#you mourn. most of your early days you grieve for yourself.

[zypiris]

ID/ A tweet from @MitchellCClark saying "'Never quit' sounds great, but sometimes, you gotta quit. be willing to say, "this isn't what i thought it was", or "this doesn't appeal to me anymore." remember that you can quit "the thing" without quitting on yourself. remember that persistence and fluidity can coexist. /End

[asumofwords]

The Sublet - Roommate!AU

Warnings: She/her pronouns, slow burn, angst. Tags will be added as the fic goes along. Angst, death, mourning, funeral, fluff, smut, daddy kink, breath play, spanking, slapping, fingering, face fucking, degradation, gagging, deep throating, dumbification, edging, creampie, crying, dacryphilia, dirty talking, name calling, rough handling, sadomasochist, sadism, spitting, spitplay, squirt, the correct method of choking, drugs (weed), alcohol, smoking.

Pairings: Modern!Aemond x Reader

Summary: Living with Helaena Targaryen was one of the best decisions you had ever made. Meeting at university, the two of you became thick as thieves and quickly best friends, moving into a flat together. But what will happen when Helaena has to leave, and her quiet, brooding, brother moves in?

Notes: Another monstrous chapter sitting at 10+k, because when I said this series was going to only be 15 chapters I meant it hahaha. Goodness, gracious me, here we are. We have come to the end of this series! Thank you so much for all your love and support this whole way through! I hope that you have enjoyed it, and I hope I did the ending some sort of realistic justice. I shall be getting onto my requests now hehehe, anyway, ENJOY! <3

Final Chapter: Stay

Waking that morning, you had not expected to be met with what you were. You had thought that the day would be spent with some awkward, uncertain glances cast Aemond’s way, with the others casting theirs towards you both. Then perhaps you would talk again. 

Or fuck.

Or both.

Your little traitorous brain hoped for both. 

But no, that's not what you woke up to that morning. You woke up to a nightmare come true. And although all had prepared for it for years, and in fact, the reason why all were back at the Red Keep, it still came as a bombshell that shook the family to its very core.

Viserys was dead.

Gone peacefully in his sleep, found by none other than his doting eldest daughter and wife. 

You had woken to the bedroom door shutting, a peak of Criston Cole’s hair in the crack of the door. Helaena stood frozen by it, swaying slightly on her feet before she walked over to the bed and sat down, staring at the far wall.

“Hel?” You sat up, hand coming to touch your best friends shoulder, “What's happened?”

Fear of the unknown settled into your gut. 

Her lavender eyes turned to you.

“He’s dead.”

The Keep was in disarray. 

Rhaenyra and Daemon were in shambles, having lost a father and brother all in one. It was a most terrible thing to witness. You felt grief yourself for your friends, and for the family as a whole as they moved through the motions of his death, his leaving of their worlds. You felt akin to an invasive species as you sat amongst them, foreign, displaced, unfitting in their neat yet disturbed world.

Lucerys and Jacerys were grieving with their mother and step-father, the twins joining them. As for the other children of Viserys? That was another story.

Amongst the four of them, there was not a single tear shed for their father, bar Aegon in the early light of the morning, stained cheeks hidden in the shadows, red rimmed eyes, and a tiredness that no young man should have at his age, pulling down at his shoulders. But he had swallowed it quickly and quietly as he had for his whole life and went outside to smoke.

You couldn’t however account for Aemond, as he was nowhere to be seen. 

Sitting in the gazebo with the three silver haired siblings, you tried to offer condolences, a shoulder to cry on if needed, but all were content to grieve in their own way; Aegon smoking yet another joint, Daeron texting someone animatedly, and Helaena, simply staying quiet and composed beside you. 

It wasn’t what you had expected for people to have just lost their father, but you supposed that everyone grieves in their own ways, theirs being much different to your own.

Helaena stood from where she had sat, dressed in all black, something you had not once seen her wear, a stark change to the bright colours that she usually donned. Perhaps this was her way of showing her grief. Her mourning. 

Her loss.

“Walk with me.” She said quietly, and you nodded, jumping up as you grasped her hand, letting her lead you down the garden to look at the various plants and trees that were in a part of a gated garden entrance. 

Greenery of all sizes, shapes, and colours grew beautifully, small little plaques beneath identifying their scientific name. The Red Keep's garden had some of the rarest of flowers and trees in the whole of the realm. It even had the famed Winter Rose’s from the North in a special greenhouse that kept them in below freezing temperatures. 

It was still early in the day, the sun only just rising to its peak as you walked together in silence, your hand in hers as you followed her lead, looking at the shrubs and immense show of wealth. If it weren’t for the reason of your walk, you would have been more animated upon seeing some rare and beautiful orchids, perfectly potted and healthy.

Your steps crunched along the cobblestoned path, twisting around to an extended part of the estate that you hadn’t been to. There, in front of you, was a most beautiful sight to behold. 

Ruby red leaves sprouted out of ashen branches, twisting upwards towards the sky. 

A Weirwood tree.

And a very old one by the looks of it. 

“The Godswood.” Helaena explained to you, taking you closer to it.

You were so entranced by its incredible beauty, thinking of how Cregan's description of his back home didn't do it justice, that you hadn’t even noticed the man that sat amongst its roots, leant back on the trunk.

Aemond Targaryen sat beneath the branches and leaves of a tree that had been a symbol of the Old Gods to his family for hundreds of years. One leg was stretched out in front of him, whilst the other was bent, his long arms crossed over the top of his knee lazily. 

He watched you as you came towards him, words caught in your throat. 

The light that peaked through the tips of the branches shimmered down on his pale hair, causing it to glimmer with each parting of the leaves from the breeze that rolled through. His face looked flat, emotionless.

Blank.

Helaena’s hand slipped away from yours and you turned to look at her. She gave you a soft smile, before she walked away without a word, leaving you in the small Godswood courtyard with her brother. 

You stood for a moment or two, the both of you watching each other before your legs pulled you towards him. You moved to sit beside the long limbed man, pulling your knees up to your chest as you kept your eyes straight ahead, not wanting to make him feel overcrowded, or as if he was being observed. Instead, you hoped that your presence was, at least, the tiniest bit of comfort if he needed it.

You weren’t sure what to do or say as you sat together, both staring off into the distance as the soft rustling of leaves moved overhead. If not for the death that had occurred in the early hours of the morning, the day would have been beautiful.

It was like that for a while, just the both of you. Basking in each others company silently, and yet you felt the need to do more. To say more. To show him more. To show him that you cared, to try and rebuild that bridge that had been torched between the two of you, in the way he had attempted to last night. 

You felt guilt knowing that he would have woken up to not only an empty bed, but the news of the death of his father in a Keep he didn’t want to be in, surrounded by people he so desperately tried to avoid.

Tendons and veins pulled beneath the skin of Aemond pale hand as he rubbed a thumb and forefinger together atop his knee.

It was always his hands. Something you had learned rather quickly about him. His hands always moved when in thought, when irritated, lost, or angry.

Any strong emotion caused the man to fidget.

It was a habit that he shared with Helaena, no doubt inherited by their mother.

With no other way to convey what you were feeling, you lifted your hand and placed it atop his. His hand was warm, and twitched beneath yours. Aemond, without wasting a second, flipped his over and held onto yours tightly, threading his fingers through yours atop his knee.

Silence stretched forever until-

“I don’t mourn him.” Aemond’s voice moved with the breeze, soft and quiet, gently carried away from the courtyard, and you felt a pull of sorrow for him deep within your chest.

“We weren’t ever close. Cole was more a father to me than him.” There was a hollowness to his words which you would argue was grief, until he continued, “I don’t grieve the man he was, I grieve the father he could have been to me. The father he should have been to me. Something that I never had.”

Tears prickled in your eyes for him.

Gods.

Why had life been so cruel to this man?

A soft chuckle floated from his lips, a stark difference to his demeanour before, “I used to try so hard to impress him when I was young. Studied, learnt our traditional tongue before any of my other siblings did, and even then, it wasn’t enough for him. I was never enough for him. He was sick, yes,” Frustration bled from his shoulders, tense and closed in, “But he had more time for them than us.”

There was the anger.

Sorrow.

Spite.

Aemond Targaryen had felt he had been in his nephews shadow his whole life.

And it showed.

“It was worse for Aegon. First son and all. A shiny new toy for Viserys before his expectations became too high for Egg and he rebelled. Then nothing he would do could impress the man.” 

You squeezed his hand tightly, shuffling across the hard roots of the tree to get closer to him, leaning your shoulder heavily against his, so he could feel your weight, so he could feel the heat of your body. To comfort him, to be there for him, all while not being smothering.

“I’m sorry, Aemond.”

He shook his head, long strand of silver falling over his shoulder as he looked at you, “Don’t be.”

Silence fell over you again, and you watched as a lone red leaf, pointed sides and all, slowly drifted from above the two of you down onto the grassy ground below. It swooped from side to side, spinning gently before soundlessly falling amongst green blades.

You didn’t want him to be alone. 

You didn’t want him to feel isolated.

And in your restless, sleepless night, you had thought about him.

“It’s going to be okay.” You whispered, and watched as he turned his head to look back at you, his lone eye searching your face. 

Your thumb soothed over his gently, your words having more than one meaning.

His bottom lip was pulled into his mouth by his teeth, and then his voice came up and out from deep within his chest as he gazed at you intensely, clouded eye unmoving, and the sun shining down onto his scarred side of his face.

“Stay.” He asked you for the very first time.

A stark opposite to all the times you had uttered that word to him. 

Asked him to stay with you.

It was first time he spoke that four lettered word to you, beneath the crimson leaves of the ancient Godswood in a home that he had grown in.

You heeded his request. 

Together, you sat beneath the branches and looked up through them, side by side in a wordless promise to each other.

Stay.

-

The next few days were a whirlwind. The funeral was held on the grounds of the estate, people from all over flying in to say their goodbyes to the patriarch of House Targaryen.

At first you had asked Helaena if you could go back home, not wanting to intrude on her families grief, but she had insisted, no, begged for you to stay for the funeral.

And so you had.

It was an intense and sad ordeal, but not once did you leave Helaena or Aemond’s side. You stuck by them both, and he always came to you.

Crossing the kitchen to come to you. Crossing the dining table outside to come to you. Crossing the hall to come to Helaena’s room and sit on the bed with the two of you, happy to be just in your presence and not say a thing. 

Aegon had silently cried at the funeral. The only child of Alicent to do so. You had watched as fat tears rolled down his rosy cheeks, eyes cast at the coffin of his father, as his mother stood stoically beside him.

Alicent Hightower had cried softly when she had read the eulogy, then followed by Rhaenyra and Daemon's. It was the only time that you felt you would ever see the pair look out of their usual controlled demeanour. 

After the funeral, there was the service, where all came to Rhaenyra and Alicent to offer their condolences, the two women standing side by side in all black. At one point, you had watched as Alicent’s pinky reached out, searching for Rhaenyra’s hand. It had curled against the other woman’s, and you watched as the other tilted her head slightly in shock, before she made a larger move, and curled her hand directly around the auburn haired woman’s beside her. 

It was days after the funeral before all of you were back together again, side by side.

It had been a long day, longer than the last, and the night had bled into the sky in a deep purple before turning to its deeper shade of blue. Aegon had done rounds, going to each and every room to tell all to meet him down at the pool for some well needed drinks. 

Aemond had been sat at Helaena’s vanity watching the two of you sit on the bed and softly giggle at a message Sara had sent her, your silver haired friend more intent on moving forward than looking back.

Hand in Helaena’s, you led her and Aemond down to the pool, not bothering to put swimmers on. 

It was dark outside, the usual lights strung about the garden having been turned off, the only source of light coming from the moon, the stars, and the smaller lights that edged around the pools perimeter.

The others were already there, you having seemingly been the last pitstop, passing around popped bottles of champagne, wine and beer. There was the sweet, dank smell of Aegon’s weed again in the air, the short haired man leant back on his elbows as he looked up at the sky, bottle of Moët in one hand.

It was awkward at first, what with Jacaerys and Aemond’s outburst the last time you were all together before the funeral, but before long, and with the help of your trusty liquid courage, all seemed to melt into the numb feeling that the alcohol brought them. 

You laid back in one of the armchairs, Helaena, between your legs, head resting on your stomach as you brushed the silver strands away from her face as she looked up at the stars. Aemond watched from beside you, having pulled over one of the other poolside chairs.

The twins, and the brown haired boys were sat at the waters edge with Aegon, their legs dangling into the pool as they swung them softly back and forth, drinking and talking quietly amongst themselves. 

Daeron, having disappeared for a moment, came back with his speaker, softly playing music through it to fill the gentle quiet that surrounded you all.

It was soft, calm, and peaceful enough for such a tumultuous time, and as the night got longer, and bottles of alcohol became drained, blunts were passed, and inhibitions were lowered, smiles and laughter were shared amongst all. 

Even Aemond.

But that stillness was disturbed when the tipsy, brown haired Lucerys stood and faced everyone, bottle of red wine in hand. The smiles dissipated, and a serious energy floated amongst everyone again.

“I want to make a toast.” The young man said with drunken confidence, thrusting out the wine bottle towards Aegon, “To Viserys.”

Jacaerys lifted his beer towards his younger brother, the twins following suit with their cans of fruity mixer.

Lucerys’ eyes fell on Aemond, before his lips pulled down solemnly, turning away to roam his gaze on everyone else, “He wasn’t a perfect man-”

Aemond quietly scoffed beside you.

“-But if it wasn’t for him, none of us would be here.”

Aegon hummed in agreement, sipping deeply from his almost empty bottle of Moët. 

Lucerys’s gaze fell to you as he scratched the back of his neck, “Except you, Y/n. You’d still be here. Well, not here here. But you’d still-“

“-Alright, move it on.” Baela joked lovingly at him as he began to ramble. 

Straightening his posture, Luc thrust his wine up to the sky, “To Viserys.”

All lifted their drinks up to toast, bar Aemond, hands bringing wine to their lips, beer to their mouths, or champagne to their tongues. You offered Aemond a small, sad smile, and he returned it, sipping at his beer in thought. 

It wasn’t a full toast per-say like the others, but he drank in the mans honour regardless.

A large palm opened up towards you, pale fingers lazily spread in offering. You looked at his long digits, signet ring on one.

“Come here.” Aemond hummed, gentle look in his eye. 

Helaena pulled herself from your lap and looked at her brother, “I thought you’d never ask!” She chirped playfully, and he rolled his eye at her. 

A small giggle fell from your lips as you looked at his hand again. Still outstretched towards you in front of everyone.

In front of everyone.

Your heart raced in your chest as you stood, placing your hand in his, the warmth of his palm spreading up your arm as you moved over to Aemond, who pulled you between his long legs in a similar way you had done with Helaena. His legs were bent on either side of you with your back against his chest. You felt his chin dip to rest at the top of your head, and a warmth spread through your chest like wildfire. 

Helaena smiled at your warmly as Aegon craned his neck backwards to look at the two of you.

“How long has this been going on?” He teased, glassy eyes narrowing on the both of you.

Lucerys, who had sat back down beside his brother after his toast, turned around with Jacaerys to observe. And when their heads turned, the others followed.

Heat rose in your cheeks and you felt a sudden shyness at it all. The urge to hide was strong.

But really, what was this?

You didn’t know.

But it was something.

Something more than before.

But still, you didn’t have an answer, so you moved to respond.

“Oh, we’re n-“

“-A while. I was just a dick about it.” Aemond interrupted you, and your heart soared.

Did he -

Did he just-

Did he just confirm your thoughts?

Did he just validate your feelings?

Answer all your burning questions that had kept you awake at night?

A while.

That implied that this was more.

That this had always been more.

That this was solid.

That this was-

“So that’s why you wouldn’t fuck me.” Aegon pouted, smirk pulling at his lips.

Aemond sighed heavily behind you, “That and the fact that you’re utterly repulsive.”

Aegon’s mouth dropped open as he stared at his brother, “You wound me! I’ll have you know that there are plenty of people who haven’t found me repulsive.”

“Too many, if you ask me.” Helaena snickered.

Aegon flicked his joint at his sister, standing straight as he looked down at everyone. 

“Good thing I didn't ask you. I’ll have you know I’m polyglamourous.” Hands on his hips.

“Polyamorous.” Daeron corrected his brother.

Aegon grinned, victory in his cheeks, “I meant what I said.”

Aemond’s hand rubbed up and down your thigh soothingly as the night moved on, goosebumps rising on your flesh with each stroke of his long fingers. His chest was warm against your back, and you felt that you could fall asleep from where you were.

Helaena squealed at her phone loudly, breaking you from your fatigued thoughts.

“What is it?” You turned to face her, watching as a large grin pulled at her lips.

“Sara got us tickets to see the Phantom of the Opera!”

“What!”

“Yes!” She shook her phone in her hand whilst she screamed in excitement, “I can’t believe she remembered!”

Aemond chuckled from behind you, chest vibrating against your back, “Of course she'd remember. She’s in love with you.”

Your best friend suddenly became shy, a blush rising on her cheeks rapidly, turning them a bright red that even in the darkness of the night, you could see, “I know that. I just can’t believe it.”

“I’m jealous. Ask her where my ticket is.” You teased, “So I guess this means I’ll be seeing more of Sara again?”

Helaena gave you a knowing smirk, and you gave her one right back. 

You were happy for her.

Really happy.

They were perfect for each other. And you always knew that they would get back together again. That and Helaena always told you so, and Helaena was never wrong.

Aegon having come round to where you sat, snatched his sisters bottle of Prosecco, downing the remainder in one gulp, a refreshed and exaggerated gasp filling the air as he ruffled her hair, a growl and swat of a hand coming for his arm which he dodged last second.

Aegon giggled, running around the rim of the pool, shoes kicked in one direction, socks thrown in the other, shirt torn from his back in one yank, and then came his pants. Your eyes widened as Aegon stripped himself nude before jumping into the pool with a yell. 

He emerged from the cool water with a flick of his wet hair laughing, sending a hand splashing towards the twins and he smiled, “Come onnnn, live a little! Get in!”

Baela and Rhaena gave each other a shared look before standing, stripping themselves of their clothes before jumping in, hand in hand.

Before you knew it, you were all stripped bare, splashing about in the pool laughing and swimming around. 

Even Aemond.

His cheeks were pulled taut by the grin plastered to his face as he swam towards you, tickling your sides as you screamed for backup from Baela and Rhaena, who swam towards you, a flurry of splashes and squeals until his large palms rose above the water and conceded. 

Aegon pulled another spliff from the side of the pool and passed it around, and although it was dark, and you couldn’t see the details of anyones bodies, you still felt slightly shy in knowing that not only were you naked, but you were naked with a certain someone pressed up against your back.

At one point, you could have sworn you felt his cock twitch against the cheek of your ass, but you shrugged it off, going to the others as they tossed a ball like piggy in the middle back and forth, little Lucerys in the centre trying to jump up to catch it with all his might.

Eventually the water grew cold, and as you swam to sip at some of Baela’s drink, Aemond slid from behind you, hand wrapping around your waist. Heat spread through you as you felt him press up against you, mouth beside your ear.

“I think it's time for bed, don’t you?” He whispered hoarsely.

You bit your lip turning your head to try and sneak a peak at him, but was interrupted by a loud and obnoxious wolf whistle. 

Aegon grinned at you both, “No fucking in mummy’s pool.”

“Ugh, Aegon. What the fuck.” Helaena grimaced.

A laugh exploded from your lips as you turned to look at Aemond, who was chewing the inside of his cheek, desperate to hide the smirk that was rising on his face. 

“Come on.” He urged you, tilting his head to outside of the pool.

You climbed out with his help, getting dressed, all the while Aegon continued to whistle at the two of you and make obscene noises. But it was short lived as Helaena pushed Aegon’s head under water with all her weight, Jacaerys and Luc clapping in laughter.

You saw this as your out and grabbed Aemond’s hand, racing him through the Keep in fits of giggles until you reached his room, anticipation strumming in your gut. You watched as he shut the door behind him, turning to face you. His hair was wet, much like yours, and he advanced on you slowly, energy bouncing around inside of you.

“Come here.” He beckoned you with a finger, soft smirk on his lips.

You shook your head at him cheekily, “Nuh uh.”

His head tilted as he looked at you, “Please.”

Your feet carried you towards him, a magnetic pull dragging your chest to his. He smiled warmly down at you, cupping your cheek with one hand as the other dragged a wet strand of hair away from your face.

“Beautiful.” He praised you, before dipping his head down to kiss you.

Aemond bent slightly as your arms wrapped around his neck, large hands wrapping around your thighs as he hoisted you up into his arms, carrying you towards the bed as you didn’t once break the kiss. 

It wasn’t hurried like the last time.

It wasn’t frenzied.

This time, you took your time with each other. 

Aemond stripped you of your wet clothes and brought you to your peak on his tongue, his name whispered from your mouth like a prayer. He hovered above you as he slid in, watching the way your mouth opened and brows furrowed at the stretch, his lips pressing sweet kisses to the side of your face as he slowly moved through your folds, the tip of his cock rubbing against every point within you.

“So fucking beautiful.” He praised you as you fell apart once again on his cock, walls gripping his length tightly as you keened and whined, hands gripping the sheets for dear life as he smiled sweetly at you.

This was a side of Aemond you hadn’t seen before, and a side you hoped to see more.

He came with a quiet moan of your name, head dipping down into the crux of your neck as he planted kiss after kiss there.

You spent the rest of your night together curled in each others embrace, falling asleep with one word echoing in your mind.

Stay.

-

Waking up in a dark green and black room was disorientating at first, probably exacerbated by the steady strumming of a slight hangover in the back of your mind. But the warmth of two strong arms wrapped around you, and the familiar scent of Aemond that filled the space between, reminded you of where you were, and who you were with. 

Your eyes opened as you looked up at him. His good eye still shut, chest rising and falling slowly.

Everything had happened so fast.

It was as if a match had been lit and set you both ablaze. The two of you burning together hotly, in more ways than one. Your tempers. Your stubbornness, but more importantly, your desire to be with one another. 

It was different with him.

Unlike anyone else before.

Passionate.

Fiery.

All encompassing.

And you relished in it.

Relished in the fact that not only was it real, not only tangible, but Aemond had made it open last night as he had pulled you into his lap in front of everyone, and verbally confirmed what had been happening all along. 

You weren’t ‘Helaena’s roommate’. 

You were more.

You knew that now.

His confession for his love for you however, was something that the two of you would dissect on a later date. But right now? You would be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same way. Didn’t feel the same pull in your heart towards him when he would smile, or laugh, or just look at you. Or how your body would be set alight with even just a touch of his hand.

Aemond Targaryen had you well and truly under his spell.

And there was no other place you’d rather be.

Aemond shifted beside you, eye blinking open sleepily before he looked down at you.

“Morning.” His voice crackled with sleep, mouth opening in a small yawn before he pressed a kiss to the top of your forehead.

Your heart raced in your chest.

“Morning.”

Aemond squeezed you to him tighter as he stretched out the fatigue in his limbs, a whiny grunt escaping his lips.

That was noise you hadn’t heard before.

He sounded content.

Comfortable.

Safe.

But there was still one final thing. 

You wanted to be sure that last night wasn’t just a drunken little display, or a declaration emboldened by the grief around the others tainted by possessiveness against Jacaerys.

“What happens now?” You asked quietly, watching as he blinked at you again.

“Whatever happens, happens.” His voice was deep, lulling you into a calm, “But I know I want to be with you.”

Here it was.

“Are you sure?” Your eyes searched his face.

This was it.

His last chance to back out.

His last chance to say no.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”

You couldn’t contain the grin that creeped on your face, hands pulling him down into a relieved kiss, pouring your adoration and care for him into it as much as you could.

He returned it equally with fever.

Heat ran through you as you pressed yourself closer to him, gasping into his mouth as you felt his cock twitch against your thigh. Aemond groaned into the kiss but pulled away.

You looked at him in confusion.

“Come on, we got to have breakfast with the others.”

You whined, plopping back into the pillows with a huff, “I don’t want to.”

Aemond chuckled from beside you, sitting up in the bed as he ripped the sheets away from your body, exposing your naked form. You rolled over onto your stomach, hiding your face in the pillow as you whined.

Two light smacks landed on the cheek of your ass, and you cried out in surprise, “Come on, grumpy.” He teased, “I’ll give you what you want after. But first, we need to eat.”

At the promise of getting what you wanted, you rolled out of bed, begrudgingly, looking at your semi wet pile of clothes in disgust.

You could do a run down the hall to Helaena’s room, but you could also be spotted running nude through the estate, which to you, didn’t seem appropriate considering the funeral held there only a few days past.

Aemond must have noticed your predicament, “Here.” He came over to you, handing you one of his black shirts and those grey sweats you loved so much.

You threw them on, the top coming down to your mid thigh. The pants however, didn’t stay up, and kept sliding down your legs no matter how much you tightened the strings or rolled them at your hips. 

Aemond laughed at you as you stepped out of the pants and threw them at him in a huff. 

“I need pants.” You whined, searching his room.

“Would prefer it if you didn’t.” He raised a brow at you.

Your core clenched around nothing as you looked at him, his stance challenging you to obey.

So this is the game he wanted to play.

Smirking, you turned to the door, opening it up, “Come on. We will be late.”

You left without looking back, not getting to see the way Aemond’s tongue poked into his cheek, watching you trot out of his room clad in his shirt.

Only his shirt.

The others were seated at the table outside picking at the spread. They all greeted you both as you moved sit down, except Aegon, who’s head was in his arms atop the table as he groaned dramatically and loudly for all to hear.

“Is he alright?” You asked Helaena, watching as she rolled her eyes at her older brothers antics.

“He’s fine. He’s just a drama Queen.”

“Drama King.” He grumbled back.

You ate together for a while before catching Helaena’s attention, it wasn’t something you wished to do, but it was something you had to nonetheless.

You had to go home, and what was more, you had to go back to work.

“Hel, is Criston around today?” You asked, plopping a sweet piece of watermelon into your mouth.

“I think so. Mum’s home today. Why?” Her head leant against her hand as she twirled one of her dragonfly earrings in between her fingers.

“I have to go back to work. I’ve used far too much of your mothers generosity, and uni starts back up next week.”

Helaena sat up straighter, “Holy shit, that’s next week?”

You nodded, “Yep. Not looking forward to Orwyle’s Citadel History class. Man could bore you to tears. I think I’ve actually cried once or twice.” You joked, rolling around a slice of starfruit on your plate before plopping it into your mouth, enjoying the sweet nectar that coated your tongue.

“Are you going to take Rhaenyra’s offer?” Helaena asked, eyes flitting from you and then to Aemond.

“What offer?” Came the grumbling groan of Aegon, his head lifting momentarily to look at you. 

If he wasn’t speaking and breathing in front of you, you would have mistaken the man for being dead. Dark rings sat beneath his eyes, and his pale skin had a sallow dullness to it that made him look almost grey.

“Rhaenyra offered her a job at her firm.” Helaena confirmed.

Aegon grunted, dropping his head back into his arms.

“I didn’t know she offered you a job.” Aemond looked at you from the side, brows pulling slightly.

Why did you feel a slight stab guilt in not telling him?

But how could you have?

It had been a whirlwind since she spoke to you.

The offer.

Aemond returning.

Your spat.

Your make up.

Viserys’ death.

It didn’t seem like the right thing to bring up at that time, and if you were being truly honest, you hadn’t even thought of it since his arrival.

“I didn’t have the chance to tell you with everything that’s happened.”

Aemond hummed, and so you continued, turning to face Helaena, “I think so. I need to give it a proper thought when I get home though.” 

Helaena nodded at you, “I’ll speak to Cole after breakfast.” She promised, and resumed her eating.

You thanked her with a smile before doing the same.

“You should take it.”

His words came as a surprise.

You placed your fork back onto the plate as you looked at the man at your side. His face was honest and open, there wasn’t a sneer or grimace, or even the straight line that his lips did when he was upset. 

He was being genuine.

You brows twitched as you wordlessly urged him to continue.

“My sister, despite everything, is a hard worker. She’ll look after you and make sure you’re taken care of. Besides, her firm is likely more your style anyway.”

“What do you mean by that?” You probed casually, trying to hide your real intrigue behind another piece of fruit in your mouth.

“More…” Aemond thought for a second, and then it came with a cheeky smirk, “Woman led.”

-

Helaena stayed true to her word and had Cole come to take you home, or at least, back to the private runway where that sleek jet picked you up once again.

You said your goodbyes to all, giving everyone a tight squeeze, especially Alicent Hightower, who you thanked for her endless generosity in having you there at such a tough time. 

However, you wouldn’t be going home alone. Aemond was coming with you, citing the need to be with you, and the need to get away from a place he hated.

When you moved to say your goodbyes to your best friend, you asked her when she would be back with you, mind wondering when you would need to part ways with Aemond's presence. 

“I’m going to stay here for the next month." She told you, "I’ve already emailed uni.”

“The next month?” You felt sadness in your chest. Another month without your best friend.

You were going to miss her.

“Yeah,” She kicked at the gravel at her feet, “Mum needs me here for the solicitors and the Will and Testimony reading.”

“Oh? Are you going to be okay?”

Helaena pulled you in for a hug and whispered into your ear, “I’m going to be taken away in a straight jacket by the end of this.” Before pulling back to smile again, cheekier this time, “Besides, I’m sure Aemond will keep you company.”

His smooth voice came from beside you, “I have no plans on leaving.”

The flight home was quick with his company, and on more than one occasion, you had to swat his hands away from you as he whispered the chance of joining the mile high club in his mothers jet.

-

It felt good to be home as you stepped through the front door, dropping your keys in the empty bowl, followed by the sound of Aemond dropping his in beside it.

It made you smile, the familiar scent of your apartment, the soft glow of light, it's tidiness perfect for your arrival home. You turned back, grin tugging on your lips to look at the man behind you, only to see him looking at you hungrily.

You continued forward, butterflied erupting in your stomach as you felt the warmth of his gaze behind you. You dropped your bags in the lounge room and stretched your arms up high, the day dress you were wearing sliding up your thighs.

Aemond watched you with a hooded eye, and the heat you had felt that morning came back tenfold.

And then you remembered.

“You didn’t make do on your promise.” You smirked.

Aemond raised a brow at you as he dropped his bags next to yours, hands flexing at his side, urging you to elaborate.

“You said you’d give me what I want after breakfast." You purred, "It’s past lunch.”

The silver haired man’s lip twitched as he looked at you, tongue in cheek, “Look whose gotten all bratty the moment we get home.”

Home.

The word sent heat straight to your core.

“Not my fault you're a liar.” You teased back, feeling confident to push him now that you knew where you stood. Now that you were home, away from his family, away from it all. It was now just the two of you.

You and him.

“A liar?”

“Uh huh.”

“Did I say when I would?”

You brows furrowed, “After breakfast.”

“And is lunch not after breakfast?”

Your eyes narrowed at him.

“Dick.”

Aemond’s demeanour changed entirely, posture straightening which gave him an extra inch of height. He looked down his nose at you as he watched you take a smirking step back, “Come here.”

You had to push down the flurry of excitement that almost unleashed a giggle into the room, “Make me.”

Your chest rose and fell sharply as you watched Aemond take a slow step towards you, and then another.

“Last chance, baby. Come here.”

"No."

Spinning on your heel you ran towards your room, Aemond's boots beating on the floorboards behind you coming closer. Hands wrapped around your waist and pulled you up, squeal erupting from your chest as you tried to wriggle out of his grip.

“That was very naughty of you.” His voice whispered hoarsely at your ear from behind, hot breath fanning down your neck.

