He held his bottom lip between his teeth, as you lightly gagged around him, pulling off him, and squeezing his balls, before running your hungry tongue along the middle of his sack.

“Always. It would be a dream if you made love to me right here and now though, I’m not sure I can wait any longer James.” Bucky took a long inhale, before ravishingly pulling down your jeans and panties in one go, and tossing you so that he was below your form, and you hovered over him, toying with his erect cock. “I love you so much Bucky, and I’m scared of what’s to come. I have a feeling that there’s gonna be a fight.”

“There’s always a fight doll face.” He rubbed his thumb soothingly across your jaw, pulling your hips down closer so that you were rubbing your slick folds against his standing cock. “But this is what we’re fighting for, the rest of our lives together. I’d be damned, one day after this, and if I were to die, I’d be a happy man. There’d be the memory of you to keep me forever happy in the afterlife, and not to mention, there’d be no more wars for me to participate in.”

“I’m not going to let you die Buck, even hypothetically. We saw how your little hypothetical synopsis went last time.” Tapping his cock against your clit, a breathy sound evicted from your lips, as you stared down at the two of you intimately touching, the sight alone making you more turned on and impatient. “No one is allowed to kill you, otherwise I’ll unleash hell on all their flag smashing asses.”

Giving him one last stroke, you guided his tip towards your entrance, removing your hand once you had him situated, so that you could rest it upon his sturdy shoulder, and sink down on him, the feeling of him stretching you being the most euphoric sensation that you had ever endured. Hushed moans ceased from the both of you, as Bucky’s hands gripped your ass cheeks, only adding to all of the pleasure that was erupting within you.

“Think your pussy is gonna kill me before anyone else does; your so tight.” His pitch had rose, as your fingertips danced along the left side of his handsome face, invisibly connecting the dots of his beauty marks. You allowed the pair of you to adjust for a simple moment, before you began to raise your hips, sliding up his super soldier rod, only to slide down it again.

The actions were repeated, as your own hands trailed down his warm skin, to drag down the golden lines of his vibranium arm, only to bring the weapon to your mouth, and kiss every black finger up, as you tried your best to muffle the moans that were hoping to reap free. “So fucking big, I love you and your cock.” You muttered, your sight turning blurry as Bucky realised that it was his turn to do the work, and thus, he thrusted up into you, making echoing sounds of your skin slapping together reverberate around the room.

“Love you more.” He gritted his teeth, pulling his metallic hand away from your numb lips, so that he could swirl the elegant digits around your clit, the action provoking whimpers to rapidly surpass your exterior, as you bit harshly onto your own lip, and screwed your eyes shut. “Cum for me doll, want you to cover my hard cock in everything you have. Come on baby, you can do it.”

Without much thought, as your mind was too scrambled to do so, you reached for Bucky’s spare hand, pulling it to your mouth as you sucked on his fingers as though you were blowing him. A low moan that was dialled down from the presence of his flesh digits, ran from your mouth, as you began to bounce your hips, chasing and eventually reaching your high. You came around him, pushing him too over the edge, his seed filling your walls, as you collapsed atop of him, huffing from exhaustion as you removed his salivated hand from the realms of your mouth, resting your head against his panting chest.

Stringed sighs fell from Bucky’s breath as he tried to catch his own breath. His hands rubbed your back, not only to comfort you, but also to subconsciously pull you closer against him, and his softening cock that was still inside you, and was keeping his cum plugged within your tender and pulsating walls. If life was easier, there’d be more time for this, and that, but for now, it was just every now and then. Maybe you’d win this fight and survive until the next one, but maybe, you’d lose and never battle again.

Life was precious, that was something that you had not only learned as an avenger, but also something that had been told to you by Isiah. That man thought that you deserved a normal life, no fighting, no super soldiers. He himself was the biggest yet silent critic of those with additional strength, but his opinion was never going to sway you, not as you stared out into Sarah’s backyard, and watched the man that you loved play with the boys.

They had the shield, and were whisking it through the air like a frisbee; dangerous, yes, but again, life could only amount to so much without an ounce of pain. A content and satisfied smile absorbed any pain on your face, you were enraptured with the sight of Bucky like this, he was like an uncle to these two kids. He was no captain America, that was for sure, but you didn’t want a man in Stars and Stripes, all you wanted was him to be at peace, and it was a fact unbeknownst to him, that you had made such an alternative to that.

“Still want all this?” Sarah emerged, a cheap yet formidable bottle of wine pursed in her hand, as she held two clear and tall glasses in her hand. You hummed, watching as she poured the thin red consistency into one glass, but as she went to fill the other, you held out your hand, shaking your head. The woman was confused, last time you had visited, and were entangled on her sofa with the limbs of your boyfriend and a shaggy old blanket, you had kindly accepted her offer.

“Sure do.” You sighed, staring out into the green abyss where Jim was hanging from Bucky’s arm like it were a branch. “How do you do this, this whole mother thing? I’ve never been able to wrap my head around how you make it look so easy, it’s just, you do such a good job.” Your palms rested flat on your thighs as you laughed at Sam ordering Jody to jump on Bucky’s back, as he fell down in faux defeat.

“It never is easy y/n.” She placed the open bottle down, along with the mismatched glasses, that were asymmetrical considering one was half filled and the other wallowed in emptiness. “But every step of difficulty is worth it. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t miss their father, but they’re my priority. For Jim and Jody, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do, and you’d understand that if you ever opened yourself up to giving your life of heroism up to have all this.”

“I might have to.” Twiddling with your fingers, glancing up at your boyfriend, realising that he was in fact not looking over, you clasped your intwined hands over your stomach, smiling softly to yourself. “And maybe not having another option is the best option for me and Buck, because we don’t have to fight with ourselves over being included in our duties, we have new ones.”

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” Sarah asked, resting her nurturing hand upon the tile of your shoulder, prompting you to turn your face towards her. There was a conflict in your eyes, it was something that she recognised her younger self having once worn. It was the idea of putting everything aside, all for a child, everything that she had ever known, so that she could put her baby boy first. “Does Bucky know?”

“He will.” You shifted your head down, unsure of yourself. This had been what you had wanted, and whilst you still envied Sarah for the role she had, you were hurt. A part of you wanted to be an avenger until you were nothing but a soul drifting in the abyss of non existence, another didn’t want to let the knowledge of being a carrier for a new future crumble you. “I just need a moment to tell him.”

“I’ve got it.” She sent you a wink, picking up the items she had brought out, before she called on Sam and the kids to come inside. Sarah had gifted you the opportunity of revealing the truth to your partner with no one else around; you appreciated that. As he stalked closer, you met him halfway, sinking into his arms as he hugged you.

“Looked like you were having fun with the boys.” You verbally noted, loving the feeling of him running his fingers through your hair. “You’re amazing Bucky Barnes, to me and to everyone. I just, don’t want you to freak out on me, I have something big, really big, to tell you, and-“

“Baby, I know.” He smiled, pulling back so that he could look you in the face. “I have super human senses, I heard their little heart beat for the first time yesterday. We’re having a baby, and I couldn’t be happier about it. In fact, I want to ask you if you’ll accept my question of making Sam the godfather.” You nodded, tears standing in your eyes, as you brought the man down for a kiss.

“Yes. But I’m not sure that he’ll be praising us for making a baby when we technically created him or her on the couch inside.” Bucky shook his head at you, kissing your forehead before walking inside with you, preparing to tell the Wilson family, that had along the way became your own, the good news- well, not the sofa bit.

[johnkrrasinski]

𝙞𝙣𝙫𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜

Chapter 3: chains around my demons

full masterlist // series masterlist // commission open // support my work

Pairings: bucky barnes x reader

Word Count: 1,798

Summary: blessed with telepathic abilities since birth, you were captured by HYDRA and turned into one of their weapons to kill. after the blip, you were pardoned by the government and you were obliged to check up with dr. raynor everyday which you had no clue would lead you to the one soul you’d been waiting for.

Warnings: SMUT!! (18+) angst, mentions of anxiety, nightmares, murders.

A/N: this series is dedicated to the lovely @ohmickeyhenry who commissioned this story and developed the concept. thank you for trusting me with your story. i sincerely hope you like it.

The next day, you packed up your bags and were ready to leave. You were waiting on Sam to arrive at Wakanda with the quinjet so he could fly you and Bucky back to the compound. You were a little bummed about leaving Wakanda, it had been a therapeutic experience for you and Bucky to be here. The thought of living the domestic life, in a beautiful place like Wakanda that is far away from the bustling city of New York was enticing. Sometimes you’d look at Bucky just walking around in his shirt and sweatpants doing the most mundane things instead of getting prepared for another mission and you’d think “I could get used to this.”

You thanked T’Challa, Shuri, Queen Ramonda and the Dola Milaje for everything they had done before you bid your farewell. You promised to stay in contact with Shuri and the Dora Milaje but it was still hard to leave them, they were truly the best people you had ever met. They reminded you of everything HYDRA was not. You could see why Bucky always spoke so highly of them.

Later that night, you had the compound all to yourself. Tony was having a date night with Pepper, Natasha was on a mission to Hungary, Sam was visiting his sister in Louisiana and Rhodey was dealing with some air force matters. As much as you loved the Avengers, you were grateful for this moment alone with Bucky.

The dimmed lights in the kitchen where you and Bucky just had dinner gave him an idea, “doll, get up…”

She did as he told even though she had no clue what he was planning, “for what, Bucky?”

He didn’t answer her but rather, he commanded FRIDAY to play a song called Put Your Heart on My Shoulder by Paul Anka. “Let’s dance, doll.”

He put his flesh hand on your waist and took your left hand with his vibranium arm, “I haven’t danced in ages, Buck.”

“Me neither, doll, but we’ll learn from each other,” he smiled affectionately at you.

It started off slow and you kept your eyes on each other, saying things that words can’t illustrate. It’s love, the realization of how fortunate you both were to have found each other. “I wish we could stay like this forever,” you uttered softly as you fiddled with his dog tags.

“Me too, doll. But we got each other now, I won’t let anything keep me away from you for too long.”

There was a brief silence. “Do you remember the last time you danced like this?”

“1945, Stark Expo, before I was shipped out to England. Her name was Connie and I took Steve with me because I wanted to spend it with him on my last night. I set him up with Connie’s friend but the punk just left to try to enlist in the army.”

Steve. You’d heard about him from Natasha and Tony. No one outside of the Avengers really knew where he was but you knew that he went back in time. That’s all you knew about it. You had also learned about his and Bucky’s friendship and how they really went all the way back. You were often curious about his ‘disappearance’ however you didn’t wanna pry or made Bucky feel worse. Losing a friend was always hard, let alone someone who was his only connection to his past, the life that he knew before he was forced to live out those violent years. You’d heard from Sam about how Steve was the only reason why Bucky stayed alive and how he had thought about committing suicide before. Now that he was gone, Sam often feared that Bucky would snap and give in to it but he always tried to be there for him. You were just glad that Bucky had Sam even before you were around.

“Do you… miss Steve?” you hesitantly asked as you rested your head on his chest.

“All the time,” He confessed. You were a tad relieved that Bucky wanted to open up about him to you. “He was the only family I got left, and when he went back, I felt empty. I was just lucky that Sam didn’t give up on me… And that, I met you.”

You smiled, you lifted your head to look at him. “You’re never gonna lose me. Not again,” you touched his face and he kissed you. It was soft, nothing like the kiss on your last night in Wakanda, but you could feel him pouring all the emotions and gratitude he had for you and you did just the same.

He lifted you as you wrapped his legs around his waist, still maintaining that kiss. Bucky carried you onto the dining table where you just had your dinner and he laid you there as he trailed to your throat and all the way down to your body which was now half-exposed after he lifted the hem of your shirt up until your breasts were revealed.

You weren’t wearing any bra so it was easier for him to access your nipples, he sucked on the right one as his flesh hand made its way down to your pants, unbuttoning it, and he inserted his fingers to find your clit, rubbing it in circles, making you even wetter every second. You shut your eyes, letting him have his way with your body.

His fingers and his tongue worked so magically that within seconds, he had you close to orgasm. “Bucky, so close…” You could feel his smirk against your nipple and he rubbed you faster. You moaned his name as you released all over his digits, soaking them up and he lifted his head to look into your eyes as he sucked your juices all over his hand like a fucking ice cream.

“You taste like heaven, sweetheart.” The sight of Bucky staring intensely at you as he sucked on his fingers that were drenched by your cum was euphoric, like watching a live homemade porn video. Bucky took off his sweatpants and his shirt, discarding them on the floor. Seeing him shirtless never ceased to mesmerize you, his body was a work of art. He’d told you one night that it took him a while to accept the scars on his body, let alone the bionic arm that felt nothing like a human but you told him that you loved every inch of it and if you could, you’d worship it forever.

Bucky then lifted the shirt that was still rumpled on your chest, up to your wrists, where he used it as a makeshift knot, keeping your hands above your head, “stay there, understand?”

“Yes, sergeant.” You had no idea what sparked that nickname, but from the way he grinned, he sure loved it and if he loved it, then you were sure to use that in future steamy sessions.

“Sergeant, huh? You’re in big trouble, darling.” Bucky tore your damp panties and you gasped, not expecting him to be so aggressive… Not that you were complaining though. “Bucky…”

“Shh, let me take care of you, baby.” He kissed you ferociously, with his tongue completely dominating your mouth. Without any warning, his middle finger intruded your body… But it was an entirely different feeling from the last time he did that to you because he was using his vibranium arm and the sensation instantly took over your body, running in your veins like that serum in his blood.

“Oh God, Buck…” You whined as you looked down to where his finger was moving in and out of you at a slow pace.

“Does it feel good?” He asked as he kept looking at your face, searching for any signs of discomfort but with each motion, you only seemed to enjoy it.

“Yes, it feels fucking amazing… Don’t stop, please.”

He began to move his digits faster, and when your wails grew louder, he inserted another finger and you arched your back. “Fuck, oh God…” Bucky curled his fingers to brush your sweet spot, pushing you to the edge and you cum for the second time all over his vibranium hand.

“You’re so hot when you cum,” he whispered in a gravelly low voice that could weaken any woman in the knees. He pulled his fingers out of you and he used your juices to stroke his member to make it easier to slide into you.

Bucky lifted your legs onto his shoulders and he lined his cock to your entrance, slowly as he felt your walls fluttered around him. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” Bucky began moving, he was taking his time with your body, wanting to feel every inch of you and you of him, and you whimpered with every thrust. He felt so heavy between your hips that you could feel your orgasm approaching fast, even with the languid pace.

“I’m not gonna last long…” You said in between whimpers.

“I know, doll. Just let go when you’re ready, okay?” He began to speed up, his grunts and the sound of your skin slapping was obscene, making you nearly forget you were fucking in the place where the Avengers would feast (if they found out what you did on this table, Tony would hire a cleaning service company to scrub the entire surface thrice.)

The coil in your lower abdomen tightened and you knew you were seconds away from rupturing. A few more thrusts and you hit your peak. Bucky kept holding your hips tightly and he continued to pound into you, prolonging your orgasm as he chased his own climax. Your body trembled from the aftershocks but from the way Bucky was impaling you, you could feel a fourth orgasm coming and you didn’t know if you could take it anymore.

He felt you squeezing his cock once again and you both came together, pleasure washed over both of you. He shot his load inside you, painting your walls white. A few more shallow thrusts to blow every drop he had left within him. He stayed inside you as he hid his face between your neck and your shoulder, the warmth of his body on top of you was comforting despite the sweat all over your body.

Bucky lifted his head to look at you and sweep the strands of hair sticking on your forehead, “you okay?” he panted. You could only respond by nodding, not moving because of the weight of him still between your legs and how completely spent you were.

Once he had regained his composure, he retreated himself out of you and he carried you in bridal style to your room, wanting nothing else than to take care of you with a hot bath and forehead kisses under the duvet.

tags; @ohmickeyhenry @suitofvibraniumarmor @themaddies-obx @themaddies-obx @beminetokeep @bluemoon-icecream @bluemoon-icecream @harprs @thefridgeismybestie @abitofeverythingg @wolfonthemoonwatchestvshows @julimelodi @bookscoffeandotherstuff @tanyaherondale @artisancowbells @ferxaniti @intothesoul @hallecarey1 @buckybarnesplumwhore @thefallenbibliophilequote @andiyholly @emizla @capxwinter @jevans2 @alwaysreadingimagineschick @swtltlmrvlgrl @extremelyblackandwhite

[littlemisspascal]

The Last Mandalorian

Chapter One: The Warrior in Carbonite Part 3

Fandom: The Mandalorian / Pedro Pascal

Eventual Pairing: Din x Togruta!Female!Reader

Word Count: 4,320

Rating: G

Summary: A series that is a mixture of Mandalorian, Star Wars, ATLA, and my own imagination. The Imps have seized control of the majority of the galaxy, including your homeworld Shili. You and your sister Ahsoka have developed a daily routine despite the stormtroopers keeping your village imprisoned. One morning you make a startling discovery that will change the course of your lives forever.