You stifled a whimper as his fingers dug into your skin before he threw you down onto the bed, face first. Your hands flew outwards, catching yourself as your hips hit the end of the bed. Aemond was on you in an instant, pawing at your dress as he ripped it off of you.

“This what you want, huh? Want me to put you in your place? Little brat.”

Your hands moved behind you to tried to slap his arms as he yanked your panties down your legs in one long swoop. Aemond tutted from behind you as he kicked your legs apart, your lip caught in your teeth as you tried not to whimper.

“Look at you. Already soaked. Such a dirty little slut, aren’t you?”

His hand cast down onto the flesh of your ass and you cried out, back arching as the delicious sting spread through your skin. He pulled your cheeks apart roughly and spat onto your dripping entrance.

“Filthy little fuck hole.” Aemond growled, and you mewled as you felt his spit run between your thighs and drip down onto the floor below. 

His fingers smeared his spit into your folds, parting them easily as he looked down at you and cooed, your head craning back to watch him as he chuckled darkly, “What am I going to do with you, hm? You want me to fuck this pretty little pussy, baby?”

Your legs tried to shut so that you could apply pressure with the squeezing of your thighs, but Aemond's legs were in the way, preventing you from getting any release of the tingling that spread through your aching centre. 

“Please.” You murmured, pouting at him the best you could in the hopes that it would entice him to take you right then and there.

Another chuckle rumbled in his chest as he let one long finger circle around your entrance, the tip of it just barely pushing inside before it came back out again, teasing you.

“I don’t think you deserve it.” He hummed.

“Please, Aemond.”

“Not my name, sweetheart.”

A shiver ran down your spine, your eyes sliding shut, “Please daddy.”

The warmth from his body disappeared as he stepped back, your eyes opening to find him looking down at you with a stern face. Your heart raced in your chest, his height towering over you, dominance dripping from his every fibre of his being.

“Kneel.” 

Gods be good.

Your eyes widened as you stared at him, his hands coming to undo his belt buckle slowly, watching as you didn’t move. He pulled the belt slowly from the loops, to soft flipp loud in the room. The belt dropped to the floor with a thud.

“I said,” Aemond moved quicker than you could react, grabbing a fist full of your hair and dragging you off of the bed onto your knees, “Kneel.”

The wooden floor bit into the skin on your knees sharply, but it was dull in comparison to the sheer desire to be ravaged by the man in front of you. 

Long fingers slowly dragged down the zipper of his pants, opening it with languid movements as he kept his eye completely and utterly upon your face. 

“Were you being bratty to get a reaction?”

You watched as he pulled his hard length from his briefs, running his fist from base to top slowly, the tip leaking a drop of precum that he smeared down his shaft.

Aemond hummed, “What? Can’t talk now?”

You shook your head defiantly as he took a step closer, “I’m going to ask you one last time,” His voice grew deeper, darker, and it added to the slick that was settling in the crux of your thighs, “Were you being bratty to get a reaction?”

You shook your head. 

No.

Liar.

Aemond clicked his tongue at you in disappointment before sighing loudly, “Thought you’d say that. I’ve got a better use for that mouth of yours.” One hand in your hair, he tugged you forward, “Open.”

You don’t know what it was about this man, or what he did to you to make you the way you were with him. The way he absolutely ruined every inch of your mind and thoughts, the urge to both please him and defy him coursing through you all at once, but you wouldn’t give in. No, you needed him to react, you needed him to take what he wanted from you with force. 

So biting the insides of your cheeks to keep you from smiling, you defiantly kept your mouth shut as you looked up at him from your knees.

The corner of his lip twitched as he hummed at you.

The sting across your cheek came quickly and stunned you enough to open your mouth in a gasp, exactly as he had planned when he slapped you. He grabbed your jaw with the entirety of his hand and squeezed at the joint meanly, mouth falling open further in pain. 

Aemond slid his cock straight into your open lips, his heady weight sitting upon your tongue as he looked down at you, still holding the base with one hand, your jaw in the other.

“There you go. Far more useful with my cock in your mouth.” He grunted, pulling out slowly as you curled your tongue upwards, running it along the underside of his shaft, pressing into the long vein that travelled along it.

Aemond began to thrust into the back of your throat, letting go of the base so that the whole length of him would slide into your mouth. His cock was salty on your tongue, hot, swollen, and heavy in your mouth as he forced you to take him as deep as it would go. 

You gagged on his length, eyes watering as you shut them tightly.

Two little slaps on your cheek made your eyes open back up, staring at him as he looked down at you, “Eyes on me while I fuck this pretty little mouth of yours.”

You moaned around his length, thighs rubbing together in an attempt to relieve the tension that was building between them. But it was fruitless. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t what you needed, and what you needed was his fingers, his tongue, or his cock inside of you.

The silver haired man thrusted into your mouth the way he would into your cunt, deep, long and hard, his tip beating against the back of your throat as he used you for his own pleasure.

It was exhilarating, intoxicating, and exactly what you had wanted.

You wanted him to use you like this, to get it all out, to get out all the tension that had been hovering over him the minute he stepped into the Keep.

He needed this just as much as you did.

A thick line of saliva ran down your chin, dripping onto your thighs below as both hands wrapped around the sides and back of your skull, dragging your head up and down his length roughly. His brow was furrowed as he watched, mouth agape as he breathed shallowly and grunted.

“Look at you," He cooed down at you, "Just a hole for me to fuck. Just a little slut begging for daddy’s cock, isn’t that right?”

You hummed around his length, sucking your cheeks inwards as much as you could. Aemond hissed at the pressure, eye sliding shut momentarily as his hips stuttered.

It was a glorious sight.

You below him, looking up as his head was thrown back, ecstasy breaking out on his features as his pearly hair cascaded around his shoulders.

Your head was pulled away, length slipping from your lips as you gasped for air, a line of spit connecting you to his tip as he cooed at you.

“Open.”

You opened your mouth wider, tongue poking out for him. His cheeks hollowed and then Aemond spat onto your tongue, its warmth spreading from your mouth, all the way through your body.

You moved to shut your mouth to swallow for him like you thought he wanted, but he stopped you with a finger, pressing down on your tongue as he smeared his spit along the wet, pink muscle messily.

With little care, two fingers slid down to the back of your throat as he looked at you, your mouth still open waiting for a command. Aemond slowly fucked your throat with his fingers, grinning at the small gags that he elicited from the action, before pulling his fingers from your mouth, smearing his spit and yours across your face, the wetness sticking to your heated cheeks.

“Such a messy girl. So dirty.” He purred, lining his cock back up to your mouth which you took with ease, except this time, Aemond didn’t fuck your throat. 

He slid his length all the way down your throat, cock pressing into your gag reflex and blocking off your air. Your nose met his pelvis as he looked down at you, shaking your head slightly side to side on his length. 

“Hold it.” He growled, watching as a tear ran down your cheek as you tried to not cough or splutter on his length, chest heaving as you gagged, no air being able to pass through your nose.

Your head grew dizzy as you looked at him, lungs beginning to burn, but still he didn’t let you pull back. Holding you down onto him by the back of your head.

Your hands flew to his thighs for grip as you tried to pull away, but Aemond kept his cock nestled deeply in your throat. 

“You can do it, pretty girl." He told you, "Five more seconds.”

Another tear slid down your cheek, the weight of him in your throat making your core flutter around nothing. 

“Five.” He began to count down, watching as you squirmed below him.

“Four.” Your nails dug into his flesh harshly as you tried to keep on him, throat swallowing around him tightly in reflex, causing a shiver to roll through his body.

“Three.”

“Two.” He grunted, pulling you down harder on his length causing more tears to fall from your eyes.

“One.”

Aemond pulled you off his length, your lungs burning as you gasped in a lungful of air, spluttering and coughing at his feet. 

“Good girl.” He praised, wiping the tears from your cheeks that had left wet tracks down your face.

You coughed softly, throat aching and head spinning, feeling embarrassed and aroused all in one. The head rush from lack of air was almost as intense as the head rush you got from your desire.

“Open.”

You licked your lips and swallowed doing as you were told, feeling Aemond slide his cock slowly into the back of your throat again, but this time, you inhaled a large lungful of air in preparation. He pulled your head down all the way, nose nestled into the hair at his base as he looked down at you.

“Good girl, baby. Look at you.” You moaned around his length, feeling tears in your eyes again as he nudged your gag reflex.

“Hold it.” His voice cracked, watching a tear slide down your cheek as he brushed hair away from your forehead gently, “You're going to hold it for ten this time.”

Ten.

Oh shit.

You didn't know if you could.

But you wanted to please him.

You wanted to be good for him.

“Ten.” Aemond began to count down again, pushing his hips slightly forward, making his cock go even deeper than you thought it could, throat bulging slightly from his length, your eyes widening as you squirmed below.

“Nine.” 

“Eight.”

“Seven.” Your core clenched as he counted, watching through blurry eyes as he looked at you on your knees before him.

“S-ix.” He moaned, eye sliding shut as he felt your throat closing around him as your body tried to swallow the blockage that was his cock.

“Five.”

The room spun slightly and you began to shift below him, brain controlling you as it tried to pull you away to get air into your lungs instinctually. 

“Four." Heat rose in your cheeks as you squirmed, head trying to move backwards from his grip.

"Stay still." He growled down at you. Despite his command, you still wriggled, slick sliding between your thighs as it began to drip down onto the floor below.

“Almost there, baby. Three.”

Your arms tried to push yourself back, pure instinct taking over, your hands on his thighs, vision in the corner of your eyes going dark. 

Was he purposely counting slow?

Oh Gods.

He was.

“Two.”

You were almost there. Your fingers fisted against his thighs, and despite his face being blurred by your tears above, you couldn’t help but notice the sadistic smile that pulled at his sharp lips.

“Two and three quarters.”

Dick.

Your eyes narrowed at him, causing the man to chuckle.

“One.”

You ripped yourself away with a gasp, falling backwards onto your bum as you coughed and spluttered, drool hanging from your lips as you tried to steady your breathing. 

Aemond knelt in front of you, swiping up the spit on your chin, “Good girl. Such a good girl for me - You did so well.” You keened at his praise, leaning into his hand.

Aemond helped you to stand, pulling you over onto the bed as he stripped himself bare, watching as you still fought to catch your breath, devouring him with lust filled eyes and swollen lips.

“Let's see how wet you are from me using your mouth like that, hm?”

You parted your legs on instinct, giving him view of your glistening folds.

Aemond inhaled sharply, “Look how fucking wet you are. You're dripping all over the bed.”

You nodded your head dumbly, brain feeling light as a feather. You didn’t know if it was from the lack of previous airflow, or if it was the way he was treating you, slowly sinking you down into the comfortable little space you loved to float in with him.

“Are you all dumb, baby?” He meanly cooed at you with a sadistic pout, stroking the hair atop your head.

You nodded again as he chuckled at you, running his fingers through your slick folds, the sound of him parting them obscenely wet.

“Just from being daddy’s little fuck hole?”

You moaned, pushing your centre into his hand as he swirled a digit around your swollen clit, sparks of pleasure flying up inside of you. His finger dipped inside of you, immediately crooking upwards into the spot you needed it most. 

“Look at this needy little pussy sucking me in. Do you need daddy to help you?”

You moaned at him, thrusting your hips downwards onto his hand as he added another finger, beginning to fuck them inside of you.

“Use your words.”

It took whatever remaining braincell that was left inside your head to string together one measly word, “Please.”

Aemond smirked, “Please what, little dummy.”

You whined, shutting your eyes as heat flooded your cheeks.

“Come on. Use your big girl words or you won’t get anything.”

“Please, daddy. P-please fuck me.”

Aemond smiled victoriously, kissing a tear that was drying against your cheek, “There we go. That must have been real hard when you're all dumb, wasn’t it?

You whined at his teasing, and then again when he removed his fingers.

“Shh.” He hushed you, “Daddy’s going to give you just what you need.”

And he did.

Aemond slid into you immediately, aided by how wet and open you were for him. He sighed into the crook of your neck, your legs immediately wrapping around him as he began to fuck into you, slowly building up the pace. 

Your breasts bounced with each thrust, his hips snapping into your own as pleasure bloomed within. You moaned and cried beneath him, his pelvis rubbing against your swollen bud with each deep and rough thrust he gave you.

“You gonna cum already? I can feel you gripping me.” He huffed, watching his length disappear into your folds.

“Please.” You wailed, hands gripping the sheets beside you tightly in your fists as you begged him with your eyes.

Aemond took pity on you and slid a hand down to your pearl, rolling it in time with his thrusts, “Come on then. Cum on my cock.”

It took four sharp thrusts before your eyes screwed shut, stars appearing behind them as you came with an earth shattering cry. Aemond fucked you through it, hips and hand not once still until you were a sobbing and slick mess beneath him.

“Fucked the brat right out of you, didn’t I? Pretty little baby.” He moaned, rutting into your centre as the sound of your arousal surrounded you, the hair at the base of his cock soaked with your release, “Just needed me to fuck you stupid, didn’t you?”

You couldn’t form any words, mouth hanging open as little whines and pants flittered off of your tongue. It was overwhelming, and the pleasure of your first peak was yet to settle, bliss sizzling and burning within your gut in a way that continued to mount as he kept rubbing your pearl. 

It was almost painful.

“Give me another.” Aemond grunted, pressing his fingers against you again harder, watching as you tried to shift your hips and escape his circling digits. 

But it was no use, and Aemond ripped yet another peak from you with precision, your head lulling to the side tiredly as your body was thrust up the bed with his hips. You laid limply beneath him as he continued to fuck you, lip pulled into your mouth by your teeth as you whimpered.

“Fuck.” He gritted out through his teeth, hand releasing your clit out of mercy as he gripped your hips tightly in both hands, fucking into you harder and faster than before, beating the air from your lungs with each thrust.

“Gonna fill up this little pussy.” He moaned, watching as your brows pulled together, walls fluttering around his length.

“You want me to fill this pretty pussy with my cum? Want me to fill you up?”

You nodded your head, tear leaking from the corner of your eye as he continued to rut into you rapidly, hands leaving your hips to wrap around your throat, squeezing the sides to prevent the blood flow to your head whilst allowing for air, amplifying your pleasure and making you float even further.

“Gonna cum in your cunt.” He moaned, using the grip on your neck to pull your weight down onto his cock, spearing you open with each thrust.

It was too much.

It was-

Oh Gods-

You were-

Your brain went blank as ecstasy shot through it, scrambling any thought that you had. You heard his cry as he came deep within you, his warmth filling you up, but there was a second wetness that you noticed, that soaked the sheets below you.

It took a while to come back down to yourself, held in Aemond’s arms as he brushed gentle hands over you, holding you to him. You felt warm, safe, and completely and utterly exhausted. You shifted to look up at him, watching as his eye opened to look down at you.

“Back on earth?” He asked softly, watching as you weakly smiled at him, nuzzling into his bare chest. His chuckle vibrated against your cheek.

“Come on, we got to get you cleaned up.”

You buried your head deeper into his chest, “Don’wanna.”

Lips pressed at the top of your head, “Come on. I need to change the sheets.”

This caught your attention. 

Had you gotten your period?

Were you sweatier than you had thought?

You lifted your head to look at him, to which he gave you a smug little smile.

“You made quite the mess.”

You frowned, embarrassment creeping into your chest.

“Nothing bad.” He reassured you, kissing your forehead, “You ever squirted before?”

Squirted?

“As much as I love watching your mind turn and work, I’m lying in your wet patch.” He chuckled, shifting to lift you out of the bed. 

Low and behold, there it was.

A large wet patch below Aemond that spread out against your sheets, proof of your pleasure and the peaks that Aemond took you too. And despite having no shame, and being roughly and thoroughly fucked not too long ago, heat still flooded your cheeks at the sight.

After lazing in bed for only an allowed moment more, Aemond helped you to the shower, your legs weak like jelly as he washed you and brushed your hair, taking off your makeup with gentle steady hands that made your heart flutter in your chest.

Ever the gentleman, he popped you on the couch as he changed your sheets, remaking your bed before he put on the load of washing. It was entirely domestic, and watching him as he moved, as he doted. on you, as he fluttered around your space which had irrevocably also became his, it only seemed to make the little part of him that had burrowed into your chest go deeper.

-

You ordered in that evening, getting pizza in a strange reminder of what it had been like when he first moved in. The same pizza order, the same pizza place, the same two spots on the couch as you ate.

The two of you had come a long way since then. A very long way, and in many ways, coming to a place that you would not have thought possible or even to have thought to cross your mind.

You watched his favourite movie in comfortable silence after eating your dinner, before suddenly you remembered something. You jumped up from your spot, hissing slightly at the soreness between your thighs as you ran to retrieve two spoons from the drawer, then opening the freezer door to dig around inside.

Ah.

There it was.

The forgotten tub of ice cream you had carelessly thrown inside when a certain person was in your home.

You held it triumphantly as you walked back to the couch, holding it as you would a prized jewel on show for him. Aemond chuckled at your antics as you pulled the lid clean off, offering him a spoon.

“The first dip, My Lord.” You joked, bowing your head to him.

Aemond huffed a laugh, the pressure of him digging into the tub with his spoon pushed into your wrist. 

“Ñuha Riña.”

The accent sent a pulse straight to your core.

Down girl.

You dipped your spoon in after him, lifting it to your lips, “What does that mean?”

“My Lady." Aemond hummed, returning his attention back to the tv.

You savoured the ice cream, the tub becoming half full in no time as you slowly but surely demolished it together. It felt good to be at his side, to know where you both stood. To know what you both wanted, and for it to not be a secret anymore.

But you still couldn't get your mind to stop thinking about the way his tongue had rolled when speaking High Valyrian.

“Aemond?” You turned your head to look at his profile, watching as his tongue darted out to lick at his spoon.

“Hm?”

“Will you teach me?”

His brows furrowed, “Teach you what?”

“High Valyrian.” You asked him shyly, suddenly feeling like perhaps you shouldn’t have asked him that at all. Maybe he wouldn't want to teach you that. Maybe it was a family thing only.

Was that weird of you to ask?

Would it be a reminder of the tension back at home?

A reminder of his father?

Your swirling thoughts of doubt were cut short as a soft smile spread across his shape cheeks.

“Hen rhinka.” Of course.

“What does that mean?”

“You’ll have to find out, won’t you, ñuha jorrāelagon.”

My love.

-

That night you slept in each others embrace, fresh and warm sheets on the bed, surrounded by his scent. It was no wonder that you drifted off to sleep so easily after the romp you had had earlier, not to mention how tumultuous the days before had been.

Yet when you woke the next morning, you felt refreshed, ready for a new start.

A new day.

A new beginning.

With him.

Aemond wasn’t in bed with you, but rather than feeling any sort of panic or anxiety about his absence, you crawled out of bed and went to where you knew he would be. 

Standing tall, leant against the bench, Aemond sleepily sipped from his coffee in the kitchen as he blew the smoke from his cigarette through the open window. He was clad in only black shorts, his silver hair messy and tangled, and the press of his pillow embedded in his cheek. 

Hearing your approach, he turned to you and smiled. 

Your stomach did flips.

“Morning.”

“Morning.”

The familiar sound of porcelain on the bench scraped in your ear.

There, at the base of his fingers, was your steaming mug of tea. 

You took it gratefully from him with a smile before sidling up to his side, leaning your head against his chest as he wrapped one arm around your shoulders pulling you closer.

“What do you want to do today?” You looked up at him, watching as he smiled down at you.

“Anything you want.”

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

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[jenchan-writingmultis]

Caleb x GN Reader Brainrot (Angst with Minimal Comfort)

I should be studying but I wanted to cope, I feel like the game didn't show the grief of Mc properly. Imagine after the death of Caleb and your grandmother, you couldn't help but mourn in the worst way possible, overworking yourself to the brink of passing out at your table, you didn't even eat well, only taking what Tara and Jenna gave, sometimes Jenna had to forcibly ask you to take a leave cause of how messy you were. "You need to take a rest" grabbing the plethora of paperwork while glancing at your computer, seeing how you were trying to find answers to who could have potentially done the accident. "But-" you were going to protest but Jenna cut the conversation short, placing a hand on her hips, "You're allowed to have a paid leave," she said, "I understand that this is the way you're grieving right now, but your performance is dwindling and it's affecting others," adding that, she placed a hand on your shoulder, assuring you that a day or two won't get you behind your work. Sighing, you can't say no to a paid leave, taking your phone, you decide to leave early, saying a few goodbyes to your co-workers and Tara. Who gave you a snack. "Don't beat yourself up for what happened" was the only thing she said before you walked out. Walking out in mid-day was new to you. The breeze feels refreshing after being holed up in your work after the incident. Feeling your chest tighten while you made your way back to your apartment, did you really deserve a break? after what happened? Would Caleb scold you for skipping work? wait no, it wasn't skipping work, you were forced into taking a leave. You didn't want to talk with the other guys right now. After all, before any of them, you were with Caleb first. Opening the apartment door, you're greeted with the mess of an apartment, everything was littered with trash cause of your inability to move, and most of the time you were either in the hospital for a check-up, or at work. You didn't have time to go home at all.

Stepping inside, you noticed the little picture that stood there on your coffee table undisturbed, it was a picture of you and Caleb together after passing the board examination of your respective work. Feeling yourself get overwhelmed with emotions, the last time you held his hand and hugged him felt as if it happened yesterday, wobbling down on the floor as you gripped the picture. If only you were stronger, if only you didn't let him inside the house, you would still have him around. Maybe you're hallucinating but you definitely felt an odd tingling sensation behind your back, it felt like Caleb was there, hugging you from behind. "Caleb..?" you opened your eyes, glancing behind you, no one was there, but you knew that somehow he was there. The cold gush of wind caressed your fingers while you held the picture frame. Maybe you really are going mad when you realize that you heard a faint call of your name, accompanied by the lingering touches that you know all too well. If you were to focus on the "noises" you're hearing, you could tell that whoever was talking said, "I'm sorry". "Couldn't be around to... comfort you" You wanted to laugh, not sure if you should believe that somehow, Caleb was still around, it was funny if he was, why was he apologizing for dying? Oddly enough, this one-sided interaction got you to calm down.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ Masterlist I wanted to make more but I made this on a whim, hope you like it though! I was at a loss whether I should continue this with Ghost Caleb hehe, like his side of the story.

[spicerackofblorbos]

Chapter 3: January

☾ Pairings ➼ Levi Ackerman x fem!mute!Reader (she/her pronouns), set in a modern semi-fictional world

☾ Summary ➼ Due to childhood trauma, you find yourself an adult without the ability to speak. After years of working on it, you have found ways to live without a voice. Now here in your late 20s, you are 5 months in getting used to a new town. On a fateful day in late November, you and your adopted sister visit a local bookstore-café, unaware of the friendships about to blossom. Throughout the months, one friendship in particular develops into something more.

☾ Content/Warnings ➼ fluff, slowburn, oblivious feelings, angst, mention of minor character deaths, trauma, illness, adoption, mentions of fire, disabilities, alcohol use, very light nsfw mentions, references to child abuse (to be continued as writing is ongoing)

☾ Author's note ➼ Hey guys! I'm so proud of myself for getting this out before the end of January hehe. I hope you enjoy!

☾ Word Count ➼ ~7.5k

January, you thought, had to be one of the most depressing months out of the twelve. It’s cold, dreary, and full of post-holiday blues. The gloom that came with those blues was only intensified by the immediate and prominent holiday of “Remembrance Day”, a cultural holiday created to celebrate and mourn those who have long passed.  

‘I don’t know why we can’t just stay home and celebrate privately like we usually do. It might be crowded.’ You sign outwardly to your sister as she drives, making sure to go slow so she can see through intermittent glances. You stare out ahead as the snowy landscape zooms past. The late afternoon sun glints off the fresh snow, blinding you as the light refracts off the crystals.  

When you were younger, this annual holiday was something you used to ignore. Even at a young age, you were aware of the situation you were forced into. You lost everything and then were thrust right into the foster care system, tossed in with families who didn’t want you. You had to do it all alone and because of that, you never learned how to grieve properly. It wasn’t until Hange’s family, your family, took you in that you were taught how to deal with your past and the residual effects that came with it.  

Hange tuts at you as they turn a sharp corner.  

“Hey, you’re the one who said you’d be okay with it this year. And besides, maybe this town is full of early morning mourners. The temple could be all ours.” They speculate aloud, wiggling their eyebrows at you. It just prompts a signature eyeroll, and you stare back out the window. The residential homes turn into office buildings as the two of you make it closer to the designated temple in town. It’s not much longer until they turn down a gravel road, pebbles and snow crunching under the heavy wheels. 

Busy is an understatement. Due to the small nature of the town, only one temple exists, and it sits in the middle of the local cemetery.  When your sister pulls into a dirt parking lot, you notice the multitude of cars already vacant of people who are milling around the grounds. A bubble of anxiety threatens to rise in you, but you swallow it down. You and Hange step out of the car and are met with a brisk wind; It makes all the air in your lungs escape from shock. When you take deep breaths to calm your heart down, puffs of hot steam billow out from your mouth. Hange locks the car behind them and turns to you with their hand out.  

“Well, c’mon, my little berry. Those votives aren’t going to light themselves.”  

You take her hand without hesitation and you both set forth up the hill. You are at a loss for words because of how stunning your surroundings are. Leafless trees remain stoic and strong under a layer of snow. They pepper around the ample lot, giving off shadows of tree branches everywhere. Up a dirt path rests a sizable temple with a dark blue exterior and a wrapping porch around the building that offer various access points to the inside. On the edges of the dirt path lie smaller stone paths leading to rows and columns of personal gravesites for the residents of Jinae. The winter sun beams down between fluffy clouds, warming up the air as the day goes on. It was melancholic in a way that fit the day of Remembrance perfectly.   

Fortunately for you, most of the crowd was at their family stones, so the trek up to the temple took little to no time at all. This is where the designated altar is set for those who wish to pay their respects but had no tombstone to do so at. It’s the first time since your teen years that you've prayed outside of your home. When the Zoë’s took you in, they explained many of the traditions to you that you were in the dark about due to your lackluster upbringing. Remembrance Day was one of those and on paper it sounded great, until they took you out to the temple the following January and you had flipped out from the candles. You were a little better about it nowadays, but you requested shrines at home with electronic votives from then on.   

After stepping through the open doorway, you note only a handful of people lingering at the altar, lighting green candles and bowing their heads in prayer. You avert your gaze quickly from the bright flames, looking anywhere else. It was relatively quiet, bar for a few whispers here and there. You and Hange step in line behind an older couple, who are now turning towards you to leave. Tears streak down their faces as they head in the direction of the doors behind you. You bow to them in respect, as they do to you in return. The two of you step up onto the ledge and Hange takes the match sticks from the table. She gingerly holds out a stick for you to take as she regards you carefully. 

“Did you want to try it this year?” They grab your hand with theirs, looking into your eyes closely. 

You take a deep breath and raise your hand as if to take it, but it falters. Something sears in the back of your mind. Letting your hand flop to the side, you shake your head and sigh heavily. She just gives you a soft smile and squeezes your hand in reassurance. 

“That’s okay, Love. I’ll take care of it for you. Just close your eyes and think of them.”  

So, you do and reminisce about your lost family. There were so many memories you were still unable to recover from all those years ago. So, you opt to think of your parents' soft smiles and gentle hugs. Of an older brother that you think had a mischievous grin. You focus on the overall warmth you associated with them, feeling that warmth curl into your toes. You hear your sister strike the match and then she blows it out just as quickly. You were never saddened by these thoughts, even in your younger years. Hange often wondered if this was due to a detachment of your own making. You open your eyes after a moment and flinch back from the sight of the votive right in front you, flames flickering. 

“Let’s get going.” Hange hadn’t let go of your hand this whole time and she uses that to pull you away quickly out of the side door. Even though it’s cold, you feel miles better outside and you let loose a breath as if you had held it in the whole time. You wonder when you’ll be able to withstand being so close to fire again; you think maybe you never will. A sudden flash of black hair whipping around the corner of the temple catches your eye and you whip your head around to stare at the now empty space.  

“Is something wrong?” Hange squeezes your hand again, and you turn back to look at them to shake your head ‘no’. Some part of you hope it was him. You haven’t seen Levi since the whole debacle at the gala last month. He never made any attempt to reach out to you. Truthfully, you didn’t expect that from him anyways, but it irritated you to no end at the time. Your sister had pushed you to go to the café at least once to just say ‘hi’ because they could see how much it bothered you, however you refused to budge.   

“Then let’s go sight-seeing. I want to see how the people of Jinae celebrate their loved ones before heading out.” The two of you head back down the hill, the cold wind biting at your nose. At some point, Hange turns down a nearly empty path. The stones ahead were covered with a wide assortment of flowers in various colors. People had also put offerings of their loved one's favorite foods out at the base of the stones. It makes you smile at how loved these people are even past their time.  

Hange leads you around for half an hour, taking in the sights of the different offerings and gifts laid about. She points and grins as she mumbles things to you, but you’re not really paying her ramblings any mind. You find that nodding in response was enough to get them to turn back around and jaunt off somewhere else. Another fifteen minutes later, and their rumbling stomach is so loud you can’t help but laugh. You now realize why she’s staring so heavily at a plate of cold dumplings left on a headstone. You reach for her shirt and tug on it to get her attention. 

“What’s up?” They twirl around on you with worry. 

‘Want to go get some dinner?’  

“We probably should, shouldn’t we. Sorry, I’ve just been so engrossed in all of these displays!” She points to one right next to you. It’s littered with quite a few child’s drawings taped to the stone. A plate of cookies sat at the base of it with a steaming cup of coffee right next to it. The family must have just been here. When you look back up to meet Hange’s gaze, she’s staring at something behind you with an amused expression.  

You turn to see what she’s gawking at, and you spot a familiar raven-haired man. He’s standing next to a not-so-familiar messy blonde-haired man around the same age that is currently kneeling on the ground as he places a plate of something on the stone in front of him. The one standing darts his eyes in your direction and there’s no mistaking it; It’s Levi. Panicking, you whirl your head back around to face Hange and she’s smirking. You attempt to step forward to pass your sister, but she just grips your arm firmly and starts tugging you in Levi’s direction.  

Oh no, oh no, oh no. 

You try your best to wiggle out of the grip but it’s of no use, she’s latched on to you. After a few more futile attempts, you give up with a huge huff. You don’t even turn around, you just let them drag you along.  

“Levi, what a pleasant surprise!” Hange yells out to him as they close the distance, you still in tow. 

When they stop abruptly, you almost bump into them. You avert your gaze as far away as possible and turn around slowly. A family of four passes by in silence on the path next to you, a little girl with pigtails flings around a stuffed rabbit as she trots along.  

“Tch, I don’t see how this is a surprise, Four-Eyes. The whole town is practically here.” You hear Levi’s gruff voice respond back. It makes your stomach flutter with anxiety, but you’re not sure if it’s a good or bad kind of anxiety. There’s a ringing silence that follows after, but you can’t be brought to look up. That is, until someone clears their throat. 

“Uh, hi! I’m Furlan, Levi’s friend! It’s nice to meet you...?” He trails off. The voice is boyish and playful, and very different from the man next to him. You glance up to the source and the dirty-blonde haired man is looking between your sister and you with gray eyes. Not as deep and metallic as Levi’s though, they were much softer and lighter.  

“Hi! I’m Hange Zoë, and this is my sister!” She lets go of you to throw her arms around you as she squishes your face with hers. You feel warmth creep through your whole body from embarrassment and it makes you want to run away. “She’s hearing but she’s mute and speaks through sign language mainly. I’ll translate for you for the sake of brevity, though. Unless you already know it?” Your sister releases you to meet Furlan’s outstretched hand with hers and shakes it vigorously. The man laughs, and it’s a light airy sound.  

“I don't unfortunately. But it’s nice to meet you both!” He waves to you with a wide grin, and you give a small wave back. Furlan continues, “I see you know Levi.” You chance a look at Levi and he’s staring straight at you. Your eyes shoot back to his friend.  

“Well, ‘know’ is an understatement. He’s not very forthcoming about his life unlike his roommate. Uh, Erwin and I became close after a very unfortunate relationship mishap.” Your sister chuckles at her dark joke.  

“Ah! I thought I recognized your name! Erwin mentions you in passing a lot. And, well, that’s Levi for you. I had a hard time getting to know him when we first met.”  

“You idiots know I’m here, right? And that’s because you were trying to beat me up, asshole.” Levi’s terse tone cuts in, shooting daggers at his friend. Furlan just laughs again, loudly, and raises his hands in defense. Hange nudges you gently with her elbow and you glare at her, but the look in her eyes makes you nervous.  

Winking at you, she grabs her phone and yells, “Oh jeez, hold on a second. Someone from the lab is calling, it must be about last night's reports.” and starts to walk away. You hold on to her hand for dear life with your mouth wide open in protest, but she pulls away with a flourish. “I’ll just be a moment!” And then she’s gone.  

You stare down at your empty hand and then back up to the two men in front of you, pressing your lips into a thin line as you clench your jaw. ‘Fuck.’ you think to yourself. Tapping your foot impatiently, you also fold your arms across your chest. You keep your gaze averted from them, but you still feel Levi’s stare aimed directly at you. Finally, Furlan clears his throat again.  

“Did you two kill each other’s cats or something? Jeez.” Levi clicks his tongue at the same time as you roll your eyes.  

“Sure, if that’s what you want to think.” Levi retorts dryly. A heavy huff escapes your mouth as you fiddle with your jacket sleeve, foot tapping even faster. Another silence. Furlan examines your face closely and looks back at Levi in thought. If you were looking at him, you would have noticed a lightbulb go off in his head. 

“Wait wait wait! Is this the girl you were talking about a while back?” That makes your eyes fly to Furlan’s and you can’t keep the shock from filling your face. He talked about me?  

Without even waiting for an answer, he states, “So I heard you like colors.” You feel a blush start to seep up into your cheeks and you look away again, shrugging. Levi kicks Furlan in the shins and he doesn’t even react in pain.  

 “Wow, it’s super nice to meet you then. This guy would not stop talking about you aft-” Levi kicks Furlan in his other shin and it must have hurt this time because he winces.  

“Furlan, shut up.” Levi scolds. 

“Is that an order?” Furlan smirks as he leans down to rub the now sore spot. 

You’re not even listening to their bickering; your mind was going a million miles a minute. Levi had talked about you to other people. Were they good or bad things? And why did he have to mention your issues with picking a favorite color? You chide yourself for being willingly open about such silly things with Levi after just meeting him. You reach for your phone so you can say something but then are cut off by Hange coming up from behind you noisily. 

“Sorry about that! What are we talking about?” Hange rests her chin on your shoulder and stares at the two friends.  

“It’s nothing, we were just about to go.” Levi replies coolly as he starts to turn away to leave. He must still be mad at you, you think. Irritation itches at your skull again, but something in your heart aches. 

“Wait! ‘We’? Where’s Erwin? It’s weird to see you without him, Levi.”   

“Oh, he’s currently back at their apartment cooking dinner for us. He came out to show his respects early this morning.” Furlan cuts in before Levi can say anything. 

“Sounds great, we’re in.” You stare at your sister in horror before shoving your hands in their face. 

‘No, we’re not!’   

“Oh uh, I don’t know if Erwin...” Furlan trails off as Hange just chuckles and waves her hand dismissively. Then she pulls out her phone to check something before shoving it right back into her coat pocket.  

“Erwin doesn’t mind, he said so.”  

‘We are not going!’ You’re practically flinging your hands at her face, but she just gives you her puppy-dog stare. 

“But I’m so hungry! And he’s fine with it. Plus, a homecooked meal! It’s so much better than fast food!” Hange whines. 

‘I know what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work.’ Her face pouts even more, which you didn’t think was even possible. ‘You’re the worst. Fine!’ You stick your tongue out at her as you stomp your foot for good measure and her whole face lights up in response. 

“Well, I’m not fine with it.” Levi shoots back, eyes narrowed at the two of you.  

“Oh, c’mon Levi. Miche’s already going and Erwin said it’s fine. The more the merrier.” Furlan grabs Levi’s arm to keep him from leaving. Your sister whips her head to stare at Furlan in surprise. 

“Miche’s going?! What the hell, and Erwin didn’t even invite me!?” She yells. 

“Tch, fine, do whatever you want. I don’t care. Furlan, we have one more stop, let’s go.” Levi stomps off in the opposite direction, leaving the atmosphere 10 degrees colder.   

“We’ll meet you there. We have one more grave to look at but then we’ll be on our way.” Furlan nods to the two of you and gives you a warm smile before darting off after Levi. You exhale a big breath and round on Hange, not even sure what to say. There’s a mischievous glimmer to her eye and you regret leaving the house at all.  

When Levi and Furlan are out of earshot, Furlan knocks his shoulders in Levi’s and smirks.  

“Isabel would have liked her, don’t you think?”  

Levi says nothing back, but he can’t help but agree. It’s been 10 years, but his chest still tightens at the thought of Isabel. He pulls out the bag that had sat tucked into his jacket pocket, holding the slice of vanilla cake he made for his fallen friend. 

.

Erwin and Levi’s apartment is immaculate. Years of cleaning after Hange had given you the confidence to say you were a tidy person. But after seeing their apartment, you felt like an amateur at best. Even the air felt fresh, albeit it was filled with the smells of cooking dishes. Light tones filled the whole room, broken by the occasional pop of color. There was plenty of white as well, so you know Levi had a lot to say when it came to decorating the place.  

“Wow Erwin, your place is so clean!” Hange mutters as she pads around the whole living room. Erwin and his friend Miche were both in the kitchen working over separate pots. Miche was a very strange man, much stranger than Levi for sure. The second you stepped into the apartment, he took a huge whiff of you and grunted. Hange and Erwin chuckled and reassured you that it was normal, but you were still freaked out. If Miche had a problem with your smell, he didn’t say so. 

“You can thank Levi for that, mostly. He likes to clean.” Erwin calls out. You knew that of course, thinking back to that fateful night at the bar.  

You decided to make yourself at home, curling up at the end of their 3-person couch. Pinks and oranges begin to filter into the room as the sun starts to set. You stare out of their balcony door that overlooks part of the downtown area. They were so close to their café, and you wonder if they had chosen the café location just because of that. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t invite me tonight, Erwin!” Hange whines as she leans over the island to see what Erwin was working on. He swats at her to back up and she does so with her glasses fogged up from the steam. 

“I already told you. I invited you a couple weeks ago, but it seems to me you weren’t listening to me then. I think you were going off about some lab report that frustrated you.”  

“Oh yeah. Okay that’s totally fair and on me. You should have reminded me at least!”  

Miche comes over to you with a small plate of some raw vegetables for you to snack on. You take it while smiling at him gratefully, and he just nods before heading back into the kitchen. He had already known you weren’t verbal before you walked in the door, you guess Erwin had told him. Apparently Miche and Erwin were friends for a long time before Levi came into the picture. Just by watching them in the kitchen, you can tell that they worked very well together without having to say a word. 

After gingerly placing your empty plate down on the coffee table in front of you, you stand, stretching your limbs with a big yawn. If you sat for any longer on that soft sofa, you figured you might fall asleep. So, you shuffle your way towards the kitchen, making sure to pick up your plate as you do. Miche takes it from you without saying a word and you wonder if he had a hard time speaking growing up or if it was a conscious decision not to say much. Regardless, you sign a quick thanks then turn to Erwin, who was in the process of mincing some sort of herb.  

‘Where is your bathroom?’  

“Down the hall, it’s the door at the very end.” He slaps Hange’s hand as she’s reaching for a dinner roll over the counter. You smack her in the head on your way past and she just blows a raspberry at you.  

You take your time going down the hallway because your eyes are distracted by various photographs framed on the walls. There weren’t any family photos of either of the two, but plenty of random friends throughout the years. There were a couple of Erwin when he was younger, maybe in grade school, with a few friends hanging around him. You think you spot a young Miche with him in one of the photos.

That must mean they’ve been good friends for more than 15 or so years. There’s another picture frame of Erwin and Levi in graduation gowns holding up diplomas, college you think. Erwin has a huge grin showing off his pearly whites and his arm is propped up, leaning on a short-statured Levi. Levi’s not even looking at the camera, electing to look off to the side with a scowl stuck to his face. That checks out, you think to yourself.  

You look closely at the one at the very end of the hallway and you notice it’s another photo of Levi. It’s a picture of him and two other people, Furlan being one of them. They’re all pretty young looking in this, but the girl in the middle who had her arms wrapped around the other two looked even younger. She has the brightest, widest green eyes you’ve ever seen. Her red hair is choppy and pulled into low pigtails and a large grin plasters her face. Furlan’s to her left, and he’s looking over to the other two contentedly. Levi is on her right and he’s looking away like he always does, but an actual small smile seemed to pull at the corners of his lips. You also note that this was before whatever accident fell upon him as his scars were missing. They look very happy.  

“That’s our friend, Isabel.” Someone mutters softly next to you. You squeak as you jump back, punching into the space where the voice came from. Something catches your fist before it makes an impact. Turning, you see it’s Furlan, holding up your fist in his hand. Panicking, you pull your arm back out of his grip and step back. He stifles a laugh. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just needed to use the bathroom but saw you standing here staring at the wall.” Furlan rubs the back of his neck and glances up at the picture, a wistful smile appearing on his face. Wording a voiceless apology with your lips, you back up into the wall so he can scoot past you to the bathroom. He thanks you before slipping into the room and clicking the door behind him. You take a deep breath and head back to the kitchen, your trip to the bathroom forgotten.  

When you emerge from the hallway, the sounds of clinking glasses and heavy plates can be heard from the dining room. Not really sure where to sit, you go to stand by the table as Erwin and Hange set it. Miche comes over to place a bowl of the dinner rolls that your sister was eyeballing earlier, and he points to one of the chairs against the wall for you. Again, he seemingly knew what you were thinking. At this point, you’re convinced that he knows how to read minds.   

You plop yourself down as your sister does the same next to you. She starts pouring wine into the glasses around the table, save for your own; she hands you a soda can and you bump her shoulder with a smile. Furlan comes back from the bathroom just as Erwin and Miche take their seats. Steaming plates of delicious foods consisting of a spiced chicken dish, baked asparagus, smashed potatoes, and sweet carrots lay around just waiting to be served.  

‘You really know how to serve a feast.’ You sign to Erwin with a wide smile. 

“Well, it’s not all just me. Miche makes a great sous chef.” He jokes. 

“Hey, where’d the grump run off to?” Hange inquires as they take a sip of their white wine. 

“The grump is right here, tch.” a voice cuts in.  

Glancing up, you see Levi drying his head with a towel as he makes his way to the table, water droplets falling from his hair down onto the gray long sleeve he had on. After folding the wet towel and placing it on a table behind the couch, he pulls the chair out across from you and sits down with a small huff. You both lock eyes for a second before looking away.  

“What are we waiting for? I’m dying over here!” Hange starts plating up without waiting for a response. She starts to help you too, but you just grab the serving utensils from her hands and huff at her. She playfully slaps your arm but starts digging in. Erwin had thrown on some background music before sitting down, so soft jazz reverberated off the walls mixing in with the bustle of plates being filled.  

“So, Hange, what do you do?” Furlan pipes up after a few minutes, tearing a roll up with his fingers.  

“I work at Titan Labs, head researcher and what not. I’m working on ways to create zombies!” She cackles and takes another spoonful of her potatoes. The look on Furlan’s face was priceless and he stared at Levi and Erwin for confirmation.  

“They’re just kidding, Furlan. They work with curing viruses, at least that’s what I’m told. Hange you can’t just go around saying stuff like that.” Erwin scolds and Hange just grins. 

“Oh uh. Okay. I guess that’s a little better.”  

‘My sister can be a little overzealous and crazy sometimes.’ You sign to Furlan and Hange just grabs her heart dramatically.  

“Pft, I’m not that crazy.” That's all she says before diving back into her chicken, paying the rest of you no mind.  

“There’s nothing wrong with crazy. Just try not to get us killed, okay?” He laughs a little and winks at you. Feeling your face flush, you let your eyes roam over to Levi’s. His gaze flickers to yours briefly, but he just takes a swig of his wine and peers out the window. The evening sky was clear, and the stars had started to come out.  

The rest of the meal was filled with mindless chatter that you observed happily. Erwin and Miche had roped Hange into some sort of debate, so them translating for you was a little difficult. Luckily, Furlan understood and was fine being the only one talking as Levi just ate in silence. You listen intently but your mind wandered to Levi occasionally, wondering what he was thinking as he delicately cut into his food. Furlan got to a point where he picked up on asking you yes or no questions for the sake of the language barrier and lack of interpreter. It was hard not to smile at his warmth, and you’re open to all of his questions easily. The flush on your face does not disappear the whole meal. 

With stuffed bellies and sleepy minds, everyone decides to leave the table and move into the living room to wind down. All except for Furlan, who had said he had an early shift the next morning and needed to leave before he ended up staying all night. Hange, Erwin, and Miche were murmuring together with intermittent laughs about something random. Levi just sat in a chair in the corner of the room scrolling on his phone and not paying any attention to his surroundings. That left you to juggle between staring at the TV and checking your phone every once in a while.  

A couple moments later, there’s a scratch of a chair against the floor as Levi gets up from his spot. He slips out of the balcony door with a blast of cold air before closing it shut behind him. You can see his puffs of hot air as he stands, leaning against the rail with his back to you.

As you’re staring, you feel someone tap your shoulder and when you turn to see the source of it, you’re surprised to find its Erwin. Crystal blue eyes stare back at you and then they flicker over to where Levi stood. He says nothing else and sits back down in his spot like nothing happened. Hange gives you a supportive wink and goes back to her conversation with the two men.  

Ugh.

You stand up and pull on your jacket that you had slung over the backside of the couch hours ago. Zipping it up, you take a deep breath before sliding the door open and forcing yourself into the cold. Levi does nothing to acknowledge you, he just stands stoically looking up at the stars. You tighten your jacket around you and stand awkwardly behind him, shifting from one foot to the other as you consider what to say.

As you feel the winter air nipping at your skin, you exhale softly and pull your phone out to type out a message. It takes you a few minutes of typing and deleting repeatedly, but Levi says and does nothing as he waits, hearing the clicks of the letters coming out of the speakers. 

‘I’m sorry. For exploding on you last month. I threw my anger at you when really, I was angry at myself. It wasn’t nice or warranted and I apologize.’ You shuffle up next to him and hand him your phone carefully. He takes it from your cold hands, his own brushing against yours and they’re surprisingly warm. You see his eyes slide over the words, face bright from the phone light in contrast with the dark night.   

He rolls his silver eyes and just scoffs. He doesn’t say anything, and you fidget with your phone. When it was clear he had nothing to say, you fight the urge to turn around and leave. You glance behind you and see Erwin and Miche doing a bad job pretending not to stare at you and Levi. Hange, on the other hand, gives you a big smile and a thumbs up. You swallow hard and type out another message.   

‘Are you mad at me still?’ 

“Still?” He stares up at you in confusion then slight guilt. “I- look, I was never mad at you. It’s just...” He runs his fingers through his hair to push it back, and you spot a few piercings climbing up his ear that you didn’t notice before. They glint off the full moon which sits high in the sky. He takes a deep breath and looks away from you.  

“Okay, I was a little mad at first. But I’m clearly not anymore.” He mumbles.  

‘Clearly.’  

“I know I can come off rude and cold but it’s just... Shit!” He grips the rail so hard that his knuckles turn white. “I’m not mad at you, and I haven’t been for a couple weeks. I just- I felt awkward after the whole thing and I didn’t know how to talk to you. Plus, you know, I thought you were mad at me. So. You have nothing to apologize for. And, here,” he grabs your phone that you loosely held and starts moving around apps, pressing random buttons as he goes.

Then he hands it back to you with a side eye, opting to stare back out to the moon as he spoke. “I don’t want to throw your phone off the balcony so from here on out, just directly text me and I’ll respond.”  

When you look down at your phone, your mouth opens slightly in awe. Your phone screen displays a newly made contact page for “Levi Ackerman”. So formal, you think. Clicking the message icon, you type out a little text to him with shaky hands. You’re not sure if it’s from the excitement or the cold. 

'Hi' 

You hear his phone ‘ping’ and he pulls it out of his back pocket.  

“We’re great with words, aren’t we.” he says with a smile playing on his lips.  

‘I’m glad you’re not mad at me. I’m still sorry for last month though.’  

“It’s fine, but thanks anyways.”  

Like a breath of fresh air, a comfortable silence falls on the two of you. You lean forward against the rail and stare down to the ground. Levi and Erwin’s apartment rests on the third floor so there was quite a drop. The yellow glow of streetlights reflected off the snow that was piled on the sides of the road. You shiver as a gust of wind blows through your hair, so you pull your hood up for extra warmth. Against your better judgement, you shoot him another text with something that’s been itching at you all night.  

‘Who’s Isabel?’ You watch him carefully.  

When he eyes the text, the small upturn to his lips disappears and he freezes for a moment. His hand grips his phone a little tighter as he sighs heavily. Exhausted. The circles under his eyes seemingly darker. He hangs his head down, giving you another side-eye between his raven locks as he starts speaking in almost a whisper.  

“She was one of my best friends. Well, Furlan and I’s. We all, uh, grew up together.” Levi swallows hard.  

‘What happened?’  

His body tenses up once more and you worry for a moment that he might get defensive, but he just grips the rail tightly in both hands again. 

“I used to ride motorcycles. I suppose you wouldn’t know that.” You shake your head at him, and he just purses his lips. “Yeah... well. Isabel had this annoying habit of wanting to go everywhere with us but she wouldn’t get her own license so she would ride on the back of Furlan and I’s bikes...” He shifts uncomfortably and leans forward over the rail, looking down at the ground.  

“Well one day, my uh, relative, was having complications at the hospital in town and I needed to get there fast. And of course, she wanted to tag along. I didn’t have time to fight with her, so I let her on with me. But...” You reach out to try and touch his arm in reassurance, but Levi jumps at the close proximity, and you pull back quickly. Mouthing a ‘sorry’, you shove your hands in your pockets. 

“You’re... fine. It’s fine.” He pushes off from the rail and folds his arms across his chest and stands up straight. “It was raining that day, and I was being careless. I was so caught up in where I was going, I didn’t take the time to be cautious of my surroundings. I don’t remember much but we ended up skidding off the road. I woke up in the hospital with this,” Levi raises the hand that was missing his index and middle finger and then he points to his scars. “And no Isabel.” 

You have no words. Even if you weren’t mute, you wouldn’t know what to say to him. You notice in the time that you’ve known him, you haven’t seen him ride before, nor have you even seen a bike in his vicinity. So that alone was a surprise. But another thought scratched at you. Something about his demeanor right now screamed guilt. Did he still blame himself for Isabel’s death?  

“I went to go celebrate her today with Furlan. She always had a thing for sweets.” He mumbles, looking a little more relaxed. He has a faraway look in his eyes.  

‘What was she like?’ His eyes shift to yours, now soft.  

“You remind me a lot of her, actually. Stubborn. Happy.” Levi huffs, but you could have sworn it was a little laugh. 

‘You’re pretty stubborn yourself, you know.’ He just rolls his eyes again at you but says nothing else. ‘I think it’s great that you’re celebrating her life. She sounds wonderful. Thank you for sharing that with me.’ You offer him a slight smile and his lips twitch at you in return. He puts one of his hands in his pocket, making sure to keep his phone out with the other as he spoke. 

“Who were you and Hange celebrating today? I saw you two at the temple earlier.”  

‘Are you creeping on us or something?’ You smirk at him teasingly and his already rosy cheeks turn a darker shade.  

“Tch, no. I just passed by, is all.”  

‘It’s okay Levi, I get it. We’re that fascinating lol. She was there for her grandparents.’ You fidget with your phone in between numb fingers. It was really starting to get cold, and you weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to stay out on the patio. But you didn’t want to leave just yet. 

“So, you’re not celebrating anyone today?” His innocent question makes you pause. It was your turn to look away, staring at the twinkling stars above. You suddenly feel small, like the universe was too big for you. Biting your bottom lip, you start to type away.  

‘Yeah, I have. I lost my parents and brother when I was around six or so. I don’t remember much but there was a big fire, and I was the only survivor. I am not a big fan of fire now.’ Silence ensues for a few minutes as Levi digests what you texted him. Your hands mindlessly trace the scars that trailed up your left arm from that disastrous night. 

“I’m really sorry to hear about that.” He says, finally. 

‘Oh, it’s fine now. It was so long ago. Hange’s family took me in after 8 years in the foster system, and now I’m stuck with her.’ You give him a meek grin and point behind you. He’s watching your face carefully. 

“I’m sure there are worse families to be stuck with.” Levi jokes quietly.  

You have no idea, you think to yourself. The thought of the households you lived in prior to the Zoë’s makes you cringe a bit. Memories of being left behind, small cupboard-like rooms, and physically abusive foster parents swirl through your brain. You close your eyes tightly to try and push them away. You feel something warm holding your fidgeting hands still. Opening your eyes to see what it is, you’re met with Levi’s pale hands cupping yours into his own.  

“It’s been a very hard day for us, huh?” You don’t want to tell Levi that it’s not your family’s passing that’s upsetting you right now. You figure if it came up later, you would tell him then. You nod once, meeting his silver eyes with earnest. He releases his grip abruptly, your hand freezing from where he had left it. Another comfortable silence falls on the two of you and it warms you from the inside out. Knowing that he wasn’t actually mad at you filled you with immense relief and you were glad that the confrontation was over. Or so you thought. 

“So Furlan huh?” He playfully chides. You stare at him, incredulous.  

“What? He just seemed really into you. Do you feel the same?” There was a look in his eyes that confused you. You feel your face heat as you tap away at your phone screen. 

‘He was just being nice. I don’t know what you mean. There’s no way he could be interested in me.’ You watch his face anxiously, not certain why he was bringing up such a topic. You didn’t really feel comfortable talking about other boys with him just yet, whether it be because you still barely knew Levi or something else you couldn’t quite describe.  

“Tch, you don’t know.” He cocks an eyebrow at you but says nothing else. You just shake your head at him, at a loss for words of what to say next.  

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the sliding door and peeking through is a Hange with a wide grin.  

“Are you ready to go home, my little berry?” Their muffled voice penetrates through the glass pane. You give them a thumbs up and a small smile. They give you a thumbs up in return then spin around to Erwin and Miche who are now standing up, going back into a conversation. You glance back at Levi and find his dark eyes gazing at you. The moonlight hit his entire figure at an angle that made him look almost... otherworldly.  

.

A couple hours later, you’re lying on your side in your bed with fluffy sheets surrounding you. The clock reads late but you can’t sleep due to the giddiness from the buzzing of your phone. You stare at a message notification sent by one Levi Ackerman, and a smile playing on your lips. 

Thanks for confiding in me. I don’t mind learning more about you, if you want. 

You had received the message a good 5 minutes ago, but you weren’t sure how to respond. For starters, you were extremely shocked to see that he was still awake at such an absurd time. But then again, so were you. You start typing but then delete it right after, going back and forth until finally you give up and just voice what you wanted to say.  

Sufficient with your response, you lock your phone and place it on the bedside table. You stare hard at the table, willing for something to come your way but nothing does. Maybe he fell asleep, you wonder. After a few minutes, you start to drift off with the thoughts of a curt man with silver, glowing eyes. 

Levi can’t help but chuckle at the three dots in the corner of his phone as you start typing but then change your mind. It had taken him forever to find what he wanted to say to you, but he never imagined your response to something seemingly so simple now could take you so long. In truth, he was surprised to see you open the message so quickly and at such a late time. Perhaps you struggled to sleep as well.  

As he waited, he couldn’t help but wonder what to make of you. There was something so intriguing about you that he just couldn’t quite reach, and honestly it confused him even more. Something else bothered him as well as he recalled the haunted look in your eye after talking about your history. Were you holding something back?  

Finally, his phone pings and he scolds himself for how swift he was to pick it up. A simple message brings butterflies to his stomach and unknits his tight eyebrows. Whatever it was that you had kept to yourself, he figures it didn’t matter. He would make it his goal to try and get to know you better.  

Ask away, I’m here for you. Goodnight, Levi.

☾ Previous Chapter: December ☾ Next Chapter: February

[chaotic-on-main]

Chapter 3: January

☾ Pairings ➼ Levi Ackerman x fem!mute!Reader (she/her pronouns), set in a modern semi-fictional world

☾ Summary ➼ Due to childhood trauma, you find yourself an adult without the ability to speak. After years of working on it, you have found ways to live without a voice. Now here in your late 20s, you are 5 months in getting used to a new town. On a fateful day in late November, you and your adopted sister visit a local bookstore-café, unaware of the friendships about to blossom. Throughout the months, one friendship in particular develops into something more.

☾ Content/Warnings ➼ fluff, slowburn, oblivious feelings, angst, mention of minor character deaths, trauma, illness, adoption, mentions of fire, disabilities, alcohol use, very light nsfw mentions, references to child abuse (to be continued as writing is ongoing)

☾ Author's note ➼ Hey guys! I'm so proud of myself for getting this out before the end of January hehe. Anyways if you missed the first two chapters, you can find them here and here. I hope you enjoy!

☾ Word Count ➼ ~7.5k

January, you thought, had to be one of the most depressing months out of the twelve. It’s cold, dreary, and full of post-holiday blues. The gloom that came with those blues was only intensified by the immediate and prominent holiday of “Remembrance Day”, a cultural holiday created to celebrate and mourn those who have long passed.  

‘I don’t know why we can’t just stay home and celebrate privately like we usually do. It might be crowded.’ You sign outwardly to your sister as she drives, making sure to go slow so she can see through intermittent glances. You stare out ahead as the snowy landscape zooms past. The late afternoon sun glints off the fresh snow, blinding you as the light refracts off the crystals.  

When you were younger, this annual holiday was something you used to ignore. Even at a young age, you were aware of the situation you were forced into. You lost everything and then were thrust right into the foster care system, tossed in with families who didn’t want you. You had to do it all alone and because of that, you never learned how to grieve properly. It wasn’t until Hange’s family, your family, took you in that you were taught how to deal with your past and the residual effects that came with it.  

Hange tuts at you as they turn a sharp corner.  

“Hey, you’re the one who said you’d be okay with it this year. And besides, maybe this town is full of early morning mourners. The temple could be all ours.” They speculate aloud, wiggling their eyebrows at you. It just prompts a signature eyeroll, and you stare back out the window. The residential homes turn into office buildings as the two of you make it closer to the designated temple in town. It’s not much longer until they turn down a gravel road, pebbles and snow crunching under the heavy wheels. 

Busy is an understatement. Due to the small nature of the town, only one temple exists, and it sits in the middle of the local cemetery.  When your sister pulls into a dirt parking lot, you notice the multitude of cars already vacant of people who are milling around the grounds. A bubble of anxiety threatens to rise in you, but you swallow it down. You and Hange step out of the car and are met with a brisk wind; It makes all the air in your lungs escape from shock. When you take deep breaths to calm your heart down, puffs of hot steam billow out from your mouth. Hange locks the car behind them and turns to you with their hand out.  

“Well, c’mon, my little berry. Those votives aren’t going to light themselves.”  

You take her hand without hesitation and you both set forth up the hill. You are at a loss for words because of how stunning your surroundings are. Leafless trees remain stoic and strong under a layer of snow. They pepper around the ample lot, giving off shadows of tree branches everywhere. Up a dirt path rests a sizable temple with a dark blue exterior and a wrapping porch around the building that offer various access points to the inside. On the edges of the dirt path lie smaller stone paths leading to rows and columns of personal gravesites for the residents of Jinae. The winter sun beams down between fluffy clouds, warming up the air as the day goes on. It was melancholic in a way that fit the day of Remembrance perfectly.   

Fortunately for you, most of the crowd was at their family stones, so the trek up to the temple took little to no time at all. This is where the designated altar is set for those who wish to pay their respects but had no tombstone to do so at. It’s the first time since your teen years that you've prayed outside of your home. When the Zoë’s took you in, they explained many of the traditions to you that you were in the dark about due to your lackluster upbringing. Remembrance Day was one of those and on paper it sounded great, until they took you out to the temple the following January and you had flipped out from the candles. You were a little better about it nowadays, but you requested shrines at home with electronic votives from then on.   

After stepping through the open doorway, you note only a handful of people lingering at the altar, lighting green candles and bowing their heads in prayer. You avert your gaze quickly from the bright flames, looking anywhere else. It was relatively quiet, bar for a few whispers here and there. You and Hange step in line behind an older couple, who are now turning towards you to leave. Tears streak down their faces as they head in the direction of the doors behind you. You bow to them in respect, as they do to you in return. The two of you step up onto the ledge and Hange takes the match sticks from the table. She gingerly holds out a stick for you to take as she regards you carefully. 

“Did you want to try it this year?” They grab your hand with theirs, looking into your eyes closely. 

You take a deep breath and raise your hand as if to take it, but it falters. Something sears in the back of your mind. Letting your hand flop to the side, you shake your head and sigh heavily. She just gives you a soft smile and squeezes your hand in reassurance. 

“That’s okay, Love. I’ll take care of it for you. Just close your eyes and think of them.”  

So, you do and reminisce about your lost family. There were so many memories you were still unable to recover from all those years ago. So, you opt to think of your parents' soft smiles and gentle hugs. Of an older brother that you think had a mischievous grin. You focus on the overall warmth you associated with them, feeling that warmth curl into your toes. You hear your sister strike the match and then she blows it out just as quickly. You were never saddened by these thoughts, even in your younger years. Hange often wondered if this was due to a detachment of your own making. You open your eyes after a moment and flinch back from the sight of the votive right in front you, flames flickering. 

“Let’s get going.” Hange hadn’t let go of your hand this whole time and she uses that to pull you away quickly out of the side door. Even though it’s cold, you feel miles better outside and you let loose a breath as if you had held it in the whole time. You wonder when you’ll be able to withstand being so close to fire again; you think maybe you never will. A sudden flash of black hair whipping around the corner of the temple catches your eye and you whip your head around to stare at the now empty space.  

“Is something wrong?” Hange squeezes your hand again, and you turn back to look at them to shake your head ‘no’. Some part of you hope it was him. You haven’t seen Levi since the whole debacle at the gala last month. He never made any attempt to reach out to you. Truthfully, you didn’t expect that from him anyways, but it irritated you to no end at the time. Your sister had pushed you to go to the café at least once to just say ‘hi’ because they could see how much it bothered you, however you refused to budge.   

“Then let’s go sight-seeing. I want to see how the people of Jinae celebrate their loved ones before heading out.” The two of you head back down the hill, the cold wind biting at your nose. At some point, Hange turns down a nearly empty path. The stones ahead were covered with a wide assortment of flowers in various colors. People had also put offerings of their loved one's favorite foods out at the base of the stones. It makes you smile at how loved these people are even past their time.  