Warnings: I don’t know much about starship mechanics so probably nothing in this is accurate but it’s fanfiction people so cut me some slack please, reader gets a nickname 🥳, plot plot plot, discussion of loss of loved ones, worldbuilding, dialogue heavy, this is a slow burn but it’s also ridiculously self-indulgent so I’m including as many cute getting-to-know-you scenes as I can, reader is 17 and Din is 19 so I’m going to warn this as underage even though nothing sexual or even vaguely romantic happens in this chapter.

Author Note: Thank you anyone and everyone who has read even a sentence of this story! Special thanks and love to @dindja for creating this stunning, fantastic, amazing piece of fanart for me 💖💖💖 I still can’t believe how perfect it is. I mean, I’m such a sucker for pinky promises it’s not even funny and this is just beautiful 😍😍😍

Part 2

Cross-posted on AO3

For as grand and wide-reaching as the Galactic Empire has become in its ten years of existence, it had relatively small beginnings. A group of radical Force-wielders banded together under the leadership of an old, beady-eyed man named Sheev Palpatine who believed it was his divine destiny to seize control of the entire galaxy, rewriting the ancient laws to match his own beliefs. His cult, the Sith Order, gained attention by attacking Jedi temples, capital cities, places with large populations until every corner of the galaxy had heard of them. Most regarded them with fear, but over time they began garnering a startling amount of followers who were discontent with the status quo and willingly drafted themselves as soldiers in Palpatine’s fight for control.

At first everyone in your village thought Palpatine and his cult of followers weren’t worth worrying about—after all, Shili was a peaceful planet that never drew much attention to itself. But within the first year of its inception, the Sith Order captured Ryloth and the similar peaceful characteristics between the Twi’lek planet and Shili were too glaring to overlook. A seed of anxiety took root in every Togruta’s mind after that, and continued to grow with every planet seized as the years progressed.

The Decimation of Alderaan didn’t start as a tragedy, believe it or not. The Mandalorians, Jedi, and Alderaanians combined their numbers in an all-out fight against the Sith Order. It was the largest battle ever fought in the history of the galaxy, thousands of souls willing to die to defeat Palpatine’s followers. For the first three days of warfare, the fight seemed to be in favor of the allies with many noteworthy Sith members reportedly killed in the fray, such as Palpatine’s second-in-command Dooku and lethal Zabrak assassin Maul. You remember there was a sense of hope felt within your village as everyone listened to the news reports blaring across the Holonet. A belief that things were finally, finally going to return to normal after so much chaos.

But on the fourth day, the Sith Order brought their own ally onto the battlefield.

At the time there wasn’t a name for the droids that slaughtered every opponent they faced. They were described as indestructible, unharmed by blasters and the intense heat of Mandalorian flamethrowers. Not even lightsabers could damage them. The allies didn’t stand a chance, brutally murdered one by one, their dying screams echoing across the Holonet, forever haunting listeners far and wide.

The Dark Troopers were unleashed upon Mandalore afterwards and out of the ashes rose the Galactic Empire, except, in a twist nobody—not even the Sith Order—saw coming: Palpatine died before taking on the title of emperor, passing away in his sleep. A mediocre ending for the monster who permanently altered the foundations of the universe. One of his loyal followers from the cult’s early beginnings took control in his place, a vile man with a penchant for spilling blood and a deceptively bland name: Gideon.

Only seven years-old then, you didn’t understand the unbalance in the Force your aunt kept referencing. You didn’t understand the meaning of the word genocide either. But you did understand the galaxy would never be the same ever again, and the lesson was only further established as truth when the Imperials seized your village. 

There is no normalcy to return to anymore.

And as long as Emperor Gideon remains in control, there is no future to hope for either.

__

Silence reigns in the aftermath of Maar’s explanation as the long list of tragedies hangs heavy over the four occupants. There is tension in the air as you await the Mandalorian’s response to the extinction of his people, whether that be an outburst of anger or tears, and each passing minute only intensifies the nervous energy thrumming through your veins. Your leg starts to bounce restlessly, a bad habit you have had since childhood.

The Mandalorian stands eerily motionless. Your eyes keep flicking from your lap to his visor though you know it is rude to stare. His helmet hides his expression, but you don’t need to see it to know he is floundering right now, mind scrambling to piece together all the details thrown at him. From personal experience, you know the loss of a loved one hits like a tidal wave, hitting you over and over again until you must decide if you are going to stand up or surrender to drowning. Grieving the loss of your parents is the hardest experience of your lifetime to date.

But this...this is vastly different. The Mandalorian didn’t just lose his loved ones. He has lost his friends, neighbors, comrades, acquaintances, everyone all at once. This loss isn’t a tidal wave. It is a kriffing avalanche, burying him ten feet under in total darkness, and there is no one he can count on to save him. 

Finally, after the longest five minutes of your life, he shifts, resting his hands upon his belt with an unexpected air of seriousness. “I need to go.”

You frown, head tilting. That is his reaction?

“Go?” Ahsoka echoes, sounding as incredulous as you feel. “Go where?”

“To look for survivors,” he answers, blunt and harsh, the words forced through clenched teeth. 

Ahsoka is struck silent, and you feel your heart break on his behalf. Your mother’s stories about the Mandalorians had always included, one way or another, their lifelong bonds with each other. You had felt those ties when you had connected with the Mandalorian, believed for a moment as strongly as he did that his fellow warriors would come search for him, that his absence would be noticed and missed amongst them. And here he is now, still desperately clutching to them, unable—or, perhaps unwilling is more apt—to believe a stranger telling him those bonds have been cruelly severed. 

“What you need is to rest,” Maar says, gentle yet firm, letting her authority as the eldest in the room seep into her tone.

He shakes his head, not backing down. “I’ve been asleep for ten years. I don’t need any more rest.”

“Your ship, it, uh,” your shoulders hike up defensively when his visor snaps in your direction, pinning you with its blank stare. Clearing your throat, you continue with a slight grimace, “It’s going to need some repairs before it can take off. I can help you fix it.”

Ahsoka looks over at you in surprise, and then in worry. You don’t blame her, especially since the offer had slipped out without you consciously meaning it to. Once again, the Force is calling the shots and you are just along for the ride, a passenger in your own body.

He considers you for a long moment, then asks, “What do you know about the mechanics of a gunship?” 

If anyone else had asked you that same exact question, you would have bristled at their condescension and retracted your offer in the next breath. But with the Mandalorian, there isn’t even the slightest hint of patronizing courtesy. It is a serious question prompted from genuine curiosity.

You sit up straighter, smiling at him now. “Enough to confidently say I’m your best shot at getting off the ground.”

__

“What’s your plan, exactly?” Ahsoka asks you, braced against the wall with one eye on you and one on the Mandalorian across the garage, patiently waiting for you to finish assembling your tool kit. 

“Huh?” You reply distractedly, trying to decide if you should bring your carbon chisel or not. 

“You don’t have one, do you?”

Not. There are bigger concerns than a bit of carbon scoring. You move to grab your favorite screwdriver with a tapered socket, only for Ahsoka to snatch it away, holding the tool hostage.

“Hey!”

“Have you thought about what you’re doing?” Ahsoka asks slowly, staring you directly in the eyes. “Once you fix his ship, he’s gone. And he’s taking our best chance at escaping Shili with him.”

A quick glance over your shoulder shows the Mandalorian studying the scattered BB unit parts on your workbench. You are missing a few vital components needed in order to bring the little droid back to life after a stormtrooper shot a plasma bolt through it for accidentally bumping into his leg, and haven’t had any luck convincing the village traders to track them down for you when they went to the capital. 

“We can’t keep him here against his will,” you manage at last, turning back to your sister. “Otherwise we’re no better than the Imps.”

When Ahsoka doesn’t say anything, you shrug a shoulder, adding, “Besides, I think I’m supposed to fix it for him. The Force seems pretty insistent about it.”

She makes a face at that. “I liked you better when you ignored your Force instincts. You didn’t make me worry as much.”

A laugh escapes you, embarrassingly loud in the otherwise quiet space, and your cheeks immediately start burning. Ahsoka’s lip twitches like she wants to smile, but instead she schools her features into a blank expression when the Mandalorian’s head turns at the sound. Only once he diverts his attention elsewhere again does her stare lose some of its intensity, looking less like she wants to dissect him beneath a microscope. You can practically see her protective-older-sister-instincts buzzing, reacting to the warrior’s presence. 

As much as he is a chance at providing an escape, he is also first and foremost a complete and total stranger. Even worse, he is a complete and total stranger who knows how to handle weapons. 

“I’ll be fine, I promise.” You squeeze her arm reassuringly. “Shouldn’t take longer than a couple of hours. You’ll be so busy smoothing the Elders’ ruffled feathers you won’t even notice I’m gone.”

Ahsoka finally relinquishes the tool, exhaling a quiet sigh. “You shouldn’t make promises you don’t know for certain you can keep.”

__

Walking side by side with the Mandalorian in silence isn’t awkward, per se, but it definitely isn’t comfortable either. He is close enough your arm keeps accidentally grazing against his, the cold brush of metal against your skin startling you each time. You would have considered his nearness strange if you hadn’t heard Ahsoka threaten to castrate him if you wound up hurt before she sent him flying at the juni tree branch outside your window with an unnecessarily strong push of Force. 

To his credit, the warrior handled her rough treatment with the same ease he has handled everything else thrown at him. You are beginning to think Mandalorians don’t just wear beskar—they are made of it too. Other than the few glimpses of frustration earlier in Maar’s office, he keeps his cards close to his chest, impossible to read. 

He watches everything though, reacting to the slightest of movements and sounds. Constantly alert. You are certain he is watching you right now, despite the fact his helmet is facing forward, your nerves prickling in response to the sensation of eyes upon you.

To your surprise, he is the one to break the silence first. “You sneak out often.”

It is a statement, not a question. 

You suppose the dots are easy enough to connect to reach that conclusion. Still, the certainty in his voice has your heart skipping a nervous beat. He hasn’t even known you a day and yet he is privy to secrets no one outside your community is aware of. “Yeah,” you nod your head after a brief lapse of silence, “Ahsoka can’t train in the village. Not with the stormtroopers around.”

“Has your village tried to run them out? Fight back?”

It is only because you know he is just trying to understand your village’s predicament with the little bits of information he has that you don’t snap at him for being so insensitive. He has no idea what these past five years have been like for you all. No idea the amount of losses and sacrifices the community has suffered. 

Your grip on your tool kit tightens. “I was twelve when they came. The community is mostly traders and hunters, not trained fighters. The few weapons we had were nothing compared to their blaster rifles, but some of the adults tried to defend the village, including our parents. They...” You swallow, or try to, at least, your throat suddenly dry as sand. “Our aunt looked after us until last year we woke up one morning to find a note she’d left to join the rebellion. We haven’t had any contact with her since.”

The Mandalorian’s gloved hand brushes against your knuckles. This time you think it might have been on purpose.

“I lost my parents as a child, too. There was a riot and they died protecting me,” he offers his own private details with the same reluctance as one volunteering to have their teeth pulled out. “The Mandalorians took me in, raised me as one of their own.”

You say nothing about the way his breath slightly hitches when he says Mandalorians, appreciating his openness as it puts you both on somewhat equal footing with each other. 

“I owe it to them to look for survivors,” he tells you, and your montrals detect the quietest hint of a plea in his voice. 

“I understand,” you answer, keeping your tone light to preserve the fragility of this moment. This kind of situation doesn’t happen often—two strangers on the same wavelength, exposing their vulnerable underbellies, desperate to be heard and yet skittish at the same time—and it is oddly therapeutic. 

A decision is made right then and there in the span of a heartbeat. And even more significantly, it is 100% your own choice without any intervention or manipulation from the Force. 

You stop walking, causing the Mandalorian to halt as well. He scans the area for a threat, then visibly jerks when he turns back to find you have your hand held out towards him, pinky raised high, reacting as if you are pointing a weapon at him.

“I don’t understand,” he says, blunt and almost suspicious sounding. Are you just imagining it or can you actually hear him frowning? “What are you doing?”

“Haven’t you ever made a pinky promise with someone before?”

“...A what?”

You snort, ducking your head to hide your smile, and then reach for his hand. Surprisingly, he doesn’t protest your touch.

“A pinky promise,” you repeat as you make his hand form a fist, curling his fingers towards his palm, and then adjust his pinky so you can wrap yours around it. He watches the whole process wordlessly. “It’s a sacred vow shared between two people. The Elders say once it’s sworn, the promise can never be broken.”

He cocks his head, skeptical. “Never?”

“Never,” you reaffirm with a nod. Licking your lips, you look at his visor, right where you instinctively know his eyes are staring back. “I promise I’m going to help you. No matter the odds.”

And something leaks into your voice then, something resolute and binding and otherworldly. A tremor shoots down your spine, too quick for you to make sense of it.

Your sister’s words echo in the back of your mind, ‘You shouldn’t make promises you don’t know for certain you can keep.’ 

You try to pull away, self-doubt gnawing a hole in your stomach, only for the Mandalorian to wrap his pinky tighter around yours, holding you still. A gasp escapes your lips, muffled by the bleeding sincerity in his voice as he swears:

“I promise I will be there when you need me. No matter the odds.”

And although your sister could undoubtedly provide you with a long list of reasons why you shouldn’t, you believe his promise to be true.

__

The Mandalorian heaves a heavy sigh at the sight of his crashed ship. 

“I can’t do much about the landing gear,” you inform him, believing honesty to be the best policy for cases like this. “And I brought some foam-jet for the cockpit viewport, but it’s not a permanent fix. You’re going to have to find someone offworld to replace them.”

“Right,” he agrees absently without turning his eyes away. It occurs to you then that this ship is the closest thing to a home he has now. One of the few precious relics from his past he can still physically cling to. 

“Does your ship have a name?” you ask.

He looks at you, as if coming back to self-awareness, and answers, “Razor Crest.”

A good name, you think. Strong. A bit mysterious. Just like its owner.

You nod decisively. “I like it.”

His modulator crackles faintly, a quiet noise produced from a sudden exhale of air. You blink at the unexpected sound, surprised to realize you recognize it. A laugh. The Mandalorian just laughed at something you said. What is next in store for you? Are akul going to sprout wings and start flying?

He steps around you, heading for the side entry door still open from yesterday with its ramp laying on the ground, pebbles shifting noisily beneath his boots with each step. You don’t realize you are staring, oddly entranced by the swish of his cape and his purposeful strides, until he calls out your name to ask if you are coming.

You nearly drop your tool kit in your haste to follow after him into the Crest’s interior, ignoring the flaring heat radiating from your cheeks. 

For the next few hours, you and the Mandalorian work in companionable silence, engrossed in rerouting wires and welding damaged components with your trusty hand torch. The gunship is older than you initially assumed, perhaps even as old as yourself, and you idly wonder if the Mandalorian found it in a scrapyard somewhere or maybe inherited it from another Mandalorian. You notice the way he handles each piece with an experienced and respectful touch; the same kind of care someone reserves for their most cherished possessions. Anyone with eyes can see how much he loves the Crest just by watching him.

Once you have finished sealing the numerous cracks dissecting the cockpit’s viewport like a spiderweb with foam, you approach the Mandalorian to see his progress on returning power to the dashboard. He is on his back beneath the steering controls, rearranging a mess of wires, and barely acknowledges your presence when you squeeze yourself into the tight space next to him.

“The red wire goes before the white one,” you point out, noticing the mistake immediately. “Fire hazard.”

He pauses, looks at where you have gestured, and corrects his error without criticizing your intervention. You bite back a smile, pleased to be heard. Within your community, even though you have proven your skills time and time again, some of the villagers, usually men, don’t always adhere to your advice, thinking you are too young and too female to know about technology, until they inevitably make their problems worse for themselves and come back to you with their metaphorical tail between their legs. 

You help him reattach the cover plating once he has finished, screwing the bolts back into their corners, and then watch, fingers crossed, as he attempts the ignition sequence, flipping a series of switches.

None of them light up with even the faintest flicker of life.

“Dank farrik,” he growls under his breath, slamming a fist upon the console.

You take a tiny step forward, hesitant to direct his frustration your way. “Can I try?” 

He tilts his head, probably thinking he knows this ship better than anyone and if it doesn’t work for him then you aren’t going to have any luck either.

Eventually he steps back with a shrug, uttering a simple, “Sure.” 