Hange leads you around for half an hour, taking in the sights of the different offerings and gifts laid about. She points and grins as she mumbles things to you, but you’re not really paying her ramblings any mind. You find that nodding in response was enough to get them to turn back around and jaunt off somewhere else. Another fifteen minutes later, and their rumbling stomach is so loud you can’t help but laugh. You now realize why she’s staring so heavily at a plate of cold dumplings left on a headstone. You reach for her shirt and tug on it to get her attention. 

“What’s up?” They twirl around on you with worry. 

‘Want to go get some dinner?’  

“We probably should, shouldn’t we. Sorry, I’ve just been so engrossed in all of these displays!” She points to one right next to you. It’s littered with quite a few child’s drawings taped to the stone. A plate of cookies sat at the base of it with a steaming cup of coffee right next to it. The family must have just been here. When you look back up to meet Hange’s gaze, she’s staring at something behind you with an amused expression.  

You turn to see what she’s gawking at, and you spot a familiar raven-haired man. He’s standing next to a not-so-familiar messy blonde-haired man around the same age that is currently kneeling on the ground as he places a plate of something on the stone in front of him. The one standing darts his eyes in your direction and there’s no mistaking it; It’s Levi. Panicking, you whirl your head back around to face Hange and she’s smirking. You attempt to step forward to pass your sister, but she just grips your arm firmly and starts tugging you in Levi’s direction.  

Oh no, oh no, oh no. 

You try your best to wiggle out of the grip but it’s of no use, she’s latched on to you. After a few more futile attempts, you give up with a huge huff. You don’t even turn around, you just let them drag you along.  

“Levi, what a pleasant surprise!” Hange yells out to him as they close the distance, you still in tow. 

When they stop abruptly, you almost bump into them. You avert your gaze as far away as possible and turn around slowly. A family of four passes by in silence on the path next to you, a little girl with pigtails flings around a stuffed rabbit as she trots along.  

“Tch, I don’t see how this is a surprise, Four-Eyes. The whole town is practically here.” You hear Levi’s gruff voice respond back. It makes your stomach flutter with anxiety, but you’re not sure if it’s a good or bad kind of anxiety. There’s a ringing silence that follows after, but you can’t be brought to look up. That is, until someone clears their throat. 

“Uh, hi! I’m Furlan, Levi’s friend! It’s nice to meet you...?” He trails off. The voice is boyish and playful, and very different from the man next to him. You glance up to the source and the dirty-blonde haired man is looking between your sister and you with gray eyes. Not as deep and metallic as Levi’s though, they were much softer and lighter.  

“Hi! I’m Hange Zoë, and this is my sister!” She lets go of you to throw her arms around you as she squishes your face with hers. You feel warmth creep through your whole body from embarrassment and it makes you want to run away. “She’s hearing but she’s mute and speaks through sign language mainly. I’ll translate for you for the sake of brevity, though. Unless you already know it?” Your sister releases you to meet Furlan’s outstretched hand with hers and shakes it vigorously. The man laughs, and it’s a light airy sound.  

“I don't unfortunately. But it’s nice to meet you both!” He waves to you with a wide grin, and you give a small wave back. Furlan continues, “I see you know Levi.” You chance a look at Levi and he’s staring straight at you. Your eyes shoot back to his friend.  

“Well, ‘know’ is an understatement. He’s not very forthcoming about his life unlike his roommate. Uh, Erwin and I became close after a very unfortunate relationship mishap.” Your sister chuckles at her dark joke.  

“Ah! I thought I recognized your name! Erwin mentions you in passing a lot. And, well, that’s Levi for you. I had a hard time getting to know him when we first met.”  

“You idiots know I’m here, right? And that’s because you were trying to beat me up, asshole.” Levi’s terse tone cuts in, shooting daggers at his friend. Furlan just laughs again, loudly, and raises his hands in defense. Hange nudges you gently with her elbow and you glare at her, but the look in her eyes makes you nervous.  

Winking at you, she grabs her phone and yells, “Oh jeez, hold on a second. Someone from the lab is calling, it must be about last night's reports.” and starts to walk away. You hold on to her hand for dear life with your mouth wide open in protest, but she pulls away with a flourish. “I’ll just be a moment!” And then she’s gone.  

You stare down at your empty hand and then back up to the two men in front of you, pressing your lips into a thin line as you clench your jaw. ‘Fuck.’ you think to yourself. Tapping your foot impatiently, you also fold your arms across your chest. You keep your gaze averted from them, but you still feel Levi’s stare aimed directly at you. Finally, Furlan clears his throat again.  

“Did you two kill each other’s cats or something? Jeez.” Levi clicks his tongue at the same time as you roll your eyes.  

“Sure, if that’s what you want to think.” Levi retorts dryly. A heavy huff escapes your mouth as you fiddle with your jacket sleeve, foot tapping even faster. Another silence. Furlan examines your face closely and looks back at Levi in thought. If you were looking at him, you would have noticed a lightbulb go off in his head. 

“Wait wait wait! Is this the girl you were talking about a while back?” That makes your eyes fly to Furlan’s and you can’t keep the shock from filling your face. He talked about me?  

Without even waiting for an answer, he states, “So I heard you like colors.” You feel a blush start to seep up into your cheeks and you look away again, shrugging. Levi kicks Furlan in the shins and he doesn’t even react in pain.  

 “Wow, it’s super nice to meet you then. This guy would not stop talking about you aft-” Levi kicks Furlan in his other shin and it must have hurt this time because he winces.  

“Furlan, shut up.” Levi scolds. 

“Is that an order?” Furlan smirks as he leans down to rub the now sore spot. 

You’re not even listening to their bickering; your mind was going a million miles a minute. Levi had talked about you to other people. Were they good or bad things? And why did he have to mention your issues with picking a favorite color? You chide yourself for being willingly open about such silly things with Levi after just meeting him. You reach for your phone so you can say something but then are cut off by Hange coming up from behind you noisily. 

“Sorry about that! What are we talking about?” Hange rests her chin on your shoulder and stares at the two friends.  

“It’s nothing, we were just about to go.” Levi replies coolly as he starts to turn away to leave. He must still be mad at you, you think. Irritation itches at your skull again, but something in your heart aches. 

“Wait! ‘We’? Where’s Erwin? It’s weird to see you without him, Levi.”   

“Oh, he’s currently back at their apartment cooking dinner for us. He came out to show his respects early this morning.” Furlan cuts in before Levi can say anything. 

“Sounds great, we’re in.” You stare at your sister in horror before shoving your hands in their face. 

‘No, we’re not!’   

“Oh uh, I don’t know if Erwin...” Furlan trails off as Hange just chuckles and waves her hand dismissively. Then she pulls out her phone to check something before shoving it right back into her coat pocket.  

“Erwin doesn’t mind, he said so.”  

‘We are not going!’ You’re practically flinging your hands at her face, but she just gives you her puppy-dog stare. 

“But I’m so hungry! And he’s fine with it. Plus, a homecooked meal! It’s so much better than fast food!” Hange whines. 

‘I know what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work.’ Her face pouts even more, which you didn’t think was even possible. ‘You’re the worst. Fine!’ You stick your tongue out at her as you stomp your foot for good measure and her whole face lights up in response. 

“Well, I’m not fine with it.” Levi shoots back, eyes narrowed at the two of you.  

“Oh, c’mon Levi. Miche’s already going and Erwin said it’s fine. The more the merrier.” Furlan grabs Levi’s arm to keep him from leaving. Your sister whips her head to stare at Furlan in surprise. 

“Miche’s going?! What the hell, and Erwin didn’t even invite me!?” She yells. 

“Tch, fine, do whatever you want. I don’t care. Furlan, we have one more stop, let’s go.” Levi stomps off in the opposite direction, leaving the atmosphere 10 degrees colder.   

“We’ll meet you there. We have one more grave to look at but then we’ll be on our way.” Furlan nods to the two of you and gives you a warm smile before darting off after Levi. You exhale a big breath and round on Hange, not even sure what to say. There’s a mischievous glimmer to her eye and you regret leaving the house at all.  

When Levi and Furlan are out of earshot, Furlan knocks his shoulders in Levi’s and smirks.  

“Isabel would have liked her, don’t you think?”  

Levi says nothing back, but he can’t help but agree. It’s been 10 years, but his chest still tightens at the thought of Isabel. He pulls out the bag that had sat tucked into his jacket pocket, holding the slice of vanilla cake he made for his fallen friend. 

.

Erwin and Levi’s apartment is immaculate. Years of cleaning after Hange had given you the confidence to say you were a tidy person. But after seeing their apartment, you felt like an amateur at best. Even the air felt fresh, albeit it was filled with the smells of cooking dishes. Light tones filled the whole room, broken by the occasional pop of color. There was plenty of white as well, so you know Levi had a lot to say when it came to decorating the place.  

“Wow Erwin, your place is so clean!” Hange mutters as she pads around the whole living room. Erwin and his friend Miche were both in the kitchen working over separate pots. Miche was a very strange man, much stranger than Levi for sure. The second you stepped into the apartment, he took a huge whiff of you and grunted. Hange and Erwin chuckled and reassured you that it was normal, but you were still freaked out. If Miche had a problem with your smell, he didn’t say so. 

“You can thank Levi for that, mostly. He likes to clean.” Erwin calls out. You knew that of course, thinking back to that fateful night at the bar.  

You decided to make yourself at home, curling up at the end of their 3-person couch. Pinks and oranges begin to filter into the room as the sun starts to set. You stare out of their balcony door that overlooks part of the downtown area. They were so close to their café, and you wonder if they had chosen the café location just because of that. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t invite me tonight, Erwin!” Hange whines as she leans over the island to see what Erwin was working on. He swats at her to back up and she does so with her glasses fogged up from the steam. 

“I already told you. I invited you a couple weeks ago, but it seems to me you weren’t listening to me then. I think you were going off about some lab report that frustrated you.”  

“Oh yeah. Okay that’s totally fair and on me. You should have reminded me at least!”  

Miche comes over to you with a small plate of some raw vegetables for you to snack on. You take it while smiling at him gratefully, and he just nods before heading back into the kitchen. He had already known you weren’t verbal before you walked in the door, you guess Erwin had told him. Apparently Miche and Erwin were friends for a long time before Levi came into the picture. Just by watching them in the kitchen, you can tell that they worked very well together without having to say a word. 

After gingerly placing your empty plate down on the coffee table in front of you, you stand, stretching your limbs with a big yawn. If you sat for any longer on that soft sofa, you figured you might fall asleep. So, you shuffle your way towards the kitchen, making sure to pick up your plate as you do. Miche takes it from you without saying a word and you wonder if he had a hard time speaking growing up or if it was a conscious decision not to say much. Regardless, you sign a quick thanks then turn to Erwin, who was in the process of mincing some sort of herb.  

‘Where is your bathroom?’  

“Down the hall, it’s the door at the very end.” He slaps Hange’s hand as she’s reaching for a dinner roll over the counter. You smack her in the head on your way past and she just blows a raspberry at you.  

You take your time going down the hallway because your eyes are distracted by various photographs framed on the walls. There weren’t any family photos of either of the two, but plenty of random friends throughout the years. There were a couple of Erwin when he was younger, maybe in grade school, with a few friends hanging around him. You think you spot a young Miche with him in one of the photos. That must mean they’ve been good friends for more than 15 or so years. There’s another picture frame of Erwin and Levi in graduation gowns holding up diplomas, college you think. Erwin has a huge grin showing off his pearly whites and his arm is propped up, leaning on a short-statured Levi. Levi’s not even looking at the camera, electing to look off to the side with a scowl stuck to his face. That checks out, you think to yourself.  

You look closely at the one at the very end of the hallway and you notice it’s another photo of Levi. It’s a picture of him and two other people, Furlan being one of them. They’re all pretty young looking in this, but the girl in the middle who had her arms wrapped around the other two looked even younger. She has the brightest, widest green eyes you’ve ever seen. Her red hair is choppy and pulled into low pigtails and a large grin plasters her face. Furlan’s to her left, and he’s looking over to the other two contentedly. Levi is on her right and he’s looking away like he always does, but an actual small smile seemed to pull at the corners of his lips. You also note that this was before whatever accident fell upon him as his scars were missing. They look very happy.  

“That’s our friend, Isabel.” Someone mutters softly next to you. You squeak as you jump back, punching into the space where the voice came from. Something catches your fist before it makes an impact. Turning, you see it’s Furlan, holding up your fist in his hand. Panicking, you pull your arm back out of his grip and step back. He stifles a laugh. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just needed to use the bathroom but saw you standing here staring at the wall.” Furlan rubs the back of his neck and glances up at the picture, a wistful smile appearing on his face. Wording a voiceless apology with your lips, you back up into the wall so he can scoot past you to the bathroom. He thanks you before slipping into the room and clicking the door behind him. You take a deep breath and head back to the kitchen, your trip to the bathroom forgotten.  

When you emerge from the hallway, the sounds of clinking glasses and heavy plates can be heard from the dining room. Not really sure where to sit, you go to stand by the table as Erwin and Hange set it. Miche comes over to place a bowl of the dinner rolls that your sister was eyeballing earlier, and he points to one of the chairs against the wall for you. Again, he seemingly knew what you were thinking. At this point, you’re convinced that he knows how to read minds.   

You plop yourself down as your sister does the same next to you. She starts pouring wine into the glasses around the table, save for your own; she hands you a soda can and you bump her shoulder with a smile. Furlan comes back from the bathroom just as Erwin and Miche take their seats. Steaming plates of delicious foods consisting of a spiced chicken dish, baked asparagus, smashed potatoes, and sweet carrots lay around just waiting to be served.  

‘You really know how to serve a feast.’ You sign to Erwin with a wide smile. 

“Well, it’s not all just me. Miche makes a great sous chef.” He jokes. 

“Hey, where’d the grump run off to?” Hange inquires as they take a sip of their white wine. 

“The grump is right here, tch.” a voice cuts in.  

Glancing up, you see Levi drying his head with a towel as he makes his way to the table, water droplets falling from his hair down onto the gray long sleeve he had on. After folding the wet towel and placing it on a table behind the couch, he pulls the chair out across from you and sits down with a small huff. You both lock eyes for a second before looking away.  

“What are we waiting for? I’m dying over here!” Hange starts plating up without waiting for a response. She starts to help you too, but you just grab the serving utensils from her hands and huff at her. She playfully slaps your arm but starts digging in. Erwin had thrown on some background music before sitting down, so soft jazz reverberated off the walls mixing in with the bustle of plates being filled.  

“So, Hange, what do you do?” Furlan pipes up after a few minutes, tearing a roll up with his fingers.  

“I work at Titan Labs, head researcher and what not. I’m working on ways to create zombies!” She cackles and takes another spoonful of her potatoes. The look on Furlan’s face was priceless and he stared at Levi and Erwin for confirmation.  

“They’re just kidding, Furlan. They work with curing viruses, at least that’s what I’m told. Hange you can’t just go around saying stuff like that.” Erwin scolds and Hange just grins. 

“Oh uh. Okay. I guess that’s a little better.”  

‘My sister can be a little overzealous and crazy sometimes.’ You sign to Furlan and Hange just grabs her heart dramatically.  

“Pft, I’m not that crazy.” That's all she says before diving back into her chicken, paying the rest of you no mind.  

“There’s nothing wrong with crazy. Just try not to get us killed, okay?” He laughs a little and winks at you. Feeling your face flush, you let your eyes roam over to Levi’s. His gaze flickers to yours briefly, but he just takes a swig of his wine and peers out the window. The evening sky was clear, and the stars had started to come out.  

The rest of the meal was filled with mindless chatter that you observed happily. Erwin and Miche had roped Hange into some sort of debate, so them translating for you was a little difficult. Luckily, Furlan understood and was fine being the only one talking as Levi just ate in silence. You listen intently but your mind wandered to Levi occasionally, wondering what he was thinking as he delicately cut into his food. Furlan got to a point where he picked up on asking you yes or no questions for the sake of the language barrier and lack of interpreter. It was hard not to smile at his warmth, and you’re open to all of his questions easily. The flush on your face does not disappear the whole meal. 

With stuffed bellies and sleepy minds, everyone decides to leave the table and move into the living room to wind down. All except for Furlan, who had said he had an early shift the next morning and needed to leave before he ended up staying all night. Hange, Erwin, and Miche were murmuring together with intermittent laughs about something random. Levi just sat in a chair in the corner of the room scrolling on his phone and not paying any attention to his surroundings. That left you to juggle between staring at the TV and checking your phone every once in a while.  

A couple moments later, there’s a scratch of a chair against the floor as Levi gets up from his spot. He slips out of the balcony door with a blast of cold air before closing it shut behind him. You can see his puffs of hot air as he stands, leaning against the rail with his back to you. As you’re staring, you feel someone tap your shoulder and when you turn to see the source of it, you’re surprised to find its Erwin. Crystal blue eyes stare back at you and then they flicker over to where Levi stood. He says nothing else and sits back down in his spot like nothing happened. Hange gives you a supportive wink and goes back to her conversation with the two men.  

Ugh 

You stand up and pull on your jacket that you had slung over the backside of the couch hours ago. Zipping it up, you take a deep breath before sliding the door open and forcing yourself into the cold. Levi does nothing to acknowledge you, he just stands stoically looking up at the stars. You tighten your jacket around you and stand awkwardly behind him, shifting from one foot to the other as you consider what to say. As you feel the winter air nipping at your skin, you exhale softly and pull your phone out to type out a message. It takes you a few minutes of typing and deleting repeatedly, but Levi says and does nothing as he waits, hearing the clicks of the letters coming out of the speakers. 

‘I’m sorry. For exploding on you last month. I threw my anger at you when really, I was angry at myself. It wasn’t nice or warranted and I apologize.’ You shuffle up next to him and hand him your phone carefully. He takes it from your cold hands, his own brushing against yours and they’re surprisingly warm. You see his eyes slide over the words, face bright from the phone light in contrast with the dark night.   

He rolls his silver eyes and just scoffs. He doesn’t say anything, and you fidget with your phone. When it was clear he had nothing to say, you fight the urge to turn around and leave. You glance behind you and see Erwin and Miche doing a bad job pretending not to stare at you and Levi. Hange, on the other hand, gives you a big smile and a thumbs up. You swallow hard and type out another message.   

‘Are you mad at me still?’ 

“Still?” He stares up at you in confusion then slight guilt. “I- look, I was never mad at you. It’s just...” He runs his fingers through his hair to push it back, and you spot a few piercings climbing up his ear that you didn’t notice before. They glint off the full moon which sits high in the sky. He takes a deep breath and looks away from you.  

“Okay, I was a little mad at first. But I’m clearly not anymore.” He mumbles.  

‘Clearly.’  

“I know I can come off rude and cold but it’s just... Shit!” He grips the rail so hard that his knuckles turn white. “I’m not mad at you, and I haven’t been for a couple weeks. I just- I felt awkward after the whole thing and I didn’t know how to talk to you. Plus, you know, I thought you were mad at me. So. You have nothing to apologize for. And, here,” he grabs your phone that you loosely held and starts moving around apps, pressing random buttons as he goes. Then he hands it back to you with a side eye, opting to stare back out to the moon as he spoke. “I don’t want to throw your phone off the balcony so from here on out, just directly text me and I’ll respond.”  

When you look down at your phone, your mouth opens slightly in awe. Your phone screen displays a newly made contact page for “Levi Ackerman”. So formal, you think. Clicking the message icon, you type out a little text to him with shaky hands. You’re not sure if it’s from the excitement or the cold. 

'Hi' 

You hear his phone ‘ping’ and he pulls it out of his back pocket.  

“We’re great with words, aren’t we.” he says with a smile playing on his lips.  

‘I’m glad you’re not mad at me. I’m still sorry for last month though.’  

“It’s fine, but thanks anyways.”  

Like a breath of fresh air, a comfortable silence falls on the two of you. You lean forward against the rail and stare down to the ground. Levi and Erwin’s apartment rests on the third floor so there was quite a drop. The yellow glow of streetlights reflected off the snow that was piled on the sides of the road. You shiver as a gust of wind blows through your hair, so you pull your hood up for extra warmth. Against your better judgement, you shoot him another text with something that’s been itching at you all night.  

‘Who’s Isabel?’ You watch him carefully.  

When he eyes the text, the small upturn to his lips disappears and he freezes for a moment. His hand grips his phone a little tighter as he sighs heavily. Exhausted. The circles under his eyes seemingly darker. He hangs his head down, giving you another side-eye between his raven locks as he starts speaking in almost a whisper.  

“She was one of my best friends. Well, Furlan and I’s. We all, uh, grew up together.” Levi swallows hard.  

‘What happened?’  

His body tenses up once more and you worry for a moment that he might get defensive, but he just grips the rail tightly in both hands again. 

“I used to ride motorcycles. I suppose you wouldn’t know that.” You shake your head at him, and he just purses his lips. “Yeah... well. Isabel had this annoying habit of wanting to go everywhere with us but she wouldn’t get her own license so she would ride on the back of Furlan and I’s bikes...” He shifts uncomfortably and leans forward over the rail, looking down at the ground.  

“Well one day, my uh, relative, was having complications at the hospital in town and I needed to get there fast. And of course, she wanted to tag along. I didn’t have time to fight with her, so I let her on with me. But...” You reach out to try and touch his arm in reassurance, but Levi jumps at the close proximity, and you pull back quickly. Mouthing a ‘sorry’, you shove your hands in your pockets. 

“You’re... fine. It’s fine.” He pushes off from the rail and folds his arms across his chest and stands up straight. “It was raining that day, and I was being careless. I was so caught up in where I was going, I didn’t take the time to be cautious of my surroundings. I don’t remember much but we ended up skidding off the road. I woke up in the hospital with this,” Levi raises the hand that was missing his index and middle finger and then he points to his scars. “And no Isabel.” 

You have no words. Even if you weren’t mute, you wouldn’t know what to say to him. You notice in the time that you’ve known him, you haven’t seen him ride before, nor have you even seen a bike in his vicinity. So that alone was a surprise. But another thought scratched at you. Something about his demeanor right now screamed guilt. Did he still blame himself for Isabel’s death?  

“I went to go celebrate her today with Furlan. She always had a thing for sweets.” He mumbles, looking a little more relaxed. He has a faraway look in his eyes.  

‘What was she like?’ His eyes shift to yours, now soft.  

“You remind me a lot of her, actually. Stubborn. Happy.” Levi huffs, but you could have sworn it was a little laugh. 

‘You’re pretty stubborn yourself, you know.’ He just rolls his eyes again at you but says nothing else. ‘I think it’s great that you’re celebrating her life. She sounds wonderful. Thank you for sharing that with me.’ You offer him a slight smile and his lips twitch at you in return. He puts one of his hands in his pocket, making sure to keep his phone out with the other as he spoke. 

“Who were you and Hange celebrating today? I saw you two at the temple earlier.”  

‘Are you creeping on us or something?’ You smirk at him teasingly and his already rosy cheeks turn a darker shade.  

“Tch, no. I just passed by, is all.”  

‘It’s okay Levi, I get it. We’re that fascinating lol. She was there for her grandparents.’ You fidget with your phone in between numb fingers. It was really starting to get cold, and you weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to stay out on the patio. But you didn’t want to leave just yet. 

“So, you’re not celebrating anyone today?” His innocent question makes you pause. It was your turn to look away, staring at the twinkling stars above. You suddenly feel small, like the universe was too big for you. Biting your bottom lip, you start to type away.  

‘Yeah, I have. I lost my parents and brother when I was around six or so. I don’t remember much but there was a big fire, and I was the only survivor. I am not a big fan of fire now.’ Silence ensues for a few minutes as Levi digests what you texted him. Your hands mindlessly trace the scars that trailed up your left arm from that disastrous night. 

“I’m really sorry to hear about that.” He says, finally. 

‘Oh, it’s fine now. It was so long ago. Hange’s family took me in after 8 years in the foster system, and now I’m stuck with her.’ You give him a meek grin and point behind you. He’s watching your face carefully. 

“I’m sure there are worse families to be stuck with.” Levi jokes quietly.  

You have no idea, you think to yourself. The thought of the households you lived in prior to the Zoë’s makes you cringe a bit. Memories of being left behind, small cupboard-like rooms, and physically abusive foster parents swirl through your brain. You close your eyes tightly to try and push them away. You feel something warm holding your fidgeting hands still. Opening your eyes to see what it is, you’re met with Levi’s pale hands cupping yours into his own.  

“It’s been a very hard day for us, huh?” You don’t want to tell Levi that it’s not your family’s passing that’s upsetting you right now. You figure if it came up later, you would tell him then. You nod once, meeting his silver eyes with earnest. He releases his grip abruptly, your hand freezing from where he had left it. Another comfortable silence falls on the two of you and it warms you from the inside out. Knowing that he wasn’t actually mad at you filled you with immense relief and you were glad that the confrontation was over. Or so you thought. 

“So Furlan huh?” He playfully chides. You stare at him, incredulous.  

“What? He just seemed really into you. Do you feel the same?” There was a look in his eyes that confused you. You feel your face heat as you tap away at your phone screen. 

‘He was just being nice. I don’t know what you mean. There’s no way he could be interested in me.’ You watch his face anxiously, not certain why he was bringing up such a topic. You didn’t really feel comfortable talking about other boys with him just yet, whether it be because you still barely knew Levi or something else you couldn’t quite describe.  

“Tch, you don’t know.” He cocks an eyebrow at you but says nothing else. You just shake your head at him, at a loss for words of what to say next.  

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the sliding door and peeking through is a Hange with a wide grin.  

“Are you ready to go home, my little berry?” Their muffled voice penetrates through the glass pane. You give them a thumbs up and a small smile. They give you a thumbs up in return then spin around to Erwin and Miche who are now standing up, going back into a conversation. You glance back at Levi and find his dark eyes gazing at you. The moonlight hit his entire figure at an angle that made him look almost... otherworldly.  

.

A couple hours later, you’re lying on your side in your bed with fluffy sheets surrounding you. The clock reads late but you can’t sleep due to the giddiness from the buzzing of your phone. You stare at a message notification sent by one Levi Ackerman, and a smile playing on your lips. 

Thanks for confiding in me. I don’t mind learning more about you, if you want. 

You had received the message a good 5 minutes ago, but you weren’t sure how to respond. For starters, you were extremely shocked to see that he was still awake at such an absurd time. But then again, so were you. You start typing but then delete it right after, going back and forth until finally you give up and just voice what you wanted to say.  

Sufficient with your response, you lock your phone and place it on the bedside table. You stare hard at the table, willing for something to come your way but nothing does. Maybe he fell asleep, you wonder. After a few minutes, you start to drift off with the thoughts of a curt man with silver, glowing eyes. 

Levi can’t help but chuckle at the three dots in the corner of his phone as you start typing but then change your mind. It had taken him forever to find what he wanted to say to you, but he never imagined your response to something seemingly so simple now could take you so long. In truth, he was surprised to see you open the message so quickly and at such a late time. Perhaps you struggled to sleep as well.  

As he waited, he couldn’t help but wonder what to make of you. There was something so intriguing about you that he just couldn’t quite reach, and honestly it confused him even more. Something else bothered him as well as he recalled the haunted look in your eye after talking about your history. Were you holding something back?  

Finally, his phone pings and he scolds himself for how swift he was to pick it up. A simple message brings butterflies to his stomach and unknits his tight eyebrows. Whatever it was that you had kept to yourself, he figures it didn’t matter. He would make it his goal to try and get to know you better.  

Ask away, I’m here for you. Goodnight, Levi.

☆AN ➼ This chapter was a lot longer than I had planned but yanno what, it's fine. I hope you liked it! I'm going to get started on February's chapter soon! I'm really excited because my goal is to be super fluffy. It's Valentine's month after all. I hope y'all have a great rest of your day/night! And as always, please like and reblog so I know I'm doing something right. Feedback is always appreciated. ☆

☾ Previous Chapter: December

☾ Next Chapter: February

[sansaorgana]

— DECEPTION (III)

DECEPTION MASTERLIST

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Elf!Reader // Adar x fem!Elf!Reader

SUMMARY — You become Adar's wife and his Dark Lady while you're trying to adapt to your new life. On the day after the wedding, you leave Ostirith with your husband and the army of his children.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — First of all, I wanted to thank you all because I didn't expect this story to have so many people interested in it! Thank you for your comments and reblogs and wanting to be tagged in the new chapters. 💗 I have to admit, this story might get a little longer than I expected...🤪 ...but just a little. Also – I GOT THE JOB! However, don't worry because I hyperfixate on this fic at the moment so I will do everything I can to finish it. 😊 Just please, be patient with me if it takes me a bit longer to update. 😇

WARNINGS — forced/arranged marriage, Reader is NOT a good person – she is proud, greedy, fake and corrupted by Sauron, "love" triangle situationship

WORD COUNT — 5,405

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

DECEPTION (III)

When Elves got married, it was supposed to be forever. Even death could not change it. That was why you had always thought that your only marriage would be with Sauron.

He had promised you the grandest of weddings when you would rule over Middle-earth already, so everyone could witness your power and greatness as he puts the crown onto your head. That was supposed to be your forever.

However, the road went ever winding and there were paths you could not have expected. Yet, they were the ones you had to take.

In the early morning your mother visited you and she was surprised to see you already dressed in your underdress and standing by the window, staring at the holy trees you were supposed to get married under.

“I have this from your father,” she placed a golden ring in your hand. The one you were supposed to offer Adar during the ceremony. “He wanted to give it to you himself but he has a feeling you avoid him.”

“Are you surprised, mother?” You turned your head around to look at her. Her eyes widened and your heart clenched – she was so kind and pure, so innocent. And yet, her whole life was filled with grief and sadness.

You gently took the ring from her and caressed it with your fingers.

“About the dress… I was thinking of that white one that you wore when–,” she started.

“Black,” you interrupted her and looked up. “I shall wear black.”

“I understand,” she nodded and you were surprised that she wasn’t trying to fight you on this but perhaps she truly understood. “However, you were wearing your mourning dress for three days in a row already at the beginning of the week.”

“I know. I wanted to ask you if you could give me yours,” you tilted your head.

Your mother had been grieving many times in her life. Her parents and siblings were all dead. And whenever she was in mourning, she was wearing the most beautiful black dress you had ever seen – the sleeves were see-through and flowy, very long and curved. The corset and the skirt were made of velvet and silk and the thread was both silver and gold. In a few places there were gemstones of many colours stitched to the fabric, too. 

In fact, whenever Sauron had mentioned you becoming his Queen, you had always imagined yourself in that dress and no other.

“I… I can give it to you, yes,” your mother nodded. “My wedding gift. Let me get it for you,” she left your room again and you sighed, putting the golden ring on the desk so you could get dressed.

When your mother carried the dress inside, you nearly felt guilty for all the time you had been imagining yourself in it as Sauron’s lover. Your mother was so pure and you loved her so much that her presence was somehow healing your corruption a little. She was the only person who still was capable of making you feel guilty. But soon, you would leave with Adar and there would be absolutely no one to stop your downfall. You would only sink deeper and deeper.

Your mother would be in mourning again soon – after you. But this time she would have to get a new dress.

You allowed her to put the gown on you in silence. Her skilled fingers worked on all the buttons and ties as you stared at yourself in the mirror. You could see she was nervous and you knew why but you had no words of comfort for her. The only thing comforting you was the fact that Sauron might have been back. But such news would bring no comfort to her, obviously.

“It’s the dawn,” you looked out of the window when you felt the first rays of sunshine on your face. “It’s time,” you added and your mother nodded, taking a step back after fixing one last wrinkle on the dress.

“You look so beautiful,” she admitted. “Such a shame that–”

“Shush, mother,” you cracked a sad smile at her and approached the door.

“(Y/N),” she followed you and gave you the golden ring you had left on the desk. “You nearly forgot…”

“Indeed. Thank you,” you took the ring from her again and squeezed it in your hand.

You both went out of your chambers and slowly walked downstairs. The sun was lazily getting up and you expected Adar was waiting there already for you but you didn’t mind letting him get a little impatient.

To your surprise, the courtyard was nearly empty. You thought he’d invite all of his children to watch but you could only see your father – smiling at you in an encouraging way, which you ignored – and the other Elves that lived inside the fortress with you. There was no Orc in a plain sight and you looked at your mother questioningly, hoping she would know what confused you so much.

“They do not like sunlight,” she mouthed out and you nodded, taking a deep breath in at the sight of Adar turning around to see you. His face was unreadable like always but you hoped that he liked what he was seeing.

Your mother was the one who slowly walked you to him and you were grateful that it was not your father. The fact he was there and watched was enough to make you angry. He was the reason for all of this.  

“My daughter, Lord Father,” your mother stood you in front of him and her voice shivered as if she was offering him the most precious and fragile gem, begging him to not break it.

Poor mother had no idea you were already broken.

“Thank you, Lady Guardian,” Adar nodded at her and you both watched her walk away as she stood next to your father. Her cheeks were wet from tears and you smiled sadly at that before turning your head around to meet your husband-to-be’s cold eyes.

He looked you up and down but without contempt – there was mostly curiosity about him and a little uneasiness. He didn’t seem to be overjoyed with the idea of this marriage and you wondered why he had agreed to it then. You would only be a burden to him, after all.

“Have you brought it, my Lady?” He asked gently and you opened your fist to show him the ring. He opened his as well to show you the same ring and you forced a smile at the sight as your heart was growing more and more heavy when you spotted your mother approaching you again alongside your father.

Adar had no parents – as far as you were concerned – so your father had to say the phrase that the groom’s father would usually recite. But first, you had to join your hands together. You reached your hands out and you spotted them shaking slightly but it was a good thing because you wanted Adar to pity you a little in all of this, too.

When he put his hands over yours, a shiver went down your body. His hands were cold and rough but for some reason you felt somehow safe like this and you hoped it would remain this way. 

“May Varda Star-kindler hear (Y/N) and Adar’s calls, and may Eru the Father of All bless them,” your mother spoke gently, nearly in a whisper. You could just hear that she did not wish to say any of these words. You moved a little uncomfortably and Adar’s hands squeezed yours tighter.

“May Manwë Lord of Wind watch over (Y/N) and Adar, and may Eru the Father of All bless them,” your father added in a voice much more firm and confident than your mother’s one.

Selling you out to the father of the Orcs, he bought himself more power and safety in the upcoming war between Adar’s army and the rest of Middle-earth. Of course he was happy with this wedding.

Adar closed his eyes and whispered a few more things that had to be meaningful for him but you could not understand them because they were in Black Speech. You probably would have to learn this language now as well.

You also wanted to add something from yourself but all you could think of was Sauron and his face when you had been saying goodbye to each other. The last time you had seen him before his defeat. It had been so long ago – too long.

You watched your husband carefully. He opened his eyes finally and looked at you a bit less coldly than before now. He took your silver ring off of your finger and took it from you before sliding the golden ring onto the forefinger of your right hand. You swallowed thickly when you saw it rested there; a physical and visible proof of you being wed.

You put the golden ring onto Adar’s forefinger, too. You could hear your mother gasping quietly and sobbing silent tears but you were not sad anymore. In fact, you had just found a new strength deep inside of you. There was no way back now and you had to face all the consequences.

You weren’t sure what would happen now. You reached your hands out to brush Adar’s scarred cheeks with your fingertips, feeling every bump and every wrinkle. You wondered how much pain he had endured because you had met Elves who had been tortured before but none of them looked like your husband. It had to be long centuries of suffering that would leave scars like these.

Caressing his cheeks gently as if you were scared of hurting him even further, you were nervous to place a kiss upon his lips and you waited for his move. Eventually, he wrapped his hands around your wrists and leaned in to peck your lips. The kiss was short and very delicate, which surprised you but also confused you because he was kissing you like he didn’t want to kiss you at all.

When you broke the kiss and took a step back, your father began to clap his hands enthusiastically and the rest of the guests joined but hesitantly. Most of them were confused by all of this or they felt sorry for you.

Adar held your hand and walked you away from the sacred trees. Your father followed you and you flinched when he put his hand on your shoulder.

“My darling, leave us now. We shall discuss the future and you can rest with your mother. You will spend more time with your husband during the feast in the evening,” he announced but you looked at Adar to wait for his confirmation of this plan for the day. He was your husband now and you didn’t want to disrespect him a few minutes after getting married.

Not that you planned to be the most obedient wife and your heart belonged to another but you also were aware that there was no point of being mean or rebellious towards him. You wished to survive after all. And you wished for him to trust you because you had a feeling Sauron might find that useful in the future.

Adar nodded at you and you bowed your head slightly but when you were looking up again, he grabbed your chin to lift it up himself.

“My wife is my equal,” he informed you and your eyes widened slightly at that revelation.

“Bowing her head is only a sign of respect, Lord Father,” your father explained.

“Do you bow your head in front of your lady, Lord Guardian?” Adar asked him, letting go of your chin. You could see your father being taken aback by that question.

Some Elven couples you knew were both showing each other such respect but not your father. He was rarely showing it to anyone and when he was forced to – like in front of the High King – he would be angry about it for a long time later.

“Sometimes,” he answered, which was a big stretch.

“Well, then,” Adar turned around to bow his head towards you, too. “Forgive me, Dark Lady, I have not been married before and I am not familiar with the customs,” he added and you had to admit that even though his voice was cold and so were his eyes, it felt somehow nice.

You cracked a smile at him and then you felt your mother pulling you by the sleeve of your dress to drag you inside to take you back upstairs to your chambers.

“He seems to be sensitive about the idea of bowing heads,” she muttered to you as you handed her the silver ring back because you knew it had been hers most likely. “I remember him scolding one of the Orcs after they bowed their heads in front of me,” she sighed.

“It is because Sauron wanted to enslave his children,” you explained. “It is understandable.”

“How do you know?” Your mother furrowed her brows.

“He told me,” you swallowed thickly.

“I think he was very lonely. He has the… children but it is not the same,” your mother nodded and hid the silver ring away. “You will be his companion now,” she fixed your dress. “And I know it sounds dreadful but let me cheer you up a little.”

“How?” You asked and snorted at those words.

“The light is gone from his soul. He cannot follow you to Valinor, my dear daughter,” your mother looked deep into your eyes. “When he dies… Well, I have no idea if such creatures go anywhere. But you and I, we shall meet again in Valinor after our time in Middle-earth is over. He is not welcome there anymore.”

“Perhaps I am not either for marrying a man like him,” you tried to break the news to her in the gentlest way possible.

“If it is the case, I do not wish to go there either,” she whispered.

“Do not speak of such things!” You frowned. “I damned myself to save you, so do not dismiss such a gift,” you reminded her, even though you knew it was a stretch. You had damned yourself long ago and it had been a selfish act that had nothing to do with her.

“It should be mothers sacrificing themselves for their children and not the other way around,” she only pointed out.

“Love has no limitations,” you remarked with a nervous smile and looked out of the window.

In fact, the idea of Valinor was not tempting to you anymore because that was a place that Sauron could not follow you to either. 

You spent the whole day in your chambers, talking with your mother and telling each other hopeful stories. You wanted to spend as much time with her as possible now because you had no idea when you would see her again.

If ever.

When the sun was starting to go down, you began hearing the sounds of the feast thrown in the courtyard by the Orcs. You looked out of the window and there was a long table full of food prepared already and a huge fire started.

“Adar and father are there already,” you pointed out after seeing them entering the courtyard. “We should join them,” you looked at your mother.

“Yes, we should,” she sighed and you helped her to stand up from the edge of your bed where you two had been sitting. “You go alone for now. I shall prepare the room for…” She hesitated before finishing the sentence and eventually, she did not.

“The wedding night?” You asked and she nodded nervously.

You were scared of it a little bit but you knew you would be scared much more if you had been a virgin. Which you were not because of Sauron and you knew that Adar – out of all people – would most likely not be mad at you for not being pure but… You could not tell him that his mortal enemy he was hunting was the one who had spoiled his wife. You already had a lie prepared for him if he asked.

“Will I not sleep in his chambers tonight?” You asked.

“No, you will spend the night here. I insisted on that so you can be in a familiar place,” your mother explained.

“Thank you,” you nodded at her and left her alone there to go downstairs.

The noise stopped when you entered the courtyard. All the Orcs froze and kept staring at you – looking you up and down with curiosity but you could also spot their eyes sparkling at the sight of your dress and all the gemstones on it. 

Adar was already sitting by the table with an empty seat next to him and at the sight of you, he stood up and extended his hand.

“Wife,” he greeted you officially to introduce your new role to his children.

You walked up to him slowly, feeling the eyes of many Orcs on you and they made you feel filthy. However, you had to get used to them.

“Husband,” you greeted him and allowed him to take you by your hand as you walked around the table to take a seat next to him and that was when the Orcs went back to feasting. “I hope you came to a satisfying agreement with my father,” you tried to keep the conversation going.

“Indeed,” Adar nodded with a smirk. “I already have a plan for this fortress,” he informed you.

“That pleases me, my Lord,” you nodded and watched the Orcs having something that they would probably define as fun.

“I believe your day was good, too, my Lady,” Adar seemed to be pretty awkward about this whole thing just as much as you.

“It was, my Lord,” you assured him and gave him a quick glance.

“We are leaving tomorrow in the early morning to head up north with my army,” he informed you and you weren’t happy about it but it was something you had been suspecting, so you only nodded.

“Yes, of course,” you said and smiled at the sight of your mother finally joining the party. She sat next to your father who looked even more happy now than in the morning and you wondered what things had your husband promised to him.

“We shall not feast for long for that reason,” Adar added and you agreed with him because it was not like you cared about such a party anyway. Even if it was the celebration of your wedding.

You spent another hour or two in silence, watching the Orcs feasting and all the Elves sitting by the tables while trying to hide disgust. They had to be happy that you would leave tomorrow and finally leave Ostirith be. You, however, would leave as well and the Orcs would be a part of your life now forever. because even Sauron wanted the Orcs by his side. However, Sauron would never treat them like a father so perhaps in the future you wouldn’t have to be so close to them.

“We shall go now,” Adar interrupted your train of thought and you nodded at him in silence. Your heart skipped a beat when you realised it was the time for the wedding night. Your previous confidence was slowly turning into anxiety.

Adar stood up and offered you his hand to help you leave the table as well. You took it and he walked you slowly alongside the rest of the tables until you reached the one with your parents.

“You should leave with us in the morning, my Lady,” Adar told your mother as she looked up, confused. “Just to escort your daughter down the forest path for a while. I know she will appreciate it,” he kept convincing and you found it hard to believe it was done out of pure act of kindness. You couldn’t understand what his hidden agenda was, though.

“That is a good idea. Thank you, my Lord,” your mother nodded and your husband nodded back at her before leading you inside the fortress.

“If you hurt my mother–,” you started.

“You have my word I shall not,” he interrupted you as you two entered the staircase.

“What is your word worth?” You asked him, genuinely.

“Depends,” the answer was mysterious.

“Depends on what?” You inquired and Adar opened the door leading to your bedroom, waiting for you to enter it first.

“Depends on the person I make a promise to,” he explained.

You were not satisfied with that answer but you didn’t want to keep asking him more and more annoying questions. You didn’t wish to upset him, especially tonight, so you chose to believe that he would not give false promises to his own wife.

The room was prepared by your mother. The new candles were burning and the new sheets were put onto your covers. But you had made your own preparations before already as well.

“Give me a moment,” you mumbled and went to the bathroom where you had hid a beautiful red nightgown, which had been a gift from Sauron.

And it felt extremely wrong to spoil it now with Adar but you knew the marriage had to be consummated to be valid and he didn’t seem to be very much into the idea of being your husband, so perhaps he needed a little push. That nightgown had never failed you with Sauron, who could not keep his hands off of you.

It took you some time to change from the dress without anyone’s help but you finally managed to put the nightgown on. You adjusted the corset part in the back one last time and took a deep breath in before walking out of the bathroom.

Adar was standing by the window and staring at the feast that was still taking place in the courtyard. You wondered how the Orcs would wake up so early in the morning after such a party since they actually needed much more rest than Elves did.

“Ekhem,” you cleared your throat, starting to feel silly.

Adar slowly turned around and froze at the sight of you. However, his eyes remained quite cold and that was not the reaction you wanted. Eventually, he approached you slowly and extended his hand to trace your curves and the hems of the fabric but his touch was oddly delicate as if you were made of glass. The gentleness of it was sending shivers down your spine and you even gasped when his fingers brushed your throat but instead of going further, he took his hand away and stepped back.

“We should go to bed now,” he only said but you remained still for a long moment, feeling embarrassed and humiliated as he ignored you and laid under the covers.

Finally, you moved to blow out the candles and lay on the other side of the bed, not sure if you should say anything at all.

“Goodnight,” you only mumbled out.

“Goodnight.”

The only clothes you packed were your black and red dresses and apart from that you took your horse and some jewellery. All the rest was not needed in your new life. When you woke up, Adar was no longer in your chambers so you made sure to be quick and you went downstairs where your horse was already prepared. Your mother was standing by, caressing her own horse. At the sight of you, she cracked a nervous smile.

“My darling,” she approached you to caress your cheek. “How was it?”

“Nothing happened,” you whispered because you spotted Adar approaching you two with his own horse.

Your mother was obviously surprised to hear the answer but she had no time to say anything.

“Are you ready for the departure, my Ladies?” Adar asked you.

“Yes, my Lord. Forgive me for being late,” you nodded. You weren’t sure if you were late but you showed up as the last one.

“There is nothing to forgive,” he smirked. “Have you bid farewell to your father?”

“No, my Lord. I am not planning to,” you answered and hopped onto your horse.

“(Y/N)... You should…” Your mother sighed.

“No,” you insisted. “Mother? Are you coming or not?”

You could see she was visibly trying to stop herself from saying anything and she succeeded because she simply mounted her horse without a word.

“I shall escort you to the end of the bridge only, my dear,” she informed you and you nodded although you were not happy she was planning to leave your side so soon. You had a feeling your father had forbidden her to ride away too far.

Adar hopped onto his horse as well and you allowed him to take the lead. You and your mother followed him to the gates and you spotted his children already waiting on the other side of the bridge, hiding from the sunlight in the forest.

But the closer to them you were getting, the more confused you were becoming. The Orcs that had invaded Ostirith were many and the ones waiting for you were… just a few. 

“What about the rest of your children, Lord Father?” You asked Adar when all of your horses stopped after crossing the bridge. “Have they left earlier already?”

“You can bid farewell to your mother, my Lady,” he jumped off of his horse and ignored your questions.

You and your mother dismounted your horses as well and approached each other to hold hands one last time. She squeezed yours and that was when Adar nodded his head at Glûg who was holding a war horn. You got startled slightly at the sound when the Orc blew it and the leaves of the trees around you waved in the wind in an ominous way.

“What is the meaning of this?” You asked Adar but he did not have to answer as screams from Ostirith reached your ears. 

Those were the same screams you remembered hearing from afar when you had been observing the Southlands from the watchtower; watching and listening to Adar’s army conquering the human villages.

Now, the Orcs had begun their slaughter inside your home.

You and your mother exchanged the looks of terror. You suddenly realised why Adar had asked you who would be the only person you would save from Ostirith. You had chosen your mother.

And you did not regret that choice. You only felt bad for the Elves working for your father, who were now dying because of his sickly ambitions. However, you stood there frozen, trying to imagine how betrayed he had to feel now – choking on his own pride and greed. That felt oddly nice as if you were getting your revenge.

But your mother was too pure for this sort of reaction. She screamed and yelped and tried to get back to Ostirith but you held her by her arms and kept her still with the strength of your body.

In a way, your heart grieved for her because her whole life was full of mourning and now she had to watch her home being destroyed as her husband – whom she loved despite everything – was being slaughtered.

Even for you it was quite difficult to watch and listen to and you hated your father and you hated this place. You couldn’t let it show, though. You didn’t want to humiliate yourself by showing Adar your weaknesses.

“Please, please, please! Make it stop!” Your mother sobbed and writhed as you were finding it more and more difficult to hold her. She managed to turn around in your arms and looked at you with widened eyes full of tears. “Make it stop!” She addressed you.

“I cannot,” you whispered to her. “How can I?”

“You knew, did you not?”

“I promise you, I did not know,” you answered, truthfully.

“Why are you not mourning then?” Your mother shook her head and you felt a single tear escaping your eye and streaming down your cheek.

“Do not accuse me of the lack of mourning just because you cannot see the evidence,” you took a deep breath in, trying to sniffle all the tears back in when you heard Adar approaching you.

“You are free to go, my Lady,” he looked at your mother. “Go north, as far away as possible from this place. I shall grant you a safe passing, let it be my wedding gift for your daughter,” he informed her with a hint of contempt in his emotionless voice as if he hadn’t just caused a slaughter of a whole fortress. “But if you ever come back here, you will be treated like every other intruder,” he threatened.

“Go, mother,” you squeezed her hands. “Go to Gil-galad, go to Mithlond,” you told her. “Seek your refuge there and do not tell them about me. I am dead, do you hear me?”

She nodded nervously and kept looking back at Ostirith but she knew it was a hopeless case and she knew that going back to get killed would be a mockery of your sacrifice.

“We shall see each other again one day, of that I am sure. I have a feeling,” you assured her although it was a lie. You had no idea, in fact. “Farewell, mother.”

She nodded again and jumped onto her horse with her face wet from tears. She glanced one last time at you and her burning home before she ordered the horse to gallop away as fast as possible.

You watched her disappear and you felt empty inside because you had a feeling that in those last moments she had been loving you a little less because you had remained so cold and unbothered by such a tragedy. Because you hadn’t begged Adar to stop.

Speaking of him, he stood next to you and wiped a single tear that had escaped your eye with his thumb. Then he examined it with a hint of fondness.

“Pure Elven tears,” he muttered and rubbed his fingers together, making the tear disappear.

“My mother’s were,” you only said and watched the army of Orcs running out of Ostirith while screaming their profanities and yelling in triumph. The towers behind them were tumbling down to the ground and you mounted your horse, preparing yourself to leave into the unknown and into your new life.

However, you couldn’t stop staring at the last tower of Ostirith that was slowly falling down to the ground while taking the rest of the fortress down with itself – the watchtower. The symbol of this place and the symbol of the Elven protection over the Southlands.

Now, the humans of the Southlands had no protection. Of course, considering what kind of Lord Guardian your father had been – there had been no protection at all before either. But there had been a symbol that had been giving them hope. Now, the symbol was gone as well and the Lord Guardian was dead.

“Should we blow up the bridge, Lord Father?” Glûg approached your husband to ask him.

“No,” Adar shook his head and looked deep into your eyes in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. “We shall come back here soon to finish the task,” he explained mysteriously and mounted his horse. “We shall go now,” he ordered and the Orc nodded his head before running away to hurry up his kinsmen.

“Where are we heading to, my Lord?” You asked, straightening your back and trying to keep your head up despite the event that had just occurred. Perhaps it was too early to feel the weight of it fully. Perhaps you were too corrupted to be able to grieve.

“The village of Tirharad is our next stop,” Adar informed you. “Something I seek is there and soon the Southlands will be ours,” he added and ordered his horse to go.

He didn’t even look back to make sure you were following him. You had a feeling he would be a less controlling husband than you had been suspecting. On the other hand, the chains keeping you tied with him were there either way because where else would you go?

Of course you ordered your horse to follow him because you had no home to go to and no person to turn to.

Not until Sauron makes his comeback.

MASTERLIST

[strawberry-nugget]

Stargazing [through the five stages of grief] | K. Bakugo

★Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki/ reader

☆Synopsis: after Izukus sudden death you and Bakugo find comfort in each other

★Warnings:18+, minors do not interact, sexual themes(SMUT), aged up characters, grieving and coping mechanisms, depression as part of a stage of grief, language

☆A/N: I wrote this for @starstruckkittensweets​ 's  Summer Romance Collab collab I also cried multiple times while writing this for so many reasons. Dedicated to my friend @aichiin in hopes this is any comforting to her <3

★Word Count: 10.6K

i. denial | 3.28 am Just when you think silence is going to engulf you in lethal restraints, he's got you. Held and embraced, away from all the evil in the world, pouring a fountain of tears in the burgundy of his tank top. The beauty of the seashore is unmatched at this time of the year -end of July- honey colored sand spreading to as far as your eye can see, lining the white foams of the water perfectly. It shines under the moonlight beautifully golden, as if Midas' touch has grazed each and every speck of sand; it's almost a pity to watch some weather away in the soft evening breeze. Not many stars are visible with how bright the moon is and you simply can't stop thinking about it, the numbness in your heart as you're trying to spot the only few constellations that you know, but even them seem unable to shine brighter than the light of the moon. But he- he shoots a hand to the sky with one eye closed as he mutters something under his breath. It makes your heart pause. You don't catch it though -whatever it is he said- ears deaf to the feeling of being pressed too tightly into his broad chest -to an asphyxiating point, even- but you catch your heart fluttering again for the first time in weeks. A good sign, you guess, the little excitement that you feel can overthrow the buzzing void in your heart, or your head. "That's the Hercules one right? You've been trying to find it for years huh?" You feel the humming in his own hollow chest more than you hear the soft muttering that leaves his lips. This heat he usually emits is probably gone by now, from how tight he's holding you and you're not entirely sure why he's putting on that show for you. The soft pretending of searching for the stars when he won't let your face turn to the direction of the sky, or why he just so effortlessly knows all the constellations you've been trying to find. Under any other case you'd call him a show off, a self contrasting asshole and his sloppy hold around your chin and neck proves that you've never been this close, as expected. He doesn't know what you like or how you'd rather be held, or even, how anyone would like to be held and you don't know anything about how to handle someone like him but social expectations don't matter when comfort is needed, or whatever Mina and Ochako said. The air smells like salt and seaweed, musty and a bit heavy, but refreshing at the same time. As refreshing as hot July air could ever be yet you still find the breeze chilly, so you coo into chest even more, throwing a leg over his thighs, and flexing your palm on his ribs. In response he soothes his hand down your shoulder, trying to create some much needed friction for you. "You can drop the act now" You mutter, rubbing your cheek comfortably onto the soft cotton of his tank top

"What act?" "Trying to comfort me, trying to use me to comfort yourself" There's hurt in the way you talk, and it jabs his heart peculiarly, making him push you off his chest just one but so he can meet your gaze. When he does, you realise you've never been met with such a serious look, and your mind vibrates in what your own confrontation towards him should be. "I mean, why be comforted? We're strong. We're heroes, we-" He shushes you, with a gaze and a snake-like lisp sound that rattles out of his teeth. "What's insufferable for me, I'm guessing, is even worse for you" He clears his throat just when his voice gets a bit raspy from laying on his back "and I'm a hero, it's what I should do. He would have wanted this as well you kno-" "He would have wanted you to be yourself not try to become him" You nuzzle your nose deeper into his chest, avoiding his eyes and the prying stars that decorate the sky above, feeling watched, betrayed by how they're able to shine so brightly despite the loss you're feeling. But then again, why wouldn't they shine? Isn't life just supposed to move on even after a loved one isn't with you anymore? Stars aren't supposed to go out, to become more or less as time goes by, they've seen distraction and glory and fall -it's only you who finds

it cruel that they can still shine in times like this. "He would have wanted me to be better. It pains me more than you to admit" Katsuki has never shown such an appreciating side of himself when it comes to your late friend. Or he has and you've just not been there to witness. Or, perhaps, you've chosen to turn a blind eye to anything that's ever brought them close because you weren't the most fond of him since childhood. Yet, a feeling inside your chest commands you to oppose him and his word. Even by the comfort of his own chest. There's no denying that you've wanted to hate the one who's nothing but comforting you, but you find yourself stuck between grief and a burning heart. It leaves you numb, maybe, to think that he so graciously holds you as if nothing else in the world matters. When this shouldn't be the case. "Why, why does this have to happen to us? We're supposed to save people, losing people is-" "The biggest part of the job" He finished your words for you, strobing that little rattle of reluctance he senses in your voice "We didn't-" "Sign up for this?" You nod at his inquiry "in a way I think we did. He always pushed himself and if you say you never saw it coming, you're lying" "I didn't" "There you go" "No, no" You shake your head "he was strong. This shouldn't have happened, it's unfair and it's-" "It fucking damn is unfair but there's no rematch for him. I wholeheartedly agree, it shouldn't have been like this. We shouldn't be here, days after his damn birthday, hollow and mourning. He should have been here, we should be celebrating" He's not going to call him an idiot. Not anymore. Not even because he's hurt you or anyone as a matter of fact, but because he's come to respect his dead, he's come to lose the attitude when it comes to seeking help, or giving it. It's something Izuku has taught him, a strong moral that no longer rests in the back of his head as a possible value to characterise a hero. It's rather a reality, such a strong wave of consciousness and coinsense that washes through his body all the time. You think, qualities of Izuku, wash through your soul in waves too. "But suggestion is oceans away from reality" Katsuki whispers and just then, the tender touch of his fingers lingers in between your locks. Only for a split second, and for the sole reason of flicking some hair on top of your ear, to shield it from the chill of the air. You're not certain if you act on your grief's accord or not when you grab onto his wrist to prolong the soft petting of his hand on your head. But he complies with you wordlessly, sighing out a heavy bubble of air off his lungs. "That's not the hercules one" You whisper "Huh?" "The constellation" It's oddly satisfying how you coo deeper into his chest, even if you can't see him pop one eye open to peak at the sky "that's Ursa Major" "Like fuck it is Ursa Major" "Katsuki, is this your first time stargazing?" You ask quietly and he wraps a hand around your waist to drag you a little closer towards his chin. When he does, he rests his chin onto your hairline. "I can't believe I opened a goddamn map for this and couldn't even distinguish the hercules one from the Big Dipper" You hammer out a little giggle. It sounds mechanical but still, he mimics you, and you can not only feel the vibrations in his chest, but the movements of his chin too, as he mellowy rubs his soft skin on your hair, soothing his lips on your head from time to time. The breaths he lets out of his nose are silent, yet you feel them calming you down, so warm and so calming against you. "The Hercules is a big constellation but it's not bright at all, you have to catch it on a moonless night and it's usually gone too early" Katsuki sighs. The process of taking in your words in analogy with late Izuku is too strong and it's too early for him to touch a subject that even so reminds him of the situation. It's more than enough that you two got to talk about it tonight, or rather, about your feelings, but at one point the line is drawn on what's harmful to his soul. A sole mention of the condition of a constellation should be making his stomach churn, and it definitely shouldn't make him hug you tighter into him. For one, the phenomenon of the constellation's nature has been around for longer than he has been who he is, and will still be when he's not. This small coincidence, even if it rubs salt to the wound, is not the fault of a small mass of stars gathered together to form something human eyes can recognize as a kneeling figure. Izuku's life is probably just a parallel to the greek myth of hercules, or so, he likes to glorify, but when it comes to him, there's noass of stars for anyone to remember him by.