Although you can’t remember the last time you were on a ship, it doesn’t take long to refamiliarize yourself with the various controls and screens once you take a seat in the pilot chair. When your hobby for fixing broken machines changed into a passion you wanted to pursue as a future career, you started memorizing any reading material you could find on the Holonet, including the flight manuals for different classes of starships. You flip through the stored information in your mind about gunships as you press a few buttons on the panel overhead, trying out different sequences for a response.

When your third attempt fails, you bite your lip, racking your brain for a solution. You think about Huno’s kitchen droid and how you had been on the verge of ripping off one of your head-tails trying to repair it after one of its fuses blew, causing it to malfunction. Your tools and knowledge hadn’t been able to fix it in the end. It had required a special remedy to bring it back to life.

You lay your palms flat on the console, just as you had held onto the droid’s square torso. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the Mandalorian fidget, as if he wants to come closer but is hesitant to crowd you. You ignore him, pressing your fingertips harder against the metal, visualizing in your mind the unseen gears, cables, and components stiff and powerless. You imagine the parts working properly, a current of electricity running through each wire, life ultimately returning to the entire ship, and whisper under your breath a request to the Force.

“Please work, please work, please work…”

An invisible pulse of energy burns down the length of your arms and discharges through your fingertips, strong enough you jerk backwards against the seat. Every button and screen on the dashboard lights up all at once, beeping with alarm at being so rudely resurrected.

You sit there helplessly, stunned and breathless, hands twitching in your lap. The kitchen droid hadn’t required even half as much energy to restart, barely a pinch. Now your body feels like you have been thrown against the electric fence a dozen times. Wordlessly, the Mandalorian comes to your side to help, punching buttons and turning knobs until the alarms quit blaring. A distant part of your brain thinks the Razor Crest as a whole seems strangely soothed by his presence, not quite as cold and dark, but it is hard to follow that train of thought due to the distracting pain throbbing along your temples.

“That’s quite a spark you’ve got,” he says, not unkindly or accusingly, just a statement of the obvious. He looks down at you, not outright asking for an explanation, but giving you the opportunity to open up if you wanted to.

“Yep, that’s me,” you reply, forcing a cheerful smile, praying it doesn’t resemble a grimace. “Sparks Tano at your service.”

He chuckles again, oblivious to how your heart stutters at its raspiness. “Thank you, Sparks. I appreciate it.”

“Well, we’re not done yet.” You rub at your temples under the guise of adjusting your headband. “I need to take a closer look at the engines before we attempt flying out of here. I—”

“I’ll do it,” he cuts in, already heading for the ladder. “You stay here, see if you can update the navicomputer settings.”

You know he knows that updating the navicomputer is child’s play for you. Clearly you aren’t as great at concealing your pain as you thought you were and this is his way of giving you a break. A small part of you is irritated at being treated like a porcelain doll, but you push those negative feelings aside as quickly as they develop. Your aunt always used to remind you and Ahsoka it was okay to accept help when it was offered, that needing support didn’t in any way make you weak. 

“Hey, wait a second,” you call out as you spin around in your seat, freezing him right before he disappears from view into the hull. He holds onto the ladder, waiting patiently for you to continue.

“Back at Maar’s place you didn’t introduce yourself and it’s weird just calling you Mandalorian in my head,” you say, awkwardly drumming your fingers on top of the armrests. He doesn’t answer, eliciting a sigh from your mouth after a drawn-out beat of silence. “What’s your name? You do have one, right?”

“I do, but I can’t tell you it,” he admits at last. “By Mandalorian Creed, only other Mandalorians or my riduur—my spouse,” he corrects, seeing your confusion, “are allowed to know my name and see my face. This is the Way.”

He doesn’t linger to hear your response, dropping down into the hull with a resounding thud. You slowly turn back around, staring absently out the glass. Every culture is unique, including your own, but you think there is something especially interesting about the Mandalorians’. It sounds like a lonely existence, only able to show your face while in select company. What would have happened if he had been unconscious and you had slipped the helmet off his head? What consequence would he have faced? 

And if there truly aren’t any Mandalorians left besides him, his spouse will be the only one to ever know him completely. It almost sounds like a love story, if not a little bit heart-wrenching. 

Two high-pitched dings from the console jerk you out of your thoughts with a wince. You look for the source, finding the radar lit up and actively scanning the area, and bristle when you see a pair of red dots moving across the screen. 

Not even a minute later you are sprinting out of the cave, ignoring the Mandalorian’s alarmed shout from the roof of the Razor Crest. They’re early, you think with panic, looking towards the sky where two starships with Imperial logos are heading straight for your village. Why have they come back so soon?

You push your legs to run faster, your surroundings a blur beyond the trail in front of you, but the effort is meaningless. You won’t make it back home before they land.

And when your absence is noted, bloodshed is not a possibility. 

It is a guarantee.

Series taglist: @pedro4ever @cannedsoupsucks

Din Djarin Taglist: @a-skov @pedrosbisch @quica-quica-quica @stevie75 @iamskyereads @banga-sama @dincrypt @ohlawdthebirds​

Permanent taglist: @promiscuoussatan @vintagesaph @over300books @chibi-yuki @theocatkov @oh-no-a-whovian @absurdthirst @freeshavocadoooo @you-and-i-deserve-the-world @lin-djarin @happiestsparkleofall @randomness501 @gallowsjoker @coaaster @captain-jebi @leilei-draws @disgruntledspacedad @melobee @stilllivindue2spite @pointy-sharp @artsymaddie @waywardmando @asta-lily @thisshipwillsail316 @mylifeofcalculatedchaos @grogusmum @sherala007 @mejswho @uncle-kenobi @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives @tacticalsparkles @mandocrasis @littlebopper96 @you-got-me-starry-eyed @kiss-evans @writeforfandoms @pbeatriz @anaaaispunk

[mediocre-writerr]

i lived [leah rilke]

leah rilke x fem reader

requested: Woooow feel something was literally the best thing ever. Could I pretty please request a third part (most angsty) where reader gets herself in the worst situation possible and her condition is so bad (her heart stops beating) once Shelby finds her, she’s hyserical and doesn’t realize she has to perform CPR so Leah being the protective girlfriend but if not evenly even more worried than Shelby does CPR and tells her not to give up. Later while they’re all taking care of reader and watching her sleep off the pain they talk about how much they mean to her (especially Shelby and Leah) this would be the best thing ever 😭😭

thank you guys so much for all the love on my leah imagine and just all my imagines in general! i’m going a bit out of order with these requests but this caused inspiration to strike. i’ll be back back on track soon, coming out with a shelby one next! but yeah i’m so happy you’re loving them! and i hope you enjoy!

Pt.1 & Pt.2

*not my gif*

Ironic isn’t it? Even though you’re taught at a young age to carry love in your heart, but in reality it could kill you.

“Where are you going?” Leah asks softly as you stood up from the sand.

You brushed off your pants before answering, “I’m just gonna go for a walk. See if I can find anything on the shore. Would you like to come?” 

It was a hotter day than usual out on the island. Sweat beads were forming on the top of your hairline. All of the girls seemed to be out of energy from the burning sun that laid upon the nine of you.

“Mmm no. I would much rather stay here in the shade, you could stay with me too. You don’t have to scavenge every hour of the day.” she says, grabbing your hand to try and pull you back towards her.

You smile at her softly, kissing her hand, “I’ll be back. It won’t take long.” you say.

She pouts, but you just chuckle before placing a soft kiss to her lips. 

Before you went off on the little voyage, you checked up on your blonde best friend, “How’s the leg?” you ask, examining the jacket bandage you made for her out of your own jacket.

“I’ve had better days.” she replies with a shrug.

“I’m sorry. But I know it’ll be healed up sooner than later, but until then you know you always have me to lean on.” you say, smiling at her, “I’m heading out to the shore to see if anything comes up, you’re free to join me whenever.” 

“I will later. Thank you.” Shelby says with a smile matching your own.

“Anytime.” 

And then you were off, walking slowly along the beach shore to see if anything washed up. It was nice though. 

The peace and quiet. The soft wet sand in between your toes as the cool water occasionally lapped over them. It was a nice distraction from the burning sensation that occurred in your chest or when you breathed.

It started after you went to save Shelby. And you just thought it would go away on its own, but it’s been almost 24 hours now and it wasn’t going away. But rather it got worse.

Each breath you took felt like you just ran a mile. But you didn’t want to worry the girls. They’ve already been worried sick about you and all of the stunts you pull. This doesn’t need to be another thing they’re worried about. 

You let out a fit of cough. The cough seemed to have lasted forever, but it finally stopped when you spat out a loogie. It wasn’t any loogie though, blood was on the yellow sand and you just stared at it in shock. Unsure of what to do.

You were about to start heading back when you noticed a bag at the end of the shoreline.

One last trek. We’ll bring the bag back and relax for a couple days. 

As you start walking to the bag, you can feel your heart rate rising even higher with each step. And it felt like you were walking on walls as the whole world seemed to spin faster and faster. 

All of your senses were heightened. The smell of the sea water invaded your senses. A ringing sensation filled your eardrums making it impossible to hear anything else.

“Leah...” you whisper before the bright blue sky went black.

Shelby decided to take your offer and go walk along the shore with you. Despite the pain in her leg, she thought it would be nice to walk around with her best friend. 

You’ve been so focused on not dying that you haven’t had time to just sit and talk.

Shelby misses going bowling and drinking 7/11 slurpees in the parking lot with you every Friday night. 

Or you coming to her beauty pageants even though you hated the idea of them. You wanted to come to just support her.

The two of you haven’t even thought about what you should do when you get back. There was Shelby and Toni and you and Leah. If news got out about that back home, you’d be burnt at the stake.

But the two of you don’t care anymore. 

Shelby look down at the shore to try and get a peek of how far you went. Until she sees a body was lying still face down towards the end of the shoreline. 

“Y/N?” Shelby mumbles quietly to herself.

She makes a full 360 trying to find any sign of her best friend. But came out empty. 

“No.” she mumbles and took off running.

Despite how terrible her leg felt she had to get to you. 

Shelby reaches your lifeless body and scooped you into her arms. She cradles you into her lap and cups your cheek gently.

“Y/N? Hey, hey...” Shelby whispers and your eyes flutter open for just a second.

“Shelb?” I whisper softly.

“Hey it’s me. What’s going on?” she ask frantically.

“There’s something wrong,” you mumble softly, “I’m scared.” 

“No, no, no,” she murmured, “You’re just tired and it’s hot out. You’re just exhausted. Remember that plane? It’s gonna come and we’re-we’re gonna get out of here. Together.” 

You brush her hair from out of her face, before smiling softly, “I think it’s more than exhaustion, blondie. I don’t know what’s wrong or how much time I have with whatever-”

“No,” Shelby says forcefully, “No, you can’t die. We’re supposed to go home together.” 

“I know, but each second that passes by it’s becoming harder and harder to breathe.” I whisper in between raspy breath. 

“We’re supposed to go back to Texas, graduate, and move the hell out of that place. We can get an apartment with Toni and Leah. And we’ll finally be happy. We don’t have to worry about our terrible parents or some higher standard. It’ll be us just like we always planned. Y/N, please. You can’t go.” I rant to her, telling her about the life we could have out of our normal lives.

“I’m right here,” you told her shakily, wanting to be brave for her, “Are-are you crying?”

You reached up to touch her face, and sure enough there were tears dripping down her cheeks.

“I-I haven’t seen you cry since-,” you say trying to finish the rest of your sentence, but as time goes by you could feel your heart slowing down, “Since Becs died.” 

“Please,” Shelby begged, grabbing your hand tightly, “Please...we need to go home.” 

“You’re...you’re the best friend I ever had,” you whisper, your breathing starting to come in short gasps, “My sister for a lifetime, I love you. And I need you to keep living the way you’re living right now. No expectations. Just be you. Tell Leah that I love he-”

You let out a harsh choking sound as you went limp in her body. Your heavy eyes now closed. 

Shelby places her fingers on your pulse point. Come on Y/N. Please.

“Please God. Don’t take Y/N away from me. You already took Becs. Please don’t take her. She’s all I have left.” she sobs out.

You had no pulse. Nothing. There’s nothing!

“Dot! Leah! Someone help!” Shelby yells as loud as she possibly could. 

The rest of the girls could hear her pleads from the campsite. All of them took one look at each other before taking off running towards her yelling. 

When the rest of the girls reach the shore. Shelby still has you scooped up into her lap. Leah let out a small gasp running to your side immediately.

“What’s wrong?” Toni asks.

Shelby was struggling for the words to say, “She uh she just...her heart just stopped. I found her collapsed on the floor and she was here...she was just talking to me and then she was-”

“We need to start CPR!” Nora says getting everyone’s attention.

Leah scooped you out of her arms and placed you flat on the floor. Tears falling down her cheeks onto your chest as she started doing the compressions. 

Toni took Shelby into her arms, trying her best to soothe her best friend. 

“Come on Y/N! You promised me! You told me you weren’t gonna leave me!” she yells.

Her compressions going out of rhythm, “Leah, you’re not doing it right. It’s not gonna help her if you can’t do it right!” Rachel yells, “Move!”

Rachel was about to start taking over when Shelby got out from Toni’s arms, “No I can do it!” 

“Are you sure?” Toni asks her girlfriend softly and Shelby just nods.

Rachel pushed Leah off of your body despite her screaming protests. Fatin pulls Leah into her arms. Leah’s head rested on Fatin’s chest as she ran her hands through Leah’s hair. 

Shelby’s compressions were surprisingly calm and even despite the sobs coursing through her body.

“You do not get to save everyone and not let us save you. Do you hear me?” Shelby whispers to you softly. 

Leah crawls out of Fatin’s lap and places herself lying next to you on the ground. She ran her fingers through your hair and placed her nose up against your cheek. 

Shelby was at for a long time. And at that point everyone started to lose hope that you were gone.

“Please Y/N. I’m not ready to say goodbye. We have a whole future left outside of this fucking island. Stay for me.” Leah pleads. 

Your eyes shoot open and your gasping for breath. Everyone releases a sigh of relief. All of the girls had tears on their cheeks, all of them thinking the worst. 

“You’re okay!” Shelby lets out a sob as she immediately leans down to hold you. You wrap your arms around your blonde best friend holding her as tight as possible, “You can’t die.” she whispers. 

“I’m right here Shelb. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” you say, your voice raspy and tired. 

“Dude you really need to stop dying. It’s getting a little old.” Toni says, trying to ease the tense silence.

You laugh softly before giving her a fist bump. All of the girls stared at you with relieved smiles on their faces. Dot, Fatin, and Rachel gave you high fives and fist bumps. But much to your surprise Nora leaned down herself to hug you.

You turn your head slightly to face Leah, her nose still against your cheek not wanting to open her eyes. If she opened her eyes she would wake up and it would be just this sick dream. 

You rested your forehead on hers, the tip of her nose touching yours ever so slightly. 

“Hey, look at me.” you whisper and her deep blue eyes finally stare right back at you.

She smiles softly, before cries shake throughout her body. Her soft hand goes to cup your cheek, pulling your face unbelievably closer to yours. You weakly reach out your hand and wipe away the tears that were falling. 

“You’re still here?” she says, but it comes more out like a question.

“I promised, didn’t I?” you reply, before kissing her softly. 

When you broke apart Shelby scooped you up in her arms yet again carrying you bridal style. 

“Shelb, I can walk.” you say.

But she just shakes her head, her perfect smile appearing on her face, “I don’t care. I’m gonna carry you back.” 

All of the girls walk back to the camp. Leah sits down right next to where Shelby laid you gently on the floor. You rested your head on her lap as you could feel sleep slowly lull you into dreamland. 

The burning sun was now setting and the orange hue of the fire lit up the deep blue night sky. You were still fast asleep on Leah’s lap, soft snores coming from your mouth.

“You know she’s almost died 6 times?” Nora says, speaking up as all of you sat there in silence drinking your Diet Cokes. 

“How do you know that?” Dot asks, surprised at how she can keep track of all of it. 

“I journaled it. The first time was the plane crash, then the mirror, the overexertion, saving Fatin, saving Shelby, and then right now.” Nora rambles, showing us the chart she made.

“She really put herself before the group.” Rachel whispers, shaking her head, “I remember when I had my period accident on Dot, she came to talk to me. She made me a makeshift tampon out of her shorts. She literally cut off pieces of her shorts to make me a tampon.” 

Everyone laughs at the fond memory. Leah was there running her hands through your hair lightly, careful not to wake you up. 

“Besides totally saving me from getting stranded in the middle of the ocean. When I was super thirsty because of the Takis, she gave me her water and let me take a few sips. She never got on me about not doing anything.” Fatin says smiling at your sleeping figure.

“And one day we played this cool game where we would pass the journal back and forth only making one line to create a drawing. It was beautiful.” Nora says softly, showing everyone the abstract drawing the two of you made together.

“We went exploring one day and I never told you guys this, but my pants ripped,” Dot begins to say and everyone bursts out into laughter.