Izuku falls and dies so long as the memories of his friends live, finding shelter behind a myth, a legend, a course change in the history of humankind that lead to this specific moment. Him, mourning with you, on the beach that Izuku cleaned years ago, feeling his heart ache in sync with yours. And maybe, maybe if- "If I close my eyes and fall asleep, will I wake up and realise that this is all a bad dream?" You ask as if you don't know what the answer is going to be and he tries to not indulge in feeding you a void of hopes just to make you feel a bit more sure of your future, or try to convince himself he'll have a good one too. He wants to reply positively, just as much as he wants to wake up too in a reality where Izuku is still alive, and he's got to say everything he's ever wanted. He knows, some nights he'll find himself thinking he would like to go back and change the course of his own history, whatsoever, to never hurt Izuku for naturally having qualities he had to work for, or change the fact that he's been harsh and cruel. The 'why us' inquiry that arises in his chest as he's stroking the slightly greasy hair on your scalp is what's left to bounce in his head for now, eating away every curly corner of his brain, turning any other thought into a wasteland, yet, still his answer to you is what he would rather not hear, bathed in a cruel nature he's tried so hard to lose from his persona. "I wish it were just one bad dream" There's so many questions in his head; are you asleep? Or will he hurt you by trying to force himself into accepting Izuku's death? Are you prone to being hurt and pricked by how raspy and serious his voice sounds? Because you don't make a noise, nor a sniffle, and your hand isn't tightening around the collar of his shirt anymore. He wishes too, it's all a bad dream. For the lover that you lost, and for the person he's known better than anyone, the person that knew him better than anyone. But it's not. And the mellow sound of waves crashing on the shore bears a tune to convince him to forget, but the water won't reflect the stars he can see with his bare eyes. Thus he's asleep before the lurking darkness in sound and sight gets him too. Just for a while, just until it's his own turn to face oblivion. A small part of his brain, though, convinces him he'd face any oblivion so long as he gets to fall asleep in your arms like that, over the soft, warm sand, on a chilly July night. 

ii. anger | 9.47 pm If you could only know the reason you're yelling, tears wouldn't be spilling from the corners of your eyes, down your cheeks just to drown on your overly stretched mouth, wetting the lips that are stinging in splits and bruises of dehydration. He's not one to back down while facing the disdain of his own feelings. When that disdain should be directed on how petty the cause for your irritation is, you're both focused on the snap of nerves inside each of your heads, chests heaving as you're staring at each other dead in the eye; you, from the cold seat of your couch, Katsuki, from the numbing howling that seeps through the cracks of your front door. The bags in his hands are heavy with groceries and the weight of this peculiar, unspoken agreement to settle together. It's hidden in the affection behind every piece of vegetable and fruit in the tote bags. Even if the night is young, he's got a look in his eyes that mutters how

willing he actually is to grab a pot and a spoon and cook for the two of you. But you know- he shouldn't put pressure on himself after a late patrol for a chore you were supposed to fulfill. If only he wasn't on your ass about ordering take out. "You can't fucking order again." He speaks, grunting more so than accentuating the words as he probably should. But he's irritated you, so much that you've spent the last ten minutes yelling at each other while standing frozen in your places. Probably, a neighbor has heard and your mere response to the alarming social anxiety that arises from that fact is apathy. You're already directing a big amount of angry spouting at the blond, there's no such room to experience other feelings right now. "Fucking hell, Katsuki just stop! I don't fucking care if you think ordering isn't fucking good. I can't cook right now. I won't cook" You say in a higher pitch "and you won't cook either" When he opens his mouth to speak, you roll your eyes, away from him -you just know what he's going to say- though you instantly regret it. The sight of him frozen, with bags in his hands before your door is upsetting, and begs to stir up your mind in horrid imaginations of him throwing a tantrum at you and leaving you, of him never opening up his door to you ever again. Maybe, just maybe you should have thought this through better before yelling at him. "Fuck you" He says through greeted teeth and scrunched up nose huffs "fuck fuck fuck fuuuuck" He's not a punching bag, he's the only person who's here for you and your heart won't forgive you if you lose him. Your head turns or snaps to his direction, eyes too gooey to meet his gaze properly, but you still do look at him so desperately, you're sure your heart makes a ripping sound at its very seams. And that firm dedication of his to closing himself off is evident again; in that wet anger in the corner of his eyes, seeping like magma just at the tips but never falling down on his cheeks. In his pursed lower lip -and oh, will it be so infuriating to think, you don't wanna fight, you just want him to press those lips against your forehead and forget those arguments that always arise? As he's headed for the kitchen, step after step and upper lip overlapping the bottom one to hide his irritation, his eyes are averted from you and you chase after him with counted movements; a little limp to your left leg by sitting on it for a long time bubbling up inside your bones. Unwillingly, non-eagerly. Regret and remorse for yourself are feelings that rush through you, making your tongue run faster than your mouth, making your head dizzy with guilt and drowning you of a trillion of things you want to say to him. "Katsuki" You plead with half a breath, eyebrows forming an impossible frown above your eyes "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have yelled, i-" "Fucking save it. Order if you want, I don't care" "Katsuki-" He huffs air too harshly out of his scrunched up nostrils again and shuts his eyes closed, hands resting over the groceries as he's leaning over the kitchen table. Not once in the minute he's taking from himself does he spare you a glance, but you can rather listen to him mutter a soft 'be patient' under his own breath. To himself, you realise, but your heart's too heavy as you anxiously suck your upper lip inside your mouth, wondering -will an apology fix this? It may irritate him even more, and taking the risk is probably not worthy of him getting riled up, but you go for it nonetheless, hidden away behind the stall that separates the kitchen from the living room. Your little hiding spot for the moment, a place where you can safely hide behind as you choke on your own spit, trembling at the thought of any possible outcome of your next choice of words. "I'm sorry, I'm just, I'm snappy lately" He won't respond and you notice how he's counting his breathing with eyes still shut, though, ever so slightly; that's your sign to step back, give him space and time as you make your first step to the living room. Though small glimmers of regret

springle inside your heart, landing in small needle-like jabs on every stretchy wall of the overly sensitive organ, your brain begs to be the voice of common sense, just to push you to just give him space. But what if he doesn't want space. What if he wants to be held? Like you do. What if he doesn't want to fight? "I'm sorry" You mutter under your breath, again Your step is almost crippled as you try to approach him, lost and scared at the sight of him still struggling to compose himself still. The guilt in your gut is immense and spreading like a wildfire on rotten land, but you feel like, perhaps, you -and him consequently- soothe down when your hand touches his shoulder, or, when your forehead rests easy on the crook of his neck, just after you out your weight on your toes, You can't help but repeat your previous statement. "I'm sorry, talk to me, tell me if you're good or not" He grunts, letting out a short breath in the form of a sigh. 'I'm not', you translate and your chest tightens Your right hand comes to curl around his chest over his shoulder, your left, mechanically even, cripples around his waist enough so you can press his back into your chest. "Fuck i-" You don't make a move to shush him "I feel so bad, I just. What would he have to say about me if I left his girlfriend on her own, to eat crap everyday. That's not healthy for you. I shouldn't be fucking yelling. I shouldn't-" He's so out of breath, that you consider punching some air into his lungs, with the softest CPR to have ever been performed, but the thought leaves your head immediately, your heart drowning your stomach in guilt at the imagery of your lips on his. The snap to reality after that little moment is so intense, you don't know how you handle yourself and your heart. "I shouldn't be yelling" In all your years, you've never heard him be so sincere while being so furious. When it's true that he's nothing of getting into drama or anything of sort, Katsuki is always too prideful to admit when he's made a mistake. You figure, it's unfair to still judge him as if he's his UA self, or his middle school self even. He's a different person now, having lived through so many events that could crush even the most strong willed person -and that's what he gets from admiring All Might, you think- and all he's ever done is try to be here for you. Understanding each other in such difficult times is mandatory and compromise is a foundation that you both need to work on. You find yourself opening your mouth and shutting it again for several seconds as you're trying to voice it. The dry, chapped feeling of your lips colliding makes you want to shut your eyes and wordlessly communicate your thoughts to him, but it's impossible. For your quirk isn't transmitting your thoughts to others, nor is it keeping track of one's thoughts. Everything you do to comfort him, has to be done by yourself, strictly. "Katsuki, I don't want you to-" You nuzzle your face into his back in hopes that perhaps, it muffles the intensity of your speech "I don't want you to overwork yourself for me. Izuku-" His name is whispered like words of sin or ruthless statements of atrocities, when it shouldn't "-wouldn't let me do that to you." He doesn't talk, or sigh, or even place his hand on yours and a whole minute passes like that. Or two, or three, or an eternity. The clock is ticking so loud that it's unbearable, his heartbeat muffling your ears while his scent is musking your nose. It's a funny thing, that perhaps, everything feels so warm, so comforting like this, you'd like to keep hugging him, if he allows you too. For as long as this minute's eternity can last. "Don't leave me cause I'm angry and snappy" It's so barely audible that you think he's only trying to calm himself down again, but it strikes you like a swift slash of a sword to your chest to realize the weight of his words. You thought you were the only one feeling this way. 'Don't leave me'. As if- as if it's an option that's hunting the depths of his chest, or perhaps as if your situation isn't a granted part in your lives for a little over a month. You're not one to inquire of a person in panic why they said what they said or if there's a cryptic meaning behind his very words. Because, frankly, there isn't. He's pretty clear, even while being tenderly desperate about it. And oh, you feel your heart pull and pinch at the thought of it.

"I'm not leaving" "Good" When he turns to face you, he's gripping onto your palms like it's painted out to be for dear life, a plea to not let him go as he turns his body around; you feel as if he needs you, as if, you're necessary to comfort him as well. You're too far gone in the joy that gathers in your stomach to hear him utter the words "I'm not leaving either" but you find some meaning of this statement in his embrace, when he shoves you into his chest. There's a little awkward cripple to your gaze that causes you to steal a stare outside the window or, perhaps, it's something bigger, or even the drive in your heart to hope for something more as an outcome for this. In the worst case scenario, you're pleading for forgiveness, if, by any chance, Izuku is still out there and can witness this little happening. That's when you find it, and truly, you have to catch a second glance at it to feel certain about what you just saw. Subtle little shimmers of stars, painting a large part of the sky, patiently awaiting to be noticed, in agony and tiredness that only a hero could recognize. And if you're a hero, you can feel it too, the kneeling of the legs, the flexing of the arms -it's all there- drawn by little stars of other galaxies in front of your very eyes, after searching for them for years. That's perhaps what people mean when they say, happiness is found in small things. Katsuki's arms around you, his faint breathing grazing the skin of your nape tenderly as he's calming himself down is more than enough, but the sky tonight has managed to make a compromise for the two of you, shining the diamond colors of the hercules constellation to the two of you. It's a blink and you'll miss it, no reason to break away from his arms, so you coo into his mellowy neck, speaking against his skin. "I found it, the hercules constellation" "What? Where" He's not shook at all as he speaks, and it doesn't surprise you either; there's this dazzling tranquility in the air, so much for getting you to calm down after such rage, but you'll take it over anything else, anytime. When Katsuki seems to detach his resting lips from the crook of your neck, he lays the side of his face on the very spot, inquiring again about the location of the constellation. You're more than happy to provide him with an answer. He drags you to the balcony with slow steps, a million steps away from the lights of your apartment as it seems before snapping his head towards the sky, squinting his eyes to comb through any star he could probably set his gaze on. You help him find it, not because it's before his very eyes, but because something inside you is flickering to rush you. Hurry it up. Look at the pretty stars and embrace him again, because it feels good, and you don't mind that you get mad at yourself for thinking this way. You don't even want to question your morals as thoughts of holding his hand pass through your head. Maybe a finger or two tangled in his like messy strands of hair, too hard to detangle- maybe that'd be comforting. Perfect even. Despite your best efforts to tickle his pointer finger with yours shyly, you come to realise he won't respond -you better behave, or, you should have know, but the insecurities that make you question everything are as evident as they'll ever be- you wonder if you've made him uncomfortable. But he's wrapping an arm around your shoulders, by grabbing that hand you're using to guide his gaze across the constellation and this time you can't help, but tangle all of your fingers through his, like a hair clam, fitting so perfectly, your heart cracks even more than last time. "I can pop some rice in the rice cooker and you can buy some Teriyaki" He sighs, though not once does he pry his eyes away from the stars

And that's where you feel a weight lifting off your shoulders, only to drop to your stomach; it's not a half hearted compromise, rather, it's sincere, something so eerie and far away from the usual 'take it or leave it' Katsuki Bakugo, but… you'll take it. With a broken smile and a coo into his shoulder. You turn to look at the stars as well, and Katsuki cracks a small smile now that you can't see it, because compromising actually feels good, relieving or whatever. He doesn't want to think about whether, in any sense, he's on your mind or not, he'd rather show you a piece of his own mind, a crack opening to see inside his heart -it's almost too painful that he has to be the one to calm things down. He's never been one to do so, but standing on his feet right now is mandatory. For you, him, whatever the two of you have got going on, because if not, coping won't be effective. He likes to think, you have each other in this, and that's enough for him. To keep things peaceful he has to take an occasional step back, and if that's the price to pay, he guesses he will. Izuku may be gone, he may have turned the two of you into what seems an unfixable broken mess, but at least he's left you with each other. Perhaps, he'll once appear again, in the form of new love, or a smile on your face at the sight of an old childhood photo, and things will be fine again. If only he could have been kinder, or better, or not as competitive, he wouldn't be sorry or trying to fix his own self. For now though rice and teriyaki ought to be the only problems he wants to face.

iii. bargaining | 7.30pm "What if I could have prevented this?" His voice is anything but loud, his chest too hollow, bouncing the voice of his concern around the broadness of his muscles, just to graze into your ears in soft vibrations. The statement alone makes you perk up and swoon your face away from him, hands laid flat and firm against his petrocals as you're finally fixing him with a gaze. Saturdays always bite his ass and Sundays are ever so depressing. This weekend is no less easy for the two of you. Katsuki's barely able to slur words without hissing or cursing, seeing as his jaw is bandaged up by being sliced by a villain at work today, and you've both decided that it's best if he gets to have an early night. "You'll be fine by next week, I'll help you change your bandages" He shakes his head before he buries his face behind his palms, as if trying to hide his emotions from you; you give him the right, with a worried face to match the situation "Not that, shit- no 'm taking 'bout Izuku" Oh You can't really place yourself into why but you've been having the same thoughts as of late. It's only natural, you dare say, to convince yourself not to be persistent on guilt tripping that little mellow voice in your head that tried to tell you that everything's going to be fine in the end, but it's in vain- for every time this happens you have to find a new way to occupy yourself to shove the destructive thoughts away. It's probably not right in any sense, to prompt Katsuki to ignore the problem as well, but the thudding of your heart -always matched perfectly by the raindrops that hit on the roof of the house hard enough to make you feel oh so concerned- commands you to find a new coping mechanism to add to your little pile. "I- I just-" A look in his eyes and you're lost in a trance of whether you're going to break his heart by momentarily avoiding talking. It is more than enough to convince you to voice something, anything, but every word that sparks at the back of your brain is washed by astounding waves of anxiety that have your tongue swim in the sea of your mouth. You don't come up with anything to say for as long as a moment lasts. "It's like- I should have been there! I turned down that fucking call because I was sure he could do this on his own" "Katsu" "He fucking- I fucking- I-" "Hey, stop it-" You plea "It doesn't make it any different, I know that but-" He snaps

quicker than you can imagine, prospering away from another call of his name that slips from your lips. Irises turn away from you in wrinkly eyes, furrowed brows and pursed lips. His heart is palpitating so fast, his eyes flicker in what you can read is pain, maybe, you could take some blame to yourself. Not that you have any right trace if thought to come up with comfort, or rather, not like you have it in you to let Katsuki assign this all on himself. "I could-" You start, yet your mouth is dry "I could have been there as well-" It's such an awkward miniscule moment that you share but it's enough to make your heart feel like it's breaking in regret. You're only left to wonder if your friends are feeling that way too, about Izuku's call for reinforcements that Katsuki turned down, that none of them tended to on time. "Don't put this on you" Your stomach, unable to cooperate with any plea of yours to not drown in anxiety, stirs its contents to it's desire, making you sit up; Katsuki's embrace is too void for you right now, your chest is way too hollow for you to not feel alienated. It's in moments like these that you know trying to handle yourself or your life with each other is probably a mistake, a false emotional dependency that should not exist otherwise, and you always hope he gets to prove those intrusive thoughts of yours otherwise. You're taken aback when warm hands find their way around you; it's unexpected and you flinch, but you're soothed the moment your brain processes who it is that's hugging you, bringing you back to reality and breaking your short lived dissociation. He presses his ear onto the crook of your neck, this time, not hissing at the way his wounds ache as his skin tubs on yours. He notices that certain way your breathing's working and he sighs in relief, or sorrow, for he's too scared to ever speak of what's hiding in his chest, or what's adding to him feeling so twisted and evil. "Wanna go for a ride?" He says, unexpectedly, surprising even himself by how absurd it sounds "Where to?" "Niko" He purrs and you let out a giggle "That's too far silly" "I 'on know, heard it's pretty this time of the year" You finally turn around to him, only slightly so as to not disturb his embrace and ruffle a hand through his hair, and pause just before your lips find his forehead. Somewhere deep inside of you it hurts for this to feel so casual, a loving interaction with Katsuki of all people. It feels like some sick trick of betrayal but your eyes are burning onto his skin while your world moves in slow motion. A hand on his cheek isn't as harmful as the addition of another one, yet you still go for that choice, dry lips inevitably set onto pale pink skin, pressing a soft kiss of comfort. "We could go at that spot, near UA, we used to go there a lot when we were high schoolers" Katsuki's words are calm and collected, hidden between gritted teeth so he can appear like his chest is fuller than yours, but what you don't know is that his heart is trying to beat out of his chest, like it's the most secretive, harsh prison. He briefly wonders if by knowing so, you'll hurt as much as him. But your kiss on his forehead, the warm place in which he rests face against your chest it all points to you feeling the same- it's there and he can read every single sign, whether he wants to deny them or not. "Should I get dressed?" A grunt this prolonged means yes. And truth be told the set and scenery of this small driving outlet is almost idyllic; a silent car ride, tainted faces and the gloomy watery corners of one's eyes to match the pouring rain, the slow, mellow music matching in beats with the squeaky wipers. What a perfect, diligent harmony you've got. It feels like a cut to another scene in a slow paced movie. The time is still stuck at 8.15, signifying how it wasn't long ago that you were starting to drown in a pool of bargaining -and voicing it out loud- and a part of you is still sad for thinking that maybe, for Katsuki, you're a coping mechanism. A full rembrandt of what's left of

Izuku's that he doesn't want to give up. You keep wondering if that would be the case had he still been alive. Would he ever have such an attitude stored inside of him for you had you not been dating Izuku on what now counts as ancient history? He parks his car on a narrow little road that splits the woods in half and turns the engine off. Seeing that it's November already, you think about how this is a bad idea, you know how cold he gets, and he's not wearing any jacket but you keep it to yourself. Perhaps, had Izuku been here, he would have brought an extra jacket too. For now, it's foggy windows and died down warm breaths. Thus, with a quivering lip you settle lower into your seat and sigh. "I- I know you like stargazing" He coughs, vermillion eyes pacing back and forth between you and the rain that's clashing on the car's glass "and I got an app and a window on the roof of my car" "But it's raining" "Who caaaares!" He grunts when you pout and turns away from you, something that makes your stomach coil abrasively. You want him to look at you, you want him to- As ridiculous and bitter as it sounds, you're tired of asking yourself if any of this would be happening were Izuku still here. Because he's got a stupid little fucking app on his phone for you. Because you're dying to press your lips onto his skin again. Half an hour ago feels like an eternity has passed already. He cares about you enough to open the app -and switch the location of his phone on- and that's more than enough actually. You glue your eyes to the bright screen and follow it as it pops us with a dark window, asking for confirmation that it's authorized to use the camera of Katsuki's phone. A part of you sinks in the silent death of love at the thought that, yes, he downloaded this just for you. Joy in little things, you figure, is what keeps you grounded, it's what ultimately pushes you to rest your head on his shoulder as he lifts his phone up, facing it on the small opening on the roof of his car. "Can't see past all this water, dammit" "So?" You coo, and the previous small irritation in his voice dies down with a grunt that comes from the depths of his chest. "The app's fine. Feels just like stargazing." You've never done anything similar with Izuku. And there's not even a spec of comparison clouding over your head, despite the guilt that settles in your stomach once again. Looking up to Katsuki, you can see his jaw tensing in the slightest, most probably in pain -you wonder, does his wound still ooze- and you can't help but feel like your eyes are stinging. You sniffle nonetheless. And Katsuki retreats his shoulder, letting your head hang without support as he turns to you. "Maybe, even if we can't see them, they're still there and-" You purse your lips to the side of your cheek, thinking of a reply, anything to say to make his words seem like they've come out of his mouth. "You've turned into quite the poet lately, haven't you?" Your answer should be that no, he hasn't, he's just hurt and confused, numb and afraid, but in turn you're all those things as well, or so he speculates by looking in your eyes. Because he can read people, he can read you, and as much as this has been established, he can't find it in him to speak a word on it. Then again, what's the point in holding anything in if you're going to die one day? The life of a hero is expendable, he's got his rise and fall as number one set in stone, so why should he hold back? He can't bring Izuku back even if he wants to, and he can't possibly stop himself from feeling for you. He remembers finding salvation in holding Izuku down and apologizing. He now finds humility in words that are spoken from his mouth that slip past his consciousness. "I love you- Don't care if it's fucking raining or not- Fuck" There's no time for you to think of a response before he throws a fit; his phone is slammed on the backseat, rocketing to the floor, and the click of his door is heard before he steps out of the car and slams it shut. He's lucky- the rain covers most

of the scream that he let's out and fills the buzzing void in your chest, your head. He said the words first, and your head is pulling you instinctively to your right, just where he was a few moments ago, you want to see if he's facing you, you long to feel your eyes meet his. You manage to collect the only ever courage you have left and push the thought of Izuku away from your mind, click your door open and shoot out of the car. Just like him. Like you're his echo. "Don't say a fucking word" He dismisses your open mouth, as if he can hear your breath clearer than this deafening rain, but you're not having it. "But i- i" "Shut up, as if you know-" "But I feel the same way" You whisper "What" He yells, and you scream at him to get back in the car, so you can talk, clearer. Though when he does, he's burning his eyes on your lips, then your eyes, then he never makes any move towards you, as if everyone and anything is on you. But none of you takes the bigger leap towards each -justified, because there's trembling in your movements and hesitation in your heads. And then your lips meet his. Tenderly, painfully, religiously Your first kiss is cursed by numbing ache, but it feels so right, like the warmest summer evening, or the most hazing bonfire during a cold winter night. Regret can't eat you alive for that one. And Katsuki, even with his lips still pressed against yours knows he will think about this kiss as a sin and a betrayal for far too long, he knows it'll torment him through the darkness of whatever tonight could mean. If only he gets through this night, he'll be fine Tomorrow you'll wake him up with a soft "how'd you sleep'' again and he'll be fine. The void and guilt inside his chest will get filled up with the warmness of being embraced first thing in the morning. Perhaps in time he'll convince himself that Izuku would never mind what's going on between the two of you, if you're meant to be endgame.

iv. depression | 12.07 am

Soft bubbles that smell like carnation and the auburn flicker of the fire that shines on top of a plethora of candles set the atmosphere for this evening. The lack of bright light -being that the whole city has been in a black out for several hours- is gentle to yours and Katsuki's eyes. What should have been matched with some of the artificial warmth the heater next to the bathtub, that should be providing for the two of you. Instead, it's him that keeps the temperature high.

Your muscles hurt and his wounds ache, as always, after a tiring day of hero work. You guess that's your daily nature; after hours and hours of overworking your body and soul, two people like you only get to spend the little time they have together like this. Late at night, curled up against each other, borderline sleeping in a bathtub. You're sure the water has a pinkish red tint to it -somewhere, a wound of his or yours is bleeding more that you'd like to believe is natural.

Katsuki is unbothered to check who's wounds are worse.

For the first time in a while, his mouth isn't dry, or chapped, a killer to his heart, for he can't find the right choice of words to spell to you. He should be fine with having you curled up against his chest, but somewhere along the way he finds it hard to experience the warmth he's trying to emit. And he thinks he finds your response to this unspoken mind trick when he cups your hands with his, checking at your fingers. Not a single prune or puckered line to clasp a non indifferent reaction from the back of his brain.

He's content with the way time seems to have stopped, trapping you in a moment filled with cold granite tiles and blood spoiled water that smells like lavender. In a movement he abandons your hands, watching them float over his. You hum -it's warm and welcoming, as if you're saying you're content too- and rest the back of your head to the crook of his neck.

His only reply is to nuzzle his nose into your neck as well. Placing a tiny kiss to the skin against his lips, tangling his fingers through your wet hair.

Small reassuring acts of

love with nothing special into them help you relax completely into him. "Kinda nice that you can see the stars so bright tonight" If you're looking for a cynical answer, then Katsuki's ever your man. "Of course they'd show when it's pitch black outside. What'd ya expect?" With your eyes glued to the glass ceiling for a long while you wonder, what did you expect really? Words that spiral in your brain are always spoken, leaving you numb and inquiring, searching for an answer in the deepest curves of your brain. When burning your eyes into his will never work, he decides to let his gaze melt holes in the vast of his bathroom windows. The beauty of minimalism leaves him cold and lonely, as if there's facelessness in the black veil of the sky that mimics the inside of his home. He curls into you by pressing you against his chest tighter. You never ask him why his bathroom is built the way it is -with that little corner window in the ceiling, neither does he know what he'd answer to you were you ever in a position to. He doesn't know how to apologize for being who he is, or his that window makes him feel like he used to be assured and secured on what was assigned to him by birth. (His parents’ money, a strong quirk.) He doesn't know how to apologize for still living in traits of his life that could make you feel like he's been everything but fair to Izuku. And all you probably think about, he convinces himself is that It'd be ironic to say that you mind having a view of the stars while having a midnight bath. It's a full moon tonight too -the glowing sky orb floating just above the furthest line of the horizon, illuminating the sky. And you, with your eyes shut by now and facing the glass ceiling, seem like you feel the weight of the moon pulling you in. What Katsuki knows for sure is that you have a terrible migraine that has you frowning horrendously. It's because of the fool moon, you'll say when the blond asks you why you're suffering, it always gives you migraines and he'll sit by you as you're making him his bath, holding your hand while he asks you to join him. He's nothing but a lover of roughness and void, he doesn't know how you're still with him, or how you ever fell for him. He feels slow, like a worn out tire, washed to a shore by the sea. But his hands, calloused and sculpted harshly even only by the -not so many- years of being a pro, aid to your comfort, not in his need to be a hero -more like, in his need to be human, or not feel inadequate, to not feel like his life is a pit of guilt because Izukus is over. And it has been for a long time. And his, is taking turns so abruptly that his gut churns and pleads. Two bulky thumbs run over your eyebrows, smoothing the short coarse hair and soothing the bone, swooning the sore pain away; it feels like custom made heaven, sweet and fluffy, and the water in the bathtub won't get cold, nor will his hands. You're so relaxed into him, bones turned into jelly and skin tingling at his touch. Every circle he's rubbing on your forehead is releasing tension you didn't know you had piled up. The soft splashes of water are merely inaudible when compared to his heartbeat, but you can't feel it. Not yet. It's not tense enough for him to feel like his heart is beating out of his chest. "You any better?" Cold. Brutal. Almost as if his hands belong to someone else, but that's Katsuki for you, or anyone else as a matter. You turn your head to him, wearing a tiny, worn out smile as you lean you mean into him, clashing your lips over his, bumping your nose to his cupid's bow when you're done. Katsuki, you're sure, closes his eyes in a feeling that doesn't seem pleasant and you do the most expected thing -retreat. It hurts; watching you slip away, turn your head to face the stars outside of his window, wiggle your body away from his, to collect your knees and press them against your chest. It's devastating how a small denial to a kiss can harm you in such a way. It's either his fault, or yours. Because somewhere deep inside his head he's convinced

himself he's a rebound. Someone you'll get over when you start getting better. And he's probably convinced himselfhes viewing you in this way, somehow. "You could have at least kissed me back" You whisper, shivering. The water is cold, finally, it was so nice while the warmth washed over your skin. Almost like a lie. "I-" He huffs, buries his head into his wet palms. He can't speak, for if he does, the crack in his voice, the high pitch of it, will snitch on his torment. He tries to shove it away, when he shoots his hands to your direction, trying to pull you into him again. When it doesn't work, you swear you see the corners of his eyes sparkle just a tad. It's alienating, when you've seen him cry and have numerous break downs, more times than you've seen him smile or laugh, you feel like you're foreign to the slight emotion that gathers in his eyes, now forming a pit, never spilling down the harsh lines of his cheeks. The moment a salty streak appears on his skin, you can help but wonder, what would happen if only you could stop your own tears from falling. You can't ask him to talk to you, it's more than obvious. You're deprived of any logical sentence forming mechanism in your brain, knees like jelly, arms heavy as two whole buildings in the verge of collapsing. One word of his and your heart will unleash all the ache that gathers slowly in your throat. "'M not just here cause Izuku died" There you go, not once, but seven times, feeling your heart pierce holes in your body, hanging from his every word, cursing yourself when you grasp his meaning. Wild and unleashed and raw, a plea, an inquiry. A way of masking his insecurity and it's your fault he's feeling this way. "You're not," You start, lost and perplexed "I love y-" But it does down faster than you would have wanted it. You turn your head away from him for a second. With the moon so high, and the city lights non existent, you can distinguish the Taurus constellation, just below the moon, and so very faint. Your throat is tight, your neck is sore, your voice won't come out -you wonder why astrology is right about Taurus controlling the throat- and you don't know how to make him feel good about himself. If only you can show him the constellation he'll be fine, right? Do zodiac constellations make him as excited as they make you? Or is that just a role he's taken upon himself to stick with you? His lips clash with yours, water splashing around you as he shifts, and he hugs you close to him. It's your cue, to close your eyes and move your lips in sync. Its a sullen form of desire, that dangerous one, where you get his lips to bleed from how hard you bite down onto his lip and twist and pull and clash him into you again because you can't get enough. You tell yourselves you have to live for this present, even if the past makes it unbearable. Just when your hearts feel like they'll jump out of your chests and dissolve into the lavender smelling bubbles, this time painting the water in a deep carmine, you clash your chest to his and he feels as if, he's wanted, here and now, even if the feeling won't last for long. And then it's hands that roam bruised skin, fingers than dig into softness or thick muscle, fingernails that dig into scalps painfully, until they draw blood as your teeth clash. It's passion, and only in the way your hips ghost over his, swaying in the water, as he's grunting "see, am kissing you back" and "We'll never be clean at this rate" "I'll massage your head when we're done" You breathe, pulling back for a second, as he sucks a spot on your neck, handling your back just to press your chest to his face. "Fuck, I love yo-" You shush him with your mouth on his, forehead sticking to his when a slit on your nose gets smashed when it scrunches against his cheek. He doesn't have to say it, you don't have to hurt him like this. It almost doesn't matter -the cold- when he pulls you to the edge of the bathtub and buries himself into you, you simply shiver by the way his thumb rubs your clit, thrusting your hips in rhythm to

meet his. And he bites on to your collar bones, eyes teary and heart heavy after he lets you set the pace, occasionally thrashing into your touch, his gut churning more and more as you go. It's only when he takes matters into his own hands -lifting you and pressing your back again the wall, putting out some candles I'm the process- hand on your face to shove some hair away, and legs wrapped securely around him that you both find release. Screaming in agony, crying in what could be mistaken for pain, sticking your foreheads together as your breaths tingle into one hot huff of air that travels up and way from you. You lock eyes with him, just before he lets his body collapse into the water, limbs numb and sore. "Please don't leave too." You whisper, sinking down just behind him, fetching for the shampoo bottle from behind you. He doesn't respond. Instead, he mimics you and rests his head on the crook of your neck, eyeing you backwards, pressing his lips into an upwards line. You're not sure you'll be able to get over this void soon, and you can't help but plead. Later, as you're washing through his hair, you show him the Taurus constellation and his eyes beam like a child's when he says "hey I'm a Taurus" all while tending trying to tend for the bite that he left on your shoulder. He doesn't ask to find the cancer constellation. You don't remember where to find it. The moon is too bright for you to even try.

v. acceptance | 6.59 am

The last rembrand of a star shines in a portrait of purples and oranges. The beautiful afterglow of the previous night, the first ray of sun washes its shine away, almost entirely, before a second can come. To paint the sky in blues, sprinkle the marine shade as to spoil the darkness' leftovers.

The night star, or morning star, tolerates a third, then forth ray of sunlight, and your watery eyes flicker at the scene, your head curling deeper into Katsuki's chest, humming as his hand wraps tighter around you, rubbing frantically over your skin to create some friction. It's only then that you're reminded how beautiful warmth is.

Your ear is cold -after Katsuki's doing while playing with the roots of your hair- and you tuck it under a few strands, instantly noticing the difference in temperature. Katsuki is cold as well, shivering slightly even with the blanket that's wrapped around the two of you. You can't help but wish that you were in bed, curled in a blanket cocoon, sleeping in the most sappy, eerie way.

But spending the night at the beach in early September night's has been a favorite activity of yours for the past few years. Long gone are the July nights spent in agony at the beach in Musutafu, nights that have allowed you to know Katsuki like the back of your hand. You can't take them back, replace them with memories of a happier process of getting to know him. You're not sure he wants to do that too.

He yawns slightly, squishing your head under his elbow to rub his tired eyes, breaking the loudsy inhale to chuckle at your pretend squirming. Avoiding your hair as to not hurt you while scratching the stubble hair on his cheeks -flinching slightly at it- before he moves your hair away from your ear, laughing trumphically at his doing.

"Nooo, I'm cold"

He chuckles again, running the tips of his fingers through your hair and tapping his palm over your ear. "Better now?"

"Katsu!"

You smile into his chest, trying to muffle your giggles, deciding to cook into him further.

His heart might as well burst. He thinks to himself that this is more than something he could have asked for, years of putting the effort in being with you awarding him in moments like this. Moments where he can see Venus shine faintly in the sky, feeling blessed by the planet of love as he places kisses to the top of your head.

I'm times like these, it's hard to look back and remember he used to beat himself over trying to convince himself he was drawn to you only because Izuku died. It feels like there's more behind it. Some karmic pull, some aligned stars, fates arranged in such a way that

you were meant to end up in this moment. Even if none of this is true and he's lost in superstitial bullshit, trying to explain things with something that bears no resemblance to simple logic, he figures there aren't any fresh wounds in his body. Time has flown since the last time he caught himself bathing in his own blood, but he's not reckless any more -neither are you- he doesn't go tormenting himself with wounds that will take long to heal. He can't remember times that have been tougher than this. But he's attached to the warm sand, moist still from the night's angry chill, so much that he slips one hand out of the blanket and sinks it low into the ground. It's so pleasant that he doesn't feel the ground pulling him in, or down. He's got a heart that will withstand his will to get up any time he wants to, and a pair of legs that will at his command, a chest that heaves with breaths while you're showering him with kisses. He won't get to spend an eternity like this, not even as many years as he thinks will be enough for him to enjoy this, but he's figured that there's eternity hinged in every moment, of taking care of yourself before you take care of someone else, so you don't hurt others around you. He's surprised with how much he's changed; he is aware that change is inevitable, through all the compromises that he's had to not condemn, all the soft words he's forced himself to say to you, to himself, to the point he's become softer, mellowed. Knowing he'd never forgive himself if he came to lose you to his grief. "We should get up, I'm sure Mina and Ochaco will be freaking at this point." He chuckles, hiding his tongue in the back of his mouth, as if to fish for a reply. "Kirishima and Denki will-" "Let the fuckers do as they wish, it's my wedding day, I decide when I show up. I can't with this enthusiasm" "Oh my god" You fake gasp, clapping your mouth "this is it? You're not going to marry me? You've lost your spark? Oh me. Oh my, whatever do I do?" You laugh, feeling the vibrations of his chest as he's laughing too, ruffling your hair in the messiest way he can imagine "There, now your hair is unfixable and I get to say it's you who left me at the altar" You burst out in giggles as you're trying to get up -efforts wasted in vain, because he's pulling you back onto him, for a kiss, one that makes your lips feel like cotton candy that slowly melts away, fuzzily yet so watery and with such delicacy. He gets up soon after you, folding the blanket neatly -too neatly- only pausing to take in the moment. Blue blotch after blue blotch is flooding the sky, almost every hint of purple gone, giving in to that warm tangerine light of the early sun. Katsuki sighs and you link your arms around his elbow. Content, happy. And he'd be lying if he said he wasn't much of those himself. There's nothing holding him back. And so, he guesses, this is goodbye. The official one. Not melded with an apology, not fueled by regret. It's a silky woven letting go. There are no tears left for him to shed, there's no more trembling to violently shake your body awake at night. There's nothing but good in the memory of Izuku. Not even the subtle wish for him to be here, and happy with you. As the bright, starry light of Venus is outshone by the sun, he places another kid to the top of your head. "I'll see you at 5" "I'm going to be fashionably late" You argue, turning around to wield your hands around his neck and almost linking your lips to his. "Don't you fucking dare" He kisses you "Or what? You'll blow everyone to pieces?" He kisses you again, then again, then once more. "Might as well" And that's Katsuki for you, even in the calmer, softer version of himself. The personification of the twilight hours, even if he's going to bed at 10pm, wiggling his feet under the covers until you join him. He's the only reason you're still sane and you won't ever lose him. He won't lose you, in return.

[denjirv]

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

Synopsis: You fall in love with Aki, that was your first mistake  Genere: Angst  Contains: Mentions of Death and Smoking

A/N: want the full angst? I gotcha ADONIASDNASD  How cruel can the universe be? A question you ask yourself as you watch the people you love come and go like distant memories. You never knew if you were living your last moments with them, you’re too scared to ask, too scared indeed to face the fact that everyone will die one day. It was only about time you finally faced that question when you met your new partner, a man named Aki. His cold demeanor to the way he smoked so casually, not coughing up the smoke that leaves his lungs and rots it deep. Not even the taste of his smoked lungs and tongue that intertwined with yours so hungrily made you stay away, not even till those nights filled with lust and love when the two of you shared the same beds and dirty sheets at your most vulnerable. He was a man, a friend and a lover that you found yourself attach to And yet still even a job so gruesome and dreadful his heart was still pure. He cries for those he had lost during missions, he still mourns for the friends he lost. He was pure, he was a kid at heart who wanted to do nothing more but live. Just live and survive till the end, with such a pure heart came with a strong determination. A determination that he couldn’t find himself to turn his head away from, not till he met you. He finally realized to himself why Himeno wanted him to leave the private sector. He finally felt like he was enjoying his life when he was with you and his roommates, like a family. He had something to live for, he had people who cared for him and people who supported him. How selfish was he to leave them behind for revenge, revenge and a goal that was unreachable. He could have lived his days planning more vacation for his friends, he could’ve gone out and eaten with the four of them together like a family. He could’ve proposed to you, on one knee and with the ring in his hand as he pours out his love and dedication to you in a moment of pure bliss, when the world seemed brighter and more lively. He left those future memories behind to avenge the past. Never he thought about being the person that people would mourn for, that thought never crossed his mind. He never thought of himself in a casket with his picture on top, white flowers surrounding him as he gets buried 6 feet under. He never thought about leaving you behind But here you were, dressed in black crying your heart out as you sat down in the pew. Denji and Power left you alone for you to grieve alone, condolences from his coworkers pass by to you as you look up at his casket. You wished you could’ve done something, anything to stop him. But you didn’t, you sat by as he killed himself for his goal. You were cold and numb without his strong gentle touch. You were deaf without hearing his voice that always spoke in cooes to you in the early mornings and latest nights. You were back to the same question you faced those years ago, how cruel can the universe be? Why did whoever’s god let this happen? Why can’t happiness follow you in your life? Why was life such a Greek tragedy? You couldn’t face his room after the funeral, you couldn’t stand looking at the ashtray with the cigarettes he always smoked. You couldn’t stand seeing that damn sword he carries with him, you couldn’t stand anything that was him. Months will go by as you still run things around the apartment, finishing what Aki had started for Denji and Power. Give them the happiness that they deserved, you let them eat their lunch as you took a step outside. Closing the shutter door behind you pulls out a pack of cigarettes, grabbing the lighter from your pocket before lighting it in between your lips before cold lips before sucking it in, your lungs retracts back as you cough out the smoke. Tears forming from the fumes in your lungs before you shakily breathed out, you take another puff before grey smoke fills the air It tastes just like Aki, you thought to yourself. Reminiscing the way he held you close and kissed you even after taking a puff, filling your lungs with the same ones that ruined his. An intimate act often shared between the two of you. You stare off into the distance, hearing the people from down below walking and talk as you thought to yourself I gained and lost happiness. Now I have Denji and Power’s happiness to protect next. Aki, Promise me if we meet again I get to protect yours? 

[sserpente]

Seeds of Doubt

Synopsis: Months and months after grieving in your home realm Asgard, when you find out that Loki, the man you had promised to marry one day is still alive, you accompany Thor to Earth to bring him back to his senses. Your strong feelings for one another overwhelm you and you join the God of Mischief on his conquest to become a fearsome king. Together, you survive the strongest storms. Together, you win every battle. Together, you rule Midgard. As the sceptre’s steel grip on you becomes stronger and stronger, both Loki and you fall into a tyrannical frenzy feeding off of the fear of your mortal subjects and only once the sceptre is taken out of your reach do you begin to doubt your ways. What will be stronger in the end? Will it be the power of the mind stone… or your unconditional love?

A/N: Here it finally is! This is the 20k Follower Special! It’s a personalised Imagine written for @nebulousfishgills​ who won! ♥ The Reader in this story has a name, a specific appearance, traits and characteristics, so it’s a little different than usual! Enjoy, everyone! ♥

Words: 10469 Warnings: Loki wins!AU, Dark!Loki, Dark!Reader, Dom!Loki, mentions of slavery, violence, murder and gore; torture, dystopian universe, smut, dub-con, angst, mild exhibitionism

“Where is he?” Your voice echoed through the hall like a mother’s desperate scream for her child. They found him. Hysteria spread in your chest like a parasite, your feeble attempts to swallow down your worry for the man you loved all but fruitless. Your green cape—a homage to Loki—fluttered behind you like you were riding a tidal wave ready to destroy everything in its path. Perhaps you were. Perhaps today was the day you were going to hold the people who wronged him accountable for it and perhaps soon, you would finally hold each other again.

His death had ruined you. Day in and out, Frigga would find you crying in the library grieving the love of your life all the while Thor undid the damage they blamed on Loki, hiding in the very same spot he had spent most of his time in to read in peace, knowing that his tactless brother would hardly seek out a place of pure knowledge and wisdom.

The Queen knew better than to tell. Heads would roll if the kingdom found out about your tears, regardless of how inseparable Loki and you had always been. No one but him had ever seen you cry and you took pride in keeping it that way.

As of right now, your concern and anger overwhelmed the numbing sadness. Had you not overheard the einherjars’ heated conversation about the lost prince having returned from the dead and wreaking havoc somewhere you could not be a part of it, you might have never learned that Loki was alive until they brought him back and… and what?

Something was wrong, you could feel it in the very core of your being. Clenching your fists, you barged further into the throne room unannounced, ignoring the weak protests of the guards. Each of your steps was confident, calculated—even though there was a part of you that was on the verge of tears.

“Amnerys…” Thor spoke your name as if it belonged to a child caught with its hand in the cookie jar.

“Where is he, Thor?!” You spat through gritted teeth, narrowing your blue eyes at him.

The God of Thunder took a deep breath. “He is on Earth.”

“Midgard? What is he doing on Midgard?”

“Heimdall witnessed him entering the realm through a portal and slaughtering innocents. He means to rule the mortals as their king.” Odin said. Your heart skipped a beat. Loki… your sweet, loving, caring, perceptive and mischievous Loki, your mirror…

“This is not right. Loki would not… not like this.”

“It matters not,” Odin continued unfazed, “Thor will be sent to Midgard to put an end to his childish schemes and he will face trial for the damage and chaos he has caused across Yggdrasil.” No, he will not. You glared at him. Had you treated him differently, he would never have been tempted to throw a foreign realm into an absolute monarchy in the first place.

“I demand to come with him.”

“You, Amnerys? You wish to accompany Thor to Earth?” Incredulousness swung in Odin’s voice, his white eyebrows raised ever so slightly. He clenched his spear when you stood your ground, lifting your chin as if nothing was about to stop you—and nothing was, as a matter of fact.

“You know who he was to me. This is the least you owe me, your majesty.”

~*~

Odin knew. He knew you were not to mess with and he knew that it was solely Loki’s death that had kept you at bay. He would never admit it but your intelligence intimidated him. You could be dangerous if only you wanted to. Odin had learned during your early childhood already that keeping you close to the palace meant to remain safer than banishing you to a foreign realm where you would plot revenge until he fell. An eye for an eye. You would only ever treat the people who wronged you like that.

Dark magic was still sizzling in your blood when the clouds spat you both out and sent you flying through the crisp air, right until Thor slung his arm around your waist and brought his hammer down into utter nothingness, enveloped by heavy rainclouds and blinding lightning bolts in the distance.

You hit the roof of an aeroplane or something of the like. Mortal technology was beyond your comprehension, for neither Loki nor you required a machine to fly if you could simply transform into a bird and take to the skies.

“Don’t back down now, hammer boy.” You yelled across the stormy wind. Thor shot you a meaningful look, even more so when the hatch opened and you both jumped.

Loki. His eyes widened when his brother marched towards him like a bilgesnipe all the while an invisible force appeared to rip your heart right out of your chest only to mend it with the soft hands of relief. Loki’s gaze met yours, blue locking with blue and your souls intertwining like eager fingers.

Thor jumped and you followed, leaving the dumbfounded mortals behind.

Your digits were tingling with seidr as you landed on the cliff, your nails digging into the relentless rock to your feet. Thor was nowhere to be seen, not until you heard his battle cry in the distant forest. Odin would have expected you to help him but that was not what you were here for. You only had eyes for him.

“Loki…” His lips parted and several painful heartbeats passed in which he observed you like the antique paintings in the palace library. Doubtfully. What was it he expected to see? Your grief had made your round face grow older and your skin even paler than it already was and yet, you were still the same woman with blue eyes and those chestnut brown hair he used to love burying his fingers in.

“Are you real?” His voice was weak, wary. Frowning, you stepped closer to him, close enough for him to reach out and touch you. Loki was frozen on the spot like an ice sculpture in the deepest winter of Jötunheim.

“What? Of course I’m real.” You never noticed the tears swimming in your eyes until you took one final step and lifted your chin to look him in the eye. You were tall, taller than the average mortal woman and still, Loki towered above you like a true king. Like the true king he used to be before Odin and Thor drove him to attempted suicide.

He looked older, and colder. Worn out. Your voice was but a mere whisper, your palm cupping his right cheek. “What happened to you?”

Loki swallowed, making you gasp when his hand wrapped around your wrist. The moment he blinked was the moment you threw yourself into his arms. Inhaling his unique scent, this delectable mixture of molten metal, ice and leather, you pressed your face against his chest with your eyes closed, bathing in his presence and his touch, both of which you had missed more than anything in all of the nine realms.

The first, desperate sob escaped your lips when he hugged you back and rested his chin on your shoulder, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“I missed you so much… I thought I had lost you forever.”

“You did not.” He replied, his lips against your chestnut hair.

“Why… why did you not contact me? Where were you?”

“Contacting you would have put you in danger. It was for the best you believed me dead.”

“Was it?” You raised your voice. “Was it really? Do not patronise me, Loki, you know very well I can hold a candle to you.”

“Yes…” He pondered. “I know that.” Silence. Uncomfortable and peaceful at the very same time, you both stood there as if there was a canyon between you, lost time you had to make up for.

“Have you got any idea how much I suffered without you?” You continued, your voice shaking.

His expression hardened. “Did Odin harm you?”

“No. No, he wouldn’t dare lay a finger on me. I was mourning, Loki. When you died… a part of me died with you and now… now I feel like it is coming back to me.”

His blue eyes locked with yours. “Join me.”

“W-what? Loki… I came to take you home with me.”

The God of Mischief shook his head bitterly. “Asgard was never truly my home, now was it?”

“It’s the place you grew up in, the place you know better than any other… the place where you met me. Is that not enough? Odin will not live forever. We will be free, Loki.”

“Yes,” he breathed hoarsely, “We will be free. With this.” Seidr tickled his palm, enveloping his hand in a beam of green light to reveal the sceptre.

“He will have me executed for this—you know this.”

“But you don’t want this. Midgard… why would you want to rule the mortals?”

Loki did not respond and yet his glance spoke volumes. Something is wrong, I can feel it.

“Why won’t you tell me?” You chirped, hot tears worsening your sight once more. If your cheeks were wet and reddened, you never noticed. Then, his expression hardened once more.

“But I am. This is it, my sweet Amnerys, my triumph. I will rule, I will be powerful and I will prove myself a worthy king. Is this not what we always dreamed of as children?”

“It is. Loki, it is… but…” But what? He was back. Loki was alive and you could not care less about the mortals’ fate if only he would never leave your side again. Loki was your soulmate and you were his.

This was wrong. You knew it was wrong and yet… the urge to give yourself to him rose with every single heartbeat.

“Join me.” He repeated. A disarming smirk played on his lips, even though it did not quite reach his eyes. “Be my queen.”

You gasped for air, your hesitation dissolving like moist fog in a spring forest. By the time Thor returned with the mortal wrapped in metal, you had gone.

~*~

5 years later

Loki chuckled at the words he himself had written, his fingers entangled with yours and his thumb stroking the back of your hand. Propping his chin up with his free hand, he watched the hilarious play unfold on the small stage he’d had built. The actors were sweating, yet a look into their terrified and helpless eyes proved it was not the warm stage light increasing their body temperature.

Loki had executed three actors over the past week because they had failed to please him and play their part convincingly. Naturally, they had all played the parts of Thor, albeit a humiliated and weak version of the God of Thunder who was currently in exile.

You still remembered the day of victory like it was yesterday, the adrenaline and the rush of power coursing through your veins like liquid fire. The Chitauri had overpowered the Avengers almost too soon for your entertainment. A few of them, Thor, the redhead Natasha Romanoff and the green beast they called the Hulk remained alive, plotting revenge and assassinations.

Not one month went by in which Loki and you did not publically execute a hitman or a hitwoman, and yet their feeble attempts to murder their king and queen were all but pathetic. Only the fewest made it past the heavily guarded entrance doors of what used to be Stark Tower and now posed as a striking palace you called your new home. Midgard was not so bad, after all.

Terrorising its people was quite fun, actually and thanks to Loki’s sceptre, getting them to bend to your will was not only fun but way too easy and convenient. The God of Mischief had soon gotten rid of the leaders the mortals called their would-be queens, kings and presidents anyway. Those who had resisted were now rotting away several feet below the earth.

Oh yes, the sceptre was truly a most marvellous object. You fancied a foot massage? The sceptre would convince the helpless mortal in charge of gardening the roof terrace. You wished for a special food delivery? Anything was possible with the mind stone. They were so easy to manipulate, so easy to control and undermine, to step on like a boot would step on an ant. It was fun. Nothing less did those petty and ignorant mortals deserve after polluting their own planet to the point of death and destruction. They were paying the price for it now.

In your youth, years and years had gone by on Asgard where you would study the powerful stones until you knew all of its secrets. The Tesseract was gone—Loki had failed to tell you whom he had given it to after the successful invasion of the Chitauri, nonetheless, as long as you still had the sceptre, you were not going to complain. It felt like the mind stone was connecting you two, wrapping a steel rope around your love for one another. Love which you never failed to act on at any given opportunity, for your days were mainly spent cuddling and, quite frankly, fucking on every possible surface of Stark Tower, having luxurious dinners and Loki sending terrified mortals to buy you expensive gifts and jewellery.

The humans feared you and unlike what you had expected from yourself, you were enjoying it. You were bathing in their terror, their anxiety and their tears, even their blood—metaphorically speaking—especially after Loki put you in charge of labour distribution.

What was the play about again? Snapping yourself out of your trance, you sighed, even more so because Loki’s hand had discreetly disappeared under your dress under the table, his thumb caressing your clit. There was no need for underwear here, after all.

“He is positively the most unenthusiastic Thor of the whole week.” You choked out when he slipped two fingers inside of your warmth, his free hand coming up to stroke your pale arm. “He is boring me.”

“Is he now? I believe the reason for your boredom is that I have not yet sentenced him to death. He is rather delightful. Look at how much he is shaking.” He chuckled. “He is trying so hard to appear devoted. He will live, for now.”

A moan escaped your lips when he curled his fingers inside of you, repeatedly stroking your g-spot. Loki chuckled once more. “Oh, what is it, my sweet Amnerys? Will you come for me? Will you come undone before all these people?”

Slaves were positioned to either side of the long table. If they knew what Loki was doing to you right now, they’d do well to keep their mouths shut and pretend they did not notice and the actors on stage were too caught up in their own panic to realise. Whyever not? You moaned once more. No one would know and if there was something Loki wanted, then he would get it anyway. That included your orgasms.

“I… I will…” You whispered, blood biting at your pale cheeks. He raised his eyebrows slightly, a mischievous smirk growing on his lips. His thumb applied more pressure, making you throw your head back into the cushioned backrest of your throne. By the time you let go and let pleasure consume you, Loki had lost all interest in the play. His blue eyes were fixed on you and your sweet whimpers, his heart pounding fast in his chest upon realising one too many times that you belonged to him.

“My queen…” He purred, helping you ride out your orgasm all the while you attempted, miserably, to keep a straight face. It was then the slaves in the room began to clap and the actors on stage bowed, relieved it was over.

“You are dismissed. Get out of my sight.” Loki barked. You giggled at the way they almost fell off the stage, hurrying to get away from you two.

“They are like lambs,” you remarked, still panting. “Like innocent lambs and we’re the wolves.”

“Hmm… lamb sounds like an excellent idea for dinner, would you not agree?” He hooked his index finger under your chin, forcing you to look up at him—not that you had wanted to look away anyway. The remaining mortals in the room knew better than to wait for an order. Without a word, they rushed towards the kitchen to prepare the meal—regardless of how they would acquire a lamb.

Then, finally, Loki’s hand retreated from under your dress, his digits coated with your juices. Your lips parted when he brought them to your mouth, having you suck them clean which you did with no hesitation.

“I have to leave New York for a few days tomorrow.” He said quietly, his gaze fixed on your lips wrapped around his fingers. You released him with a silent smack to pout.

“Without me?”

“Yes, my love. There have been concerning reports of riots in New Jersey. Now we cannot have that, can we?”

“No… of course not.”

“I shall be back soon. You will rule this meagre place just fine without me until I return. You know how to put the mortals in their place, no?”

You giggled again. “I do.”

“That is my queen. I trust you, my sweet Amnerys.”

~*~

I trust you, my sweet Amnerys. You smiled. You were the only one in the nine realms that the infamous God of Mischief trusted. Even a few days without him would be hell. You would handle the kingdom well, there was no doubt about that and yet… you already longed for him to hold you in his arms again. Throwing back the satin green covers of the huge king-size bed the two of you slept in, you climbed off the soft mattress all but naked, your smile widening when your blue eyes fell on the golden fountain pen Loki had gifted you, along with a bouquet of blue roses, your favourite flowers—one of his first gifts, back on Asgard when you were only five-hundred years old, right before you had run off like children to practice magic with Frigga. So young, so naïve, so in love.

Loki had always been so gentle, so considerate… your smile faded. He had changed though, had he not? His behaviour towards you was no different in the slightest bit, but even though he radiated dominance like a radioactive gemstone, you wondered why it was only now you realised how cruel he had become. The humans were shivering with fear when they spoke to him, barely able to kneel properly for their trembling robbed them of their balance. And what about you? Were you not inflicting the same amount of pain and suffering?

You scoffed. Where were these thoughts coming from? This was ridiculous, right? You were a queen, Loki’s queen, and you were together and happy. It mattered not if the mortals lived in agony for this cause… only it did.

Your lips parted. When was the last time Loki and you had spent a peaceful day together outside, without anyone attempting to assassinate you? Without anyone quivering in fear of what might happen to them if they displeased you?

When… when had you become like that? You swallowed thickly. Loki had left earlier this morning. You were not going to sulk away in his absence, now were you? He had left you in charge for a reason and you would make him proud.

“Y-your majesty?” It was one of the maids, standing in the doorframe like she was about to be sacrificed to the Norns and hence ripping you out of your thoughts with brute force, making you drop the fountain pen back on the desk and spin around.

“Don’t you know how to knock, you silly girl?”

“I… I did, your majesty.”

“What is it?” You barked.

“There… there has been a brawl on the street right in front of the Tower. The guards have told me that two… two men were fighting over a stolen loaf of bread.”

You rolled your eyes. Well, theft was a crime and it was going to have to be dealt with.

“I am to let you know, I wasn’t going to let them in just in case you were not decent yet… which… which you aren’t, so I was…”

“Get me my morning robes,” you cut her off. “I shall get freshened up and meet the culprits in the throne room.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The maid nodded and hurried away quickly but even the hot shower you took before she returned did not succeed in washing away the seeds of doubt in your mind. Something was wrong. It was the very same thought you had harboured back when you had first found Loki again after his attempted suicide. It felt like ages away now and yet… you remembered your concerns like they’d been keeping you awake only yesterday.

When you entered the throne room an hour later, the two men were quivering, one of them crying even and the fight they had had over a mere loaf of bread—pathetic—all but forgotten. You tilted your head as you raised your eyebrows and made yourself comfortable on Loki’s throne.

“Well?” You spat.

“My q-queen, w-we are so sorry. I-I just… I need to f-feed my family. We have been living in p-poverty after K-King L-L-Loki shut down m-my b-business. T-the oil factory?”

“The oil factory that kept polluting the seas, you mean? Killing the fish, contaminating all of your drinking water, making you all die even faster?” You scoffed. “Perhaps now you know what the fish must have felt like.”

“N-no, I-I mean… y-yes. I… r-realise my mistake but my… my family, they had nothing to do with it. I need to f-feed them. My w-wife s-suffers from severe social anxiety, she is unable to work. O-our children… we are going to starve to death. W-we… I would have paid for the loaf if only I could have, all I want is to k-keep my f-family alive!” His last words were swallowed by pathetic sobs. The urge within you to roll your eyes grew with every passing second and yet, for some peculiar reason and for the first time in years, you felt your heart clench with something you almost did not recognise anymore. Compassion.

This man had not stolen out of spite or malice. He had stolen out of desperation. The other man, you presumed, must have been the vendor then. He too now feared for the worst for causing a scene. The punishment for theft was execution by dismemberment. Fingers first, arms next, lastly the head. It was a surprisingly effective way to keep the robbery rate at a minimum.

“W-Will I… will you have me killed, my queen?”

You took a deep breath. Whatever it was that overcame you, Loki would not be pleased. But this man had not truly committed a crime, now had he? It was a loaf of bread, for Heaven’s sake!

“No. Now get out of my sight and you,” you pointed at another maid, “have that bread replaced for the vendor.”

One of the maids had once called you “ruthless” and “dangerous”. Loki had had her executed for her disrespectful behaviour and gossiping behind your back. As of today, however, you were wondering if she was right. The maid who had caught you off guard earlier this morning, she used to be a Mathematics student, you knew that from when you had taken her belongings back at her arrival to see if she had anything you liked. She did, as a matter of fact. A beautiful emerald stone necklace reminding you of Loki’s colours. You had barely worn it since, it was more the principle of being able to simply take what you wanted. Not to mention what the mortals were to expect if they resisted you. As if on cue, your seidr tickled your fingertips, once more reminding you of Loki.

Tricks and pranks you had always enjoyed together but this? You did not want to give up the life you had, did not want to give up Loki because what was done was done. He ruled Midgard now, with you by his side, you could not have one thing without the other.

But when… when exactly had you begun to doubt that a kingdom drowning in blood, tears and hard labour was not what you wanted after all? After everything Loki had gone through? He deserved happiness, he deserved to rule but not… not like this.

You growled. “Run me a bath.” You ordered, avoiding looking at your shivering maid.

“Y-yes, o-of course, Your Majesty. Would you like a bath bomb, too? I… I had them brought to the Tower for your baths. They are with… with lemon tea, your favourite scent.”

Really? You meant to say. Instead, you froze her in place with your scrutinising gaze. Your expression uncontrollably softened when you met her terrified and tear-stricken eyes. “Thank you.”

The maid’s eyes widened. “O-Oh! Y-You’re welcome, my queen. I… I will also prepare your favourite wine for you.”

Well… She doesn’t do this because she likes you or respects you, a reproachful voice in your head whispered. She does it because she’s afraid that you will kill her if she so much as breathes in your direction at the wrong moment.

~*~

Loki had made sure to have all of your personal belongings, along with your beloved fountain pen, brought to Asgard. Stacked away, somewhere in this gorgeous bedroom, were your old books too. Books that you had studied so intently and so often that they were on the verge of falling apart. Most of them were about the Infinity Stones and their creation.

You could not shake off the feeling that your subconscious was trying to tell you something—yet all you knew was that the answer was hidden in between the lines of your books. It had to be. Seeds of doubt had clouded your mind after Loki had gone, alas once he returned… you had felt more powerful than ever.

And now, something was keeping you down like a heavy blanket of snow on Jötunheim.

“One of the maids was caught snooping around in our bedroom last night, did you know?” Loki said casually when he entered the room, his armour melting off of his body to reveal a pale but well-defined body. Distracted, you blinked, losing all focus on your books.

“Which one?”

“You know the girl with the brown hair who spends most of her time in the kitchen. Only the Norns know what she is doing in there when it is not meal time.” He began to smirk, bending down to kiss you gently.

“Would you like to have her?”

You grinned. “With pleasure. I don’t wish to kill her though.” You replied. Loki frowned. “She is one of our best cooks! Let us torture her a little and punish her for invading our privacy like that. If she has not learned her mistake by then, we can still kill her.”

Loki sighed. “Well then. As you wish, my queen. Now come to bed. I wish to feel myself inside of you.”

~*~

You laughed, hysterically almost, when the maid screamed. Your fingertips were tingling with seidr, one of your hands clutching Loki’s sceptre. Pain distorted the girl’s face as she cowered on the ground before you, trembling to the point she would be unable to stand on her own accord. Her eyes were glowing blue, the sceptre’s influence clouding her mind.

Power rushed through your veins, from the mind stone into your arm and through your entire body, making you feel invincible.

Loki chuckled behind you. If you kept going for much longer, the nosey maid would die after all. But oh, playing with the sceptre was just too much fun.

“Go on. Hold your arm into the flames.” You commanded, nodding your head over to the chimney. The fire was crackling peacefully, the warmth spreading all over the throne room. The maid’s lower lip, chewed on to the point it was bleeding, was shaking. You sincerely hoped there was still a part of her knowing what was going on, knowing what she was being forced to do and yet, without any hesitation, she crawled over to the fireplace, stretched out her left hand and held it straight into the flames.

Her ear-piercing screams echoed through the room like sharp needles stabbing your skin and from the corner of your eye, you could see the other slaves in the room swallowing thickly, forced to watch the horror unfolding before their eyes as a lesson that would surely not fail its impact.

“See… who plays with fire will likely burn themselves.” You spat through gritted teeth, albeit with a dangerously sweet voice. Then, before she could utter a single word, you knocked her out, hitting her hard on the head with the blunt end of the sceptre.

She would not need any more mind control when she woke up and yet, the moment the sceptre struck her, a painful sting tore through you, her physical agony turning into mental torment for you. For just a brief moment, you saw a young, innocent girl who had been robbed of her entire life to serve you and Loki as a mindless slave to be punished severely if she dared to step out of line.

You blinked, stumbling back a few steps to chase away the atrocious feeling in your guts, crashing straight into Loki. He frowned, steadying you, and took the sceptre from your hand in response. The moment it left your grasp, the sensation grew even worse. What was wrong with you?

“Are you quite alright, my love?” Loki whispered, quiet enough only for you to hear it. You nodded, taking a deep breath.

“I feel a little dizzy, is all. Let me go lie down for a bit—and tell the maid to prepare us supper with salmon when she awakes.”

The God of Mischief was still frowning by the time you fled from the throne room and retreated to your shared chambers.

Heavens, what in the nine realms was going on? Staggering over to the window, you gaped outside to take in the beautiful skyline of New York City and rubbed your eyes. It almost felt like you had been seeing the world in black and white and, for some dubious and peculiar reason, the colours were now slowly pouring back into your perception. It scared you.

You were not surprised when Loki entered the bedroom not soon after you had stormed out, finding you biting your nails nervously—which was something you had never down before.

“Perhaps you should tell her about supper yourself. She is even more terrified of you than she is of me, my queen.” He chuckled, stroking over your hair as he approached you. When you only sighed with hesitation sparkling in your eyes, Loki’s lips parted.

“You are unwell.”

“I’m fine, I…”

“You are not. Should I call for a healer?”

“They’re called doctors here.” You replied weakly.

“I do not care what they call them as long as one of them helps you, my love. I will not have you suffer.”

“Perhaps it is my cycle, Loki. I am fine. Let us—“

There was a sudden tumult in the throne room that interrupted you both. Loud gasps and even screams became audible with a start, almost as if a wave of relief washed over the entire staff… well, your slaves.

“Sire! Sire! Help!” Alarmed, the both of you exchanged a look. Your heart sank to your boots when you hurried back into the throne room and were greeted by an assassination commando.

“Loki. Amnerys. It’s Game Over. Stand down.” Red dots in your field of vision blinded you when you came to a halt, laser pointers, so you figured, belonging to heavy machine guns aimed directly at you two and before you… Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner and, much to your surprise, Thor.

“Chloe… take the elevator downstairs, someone will be waiting for you there. And take all the others with you.” Loki glared at her. It was the maid Thor had addressed and if looks could kill, the poor girl would have dropped dead this instant. You should have killed the stupid wench after all. She had been spying on you all along, catching glimpses of moments where you would be unprepared… Both Loki and you growled.

“Thor… what a lovely surprise.” The God of Mischief announced then, arrogantly lifting his chin. “Have you at last decided to see for yourself what I have done to your precious Earth? Is it not better to keep the humans under control like this, to keep them from destroying their own planet?”

“By enslaving them and working them to death? I don’t think so, Loki. This is madness.”

“Perhaps. But so is you coming here.” His expression hardened. “You have signed your death warrant, brother.”

“Not this time. Our father—“

“Your father!” Loki spat.

“We did not want to do this, Loki. But you left us no choice. You must be stopped. Both of you.”

“Skip the reunion speech, Thor…” Natasha muttered. You snarled at her all the while holding on to Loki’s arm. What did he mean by no choice? What had he planned?