“No way!” Toni exclaims, but Dot just nods with a smile on her face.

“Yeah and after laughing for a little bit, she took off her jacket and wrapped it around my waist so no one would notice.” Dot replies smiling a little bit, “Not only that, but back home when my dad was sick, she would stop by every other week to check on him and bring food.” 

“She did that?” Shelby asks.

Dot nods softly, a sad smile on her face, “He left an impression on her after our league soccer days. So when she found out, she wanted to visit him and make him feel normal.” 

“Wow.” Shelby mumbles, surprised at her best friend antics.

“When Marcus disappeared, I got a little sadder than I was supposed to about a mannequin. So she took the time to make a sandman to replace him. It was just a snowman made of sand and it was washed away by the tide shortly after. But it was the thought that counts.” Martha says and everyone’s faces were lit up by smiles.

Toni wrapped her arm around Shelby’s waist pulling her in a little closer, “One time we went scavenging together. And I told her about my basketball and how I used to play and she got so excited for some reason. In the middle of the jungle we played a small game with a rock and an empty Diet Coke can we had. I won, obviously.” 

“Back home, we went to the 7/11 we always go to every Friday night. And I didn’t have my teeth in because I was eating. Then a bunch of girls from our school came by and saw the dentures lying on the hood of her car. They started making fun of them asking who’s they were. And Y/N flat out said it was hers. No hesitation because she knew how insecure I was of them.” Shelby whispers shaking her head and smiling at the fond memory.

“I remember that! Everyone was calling her grandma, they still do...” Dot says.

“Yeah. She really took one for the team there, but she never expected anything back. She just did it, to do it.” she says softly, before clearing her throat, “And when our friend Becs died, Y/N made a whole concert filled with terrible dancing and singing for me because I wasn’t doing well mentally. It was the best concert I have ever been to.” she whispers.

She cleared her throat again, trying to fight back the tears, “She’s my best friend. She’s like a sister to me and without her, I don’t know what I’d do. Out of the gifts God has given me, I think Y/N is the best one ever. She’s a literal angel on Earth.”

“Well, I met Y/N at a strange time in my life. I wasn’t doing well mentally. And she may not have saved my life physically. But mentally she did. It’s like she just came out of nowhere, an angel in this fucked up island.” Leah begins, smiling down at the girl in front of her, “There was this time where I was on the verge of having a mental breakdown and she sang me a random song that she came up with in her head.” 

“Was it the one that went: dinosaurs eating people, dinosaurs in love...” Fatin starts singing.

Leah nods softly, “Dinosaurs having a party. They eat fruit and cucumber. They fell in love. They say “Thank you.” A big bang came, and they died. Dinosaurs dinosaurs fell in love. But they didn’t say goodbye. But the didn’t say good...BYE!” All of the girls sing loudly at the top of their lungs.

“I think after she sang that to you, she sang it to all of us when we were down on ourselves.” Rachel says and everyone smiles at the stupid song.

“God I’m so thankful for her. I think I would’ve actually lost my mind.” Leah whispers before placing a kiss onto your forehead.

“You’re so whipped.” Toni says teasing the other brunette.

“I know.” Leah replies, accepting the truth.

There was a comfortable silence that hung over the group. As they sat back and reflected on their time here in the island.

“Honestly, I don’t think we’d be here without our very own Supergirl.” Dot says and all of the girls nod in agreement.

“To Supergirl!” Toni says, raising her Diet Coke up in the air.

“To Supergirl!” The rest of the girls yell as they all raise their cans in the air.

[things-happens]

In Memory

Levi Ackerman x gn! Reader

Armin Arlert x gn! Reader

Erwin Smith x gn! Reader

Mikasa Ackerman x gn! Reader

hola 😎 i have a request for ya! which i do hope you like cause I literally spent hALF aN hoUR thinking of how it should go... anyWAYS, i’m gonna request it rn cause why not? .. anyways—maybe a hc for Levi, Armin, Erwin, Mikasa, and Pieck; their S/O’s favorite memories with them are playing in their mind. They wished it happened again. people thought they (they = pieck, levi, armin - yk)—people thought they went crazy. out of their mind insane. They do often smile, when they hear their S/O’s laugh. They cry when they hear their S/O’s screams. They couldn’t save them in time. they were now dead. // now do keep in mind, that this all happened weeks after their S/O’s death. they felt so useless at the fact that they couldn’t save them in time. the one they loved the most...

Note: I DELETED THIS AND HAD TO MADE THE POST so... please like and share thank you. Also I'm not caught up on season 4 but I know what has happened so I don't know Pieck's personality, I didn't want to get her wrong.

Prompt List

Mastlister

Summary: their s/o passed, they blame themselves and other and sadly cannot cope.

Warnings: Death, Blood, Feels and Fluff Words: a lot just a lot

Levi Ackerman (Sadderdaze)

Somethings never change for Levi losing the ones he loves left and right but why did he think that would change with y/n.

During the Battle of Shiganshina, Y/n was by Levi’s side the whole time.

They always was anyways, the lone survivor of Levi’s Squad after the 57th Expansion. Years ago, they vowed the loyalty for him then again 3 years later, till death did them part.

They both lead the group of soldiers to eliminate the Beast Titan.

As the Beast began to throw rocks everyone took covered in an abandoned town, after the first-round y/n and Levi resurfaced on the roofs.

They both noticed the beast was readying for another throw, yelling for the other to go bad into cover.

“GO BACK!” Y/N yelled into their cupped hands; they still couldn’t hear them.

Levi started to run to help them, only to be held back, y/n telling him there isn’t enough time.

Levi protested only for Y/n starting to push him back down to between the houses.

Suddenly, Y/n gave him a hard push on his back making him lad down on the ground. Looking back up to his love, their leg of in a now, missing part of the roof.

Levi quickly shot back up to help them out, grabbing their hands pulling as hard as he could.

“Levi… LEVI! Please take cover, you’ll die.”

“I’m not leaving you behind… not again.”

Levi had left Y/n in charge of his squad as he joined Erwin in the 57th Expansion. Nearly dying because of the Female Titan and protecting Eren.

Y/n pulled their arm away from him, giving him one final hard push in the chest right before the rock came pass them.

“I love you” they whispered.

As Levi flew back to the ground, he held eye contact with them all of his memories going through his head, knowing that this was the last time he would see of them, forever.

As for y/n, all their memories flew through them.

Late nights with Hanjie, mornings drinking tea with Erwin and Levi.

Levi… the night of their wedding, cake, slow dancing together, then stargazing. Oh, what they’d give to do that one more time with him.

Then they were gone.

Days later, everyone was concerned about the Captain. They could hear his cries and sobs when they’d pass his room. If you’d knocked, his cries would stop, and he’d stay silent till he watched your feet leave.

Every time Hanjie would open his door to bring breakfast or dinner, they could see the hopefulness in his eyes only for them to fall. Not like he ate till he was starving and knew he had too.

Years later, as Levi slept at night, he could still hear the whisper and cries of his love. That’s all he could hear ever, yet now he hid it well.

The nights he couldn’t sleep he’d walk through the halls of the fallen soldiers. In the middle of all the paintings, was Erwin. A gold frame shining in the moon light. Next to him was y/n.

They also had a golden frame and at the top were their favorite floor in their favorite color. Whomever painted it, Levi thought they did an amazing job.

The captured the brightness of their eyes, their gloss on their hair and the perfection on their hands.

Levi sat on his knees, lightly placing his hand on theirs. Wishing he could feel them just one more time.

BONUS:

“I bet you’re not popular with the ladies…” Zeke sighed.

Levi looked down thinking about y/n for the first time since the battle. “I was popular enough…”

Armin Arlert (When Will I See You Again)

Most people admired Y/n relationship with Armin, never put a title on side thing but the two and others knew they loved each other.

And when y/n died… well it was hard on everyone.

Since Armin inherited the Colossal Titian he saw and heard y/n die with his own eyes or really with Bertholdt eyes.

They stood by Armin till the very end or what they thought was the end.

The two stood in front of the giant titan, directing him. The plan… they knew they were going to die but it was with Armin and that’s all y/n would ever want.

Bertholdt let out the burning steam, burning them alive. y/n’s eyes looked at Armin, they screamed and cried till nothing… black.

Armin on the other head was giving the Titan Serum, eating Bertholdt and becoming the monsters he hated.

From the second he woke from the shift, all he could thing of was Y/n.

Where are they?

Are they okay?

Then and dare he say naturally, the memories caved in.

Seeing through his predecessor’s eyes, he remembered his love burn to death. Hearing their caries and he saw them always looking at him.

He cried and blamed himself for their death, y/n thought they were dying together but Eren couldn’t let him live in peace.

“they died thinking they were with me.” He whispered.

He always tired to keep his resentment in around Eren and Mikasa, but everyone could here him scream in pain in the forest next to the HQ.

He used Bertholdt’s memories to see them together all the time, Sasha and Mikasa would become worried he wasn’t grieving well but soon like screams every night stop.

Instead, it was quite crying at night, which wasn’t any better for anyone.

Then they left to find the Sea, one thing that could make Armin come to peace with himself.

Reaching the ocean everyone would play and have fun their but looking down in the water, Armin could’ve sworn he saw his love looking back at him but alas he lost the sight as fast as he saw it.

He knew Y/n would and still is by his side everyday till death brought them back to each other.

Erwin Smith (My Kind of Woman)

Everyone knew Erwin as a very stoic man, a calm gentle giant but with a heart and will of Iron.

And that was true, but that was after someone not one would talk about.

Their name is Y/n, Erwin Smith’s great love.

In 845, the Survey Corps returned from an expiation, but most do not know what happened.

“Four abnormals on the right wing!” some one shouted

Erwin looked at y/n who was smiling but still looking out for themselves and others. They looked over at Erwin and smiled even wilder.

Ever since training, Y/n saw bright side of things. It was their idea to recruit the Underground rebels.

In all most a flash of lighting, rain pored down soldiers dying all around.

10 abnormals flailing around, killing and eating people.

Erwin stared behind him, watching his comrades die under his orders. Then he locked eyes with y/n as they jumped off their horse as a Titan waved its arm at her.

“Erwin!”

Y/n yelled hoping he would turn and help them, and he did, yet despite the connection they had…

It was too late, they were harshly picked and swished, screams reaching everyone’s ears. Held above the Titan’s mouth their blood poured into then as the life quickly left their eyes they were dropped into its mouth.

If it wasn’t for Levi, Erwin would’ve been died too.

Ever second since then he blamed himself, knowing if he was just a little faster.

He paid someone to make a painting of her for his office, they were his right-hand person, but others knew it was more than that.

He would cry as quite as he could for years till it was small smiles or few tears while in his office or drinking tea with Levi or Hanji.

They both learned not to question it as it was a normal thing for the man after five years.

The new recruits would ask about the painting of a random person in his office, he would say someone special.

Yet it’s been years he would still become choked up that night.

Mikasa Ackerman (i wanna be your girlfriend)

Mikasa and Y/n met in training, two people how just sat not needing to say anything to enjoy each other’s company.

Eating dinner, they’d just sit and watch everyone else bicker and talk, nothing needed to be said. Despite being Sasha’s sibling, the older one seem to get all the personality then again there was nothing wrong with the way they were.

Although being close to death of a many of times, they lived and slightly loved Mikasa and watched her grow into a beautiful women she was.

Over the years, y/n become more vocal not wanting to miss out on the moments they had left with everyone. They and Jean would bicker and laugh about dumb things, Connie and they would just sitting and reminisce on old times.

Then Sasha met Nicolo and well y/n had never more vocal about anything before.

“Oooooh the cook, he’s perfect for you.”

y/n would tease Sasha along with Jean and Connie, although Nicolo didn’t seem to mind, Sasha would turn redder than a beet!

Then the war came, Y/n didn’t leave Mikasa side unless it was to save their ether extremely brave or stupid sister.

As y/n and Mikasa run to Eren’s ad after killing the War Hammer Titan, Mikasa yells at Eren.

Y/n watches the two argue, as the War Hammer Titan stands tall and definitely not dead.

Y/n watches as it starts to shoot a crystal goop at them, Y/n wipps around slamming themselves into Mikasa, holding onto her and they both flay away from the now hardened crystal.

“thank you, y/n.”

Y/n only nodded, looking back at the crystal. Again, they themselves in danger for Mikasa but they knew if it came down to it, they would die for their family.

After the battle, everyone was on the air ship, Mikasa had left y/n with Jean, Connie and Sasha. They talked happy to see each other alive.

“You guys are really special to me.”

Next thing anyone knew, both Jean and Y/n heard rumbling from the entrance. Turning around they saw a little girl with a rifle.

y/n quickly realized she was aiming for everyone of the ship, mainly their sister. Running in front of the fire, trying to do the same thing they once saw Hanjie do years ago still the girl shot.

The bullet went straight threw y/n’s stomach; push through the pain they grabbed the gun from the girl. They butted it into the little girl’s head, knocking her out.

The adrenaline wore off, y/n put their hand on their stomach. Their hand covered in blood, they turned around to see their sister on the floor surrounded by their friends.

“Guys…” they dropped the rifle on the floor.

The word came out their mouth, everyone with tears in their eyes slowly turned to look at them.

Jean watched as the blood dripped from their suit on to the light brown flooring.

Y/n began to walk to them, waddling side to side.

Mikasa entered the room watching Y/n fall over into what was now a pool of blood. She quickly ran over, flipping them over sobbing.

Jean quickly applied pressure into the wound, but it was too late. Y/n looked up at Mikasa, their bloodied hand lightly touching her face.

Mikasa sat head on her knees, in between both Blouse graves. She could still here the raspy breaths, the yells of Jean telling them to stay awake and the laugh Eren let out seeing the dead bodies.

She’d cry at nights realizing she loved them more than a friend, she felt like a piece of her was now gone.

During dinners Mikasa would push her food around till she couldn’t sit and not laugh or sob. Armin had become worried of her, but he knew she just needed time.

[bluebellwriting]

Love Me Tender Part 5

Walking down the street is harder without your own personal Radio Demon parting the crowd for you, but you make do as you near your sister’s boutique. At first you wanted to be alone, but that’s kind of hard in the most crowded place in the universe, and as you continued on your mindless walk through the Pentagram you realized that being alone might not be the best thing. What you needed right now was a hug and someone to tell you that you deserved far more than whatever Alastor could give you. You couldn’t be alone with your thoughts right now.

The neon from Molly’s sign hurts your eyes from a block away, and like moths to a flame shoppers flock towards the pink light. Molly’s Miracles is the place for those in Hell with an eclectic style and a preference for the sexy. It’s very rare that you find yourself actually stopping by for a reason other than checking in on your sister, but that excuse will have to do for now.

Just like the sign, the amount of glossy white furniture and sequined clothing forces you to blink and adjust your eyes. There aren’t too many people inside, thankfully, just a moth demon posing for her friend in a red dress with the deepest v you’ve ever seen. Not your thing, but the friends cheer and squeal at the sight of it, so Molly must know her clientele quite well. 

“(Y/N)?” Molly emerges from the back, her arms full of some green, glittery fabric. She all but drops them on the checkout counter so that she can properly engulf you in a hug. It’s scary how fast she can traverse a room with all those legs, but your desperation for a proper hug is too great to be startled right now. 

“I didn’t know you were coming by today!”

“I just,” you sniff, “wanted to check up on my baby sister.”

“Aww that’s so sweet!” She squeals. “But I thought you were out with a certain you-know-who? Is he here?”

You shuffle out of her arms and embrace yourself with your own.

“Who told you that?”

“Angie did. Text me this morning that you too had a little date,” she coos.

Of course Angel would find a way to blindly inform your sister about your love life. Except that it wasn’t your love life. Just life. Normal, regular, loveless life. 

“He just happened to have some business to attend to at Rosie’s at the same time as me.”

“But he walked you there.” 

“Molly--”

“And he didn’t have to! But he did! That is so cute!”

“It’s really not, Molly,” you grumble and move deeper into the store. You trail your fingers through the silks and tulle, pretending to be interested in something from the wracks when you and Molly know there’s only ever one article in the store at a time that you would actually wear.

“You okay, hun?” She trails you through the store.

“I’m fine, Mol. Just fine. I made a great deal today, dad will be really happy. Things are going well at the hotel.” You turn to her with a sigh, hoping with expulsion of breath you will also rid you of the sobs bubbling up in your throat.

It works for a minute.

“I’m fine. I’m doing fine.” Your voice cracks at the end and Molly rushes you again, except this time you’re also being surrounded by the moth demon and her friends who apparently can’t mind their own business.

“Oh sweetie, did he hurt you?” The moth asks.

“Men are fucking pigs!” One of her friends -- a wolf -- cries.

As these complete strangers surround you with man-hating indignation, Molly rubs your back and strokes your hair.

“I-It’s okay. It’s just a guy,” you gasp.

“That’s right, it is just a guy. You don’t need him and his nasty ass.” Another friend -- a blowfish -- says as the rest of the friends and your sister release you from their grasp but remain in a circle around you like some Sisterhood Against the Radio Demon.

Oh, if only they knew that was the man they were bad mouthing right now. Actually, you kind of wish Alastor was here right now. You’d pay money to see his reaction to the Sisterhood calling his ass “nasty.” Probably confusion, mostly.

"You know what you need,” Molly chimes in. “A new outfit!”

The friends cheer and you really wish you could just melt into the clothing racks. They’re all sweet, impossibly so, for helping out a complete stranger just because of the universal experience known as “guy problems.” But the last thing you want is to be surrounded by eyes scrutinizing your body in new clothing. Your heart feels like it’s about to implode in on itself and if one person says anything about your love handles or your back fat you are definitely going to ignite this entire city block on fire.

“Molly, that really isn’t necessary--”

“I know the perfect thing! You just head back into the changing room,” she says, making her way to a shelf of silk blouses. Your eyes dart to the door, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Molly.

“Don’t. You Dare.” Her eyes flash a brief red, so you shuffle over to the changing rooms.

---

Alastor sits in Rosie’s office, well, it’s more like he’s lying down on her chez, moaning towards the ceiling, and clutching his gift to you tightly as if it were the last piece of you he had left.

Rosie watches him from her desk, looking wholy unimpressed by this display from the all-powerful Radio Demon.

“Why did I even--”

“I don’t know, Alastor.”

“I never should have--”

“No, you shouldn’t have. As intelligent as you are, dear Alastor, you can be exceptionally dumb.”

Letting out another long whine, he grips the gift box harder and rolls over onto his side. He’s an Overlord. He should not be debasing himself like this in polite company. Or anyone’s company for that matter. But this is Rosie, who was for so long the only person in the history of human existence who he could trust with his truest emotions. But even this exhibitionary indulgence is a new milestone in their relationship, one he wasn’t even ready to take right now. He can’t help it though. Not when his heart feels like it’s being gripped and twisted between two fists. Not when his stomach has taken on this horrible, aching feeling, as if he’s being repeatedly kicked there. 

The worst part is the empty feeling that has been growing deeper and wider since you left him at Rosie’s. For so long now it’s been just this nagging little spot that formed when you first met, situated in the center of his chest, reminding him that he no longer owns the piece of himself that once filled it. You do. And as long as you were with him, close to him, that hole stayed the same, was comforted by its close proximity to its missing piece. But now you were gone, and the hole has become so gaping and so hollow without you, with the thought of truly losing you forever.

“You could always go find her,” Rosie implores, shoving away the paperwork she’s fruitlessly been trying to complete.

“She said she wanted to be alone,” he moans. 

“And since when were you one to respect others’ personal space?” She doesn’t get a response. He just rubs his face deeper into her chez, ruining the fabric with his blubbering. Part of her wants to relish the sight of her egotistical, maniacal, normally heartless friend reduced to a weepling in front of her. But the bigger part of her just really wants to get back to her work and Alastor’s need for validation is in direct conflict of that. 

“Alastor,” she sighs, “I know she wanted to be alone, but honestly, this might be an appropriate time for you to tell her how you feel. Or at least to try and remedy the situation a tad.”

Alastor sits up, shoulders hunched.

“Really?”

“Yes, you emotionally obtuse oaf. Go! Be romantic! Be spontaneous!” Get the Hell out of my office, she wants to add. 

Rosie goes over to him and all but yanks him off the chez. She places a jovial arm around his shoulders but is shoving him quickly through her store, past her girls, and outside.

“Good luck, darling!” She calls as she pushes him onto the street. He whips around, eyes briefly flashing her his radio dials but her motherly wave quickly reminds him of the task at hand. 

The dials disappear but he shoots her an uncharacteristic glare before he puts on his smile. He summons a shadow to traverse the Pentagram in search of you. As his shadow wiggles off, he begins his stroll through the streets roughly in the direction you were heading.

---

Molly brings you a red silk blouse and a red and black plaid pencil skirt. They seem modest enough but you dread the way the skirt will make your curves look, the lumps and thickness it will accentuate. The blouse is nice though, if not a bit tight around the stomach, but it makes your chest look amazing. You try looking for the flared skirt you came in with, but not so mysteriously, your clothes seem to be missing. Thanks, Molly. 

You have two options now. Go out into the store in front of strangers and in front of the giant windows Molly has in the front, or squeeze into the skirt, suffer through it for five minutes, and then demand your clothes back.

Once you actually have the skirt on it’s not... that bad. It digs into your waist just a tad, making your back straighten to make breathing easier. The fabric is thick, wool-like, but soft to the touch. It comes to your knees, probably the only skirt in the store that does so, and much to your surprise, it smooths out every piece of pudge even without tights. You look at yourself in the mirror and you look... lovely. Elegant, with a hint of sexy that looks good on you for once. 

Peaking your head out of the room, you see Molly and the group of friends -- Ramona, Hugh, Paul, and Chandler, you’ve since learned -- eagerly eyeing the dressing rooms. They’re all sitting on the pink, crushed velvet couch Molly has set up for shoppers, their knees bouncing with anticipation. 

You move your body out inch by inch, as if to step out of the room too quickly would cause your body to burst into flames. The closer you get to the main room, the hotter your body burns with embarrassment, the harsher the feeling of invisible eyes feel on you. You know that Molly won’t tease you, that she is a constant purveyor of how naturally gorgeous you are. But somewhere in the back of your head, the harsh words of your mother hammer away. You can just imagine that Ramona and Hugh and Paul and Chandler and whoever peaks through Molly’s windows will have some awful things to say. It wouldn’t be anything new, you’ve heard it all. Doesn’t mean you want to keep hearing it.

Molly spots your hair poking out of the doorway and squeals. Your “new friends” squeal in response and then it’s just a chain reaction of everyone squealing and cheering at you. You creep further into the room and Molly pushes you the rest of the way onto the fitting pedestal. 

“Do a twirl!” Molly yells and the rest of them start chanting until you do, in fact, twirl on the pedestal. More squealing. Their joy and support become infectious, and slowly you pull your arms away from their place shielding your stomach. 

You look head on at the three full length mirrors set up opposite the couch, you don’t shy away. You’re loving how you look in this moment, you find it impossible to fixate on the lumps and bumps anymore. It feels as though you made to look like this, still so completely you and yet as beautiful as you always wished you felt. It’s perfect now.

“Go off, girl!” Chandler yells.

“Your man is going to wish he had you back,” Hugh cheers.

“If he bothers you again you call us and we’ll all beat his ass,” Ramona says and her friends whoop in agreement.

Behind you, you can hear the jingle of the bell hanging from the door. Raising your head to stare at the door through the mirror, (e/c) eyes meet glowing red ones, wide with shock. He has a sheepish smile, not all teeth like his “going out” smile, but just as wide. He has that damn box in his hands, his claws tapping the sides. 

Everything goes quiet and you might as well have been the only two people in the room. Molly ushers Ramona and her friends into the back room before the terror can fully set in and you’re grateful. You don’t really want anyone nearby for whatever is about to happen. 

Once everyone is out of the line of fire, you sigh and turn to face him, willing the confidence from your little fashion show to sustain you for just a little longer. 

“Alastor.”

He doesn’t say anything back, eyes still trained on you, because what is he supposed to say? ‘I’m sorry for taking you to a cesspool of women thirsting after me?’ ‘I’m sorry I’m such a tainted, wretched soul who is so undeserving of you?’ ‘I’m sorry I’m too much of a coward to tell you I love you?’ He pulls the box closer to his chest. 

“You look stunning,” is all he can muster. Not horrible, probably not the best thing either, though.

“I know,” you say back, keeping your face stern.

His smile grows wider but remains sheepish, maybe even bashful, which is impossible because when has Alastor ever been bashful? 

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he murmurs.

“I’m really fine, Alastor,” you lie. “You don’t have as much of an effect on people as you think.” Another lie.

“There are millions of dead souls who would beg to differ but--”

You send him the most seething glare you can muster and he pulls back. He looks back down to the gift, eyeing it as if it has all the answers, the map to getting back what’s been lost between you.

“I apologize if you were uncomfortable. That was not my intention.” 

“I wasn’t uncomfortable,” you seethe. “I wasn’t anything except tired and overcome with a desire to see my sister.”

“You’re a horrible liar,” he says as he starts to roam around the store while remaining a safe distance from you. In the mirror, you catch the red glint in your eyes and blink to force it away.

Words start to pour from your mouth, recklessly and unhinged, “And you don’t owe me anything. I don’t need you following me around town after I explicitly told you not to follow me. I don’t need you to “escort” me to meetings just so you can see your girl toys. I’m not an excuse, I’m not a guise. I can take care of myself, lord knows I’ve done so for decades without you.”

“I know.” You were expecting the room to burst into flames and for the sound of radio static to overwhelm you, not for him to remain smiling down at the floor, albeit with a hint of melancholy.

“You know?”

“I know.” He starts to take small steps towards you. “I know you don’t need me, you proved that today. You are more than brilliant and poised and powerful in your own right. I know that. But I’m afraid that what has happened is rather the opposite.”

He makes it to the pedestal and even with the extra inches you are barely as tall as him. But he has never seemed so small to you in this moment.

He is not a man who cowers, he does not beg, that shows weakness and he learned from a young age that you cannot afford weakness. Don’t show your neck, don’t bow your head, stand as tall as you can and bare your teeth. He can’t do that, though, not with you. What you need is openness and vulnerability from him, signs that you bring out something that no one else can.

“My dear, you do not need me,” he whispers and holds out the box to you. Somehow you tear your eyes away to focus on unraveling the bow and peel back the packing paper. There, glittering on a small slice of foam, are two necklaces: one a heart with a keyhole cut out, the other, the matching key.

Alastor dips two claws into the package and takes with him the heart-shaped lock, and to your surprise, he clasps it to his own neck.

“But I, dearly and desperately, need you.” He plucks the key from the box and holds it out to you in the palm of his hand. 

“Alastor...”

“You can say no. You can throw this in my face and I won’t stop you,” he smiles sadly. “But you will always, in a way, have it. You will always have me.”

You’re not an impulsive person, not really, and not compared to your siblings and friends. Now that you think about it, you’ve never actually had an urge like that. Until now. Until the feeling of something glowing and bright moving up from the pit of your stomach, through your throat and your vessels until they reached your chest.

You surge forward, pull him down by his lapels, and kiss him. He tenses initially, and you hear the familiar pop of a radio cutting in and out, before he melts against you. One arm encircles your waist and the other goes into your hair, keeping you securely against him. The kiss itself is a little sloppy on his part, inexperienced and cautious, which makes sense considering his aversion to intimate activities. But there’s a relief in the inexperience, in knowing that you’re one of, if not the, first one to do this with him. It doesn’t go any further than passionate lip-locking, but the way he clings to you and you to him, like two cogs sliding together, is more than enough for you both. 

When you pull away he chases after you and his arms tighten. He’s not quite ready for you to be any less than a few centimeters from him. You release a giddy giggle and lean your forehead against his own, noses nuzzling, heartbeats sharing. You feel cool metal against your neck and look down, spotting your half of the necklace resting against your chest.

“We should go,” you whisper.

“Mm, go where?” He asks as he begins to sway your entangled bodies back and forth.

“Somewhere far away from the eager ears of my sister.”

Alastor’s ears perk up and his eyes dart to the back room, where he can just catch a retreating shadow, presumably belonging to Molly.

“You might be right about that, dearest.”

[kettlequills]

how the dragon chases his tail

Miraak the Dragon Priest was not always a man haunting the halls of Apocrypha. Once, he was a little boy, and he had a terrible choice to make. On A03 here. For TESFest21, prompt: change.

CW: brief self harm, indoctrination, mention of castration, explicit references to violence and character death. Also, the Dragon Cult.

The boy that would be Miraak thrusts out his chest in pride when he sings. (He has another name, then, one that tastes of sweet snow and young summers. But that name is never written in any book and fades even from its bearer under the press of centuries, so the boy he shall be.)

 He is only young, but he knows he is the best singer in the cult choir, probably in the whole temple. The priest that directs the children always gives the boy solos and arranges the whole choir to compliment his voice. Not every child born in the village below gains the chance to serve out their due to the temple so quickly, and the boy is very sensible of the good fortune his lovely singing wins him.

 He is devastated, therefore, when his voice cracks halfway through a pure high note that should be      easy.  

 “It is natural – quite normal, a maturation process, of sorts,” Frinaar says hurriedly. Frinaar is an absently devoted man, but he lives for his choir pleasing the ear of his dragon master. (In five years, this love will not save him when his master grows bored and rends him chest to groin with one swipe. His organs will fall soft and pink from his belly, and he will be dead before he hits the ground.)

 But for now, the priest cranes his head around the corners before he takes them, ushering the boy along with sweeps of his voluminous, incense-stained robes, like he is quite afraid of anyone with less than perfect control over their voice to be found in the temple. “Quite normal – only so unfortunate – right before our master should return – so unfortunate. The display will not be the same without the lead and that understudy…”

 Frinaar clucks his tongue, ringing praise for the boy’s young rival, Jyric. (Older, and jealous of the boy’s special treatment by the priests, Jyric is resentful and bitter. He will not mourn the fate he hears the boy earns for himself, when the boy is a man. But he will not long outlive it either, for he will be seized with a terrible wasting disease that will take the strength from his bones, and abandoned by his kin, will succumb to it in shivering fever alone.)

 “Master may be displeased – so many of the choristers eaten, at recent, and…”  He pauses, sweeps down to look at the boy beneath one bushy brow. “You do not think – you do not think that you could      delay    it? Your voice breaking?” he asks hopefully.

     “Yes,”    the boy cries at once, desperate for any chance, and his voice cracks.

 Frinaar winces. “Get gone.” He brushes the boy vaguely towards the temple doors, muttering to himself. “I knew that we should fix them when we get them, then this would not happen! Or only permit girlchildren, but it’s ‘ah, Frinaar, how will our village grow, if you prevent our boys from becoming fathers and our girls becoming mothers?’ Well, I should like to see how our village will grow when the choristers are all off and the master is displeased!”

 Disappearing in a whirl of mumbling and swishing robes, Frinaar leaves the boy to it. For a moment, the boy stands there, hoping against hope that there is some mistake, and that Frinaar will come back to fetch him.

 The iron doors, carved with beautiful depictions of the dragons the temple serves, remain stubbornly closed. And the boy that would be Miraak is brave, and he is strong, but he is only a boy, and he is suffering the bitterest disappointment of his life.

 He bursts into tears, and the shame of it is enough to send him to his knees.

 Sat on the steps, knobbly knees drawn up to his forehead, he cries silently with the experience of any child who has lived every night of his life since his sixth winter in a crowded dormitory. He is lucky, he knows, because the boy has family in the village. A mother, and siblings; he sees them sometimes when the temple children are allowed to go down to the village to celebrate festivals. They are good people. His mother will be coming to get him.

 Not everyone has a mother to fetch them when their temple years are served. Some go to beg for an apprenticeship, a trade, or remain at the temple to join the ranks of warriors destined to guard the temple and barrows beyond. But the boy does not feel like it is luck now.

 Anything that takes him further from the temple and all that he has come to know feels like a curse.

 Eventually, though, he runs out of tears and instead dips his fingers in the snow, rubbing the cold water under his eyes to reduce the swelling. This too, he has practiced, how to look as if he has not just been crying. He straightens his spine and assumes a bored posture, like he has never been more confident and calm in his life. He is aware, after all, of the slits cut into the walls of the temple, for the guards to see approaching intruders on the temple steps where he sits.

 This is how his mother sees him, when she, huffing, reaches the top of the temple steps. She glances around, a little uncertainly, her smile tentative. (Her name is Sinawen, but the boy will not remember it all, when he is a man looking back through muddled memories. So, we will call her Sina, because her story is sad enough without the grief of eroded memory. She will burn in agony for the crimes of her son, having outlived all of her children save one, whose fate is murky to her on her deathbed, but whose suffering is assured.)

 “My son?” Sina says, and calls him by that name, that name that the boy would forget.

 “Mother,” he says back, determinedly keeping his voice at a low, even tone, and her whole face crinkles into a sunbeam of joy.

 “My boy!” she says, and rushes towards him, and quite before the boy can do anything at all he is enfolded into a huge hairy hug. She smells like peppermint and the winter trees she tends in their beds of snow and ice for the village. (It is important work. It is why she has only had to give one child to the temple, her lastborn, who takes most after his long-distant father.)

 The boy that would be Miraak hangs there in his mother’s arms and wishes that the ground would swallow him up on the spot. He hopes his rival Jyric has not found a slit to watch through, and laugh at the boy being coddled by his mother like a child. Humiliation makes rosy apples of his cheeks, and he pushes at her.

 (He is a child, still. How quickly do they wish for what they do not understand. Does he know that this will be the last time he gets such an embrace, steeped in a mother’s love, uncomplicated and clear as ice? Of course he doesn’t.)

 She releases him, used to the pride of the young, but she holds his hand when they go down the temple steps, and he lets her. Her black claws are like his, though the boy’s are clipped short so he will not tear the papers he works with, and when he looks up he sees her cloud of hair swaying in the breeze, salt-flecked cream, and this is the image he will hold of her in his heart, looking off towards the home the boy had been born in with a smile on her lips and tear-tracks on her cheeks.

 (Would it change anything, if he did know?)

 “I am so glad you are coming home, my son,” she says, “We have all missed you.”

 The boy says nothing at all at this, because there is a flicker of shame in his heart. Of all the children in the dormitory, he has been the quickest to scorn the homesick, the swiftest to pledge every thought in his mind to devouring whatever scraps of knowledge the priests have seen fit to grant their charges. He has not thought of coming      back,    in that vague way of inexperience, thought then that this heady time of learning would last forever.

 (He will learn, unfortunately, that there can be too much of such a good thing.)

 The village is not far from the temple, and Sina’s home not far from the village, nestled between cold white stands of frosty trees. A small shrine waits off the path, devoted to the owl-god Jhunal and the whale-god Stuhn, warding against demons drawn by the misty woods. It is well tended, but the boy still spots, hidden on the bark of a tree, a watchful carved eye that does not seem like it belongs with the rest of the shrine.

 The boy does not think anything of it.

 (Do you?)

 “Better things than that temple out there,” says the boy’s eldest brother, after they have eaten, and the misery on the boy’s face can no longer be attributed to hunger. He is wild and tangle-haired, spends his whole life to date out in the snows, and still feels constrained.

 (His name is Terren, and he will not survive a chance stumble into a bear trap, not far from the hunter’s path he had strayed from. A summer from this day, he will be a frozen corpse, found only the following spring when a lost hound tracks the wrong kill. The boy will remember him unnamed, as only as his shredded blue face, gnawed by animals, exposed bone pointing to the sky, and forget their relation, any sense of why this face hurts more than any other he has seen.)

 (It will be the kindest fate those with this boy’s blood meet.)

 “Yes!” pipes his second sibling, Minwen, a sister whose quick fingers at the distaff has won her valued approval, whose bright eyes look at the temple on the hill that swallows her brother with as much trepidation as curiosity. (She will die choking, and her quick fingers will not be enough to stem the blood warm and wet that will gush from her cut throat. The boy’s memory of her kindness will be taken from him, and of her all he will recall is blood-soaked snow and deep dragon-laughter.) “You could learn magic, at home with us.”

 “That’s stupid,” the boy snaps. His voice cracks and he sinks his head into his arms. “I’m      supposed    to be there now. I’m the best singer they have.      I,    ” he adds, venomously, thinking of Jyric, “      never    lose the beat.”

 It is true. The boy has a sense of timing that is as innate as it is perfect.

 (Any skill can be a torment, when cultivated by the right gardener.)

 “When you are a man,” his mother offers, quietly, mouth pinched around the edges, “couldn’t you go back?”

 “They don’t need any more apprentices,” the boy says glumly. “They have too many. Frinaar always complains. And that’s years, and      years    away. I’d rather die.”

 His siblings exchange glances. A depressing silence has settled over the table. The boy takes this as his due, too young to realise his selfishness.

 (I would love to tell you that he learns.)

 Sina sighs. “It may not be what you want, my son, but we are very happy to have you home.”

 (But you know better, don't you?)

 The boy’s brother Terren scoffs, a little, muttering something about ungratefulness. Minwen next to him elbows him sharply in the ribs, hissing      “Think of mother!”  

 (Please do think of her. Sinawen’s suffering will be eaten by her god. Someone could at least remember she existed. Eventually, her son won’t.)

 The boy says nothing, grinding his forehead into the wood of the table. He is consumed in his own misery, everything he has worked for in his young life ripped away from him. It isn’t      fair,    he thinks jealously. He doesn’t      want    to be a wood-grower like his mother, or a spinner, or a scout, or to join the everlasting battle against the beasts and bandits beyond the bounds of the village that has taken his father from the guards.

 (It isn’t about what the boy wants.)

 He wants… he wants the feeling he gets, when he is tasked to sweep the courtyard and lingers close to the wall where the master roosts, eyes running over dragon-words scratched with dragon-claws. The feeling that swells, hot and bright, when he sees dragons overhead, chasing each other’s tails and immense in their majesty. The power that he feels, somewhere just out of reach, when he sings out strong and brave and the whole of the choir rises up around him like a voice of thunder. He feels – he feels alone, in the warmth of his mother’s house, the people that are his family all around him.

 He feels alone when he squeezes a carefully-rescued scale no one misses in his hand, so hard that it draws blood. And something in him looks at the blood that wells around his skin, warm and red, and is disappointed that it doesn’t burn like acid dragonblood. He feels alone then, too. But it is a different      aloneness,    something that feels like a secret whispered in a language he doesn’t know.      Set apart,    instead of      left behind.  

 But, the boy thinks mulishly, he could learn another language. He can’t fill the gap that has grown after years away.

 (See how proud and foolish he is! Can you imagine yet how much the boy will regret this?)

 Dinner is eaten quickly, and Terren is out the door to roam the stands of ice-trees, trail hard claws over the bark. Minwen braids her mane around her fox-ears with ribbons. And his mother draws the boy outside, and takes him to stand beneath the tree with the watchful eye. Sina goes to her knees in the snow and holds her son’s face. Her eyes are deep and warm, crinkled with laugh lines at the edges.

 “You have the look of your father,” she tells him, “And his spirit, apparently.” She clucks her tongue. “He was insistent that we go to a temple village, for the winged ones. I see Kyne in his hawk-eyes like yours.”

 (Do you think that Kyne cares?)

 The boy is watching the sky, not paying attention. Something in him is itching. “You’re not supposed to say that,” he says. “You’re supposed to call them masters.”

 “When the priests can grow wood from ice alone, they can correct how I speak,” Sinawen says firmly. “You are not in the temple, any longer. I can teach you my art. How often did they even let you out? You were not made for stone tombs, my son.”

     “I    am a priest,” says the boy.

 “There are other gods,” Sina says, but his mother’s reply is drowned by the sweep of mighty wings overhead. Sina grabs her son as he lurches towards the temple, eyes tracing the shimmering, bluer-than-blue shape, the joyful roar of frost. It shakes his bones. He knows, without knowing, that the dragon is greeting its roost, crowing its mastery over the mortals that serve it.

 Something in the boy that will be Miraak aches to roar back.

 His mother’s amulet brushes his cheek, freed from the neckline of her shirt. It is carved of a single emerald, one eye half-hidden between two branching leaves. The eye looks at him steadily. (How soon a seed is planted.)

 The boy tugs impatiently against his mother’s arms.

 “I need to go,” he says, “I need –”

 He is aware of a distant, enormous sensation, somewhere in the place that knows without looking at the sun where the planets are, and how long it has been since he last looked. He is aware that something about this is important, terribly important, as if the world itself is waiting, waiting to see what he will do.

 Sina’s shoulders slump. (She has her own choice to make here. How she will pray that she did not.)

 “May the Woodland Man reveal the answers you seek,” his mother says, face buried in the loose tumble of the boy’s hair, “and when you are satisfied, She-Wolf guide you home.”

 (The boy will not remember this, but the eye of the gods opens on him.)

 Her arms loosen, just a little, and the boy tears himself free. He races up the path nimble as a mountain goat without a backward glance. The enormous feeling only grows stronger as the boy runs, until it begins to feel like he is being crushed under the soulful, silent weight of monumental purpose. He gasps for breath, but doesn’t stop, doesn’t stop even as he flies up the vast stone steps and into the thick iron doors. They creak open, only a little, and the boy throws the entire impatient weight of his child body against them again, and again, causing hollow booms to reverberate through the temple.

 (This temple will not even survive as a ruin. Its rocks will be torn apart, its iron doors melted down, its servants slaughtered. Nothing lasts forever. Bormahu-that-is-Alduin is always hungry.)

 “Who dares –      You?”    It is Frinaar who pulls the temple doors open, his face furrowing angrily into confusion, but the boy does not stop.

 He bowls past Frinaar, following the inexorable drumbeat of his soul, hardly knowing where he is going but not needing to as his feet follow the halls he has lived half his young life traversing. Frinaar is shouting behind him, at first loudly, then with increasing urgency, his robes flapping like dragon wings.

 Dragon wings. The boy sees them again, white as snowfall against the curve of the sky, and pivots on his foot, crashing out the door into the open courtyard where the dragon of the temple holds reign.

 The singing breaks off as the boy bursts in, and sudden silence drops sharp as a death-knell. Snow swirls about his eyes, but the boy can still see the great icy-blue form of a dragon crouching on the Wall that commemorates its greatness, a vast treasure of gold and gems spread out beneath its shading wings. The tribute of the temple.

 (How many fingers bled and bellies cramped for a master’s vanity this year? How little things change.)

 The boy has interrupted the ceremony.

 The dragon roars. “Why have you stopped?”

 Its voice is huge and rumbling, shaking the boy’s bones. (I won’t tell its name. The fate of this dragon is whispered in soft horror even amongst its scaled, cold-hearted brethren. There are some things simply too brutal to record, some fights too desperate to be remembered in the mind. The boy’s body will remember, though, and he will carry the scars of this dragon to his grave.)

 The choir looks at each other. (None of them will make it out alive.) The boy can see Jyric, moon-faced and trembling, staring at him like he is a daedra. (Maybe he is.) The dragon swings its great head and catches sight of the boy, a lone figure at the door. It leaps and lands with a crash that shakes the earth.

 (Is Bormahu-that-is-Akatosh even looking?)

 “Fool!” the dragon cries, “This is my temple! You will find no nest here!”

 The boy says nothing, seized in the grip of enormity. A choice is happening, vast and terrible, and he can feel it resounding down into his earbones, blocking out the dragon’s threat.

 (Is it his? Was any of it ever his choice at all?)

 Its head rears back as it draws in breath, and the choir scatters, diving nimbly out the way. The boy watches numbly, mind screaming to follow their suit as they have all practiced, but his body is still and firm. It knows, with granite certainty, that the boy can withstand the dragon’s Shout.

     “IIZ!”    The dragon roars, and ice barrels towards him. It strikes with the weight of a warhammer, and the boy staggers. But he remains standing, instinctively protecting his face with his arms. His hair is crusted into crystals, and ice cracks down his arms when he lowers them. They burn, distantly, with horrible pain.

 (Did it always have to end this way?)

 The dragon looks bewildered that the boy is not dead. The choir rustles as they slowly raise their heads. A shocked murmur runs through the courtyard. Some have frozen solid, unmoving lumps that quickly become dusted with the light snowfall, those that were huddling too close to the boy where he stands, garlanded with frost like a princeling at the epicentre of the blast.

 “I have to be here,” the boy says, “I-“ He struggles, wordless, for a way to convey the inexorable exhortations of his soul. “Take me with you. Burn me – claw me – but let me with you!”

 (We can’t stop this. It’s already happened.)

 He thinks of Sinawen, her hand tugging his, as if nothing is more natural in the world.  The strange pull – it has to be like what he has seen in his brother and sister. In the other children, who weep for their families, when the boy pretends he does not. He thinks of the words of his mother, how easily she folds him into her, as if there has been a place for him all this time, as if she has been waiting for him.

 The boy cries, helplessly, unable to name what he is feeling, the strange and intense kinship he feels to the dragon, the unbearable sense of loss when he thinks of that scar around that family table where a boy with a name like summer snows had once lived. Claw to claw, ice to ice, eye to sky. Is it love?

 (Maybe it even is, then. Is a boy a son because of flesh, or spirit? What about a boy whose heart is kissed by the dreadful Wheel of the Creator-Destroyer of Time? This boy has always had the look of his Bormah. He has the hunger, too.)

 The dragon pulls its head back again, but not to Shout, the boy knows, does not know how he knows. For a moment, there is no sound but the snow, soft as sighs on his shoulders. And then the dragon laughs, low and gravelly.

     “Geh,”    says the dragon. “Would that all took you as a guide for their service.”

 (Oh, they will. The boy will learn how little choice matters, will learn how to take it from his masters. He will teach this lesson on a firm Voice, and when they listen, and when they see, they will remember, because the boy is the son of his father, and there is no choice in orderly, eternal grind of the doom-driven.)

 The dragon lowers its head, amused, to regard the boy with one gleaming blue eye. Deep in its chest, it makes a strange clicking sound, ticking like a Dwemer time-piece. Then it snorts, and turns its great scaly body. Making for a tunnel cut into the cliff, its tail sweeps carelessly, nearly bowling over a dumbstruck Frinaar.

 “Come along, Miraak mal-sonaaki,” says the dragon, not looking back.

 (What is will, fate, if not another prison? This is a farce.)

 The boy hesitates for a moment, and then realises all at once that the dragon means      him.    He blinks, feels a small smile stretch his lips, wreathed in the warm glow of burgeoning confidence.

 (The mask this name gives him will become as part of him as his skin. It’s too late now. Fate has decreed that this boy’s hope must die to win his service.)

 Miraak runs after his master and feels each step ring with the hollow promise of fate. And though nothing simple has changed, for he is back in the temple and everything is right in his young world, he knows, blood-and-soul deep, that nothing is ever going to be the same again.

 (The gods are watching. Do you think they laugh?)

Gloss:

Bormahu - Our father. Dovahzul that when used by dragons means Akatosh, father of dragons. Also the Creator (Akatosh) and Destroyer (Alduin) of Time.

Woodland Man - Hermaeus Mora.

She-Wolf - Mara. God of love, handmaid to Kyne. 

Hawk-eyed Kyne - God of storms and sky. Compared to Kynareth. 

Whale god Stuhn - Warrior god of ransom, brother of Tsun. Compared to Stendar.

Owl-god Jhunal - God of wisdom, runes and mathematics. Compared to Julianos.

Frinaar - Eager Servant.

Miraak - Allegiance Guide. 

Mal - little or small. 

Sonaaki - my priest. 

Iiz - Ice.

[just-like-playing-tag]

I have a very tragic question. What if Emma died by fighting demons & her close friends/family witnessed her die (ofc that includes Norman...)? Can u imagine how her friends/family would react to her sacrifice?

Yay it's sad headcanons hours!!!

Norman: Dead. Destroyed. Seeing Emma die in front of him would literally be his worst nightmare coming to reality. He'd probably be not accepting she's gone and would keep shaking her corpse for a long time, screaming, tears uncontrollably streaming down his face, begging her to come back. Don has to take him by force away from Emma's body because he just won't leave her. After the event, he spends a week at home alone, not allowing anyone near him. Nobody knows what he did during that time. But I believe after some time he will find the strength to keep going on, and return to relative normality. He knows that there's people who needs him: be it the habit of being a leader or his innate kindness and altruism, but he knows he can't abandon his family. And he has swore not to leave Ray on his own. So he keeps living. He constantly tries to keep his mind busy, not allowing himself to indulge on painful memories, which will lead to him constantly overworking himself (it takes an inhuman amount of work to distract that big smart head of his). He tells himself that's what Emma would have wanted, that he has to keep living for her. But a certain light has left his eyes, and it will never come back. He will blame himself for her death for the rest of his life, never being able to let it go.

Ray: His immediate reaction to Emma dying in front of his eyes is not as strong as Norman's: maybe it's because he's already experienced many near death experiences with her, but he isn't taking that she's dead. He waits for her to get up, frozen in disbelief. For the first time in his life, his fast reflexes and incredible observation skills just can't keep up with what's happening around him. Why is everyone screaming? Why is Norman crying? Emma cannot be dead, that's impossible. Emma is too strong to die. Everyone needs her, and he knows she would never abandon them. But then what's happening? Why doesn't she get up? With Emma dying, time stopped moving for Ray. He can't put himself to do anything. His life has lost any meaning. He's shocked. He's furious. He's desperate. And soon enough, he just stops living. He knows that's not what Emma would have wanted, and he feels sorry for that; but he's not strong enough to keep going on. I think there's kind of a deep meaning to his reaction? Thanks to Emma, Ray started living: he started thinking that happiness, freedom, love attended him in his life, when previously he only saw death. Now, with her dying, he has once again lost all of it, and all that's left is emptiness. I don't think Ray would kill himself because that would be REALLY disrespectful towards Emma, but I think he would essentially just let himself exist, and stop living. His family would try to cheer him up as much as possible, but with time it becomes evident it's all useless. However, they keep hanging out with him, as they don't want to leave him alone, and he really appreciates it. But his family loving him and him allowing himself to love them back is just another part of Emma's legacy, and it hurts in its own way. Norman insists for the two of them to move in together, and Ray doesn't oppose, but in his life there's now this gigantic, empty space that is impossible to fill, and that crushes him more and more every day, slowly consuming him.

(Oh my God I've made myself sad?? Jk forget about it, if Emma died Ray would party.)

Gilda: When Emma dies, Gilda's world falls upon her. She can't believe it. Her first reaction is similar to Ray's, but in her case rage fastly takes over the other emotions. Emma shouldn't have abandoned her family, the children that so much looked up to her. Emma had no right to betray Gilda, to leave her alone. Of course it's just a defense mechanism, and Gilda doesn't really believe that, but right now that's for her the easiest, most immediate reaction in order to not let the pain kill her. She's losing sight of what's the meaning of living, now that Emma's gone, fastly falling to desperation. Eventually Don will be able to bring her out of her state, and show her that there's plenty of things that make life worth living. I truly believe these two have an amazing relationship, and they would be of great help to each other with coping with the grief. Gilda is going to be ok, because that was the most important thing for Emma, for her friends to be happy.

Don: Let me get this straight: he's as desperate and lost as everyone else. He just lost one of the most precious people in his life and he's absolutely destroyed. He cries a lot, on the spot and the days and nights after. Emma was a big model and inspiration for him, but before that, she was a dear friend like no others. However, I think between him and the people before listed he would be the most functional one although the pain. He's broken, but he still manages to get up and push the others to move forward. Now that Emma is gone, he knows that somebody has to take her place; and even though he knows there's no one like her, he can at least try to be the support the children need. His family needs him, and he owes it to Emma. After Emma's death he will be the most helpful guide to help the others overcome the grief- which is sad in its own way, because if he helps everyone, then who helps him? I hope these kids will get therapy.

Anna and Nat: Shocked. Desperate. Heartbroken. They're young enough to see Emma as an older sister and old enough to fully feel the pain of her death. Hopefully they will be able to recover.

GF children: They're all so confused and lost. They can't understand what's happening. More than Emma's death, which is hard to process on it's own, they're shattered by their older siblings reactions. They would be upset indeed, but I believe children have a magical way to cope, and they will eventually be able to overcome the pain. They're the ones that best cherish Emma's memory, truly believing that she lives in their hearts and in their happiness. They become the greatest cheer up and drive to keep living for the older ones.

Phil: Heartbroken!!!!!! Miserable! Inconsolable! Emma's death deeply signs him. It takes him weeks to fully recover. After that he will try acting as normal as possible, especially for his younger siblings, but he'll never manage to be as cheerful and thoughtless as he used to be ever again. His childhood died with Emma.

Oliver: He cries a lot. Since Emma was younger than himself, he loved her as a younger sister, and when she dies, he blames himself for failing to protect her. However, he will do his best to reassure and help the others. Goldy Pond's experience taught him that it feels better to keep yourself busy, so that your mind won't have the time to linger on the pain. It isn't the best coping mechanism for him to handle the trauma with, but he indeed was of great help to fill the leader space Emma had left behind.

GP group: Upset. I like to believe that with the time they spent together at the bunker, they started loving Emma as a sister, rather than looking at her as a leader or a hero. That made her death all the more dreadful. Emma's death brought back once again the horror and desperation of the hunting ground, the pain of losing the family you loved. Having it suddenly brought back after such a long time was horrible: multiple people had breakdowns, with many thinking that such suffering is destined to haunt them forever. Eventually, with the support of their family they will help each other to get out it. Group therapy guys!!!

[crimsonrose-monika]

[Tokyo Revengers Fanfic] By Your Side, Always

If you prefer AO3 format, here’s the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33160153

Title: By Your Side, Always

Pairing: Mikey & Takemitchy, Implied Mikey / Takemitchy, Takemichi / Hinata, Open to interpretation.

Tags: Manila Future Timeline Mikey, Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Tenjiku Arc, Mikey Needs a Hug, Song-Inspired Fanfic

Synopsis:

If Toman had gone bad, again and again, then it meant that Mikey’s heart had been corrupted, again and again. No one could reach Mikey. Takemichi could. He was by Mikey’s side, so why?

Only that he wasn’t. Takemichi wasn’t by Mikey’s side.

Realization slammed into him, fast and so unexpected that it almost knocked the breath out of his lungs.

Witnessing the dark future that awaited Mikey and the rest of Toman, Takemichi took a leap. He desperately wanted to save the invincible Mikey from himself. This time, he decided to stay.

This fanfic is inspired by a song 歩いていこう by いきものがかり. Parts of the song was inserted in the story. I translated the song and polish the translation myself to fit the English phrasing. (Putting my rusty Japanese to work here.) Feel free to listen while reading.

By Your Side, Always

“All my life, I’ve been suffering.” Mikey whispered, tears pooling in his eyes, but he smiled, as if his death was the best outcome he could ever wish for.

Takemichi felt his heart smashed into pieces as he watched life rapidly seeping out of his dear friend. Tears didn’t suit Mikey. A smile did, but not like this. Not the small tilt of his lips that amplified the crushed hope that lurked behind his deep, dark eyes. The best smile for Mikey was the full, satisfied one that smoothed the cease of his brows and made him shine brighter than anyone.

Without thinking, words rushed from Takemichi’s mouth. He didn’t care that he had been trying his hardest to not reveal his ability to anyone. He didn’t care what side effects admitting to time leap could cause. All he could think of was Mikey’s resignation. He wanted to erase that look from his eyes. He was to give this man hope.

What could have happened that made the invincible Mikey, who had faced down an overwhelmingly outnumbered fight with his back straight and his shoulders squared, felt like his death was the only happiness?

“Thanks, Takemitchy. Your words comforted me.” Mikey’s voice was calm. He stared up at the man whose eyes reminded him of sunlight hitting the sea surface, committing them to his last memory. Takemichi was crying again, ever the crybaby. Even when Mikey had held him at gunpoint, Takemichi still cried for him. “Even if you’re telling me lies...I’m happy.”

Blood from his head wound flowed into his eyes, but Mikey paid it no mind. In his last moment, he wanted to treasure the last member of Toman who didn’t lose their life by Mikey’s hands.

Takemichi’s tears fell onto Mikey’s shoulder blade. As his body slowly lost its heat, the warmth of Takemichi’s touch became clear. How long had it been since he had felt another person’s gentle heat on his skin? When was the last time Mikey had any kind of physical contact that lasted for more than a few seconds that it took his feet and fists to take down opponents? He had forgotten what it felt like to be close to someone.

“Your hands are so warm.”

Mikey’s eyes clouded over. All awareness escaped him as his breathing slowed to a stop. Feeling like the battered floor under his knees gave away, Takemichi brought Mikey close. As light shone through the time-worn holes in the ceiling, illuminating Mikey’s lifeless form like a silent eulogy, Takemichi’s memory of the man played behind his eyes.

“From now on, you’re my bitch!” Mikey had confidently declared the first time they had met, after he and Draken defeated Kiyomasa with ease.

“I’m going to create an era for delinquents,” Mikey had proclaimed his dream with determination alight in his eyes. At that moment, Mikey had stood with his feet planted firmly, ready for anything the world would throw his way.

“Boo!” In the bath house, after the fight with Mobius’ remnants at the festival, Mikey had smiled widely and played like a kid.

“You’re strong, Takemitchy,” Mikey, who was stronger than anyone, had acknowledged his respect for the crybaby.

Reliving the memories of Mikey brought a different kind of resolution to Takemichi. He clenched his fist to steel himself and plunged into the stream of time.

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

Takemichi hated funerals. As an adult, he understood that death was an inevitable state of humans. But recently, he had attended too many funerals—had seen too many deaths—in all timelines.

Hinata, Atsushi, Baji, Mitsuya, Mikey, Emma, Izana, and even Kisaki, whose death Takemichi had thought wouldn’t make him feel anything. How wrong he was.

Why did people keep dying despite his best effort?

During the entirety of Emma’s funeral, Mikey didn’t cry. He stared at Emma’s portrait, where she laughed brightly without a care in the world, lost in his own thoughts. Sometimes Takemichi caught a glimpse of silent despair and anguish that he had seen swirling behind the future Mikey’s eyes.

It scared him.

Emma’s death wasn’t the trigger to Mikey’s darkness, Takemichi knew, because the leader of Toman was strong. Mikey would be sad. He would grieve, he would see the world crumbling to dust before him, and he would be lost, but he would come back. Just like he had come back to face Izana with a heart that was still bleeding, ready to love another brother despite the fresh pain that was etched into his soul.

But even the strongest man could fall once the loss of his precious people piled up in such a short time. In the span of Mikey’s teenage life, he had lost three out of four family members and half of the starting members of Toman, all of them sudden, without time to prepare or make peace. Some people would come back—Pah-chin and Kazutora—but the rest were gone forever.

Even to Takemichi, a somewhat outsider-turned-friend—because they were all his friends, but he would never compare his care for them to Mikey’s—who took in the situation with great shock that clung to every fiber of his body, Mikey’s life was like a cruel, heartless joke.

How could a person experience so much pain so young?

It was already a miracle that Mikey retained his sense of self this long.

After the funeral, Takemichi walked with Hinata, but they couldn’t seem to go anywhere. In the end, they continued walking mindlessly across the town. He registered the same store that they had walked past twice before, but he couldn’t bring himself to think. Hinata didn’t say anything either. She walked beside him wordlessly, offering her presence to Takemichi’s fleeting awareness.

They stopped at an empty park, where they sat on the swings as silence stretched. The sky already turned dark when Takemichi spoke.

“I couldn’t change Emma’s death. I was right there, but I still couldn’t do anything.”

Hinata listened intently, like she always did. Takemichi could feel her patient gaze on the side of his face even as he stared down at his hands that clasped together on his lap.

“In the future, Mikey-kun lost himself. After Emma died, Mikey-kun fell into darkness. He told me that he’d been suffering all his life.” Takemichi’s voice shook at the end as he remembered the future Mikey’s existence that screamed out to him in misery, begging him to put his own life to an end. “I knew all that, but I still failed.”

His breath stuttered as the beginning of a sob formed behind his throat. His eyes were hot.

At this rate, Mikey is going to end up the same. Toman members would all die. Nothing would change.

“I’m tired, Hina-chan. I’m tired of going back to find out that it is another bad future once again. They deserve to be happy, but the world keeps throwing pain at them. It’s not fair.”

Even as he blabbered on, Takemichi berated himself for talking like a child. It wasn’t fair? The world was never fair, but it was being particularly cruel to all his loved ones.

Takemichi roughly wiped his tears with the sleeves of his shirt.

He had been thinking. He had been changing the past. He had prevented Draken’s death that would change Mikey, but then Hinata and Atsushi died. Draken was on a death row. He had conveyed Baji’s intention to Mikey and stopped him from killing Kazutora, but Hinata and Chifuyu still died. Even worse, it was him who ordered her death. Then, he made sure that Hakkai didn’t join Black Dragons. It should have been the best future yet, but everyone died, and Mikey was living a life he would rather not have.

No matter how many times Takemichi changed the past, there still wasn’t a single future where everyone was happy. In the face of repeated failures, he started to think that maybe he had been looking at it from the wrong point of view.

When he was lost in his head, Hinata spoke up for the first time.

“Takemichi-kun, what do you think you are to Mikey-kun?”

What a strange question.

Takemichi lifted his head and looked at his girlfriend. Hinata smiled at him even though her eyes were red from crying at Emma’s funeral. She had grown quite close to Mikey’s sister.

When he didn’t say anything, she looked away and spoke what had been on her mind. “Hina might not know the people from Toman as well as Takemichi-kun, but Hina has been watching when you’re with them. Mikey-kun cares about you. There are many times when you said ridiculous things, Takemichi-kun, but he listened to you.”

Hinata started pushing her feet into the ground, propelling herself gently back and forth on the swing absentmindedly as she organized her thoughts. When she spoke next, she seemed like she knew something about Mikey that Takemichi didn’t. Her big round eyes looked straight ahead, away from Takemichi, but her voice made its way into his heart.

“Your voice reached Mikey-kun, again and again. You brought him back. You mean more to Mikey-kun than you think, Takemichi-kun. Maybe there is something you can say to him that will remind him to not give in to his darkness?”

Takemichi remembered. When he had said that he would become Toman’s top member to Mikey’s face, he was serious and determined. But deep down, he knew how ridiculous it had sounded. If it had been anyone else, Takemichi would surely get a jeer in the face. He wasn’t good at fighting. He got more punches in his face than he had landed. Anyone would have thought that he was a pushover.

But not Mikey. He had taken Takemichi’s words seriously and never once laughed at him for aiming high. The invincible Mikey had said that Takemichi was stronger even though Mikey could defeat him with one kick. Every time that Mikey almost lost himself in grief and impulse, Takemichi’s sincere words brought him back to sense.

If Toman had gone bad, again and again, then it meant that Mikey’s heart had been corrupted, again and again. No one could reach Mikey. Takemichi could. He was by Mikey’s side, so why?

Only that he wasn���t. Takemichi wasn’t by Mikey’s side.

Realization slammed into him, fast and so unexpected that it almost knocked the breath out of his lungs.

“Could it be that no matter what I did, Toman still went bad because I wasn’t there?”

When Takemichi jumped back to the future, what was left in this timeline was the young Takemichi who didn’t intimately know Mikey’s suffering. He didn’t want to admit the cowardice of his younger self, ashamed at how weak he had been until Hinata’s death in the first timeline had opened his eyes, but the young Takemichi wouldn’t be able to scold Mikey like he had been asked to. Only the future Takemichi could, but he wasn’t here when Mikey needed him.

That must be why. There was no one to pull Mikey back from the brink because Takemichi who could wasn’t there with him.

If that was true, then he could just stay to make sure that Mikey wouldn’t go down the wrong path. He would act as Mikey’s moral pillar, like he had been asked to after the fight on Christmas Day. That way, instead of jumping back to find that one or all of his friends met their premature ends, he could be with them and make sure that they were okay.

When Hinata tore her eyes from the park to look back at Takemichi’s face, she knew that her boyfriend had come to some form of conclusion. She wasn’t sure what that decision was, but she knew him. Takemichi was the crybaby hero. His determination to protect was more fierce than anyone. So she waited.

“Hina-chan, this time, I’m not going back to the future.”

Hinata wouldn’t say that what she heard was anything she had expected, but at the same time, now that it was said out loud, it was the most Takemichi-like answer.

“Will it be okay not to go back?” She asked, a little worried about what would happen to the body of the future Takemichi if his consciousness was here. Takemichi had told her that he came from the future to fix things and go back when whatever he was here for was corrected, but he didn’t go into how the time leap worked.

“It should be fine,” Takemichi replied. He seemed a little unsure as he spoke, but then he pressed his lips together and held his head up high. His blue eyes that were illuminated under the street light shone brightly. “When I’m here, my body in the future was on autopilot. Even if something happens, I’m still alive here. I can continue to make changes so that nothing bad will happen to any of us in the future.”

“Is that how it works?”

“I’m not sure, but I think it is my best option.”

Hinata watched Takemichi in silence. Time passed, and Takemichi was starting to think that maybe he got something wrong and Hinata didn’t agree when she nodded to herself and gave him a sparkling smile.

“Hina will support Takemichi-kun no matter what you choose,” she said with finality, as if it had been predetermined.

Takemichi felt incredibly lucky to have Tachibana Hinata, a girl whose heart was unmovable and understanding, in his life. “Thank you, Hina-chan.”

“Also, please work out your feelings.” At that very moment, Hinata looked like someone who held the secret of the world. She seemed to know Takemichi better than he knew himself. “Hina will be waiting okay?”

Again, Hinata said a cryptic message that Takemichi didn’t quite understand. But he nodded.

歩いていこう 歩いていこう

Let’s walk forward. Let’s walk forward.

僕は「今」を生きていくよ

I will continue to live in the “present.”

君がくれた言葉はここにあるよ

The words that you told me are right here with me.

そうだよ 歩いていこう

Yes, let’s walk forward.

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

A few days later, Mikey called Takemichi to meet at the Musashi Shrine. He told Takemichi to wear his Toman black uniform, which Takemichi easily complied. March temperature had warmed up a bit from the freezing February, on its way to welcome spring, but it still wasn’t anywhere near warm enough to go out without bundling up. Good thing that Toman’s long sleeves and baggy pants uniform made it simple to slip another layer or two underneath.

When Takemichi arrived, Mikey was already there, playing with the puff of his breath that the cold, humid air produced. He wore his usual white long-sleeve shirt underneath his coat uniform that draped over his shoulders. Takemichi wondered if Mikey didn’t feel cold in this kind of weather.

Takemichi told Mikey all about the future, from the very beginning when he was pushed onto the train rails. What he had changed up until now and its result in each timeline. He sobbed when he apologized for failing to save Baji and Emma, and broke into a cry when he told Mikey what had happened to his future self in Manila.

Mikey’s face was carefully blank as he listened. Takemichi couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but there was something that had been bothering him since he took his first step onto the stone paved path of the shrine. Mikey’s posture was taut, like a string that was stretched to the point of snapping. His words and his every move seemed calculated.

Takemichi didn’t like it. So when he finished the story and Mikey fell silent, eyes trained somewhere faraway, he announced his intention.

“Mikey-kun, I’m not going back.”

Mikey’s dark eyes snapped to him, surprised. His brows ceased as he contemplated. “If you’re worrying about everyone, I give you my words, Takemitchy. I’ll definitely protect everyone’s future. Hina too. I’ll make sure that the same future won’t happen, so you don’t have to be so reluctant to part ways.”

Mikey smiled, the same smile as that time when he said Toman would never lose because he was here. The one that was both confident in the outcome and self-assured in his own abilities. But Takemichi saw it, a hint of deep emotion that Mikey tried desperately not to show others. Takemichi would never have noticed before, but after witnessing the future in Manila, he became aware of little clues and changes in expressions that Mikey’s body couldn’t hide.

Toman’s invincible leader always smiled when faced with difficulties. But that wasn’t the smile that Takemichi wanted.

歩道橋の向こうに 冬のまちが見えたよ

On the other side of the overpass, I could see the city in the winter.

ひとかけらの孤独を手に 僕は明日をつないでいる

With the fragments of loneliness in my hands, I am reaching toward tomorrow.

「こころで笑えるかな」いつかの声が聴こえた

“Can you smile with all your heart?” I heard a voice from some day.

白い息が空に消える

The breath vapor disappears into the sky.

寂しくはない 駅へ急ぐよ

I’m not lonely. I’m rushing to the station.

Takemichi knew that Mikey would keep his promise. As a leader and as a friend, Mikey treasured the trust that Toman had put in him and would do his best to respond in kind. He wouldn’t break his promise.

But protecting everyone alone was a task that even adults struggled to accomplish. No matter how powerful Mikey was, he still needed a place or a person whom he could fall onto when he needed a break. Takemichi was determined to be that person. He would help Mikey protect everyone and carry parts of his burden. He didn’t want to see the hopelessness in Mikey ever again.

“I know, Mikey-kun. But I want to stay. I want to be with you and the rest of Toman.” He explained, staring at the deep dark eyes to convey the force of his sincerity. “I want to help you. Please let me help you protect everyone’s future. Please let me protect your future.”

Although Mikey didn’t act like he needed it, his future was also important and deserved to be protected.

Takemichi hoped that his expressive eyes would persuade Mikey for him, to let him know that Takemichi wouldn’t back down. Like it had played out when Takemichi had announced his intention to become one of Toman’s top leaders, Mikey would have to acknowledge it.

Takemichi could see Mikey’s resolution wavered. He reeled in his weakness a heartbeat later, but that short moment was enough for Takemichi to catch on.

“What about Hina?” Mikey pressed, resorting to bringing up a girl whom he knew Takemichi would throw his life away for if it meant she would live well. “She’s waiting for you in the future.”

Despite the reminder, Takemichi didn’t back down. “I have Hina-chan here too. I told her my decision, and Hina-chan said she would support me.”

Mikey bit his lips, his eyes straying sideways. It seemed like he had his plan, but whatever that plan was, it was being shaken by Takemichi’s words.

“I have everyone I ever want here with me, Mikey-kun. I want to stay. Not just for you and for Toman, but for myself too.”

It was as if the wall that Mikey had built around himself crumbled down like glass. In the first place, Mikey objected to Takemichi staying because he felt that the other was putting others before himself. He didn’t want Takemichi to throw away his chance to live as he wanted just because he was worried about the people in the past.

But Takemichi had said that he was staying for himself too.

The stubbornness that lined Mikey’s lips eased into a soft smile. “You already made up your mind even before I said anything.”

Takemichi grinned at his Toman leader. “I’m sorry,” he offered without really feeling sorry.

There was the sound of motorcycle engines at the edge of Takemichi’s hearing, a sound that had wormed its way into Takemichi’s heart and oddly assured him of belonging and comfort. It got louder by the seconds, until it stopped somewhere to his right, in the shrine’s parking lot that was obscured by a row of trees. Dull marching steps replaced the engine sound as a crowd of black-cladded people strode up to the stairs where Takemichi and Mikey were standing.

Something cold fell on the tip of Takemichi’s nose, before another one planted itself on his forehead. He looked up at the darkened sky and saw white flakes falling down in fluttering dances.

“It’s snowing...” Takemichi muttered.

“Strange, isn’t it? The weather forecast said it wouldn’t snow.” Holding his palm up to collect a small puff of white frozen water in his hand, Mikey gazed at it as the hundred members of Toman fell into neat rows behind their respective captains. Mitsuya and Smiley were still in their wheelchair, but they grinned widely.

「帰らないと決めたんだ」

“I have decided to not go back.”

はじまりを 告げるように 雪が降り始めた

As if to mark the beginning, snow started to fall.

“Thank you, Takemitchy. I have decided.” Mikey straightened his back and squared his shoulders, the very picture of Tokyo Manji Kai’s invincible leader. There was a gleam in his eyes that made Takemichi nodded and went down to his place right in front of Chifuyu and the rest of the first division.

Mikey looked over them confidently as he grinned. “Listen up, everyone!”

The entirety of Toman snapped to attention as the voice of their leader carried through the air. Soft snow continued to fall gently to the ground.

“We have faced a lot of hardship in our fight with Tenjiku, but we overcame them and emerged victorious. Toman is now Japan’s top gang!”

As he listened, Takemichi felt his chest puffed up in pride, and he was certain that every single person who carried Toman’s manji on the back of their uniform felt the same.

“We’ve created an era that will be handed down to generations to come, an era for delinquents that we have dreamed of! Thank you everyone for sticking with me and making Toman the best gang out there. But our dream doesn't end here. Toman will continue to show the world the way of delinquents we uphold! I hope that you all will be with me on this journey.”

Then, Mikey relaxed his posture and spoke a little more comfortably. “To let you all recover from the fight, there won’t be a gang meeting for a while. I will end the meeting here. Be careful while you go home and rest well.”

They bowed, deeply and respectfully, to the leader who had led them through many hardships and who had lost so much, before the crowd slowly receded along with the booming sound of bike roars.

The captains and vice-captains stayed for a while longer, discussing among themselves the outcome of the Kanto Incident and speculating about the future that awaited Toman, but gradually, they bid farewell one by one until the only occupants on the shrine ground were Takemichi and Mikey.

“Today, I called everyone here to announce the disbandment of Toman.” Mikey confessed, a slight smile still on his lips as he scanned the spacious ground that was fully occupied a mere moment ago. “I thought about it, the future you told me. No matter what timelines, something always goes badly. The root of it all is me. Toman goes bad because I go bad. I thought that by disbanding Toman, everyone will still be able to live a happy life even when I inevitably fall into darkness.”

Takemichi almost stopped breathing. He had a hard time believing his ears. Mikey loved Toman. This gang was his pride and dream, but he was ready to throw all that hard work and passion away to ensure that everyone he cared about would have a good life.

“Mikey-kun...”

“But you give me hope. You changed my mind,” he continued, tearing his focus from the ground beneath the steps, and looked at Takemichi with pleading eyes. “That’s why, Takemitchy, when you think I am losing myself. You definitely have to scold me and bring me back, okay?”

Mikey’s stability was his responsibility now, but Takemichi was up to the task. He clasped his hands behind his back and looked straight at his leader and friend. “I will, Mikey-kun! Definitely!” He yelled confidently, putting all his determination into the sentence that he uttered.

Takemichi was rewarded with a big, wide smile that he had been longing to see on Mikey’s face. Mikey’s eyebrows smoothened, losing the sharpness that had permanently been etched onto them for a few seconds as the corner of his eyes relaxed with the movement of his cheeks. This Mikey was glowing, moonlight reflecting on the snow in his hair.

“You’re my hero, Takemitchy.”

歩いていこう 歩いていこう

Let’s walk forward. Let’s walk forward.

僕は「今」を生きていくよ

I will continue to live in the “present.”

傷ついても 何度も 信じたいよ

Even if I get hurt, I want to believe, no matter how many times.

この手を この日々を 君と泣いて 君と笑って 僕は強くなれたんだろう

Within these hands, within these days, crying with you, laughing with you, has made me stronger.

君がくれた言葉はここにあるよ

The words that you told me are right here with me.

そうだよ 歩いていこう

Yes, let’s walk forward.

[END]

[gwynsnesta]

Light - Gwynriel

It had been at least a couple days since Gwyn and Azriel had got any sleep. The twins were going through their wing faze when their wings grew and the pain is excruciating. As little babies, Gwyn hoped they’d give into sleep but it hadn’t worked so far. Neither parent had any sleep with them always on one baby.

Right now, Gwyn was holding Catrin in her arms trying to get her daughter to sleep. Azriel was across the room trying to lull Damon to sleep. Az sighed as he rocked Damon side to side. Gwyn wanted to smile and laugh, to kiss him and rest by his side. But all her energy had been taken from her. Some days she wondered if she was a good mother to her children.

Downstairs, their friends were gathered around after Gwyn and Azriel invited them to dinner. But that had been weeks ago and they forgotten to cancel after Madja had warned that the twins wouldn’t stop the wing faze till late next week or even later. Nesta had come early to help Gwyn make dinner and Cassian had helped Azriel with the babies. But now, Gwyn regretted the dinner.

“Hey.” Azriel moved over to her and placed a kiss on her forehead as they held their babies. “You aren’t a terrible mother and you shouldn’t ever regret anything. We may have underestimated the skills we have to help them but the pain is natural.”

“It is natural.” A voice broke their talk and they whirled to see their family and, “You were just like this. Your fat- father used to hate it so much he’d start to cry himself. The one joy that man brought me, besides you, was to see him cry.” Azriel’s mother stood there as beautiful as the day she’d turned twenty. You’d never guess she was over 500 years old. Or that her son was the spymaster of the Night Court with twin babies.

Azriel gave her a light laugh. One that hadn’t been heard since the twins faze began. Nyx played around with his cousin Athena (Nesta & Cassian’s daughter). His mother stood next to Cassian and Rhys. Azriel hadn’t brought his mother near males for a very long time. Not even his brothers. Only Gwyn had truly met her and spent time with her.

She entered the room and took baby Catrin from Gwyn’s arms. Gwyn was nearly crying as she took a seat in the window seat of the twin’s room. Az smiled at her. She could have a moment’s rest. Feyre followed behind and took Damon from Az’s arms. “Take a seat. You and Gwyn took care of Nyx so much when he was in his faze. Now it’s our turn.” She gestured to the family.

Azriel sat beside Gwyn and held her in his arms. His mother began a soft melody that Gwyn knew it all too well. She’d written that song when she had learnt she was pregnant. She’d never sung it once, to anybody, until Azriel’s mother. She’d sung for her after her and Azriel had broken the news. When Az had gone to see Rhys and Gwyn had stayed. Not even Az had heard the song.

“May these words be the first

To find your ears

The world is brighter than the sun

Now that you're here

Though your eyes will need some time to adjust

To the overwhelming light surrounding us

I'll give you everything I have

I'll teach you everything I know

I promise I'll do better

I will always hold you close

But I will learn to let you go

I promise I'll do better

I will soften every edge

I'll hold the world to its best,

And I'll do better

With every heartbeat I have left

I will defend your every breath,

And I'll do better

Everyone stared at his mother for a moment. At her soft voice. Then Gwyn joined in. No one could place the song. Gwyn stood and took Damon from Feyre’s arms as her babies began to rest.

'Сause you are loved

You are loved more than you know

I hereby pledge all of my days

To prove it so

Though your heart is far too young to realise

The unimaginable light you hold inside

I'll give you everything I have

I'll teach you everything I know

I promise I'll do better

I will always hold you close

But I will learn to let you go

I promise I'll do better

I will rearrange the stars

Pull 'em down to where you are

I promise, I'll do better

With every heartbeat I have left

I'll defend your every breath

I promise I'll do better

I will soften every edge

Hold the world to its best

I promise I'll do better

With every heartbeat I have left

I'll defend your every breath

I’ll do better.”

When they finished the song, Damon and Catrin were sleeping. Gwyn placed Damon in his crib with a soft kiss on his forehead. Catrin was placed in her crib by her grandmother with another soft kiss before the two ushered everyone out and back down stairs.

“Now, it may be because I was raised human but who the heck wrote that song and what’s it called? I want to sing it to Verena.” Nesta was the first to speak as everyone retook their places in Gwyn and Az’s lounging area. Verena was the youngest child of Cassian and Nesta (so far) who was just a little bit older than the twins. Luckily she had been born without wings unlike her sister Athena.

“I-I wrote it.” Gwyn whispered as she took a place by the fire. “When I found out I was pregnant. I kept feeling so afraid that I’d fail. Like I failed Catrin. Like I failed the children in Sangravah.”

“You saved those children, though.” Elain replied.

“Not all of them.” Gwyn felt the tears prickle in her eyes. “Some of them hadn’t been in their rooms when it started. They’d died and I hadn’t been strong enough to save them. Maybe if I had just-”

Rhys took her in his arms knowing all too well the guilt of losing children. “There was nothing you could’ve done. Those children, they know you would’ve tried to save them had you could of. But you saved many more. So many who are alive with their own families and lives today because of you, Gwyn. That isn’t a failure. That’s a hero.”

She smiled softly at Rhys. “Thank you.” She started to laugh a little before looking at her mother-in-law. “How did you remember the song? I sung it once. So long ago.” Gwyn said.

“I never forget a beautiful song like that.” Az’s mother grinned, “Singing always worked with Azriel and I didn’t think his children would be much different. Except, I didn’t have wonderful songs or an extraordinary partner to sing with.” Gwyn blushed as she kissed the top of the woman’s head.

“It was beautiful, Gwyn.” Emerie commented holding Mor. The two were looking to adopt but still had no news. It deeply hurt Gwyn so she allowed the two to take the twins on little Aunty days whenever they wanted.

“Even Amren couldn’t help but smile.” Varian mused as Amren hit him in the chest.

“You’ll pay for that later.” She muttered.

“Oh I’m sure I will.” Varian retorted and gave Gwyn a wink. She broadly smiled at him.

“Thank you for all coming tonight.” Gwyn started, “But I think it’s time for us all to retire. Those babies won’t sleep forever. I don’t want you all to suffer because of it.” She murmured.

“Auntie Gwyn.” She looked down to see Nyx and Athena smiling at her. “We know a way to help!” Nyx proudly told everyone.

“You do?” Azriel raised a brow as his shadows played around Gwyn, Nyx and Thena. The three loved them the most. Well the twins and Verena did too. “How?” Azriel asked

“Whenever my wings hurt because they’re still growing,” Nyx began to explain, “Dada or mama would fly me around Velaris. It always cooled me down and made me feel better.” He continued, “Uncle Cass did the same for Athena.” Athena nodded proudly and touched her wings.

By far, her wings were the largest. Nyx hated it at times but Azriel liked to boast that male wings took longer because they were fiercer. He did it to make Nyx feel better when it wasn’t at all the truth. Athena didn’t mind though.

“If the twins wake up I’ll take em for a fly. One at time and Gwyn can sing to the other.” Az replied, “Thank you kiddo’s.” The kids each hugged their aunt and uncle. Everyone bid farewell and disappeared into the night.

“Would you like me to winnow you home, mother?” Azriel asked

“When did you become so formal?” She laughed.

“Sorry Mama.” He kissed her head

“I’ll stay. You two rest. If the twins wake I’ll take care of them. Tomorrow night you can take them for a fly. Tonight you rest.” Gwyn gave the woman a bone-crushing hug. They got her set up in the room next door to the twin’s and headed for their room.

They bathed together and then headed for bed. But Gwyn couldn’t sleep as she was too worried for her babies. She felt Azriel begin to draw lazy circles on her back. She moved closer into his touch, too tired to do anything else but savour his warmth.

“Сause you are loved

You are loved more than you know

I hereby pledge all of my days

To prove it so

Though your heart is far too young to realise

The unimaginable light you hold inside.”

When Azriel finished he felt Gwyn’s breath slow and realised she had fallen asleep. Once he knew his mate, his mother and his children were asleep, Azriel allowed himself too, to rest. For tomorrow would bring a whole new day of crying and craziness. But for a few hours, he could dream of Gwyn and the life they had together. Of the gift she’d given him.

Light in his world of darkness.

—

The song is called Light by Sleeping at Last xx