With your heart in your mouth, you soon found your seidr tickling your fingertips, ready to fling them all straight into the nearby wall to listen with delight how several of their bones would break in the process.

When you turned your head back to Loki, he gave you a barely visible nod. It was in the very moment you sent both Natasha and Bruce flying through the throne room with but a flick of your hand that Thor called for his beloved hammer—only it was nothing like you remembered it anymore. It was enveloped in orange fire, its flames licking high up into the air, ready to devour. Blood Orange. There was only one being in this universe who was able to create such indestructible and powerful flames—Raskk, the highest fire demon from Muspelheim.

If Thor intended to use his hammer against Loki… as a Frost Giant, he would be dead before it dawned. Surely, your heart had now stopped beating altogether.

“Loki…”

The God of Mischief growled in response. His hand found yours, fingers entangling and before you knew it, he materialised the sceptre just in time to catch his brother off guard. The both of you teleported.

Knowing how much harm Raskk’s fire was able to do to your husband and king, something inside of you snapped. If they found him again… they would kill him for sure.

You felt broken and mended at the very same time. Like a thread cut in two with a pair of sharp scissors, your vision cleared to finally reveal all the colours drained from your eyesight for so long. Breathing heavily, you gasped for air in a desperate attempt to fight off a panic attack.

“Amnerys…” Loki caught you in his arms before your shaking knees hit the floor of the shabby motel he had brought you to, an inconspicuous place you had discovered a while back on the hunt for electricians to maintain what used to be Stark Tower. Loki had done well to remember the tacky place in the suburbs. You would be safe here until you could come up with a plan.

The truth was, Thor’s hammer, strengthened by Raskk’s blood orange fire, had caught you both off guard. Loki had expected any form of resistance from his brother—not, however, that he would try and end his life in such a brutal and excruciating way.

Your fear for Loki’s life… it had broken the influence of the sceptre. You saw it so clearly now… how it had been the weapon all along, dragging you down a rabbit hole so dark it had blinded you.

“I… I…” Unable to speak, you allowed him to scoop you up into his arms like a bride. Your thoughts were too tangled up to follow the harsh commands he barked at the poor receptionist behind the desk in the foyer, only dared to whimper once he had closed the door behind you.

He put you back on your feet, ensuring you would not simply drop like a marionette. “Amnerys, speak to me. Are you in pain?”

It took you another moment to pull yourself together. With a deep shaky breath, you locked your eyes with his.

“What have we done?” You whispered, your lower lip shaking. “Loki, what have we done…”

“What?”

“What have we done… the slavery, the torture, the murder… Loki… we turned Midgard into another Helheim.”

“Whatever are you talking about?”

“Don’t you see? It’s… the sceptre. It’s been the sceptre all along… it… it brainwashed us like puppets!”

“You are confused.”

“I am not. Loki, listen to me, please!”

He shushed you, pressing you against his chest. With his heartbeat against your cheek, you could not help but relax into his arms, your rapid breathing calming down again—if only a little.

“We are safe here. Relax, my queen.” His lips found your neck, planting feather-light kisses on your sensitive skin in an attempt to distract you further. His mouth on you did not fail its effect. Your eyes fell shut with a sigh as you went limp in his arms, albeit reluctant to allow him to seduce you now of all times.

“Loki… w-we shouldn’t… not now… we have to… Raskk’s fire, we… you h-have to get rid of the sceptre. Thor will listen to reason once he learns—“ You were cut off by his tongue demanding entrance into your mouth, forcing you into a kiss that stole away your breath. Loki pushed you down on the hard mattress of the motel room, one of his hands capturing your wrists to pin them down above your head, rendering you completely helpless.

His sheer strength overwhelmed you and despite your Asgardian blood, you were no match to Loki… at least not when he had you on the brink of utter submission and with pleasure coursing through your blood, clouding your mind as your body kept pleading for more and more of his pampering.

“Loki… please. Loki, listen. We have to… this isn’t right… Thor… P-please… get rid of the s-sceptre, you’ll see it’s…”

“Amnerys, stop it!” He growled with a start. His dark and chastising glare sent both fear and excitement through your veins. “What is it with your obsession with the sceptre? It is making us powerful, is it not? You, my dear, are the one with the insatiable interest in the Infinity Stones and their workings.”

“I was wrong… Loki, I was wrong, we were wrong, I…” You groaned when his digits found the hem of your dress and pushed it up your pale thighs to give himself access to your wet folds, your whole body shivering the moment his fingertips brushed against your lips and finally, parted them to reveal your throbbing clit to his greedy eyes.

“L-Loki… Loki, l-listen to me…”

Part of you wanted him to stop, to talk to him rationally but… oh… it just felt too good. Your blue eyes rolled to the back of your head, your nails digging into his naked back. You hadn’t even noticed him removing most of his clothes.

“Oh, I am listening. I will be listening to your moans and whimpers as you come undone for me, my sweet Amnerys.” He paused, indeed eliciting a defeated whine from you. “Tell me you want me inside of you.” He whispered into your ear, sending pleasant shivers up and down your spine.

You swallowed thickly. You did. Your quim was aching to be filled by him, to have him mark you with his Jötun seed and make you his like he had done so often in the past and yet… was now really the time for pleasure? Now that your husband’s life was at stake? Now that you had realised the harm you had done to this planet, to its people? You were monsters. You had become exactly what Loki had feared to turn into when he had first learned about his true heritage.

Loki made you gasp for air when he slipped two of his long fingers inside of you, curling them at your g-spot and making your back arch.

“Tell me.” He spat through gritted teeth. He was in a frenzy—and you were unable to shake off just how much you loved his dominant side, this side he had developed the very moment Frigga had handed him Gungnir. You were lost. Lost in his embrace, lost in his desire, lost in his love for you.

“I do… I always do…”

He chuckled, content with your response. Freeing himself from his remaining armour with his seidr, he pushed your legs apart meeting only little resistance and positioned himself at your entrance. A moan escaped your lips when you felt his rock-hard cock press against your slick opening, the red tip leaking pre-cum already.

He never let go of your wrists, even when he sheathed himself deep inside of you with but one firm thrust, watching with an animalistic growl how you threw your head back in pure bliss, welcoming him in. His free hand was all over your pale skin, exploring every inch of your tall body.

Your walls clenched around him at once, moulding around him perfectly and unwilling to let go of him again, no, willing him even deeper when he retreated only to plunge back in and claim you thoroughly, fucking you with a steady but firm rhythm stealing not only your breath but all of your senses.

Your mind drifted away from how Loki was still under the sceptre’s control and how it made him more ruthless, more dangerous and more villainous. His lips found yours again to keep you from talking, his strokes getting more and more frantic.

You moaned when his free hand found your clit, massaging it swiftly and applying just enough pressure to send you flying. You tightened around him fast, with his name on your lips like a prayer.

Again and again, his length grazed all of your secret pleasure spots, some of them hidden deep inside of your quim. Loki moved the way he knew he would throw himself off of this delectable cliff of pleasure with you and when you came undone, rhythmically clenching around him and milking him for all he was worth, you instantly triggered his own release.

With but a few more eager thrusts, he emptied himself inside of you, coating your walls with his warm seed of which he shot rope after rope into you. He stilled, his length throbbing hotly inside your cunt as he filled you up.

No less than ten seconds passed, seconds in which you were still pulsing around him, failing to come down from your high and the pleasure and the love you felt for this man as it overwhelmed you once more, even more so when he collapsed on top of you and you inhaled his intoxicating scent.

Another ten seconds and you could Thor’s voice bellow through the lobby. You gasped.

“I shielded this place. The motel owner must have told them. I will tear him apart.” Loki growled and jumped out of bed. Your legs were still shaking from your orgasm, his warm seed dribbling out of you and running down your inner thighs when you stood to follow, enveloping yourself with seidr to get dressed much like Loki had done and followed him—only to stop dead in your tracks when ice-cold realisation hit you. You had only just arrived. There was no way the motel owner had been able to alert the Avengers this fast, let alone reach them when they were out and about to hunt you down.

Your lips parted. “They’re after the sceptre. It’s not the owner, Loki, they’re tracking the sceptre! It must be just like the Tesseract, the stone gives off traceable energies.” And the only reason they had not done so before was proper preparation. And a risky alliance—with Raskk.

The God of Mischief slowed down and glanced at you from the corner of his eye but did not halt. Too angry were his steps leading him back towards the lobby, ready to murder the receptionist despite the unusual alliance Thor had formed with one of Muspelheim’s most dangerous fire demons.

“Loki, stop! Listen to me!” Finally, he obeyed albeit turned around so slowly you feared he might pounce on you like a wild wolf at any moment. “Please. Leave the motel owner alone. We have to get out of here, we…” You gasped once more, your feeble attempt to calm yourself with deep breaths failing miserably. “Leave the sceptre behind.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Leave it behind! Else we have to find a way off-world, Loki. Listen to me, I will not risk you dying at the hand of Raskk’s fire just because you are too keen on satisfying your enormous ego!” You shrieked, clenching your fists so hard your knuckles turned white. Your heart was pounding in your chest so loud you feared his words would be drowned by the blood ringing in your ears.

Loki’s nostrils flared. “I am not leaving our kingdom behind for Thor of all people to overthrow it!”

“Then give me the sceptre!”

“No!” The word was so loud it echoed through the entire dimly-lit hallway, without a doubt giving away your location and you realised in that very moment that he was not going to relent. The sceptre’s influence kept its steel grip on him like an unescapable prison.

Tears formed in your eyes when you swallowed, locking your eyes with his—you had never noticed how the blue colour of his irises had intensified to the point of utter mind control. Whoever was behind this… they would pay for it but for now… for now, you had to save Loki’s life.

“Then go. Take it and leave. I will find you.”

“What?”

“I am going to distract them. Go. You cannot go near Thor’s hammer.” Loki hesitated. His thin lips parted once he understood you meant to give yourself up in order for him to escape.

“You are not leaving my side.”

“Do not argue with me, Loki. You know they will not kill me.”

“No,” he growled, “worse. They will torture you.”

You scoffed. “Do you truly believe that?”

A young man stumbled out of one of the motel rooms, a pathetic whimper escaping his lips when he spotted you both standing in the hallway, and legging it instantly.

“Thor has always liked me, Loki—he knows how much I love you and why I did this.”

“If he is prepared to kill me in the cruellest way possible, what makes you think he will not make you suffer a similar fate?”

“They’re up here! Up here! Avengers! Help!” Loki gritted his teeth. With but one swift hand movement, he shot an energy blast from the sceptre into the panicking young man’s direction. It hit the railing of the stairs with an ear-piercing crack, sending pieces of sharp wood flying through the hallway. Luckily, only one of them hit the man in the thigh, who, screaming in surprise more than agony, almost fell down the carpeted stairs and straight into the Avengers’ arms—one of which had turned into a giant green rage monster.

Loki growled once more when you attempted to push past him, his free hand slipping around your waist. He pressed you close against his strong body in an attempt to teleport you both to safety once more, heeding your advice even if he would never let go of the sceptre after everything it had done for him. You spun around, cupping his face in your hands and kissed him hard.

“Go. Do you not trust your queen?”

His lips parted and he scowled. He had no need for a reply, for he did. He trusted you with his life and by the time the Avengers finally reached you with their weapons raised, only you were left standing there, your fingers tingling with seidr urging to be released to help you survive.

Thor stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you, his mortal companions following his actions suit. Your gaze found his glowing hammer spitting Raskk’s fire.

“Amnerys?”

“Hulk? Any moment now.” Widow said surprisingly calm.

“Don’t. Please. I am unarmed.” Lifting both of your hands to prove your intentions, you met Thor’s puzzled expression.

“Where is Loki?” The redhead’s voice was harsh, her glare deadly. You understood now why she was one of Earth’s fiercest assassins and yet, she did little to intimidate you.

“Gone,” you spat in response, “for now. I know where he went. But… but first… we need to talk.”

~*~

Thor buried his hands in his face. “So what you are saying is that this whole time Loki has been under the influence of the sceptre?”

You nodded, shifting on your seat. The Avengers’ hideout was filthy, hidden away in an alley you would have never even set a foot in under different circumstances.

“I have been to. That is why… by the Norns, all those people we killed… all those innocents we tortured… I cannot believe what I have done.” Looking up, your expression hardened with a start. “Loki and I have always been mischievous, you know that. But neither of us would ever have intentionally hurt anyone.”

“It’s kind of hard to believe that, you know.” The Black Widow gave you an incredulous look.

“I agree. What if this is a trick? What if it’s a trap?” Bruce whispered. He was himself again, wearing no more than a pair of ripped jeans that were way too big on him and appeared to swallow up his mortal body whole, making him look even more fragile and meagre than the humans already were. You rolled your eyes. Of course they would not trust you… but then again, you understood. You would not have trusted yourself either, not after everything you had done.

Thor lifted his chin and gave you a warning look. “I have known Amnerys my whole life. She loves Loki, she would do anything for him. I have Raskk’s demon fire—if she is luring us into a trap, my brother will not live long enough to see daylight tomorrow. She knows that… don’t you, Amnerys?”

You swallowed. All of a sudden, all you could muster was a weak “Yes”. Your heart was beating like a steam hammer, your instincts screaming at you to either run or kill. You were with your greatest enemies after all. You were with the very people eager to send your husband to Valhalla, sitting at the same table and drinking tea that might as well have been poisoned.

“If what you are saying is true… then how did you break the sceptre’s influence?” Bruce asked. And it was a good question, one you did not quite know the answer to yourself.

“I am not sure,” you responded, “I had… these strange moments of clarity, a whispering voice in my head telling me to practice caution but once…” You paused, pondering. “Loki was gone. He travelled to New Jersey and he took the sceptre with him, that was the first time I felt these… all these doubts about… about all this.” You motioned around yourself, shame and remorse once more rolling over you like a tidal wave.

“And then?” Bruce probed.

You looked up, your blue eyes once more falling on his oversized jeans. You frowned. “You. I think it was you. All I could think about was how Loki’s life is in danger, how scared I am to lose him… I think this ultimately overwhelmed the power of the mind stone.”

“You know about the Infinity Stones then?”

“Better than you think.”

“What I still don’t understand is what you’re expecting from us now, Amnerys.” Natasha tossed in. “Loki is a criminal and so are you. He will be arrested once we get his hands on him… until Thor can take him back to Asgard, at least.”

Your eyes flew in Thor’s direction. “Odin will have him executed.”

“Not if my mother gets a say in it.”

“You truly believe Frigga will be able to stop him? Face it, Thor, Odin has been looking for an excuse to get rid of him ever since Loki found out about his true heritage. Perhaps he knew. Perhaps he knew that he was still alive somewhere and yet he chose to feign grief.”

Thor opened his mouth to contradict. You cut him off before he could even take a breath.

“Swear to me on your life that no harm will come to him.”

The God of Thunder looked up, meeting your stern gaze with all but resignation and guilt. “Amnerys… I… I cannot swear. I shall speak to Mother and Father, that is all I can promise you to do. You are coming home with us, are you not?”

“Where Loki goes, I go.” It was one of the most sincere truths you had ever spoken.

“So here is what we will do then. We’ll gather the team and you will lead us to Loki, like you promised, we capture him, Thor gets him off-planet. That sounds simple enough. It shouldn’t be too difficult to overpower him now that Min-… Amy…? I’m sorry, what was your name again?” Bruce raised his eyebrows and pointed a finger at you, making you roll your eyes in response.

“Amnerys. My name is Amnerys. Out of mere curiosity… why do you not track the sceptre down again?”

“We could do that eventually but it requires a lot of power. You see, these wires connecting to the…“

“Don’t,” you interrupted, “I have no idea what you are talking about, Dr Banner. It’s electricity, that is all I need to know.”

“Well, yeah… what I’m trying to say is that it will take a lot of time to recharge without cutting the power in the entire city… which would make it even easier for Loki to disappear unnoticed.”

“We never expected you two to separate.”

You scoffed. “I know.” But we will not be for much longer, you added silently.

~*~

Loki was indeed where you had expected him to be. And you had a plan. Centuries ago, the fetid sewers of New York used to be a labyrinth made of beautiful caves and underground rivers—one of which led straight to a secret passageway to Asgard. Loki had discovered it one day, by accident, if anything, for he had been looking for a way to enter Helheim for minerals. Back then, you had been too young to comprehend that Loki had taken you to Midgard a while later.

“Are you sure she’s not leading us straight into an ambush?” Natasha whispered into Thor’s ear. With your heightened hearing abilities, however, she looked to the moist ground quickly when you turned around to raise an eyebrow at her—warningly.

“Trust me,” you spat, “if I had wanted to kill you, you would all be dead already.” You smirked. “Thor is very well aware of how powerful I am.”

Bruce cleared his throat. The sound, much like your voices, travelled through the long and disgusting tunnels seemingly endlessly. “I don’t like this. Where is he?”

“Keep your mouth shut and follow me. Loki’s hearing is as good as mine. And watch your step.” The mud, dirt and brown water to your feet had mixed with garbage only the Norns knew how old. You had already cast a spell to hide your sounds from unwanted ears—you just didn’t want to have to listen to the remaining Avengers expressing their concerns about your person like you were a mischief-maker with no heart or soul. You shook your head silently. They thought the same of Loki, did they not?

Your plan was simple enough. Loki and the sceptre had to be separated, for good. And the best way to do that, if not for your persuasion skills which had failed this time despite how infatuated he was with you, was for the Avengers to do the job for you.

You were not going to let them take him to be executed by Odin. In fact, you would murder them all in cold blood before they even tried.

Now one more turn to the left and then…

Loki would not dare use the sceptre in the sewers due to the underlying danger of collapse; he’d rely on his seidr and his swift fighting skills instead.

You turned around the corner and he looked up as if ripped from a deep thought. His face lit up when you approached him. He stood from his crouching position on the ground and away from the fire he had lit and which was throwing eerie shadows on the wall, and opened his arms for you to embrace him.

You did. A sigh escaped your lips the very second you wrapped your arms around his middle, pressing your face against his chest. “I’m sorry…” You whispered.

“Whatever are you sorry for, my queen?”

You glanced up, praying to the Norns that he would take the hint and see the deceit and mischief sparkling in your blue eyes when the Avengers entered one by one, their weapons aimed at the both of you.

Loki’s face fell, his soft expression transforming into a frightening rage. Not directed at you—but at the god he had called his brother for centuries. Staring daggers at Thor, his voice when he spoke was so dark you felt shivers racing up and down your spine.

“Did they hurt you?” He asked you.

“No. I’m fine, Loki.”

“Actually, she took us here.”

“What?”

His eyes met yours again and in this very moment, you wished you had worked harder on your telepathy skills. Loki had introduced you to the art only two decades back…

“I did this for us, Loki. There was no other way anymore.” You mumbled, inhaling his heavenly scent. He had to understand. He had to understand why you were doing things the way you were doing them.

Just trust me, you willed for him to hear in his mind.

But in the end, your unease betrayed your body, whatever happened next happening too fast for you to comprehend. Someone pulled you to the side and whoever it was, their grip felt like steel around your upper arm. There were shouts, screams, sounds of rage and torment, growls and pants and then… then you heard a pair of Asgardian shackles lock in place around Loki’s wrists, the sceptre clattering to the ground with an ear-piercing noise ricocheting through the cave. Just like that, the God of Mischief, eager to avoid the flames dancing on the indestructible metal of Thor’s hammer, was defeated. Or so they were led to believe.

They did not let you carry the sceptre, of course. Natasha Romanoff never took her eyes off of you on the way back to the Avengers’ secret base, wary and vigilant in fear of you turning the tables after all.

Meanwhile, you did not dare look Loki in the eyes, not until you would be alone together again, and part of you even longed to join him in the cell a man called Nick Fury had been working on for months after Loki’s and your triumph and beginning of a tyrannical reign.

“Thank you,” Thor said, observing his brother on the camera they had set up in the cell. He was sitting there on the wooden bench like a Greek statue motionlessly, staring holes into the metal walls with a blank face. There was disappointment, unease and even… even remorse clouding his flawless features like eerie fog on a gloomy day in the woods of Niflheim. “I owe you, Amnerys.”

“No, you don’t. I did not do this for you. I did it for Loki.”

“I know. I still owe you my gratitude.”

“Just remember your promise, Thor.” You only hoped he would not have to act on it anytime soon.

“I will. Good night, Amnerys.”

It isn’t Good night for me, you thought as you watched him walk off. Regardless of how well the remaining Avengers had prepared for this, their security measures were meagre, embarrassing almost. You were quite surprised they had not locked you up as well for the night after all, as a matter of fact. As of right now, the only thing keeping Loki in his cell was the threat of Raskk’s fire. Nothing, whatsoever, that would harm you any further than inflicting a second-degree burn.

The spell you cast that night to shield both Loki and yourself from the cameras was so simple you resisted the urge to laugh out loud as you snuck through the dark and scabby hallways and eventually reached Loki’s cell.

“My love…” You whispered. The Trickster looked up, glaring right through you for a second before finally meeting your blue eyes.

“Thanos…” He began.

“What?”

“His name is Thanos. He was the one who handed me the sceptre. He promised me victory and power in return for the Tesseract. He manipulated me. Tortured me.” Your lips parted. “I wish I had truly died the day I let myself fall off the Bifrost when I subjected to the pain he made me feel.”

“Oh Loki… this is not your fault, none of this is…”

He snorted, gaping at you darkly. “Are you still blaming the sceptre, my queen?”

“Loki…”

“I heard your plea in my mind… and yet you have signed my death sentence, my sweet Amnerys. Did Thor not tell you what will happen once the Bifrost is fully restored?”

“I do. I know exactly what will happen.” You replied as you unlocked the door and swiftly stepped inside. “They will be looking for us. They will tear the nine worlds apart in their search and yet they will never find us. We will be free, Loki. Just us. No thrones, no sceptres, no obligations and rules.”

Loki began to smirk, warming your heart. “We leave it all behind?”

You nodded, reaching out for him so you could teleport together. “We leave it all behind.”

And you would start by planting little seeds of doubt into his mind, seeds that you intended to grow into nothing but unconditional love.

~*~

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it! Head over to my blog to read more of my writing and to find my Kofi link! ♥

[bumbleklee]

Could you make a fic based on the song Moondust By Jaymes Young? With Xiao or Zhongli? It’s fine if you decline, I enjoyed your Lonestar fic a lot! Also, thank you in advance if you do this! ^^

after this, i decided im a monster. this is so sad, like so so sad. i don't know if this is what you had in mind but since the song is basically about learning how to live/love without someone, i went down a death route. i also went w xiao. pls enjoy (and grab a tissue)

before reading: ANGST!!! you literally die and are a ghost the entire time. mentions of injury and blood as well as self-harm and suicidal thoughts. word count is around 2.1k (under cut for length)

I'm building this house, on the moon Like a lost, astronaut Lookin' at you, like a star From a place, the world forgot And there's nothing, that I can do Except bury my love for you

Death was quick.

You know instantly that you’re dead the second you open your eyes. You can still remember the feeling of the Fatui pyro agent slicing his knife across your throat and if you think about it enough, your neck tingles. You remember falling to your knees, being laughed at, and then you saw nothing.

Well, you saw blackness.

And then when you came to, you were standing in the middle of Liyue Harbor. The world seemed duller but it was real. No one paid any mind to you, so you assumed you were a ghost.

It’s nice to still be able to watch the sun rise high above your hometown.

There’s no panic, no rush to find out what’s going on, you don’t need to. Your hands travel to your throat and the horrific wound is gone. In fact, all of the scrapes and bruises and imperfections on your body were gone. Death brings solace, you humor.

Your peaceful moment was interrupted by two frantic voices. They catch the attention of everyone in the area, including you, and you spin around quickly.

Xiao.

“Break the contract, please, Zhongli-” His voice is frazzled, filled with a sadness the living can’t understand. “I can’t live without them.”

You looked down at your left hand, heart shattering at the absence of the jade ring. Right. You were going to marry Xiao later that year. Not anymore.

A hundred thousand memories of sweet kisses and long nights flooded into your mind. They caused you to hold your breath, too many emotions crashing through your tired form. You felt like crying but couldn’t (ghosts didn’t have tears, you guessed).

You’re standing right in front of the love of your life and he can’t see you.

Maybe it’s a good thing he can’t see you because Xiao already looked wrecked. His eyes were puffy and red and his hair was disheveled. Unhealed scratches wound his arms like ribbon. You had been with Xiao for years, through the good and the bad, and never once had you ever seen him in this state.

He’s pleading still and Zhongli has an indescribable expression on his face. “I can’t,” His voice is barely a whisper, “You know I can’t.”

Xiao wails, falling to his knees. Zhongli feels his pain, you know he does, yet he won’t put him out of misery. You watch as Zhongli bends down and lifts the adeptus into his arms, swiftly walking away from the crowd. You follow ensuite and Xiao’s eyes are hazy, staring through you over Zhongli’s shoulder.

“I’m right here.”

But he doesn’t hear you.

The brightness of the sun, will give me just enough To bury my love, in the Moondust I long to hear your voice, but still I make the choice To bury my love, in the moondust

You begin to follow Xiao around. Not that he goes anywhere, too heartbroken to move, but you keep watch of him like he once did for you.

He resorts to staying in Zhongli’s apartment. The consultant isn’t around most of the day and Xiao rarely leaves his bed. His tears stain the satin pillowcase and he curls upon himself. Sometimes you stand in the doorway and stare, other times you muster up enough courage to go and sit on the unoccupied side of the bed.

The first time you touch Xiao again is at night. He’s crying and without thinking, you wrap your body around his. His chest is pressed against yours and you press your lips to his shoulder.

It’s not warm anymore. In fact, it feels like nothing.

But still, you hold Xiao until he’s asleep. You don’t let go all night, opting to watch your beloved finally get some rest. You wonder if this is how it’s going to be for the rest of eternity? Would you follow Xiao around aimlessly for centuries more?

Or maybe you’re just stuck here. You recall a saying from an elder in Liyue years ago, “Spirits with unfinished business can’t move.”

You decided then that you were going to help him move on, help Xiao bury his love for you.

Nothing can breath, in the space Colder than, the darkest sea I have dreams about the days, driving through your sunset breeze But the first thing, that I will do Is bury my love for you

There’s no book about being a ghost. You have to figure it out on your own and you’ve never been more grateful no one can see you go straight through the wall for the third time that hour. Over time, you create your own handbook in your mind, jotting down anything you discover as your time as a dead person entails.

Within the first week, you understand that no one can see you, hear you, or feel you. And while you can vaguely touch objects and people, the sensation is different than when you were alive. Every human trait was thrown out the window - you don’t need to sleep, breathe or eat and drink anything.

You attend your funeral exactly a week after your body was discovered and someone propped your sword against your casket. You try to grasp it, to pick it up, but you only manage to push it over with a gust of nonexistent wind. It clambers to the floor, the funeral parlor growing silent, and you take this as your cue to leave.

You wondered if Xiao, or anyone of that matter, could sense you at least. Even if Xiao couldn’t see you, just him knowing you were there would ascend you to the afterlife (right?).

You also find out you can’t leave Liyue. There’s an invisible border keeping you trapped in the country and, frankly, you don’t mind. Xiao won’t leave Liyue so you don’t need to leave Liyue. But sometimes you get anxious that one day Xiao will leave Liyue and never return. And if you haven’t accomplished your goal yet, would you truly be stuck as a monster among men?

The brightness of the sun, will give me just enough To bury my love, in the Moondust I long to hear your voice, but still I make the choice To bury my love, in the moondust

On particularly good days, Xiao talks to you. Zhongli was gone early one morning and Xiao pulled himself out of bed and to the living room, opting to open the blinds and see sunlight for the first time in weeks.

You sit on the coffee table with your legs criss-crossed as Xiao mumbles desolate words.

“I keep just wishing I would wake up dead. I miss you so much.”

You frown. “I’m here, I’m right here.”

But he can’t hear you. “You aren’t here to make me laugh at your stupid jokes anymore. And I just...I should have been there! I should have-”

His voice cracks and you move off the coffee table, wrapping your arms around his quivering body. You try to press yourself against him, squeeze your arms so tight that he’ll feel you, but you can’t. You can’t kiss his chapped lips and move your bodies so he’s curled into the crook of your neck.

Sometimes, you watch Xiao hurt himself. He digs his nails into his arms or thighs until he draws blood, only to push it all away and scream into the ground. You want to snap him out of him, tell him to stop doing that to himself, but you can only sit and stare.

You were nothing to Liyue - a common human who added nothing of importance to society. Yes, your death was sad for many people but the world kept turning. Xiao, on the other hand, was so special. He was the Vigilant Yaksha - the people of Liyue needed him forever.

“I miss you. I love you. I miss you.”

I'm a cast away, and men reap what they sow And I say what I know, to be true Yeah I'm living far away, on the face of the moon I've buried my love to give the world to you

Xiao goes out sometimes. It’s either to patrol the city or on a walk with Zhongli. It’s not much but it's an improvement. Like always, you follow him.

He’s started to have nightmares, waking up in a rush. He used to comfort you when you had nightmares and it pains you that you can’t return the favor. You try, by God, you try. You run your hands down his back comfortingly but Xiao only cries harder.

When Xiao sees Ganyu for the first time in months and she gives him homemade almond tofu, he smiles. It’s small and quick but you see it.

Growing up, you had thought that the living mourned the dead. When your grandmother died, you felt broken for a while, but that pain was minimal compared to this. Having to live endless days as an invisible soul while the living grieved was unbearable.

When no one is around, Xiao breaks down. He hurts himself, insults himself and wishes for you endlessly. When Xiao tries to jump off the roof of the apartment complex in the middle of the night and survives with only an injured arm, you realize he’s pushing his body. He’s trying to kill himself.

So, you scream.

Every waking hour of the day you scream.

“I’m right here, Xiao! I love you and I’m right here! I’m sorry for being careless and getting killed but you aren’t ready to join me yet!”

You know he doesn’t hear you, he can’t hear you, and yet Xiao slowly stops hurting himself.

The brightness of the sun, will give me just enough To bury my love, in the Moondust I long to hear your voice, but still I make the choice To bury my love, in the moondust

It takes a year for Xiao to finally begin to cope with your death and you know your journey will be coming to end soon.

He still talks to you except now it’s hopeful and filled with acceptance. On the anniversary of your death, he travels to the Dragon-Queller early in the morning. He sits down in the spot he used to take you to and rubs the grass softly, as if motioning for you to sit down next to him.

You do.

“I’m leaving Liyue next week.”

A million feelings run through your veins. You want to throw up, scream, cry. Is a week enough time to get Xiao to move on from you? Had he already moved on? There were too many questions you couldn’t fucking ask.

You can’t bear to listen to the rest. Your feet travel on their own, taking you far away from Xiao and back into the heart of Liyue Harbor. You didn’t know where you were until you heard a voice call out for you.

“Hey, you!”

You were imagining voices now. You felt sick to your stomach.

“Y/N!”

A short, young woman came into your view and you finally looked up. You had walked right into the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. Hu Tao was staring at you, not through you.

“I knew you were still here.”

Hu Tao could see you.

It didn’t make sense but you didn’t have time to make it make sense. Without thinking, you cried out to Hu Tao and begged her to help you save Xiao, save yourself.

“I want to go with him,” You say.

“But you can’t.”

“Then he’s going to forget about me.”

Hu Tao chuckled softly, “You think Xiao would forget about you?”

You don’t answer. Maybe it was you that didn’t want to forget about Xiao. Either way, it hurts. “He’s going to fall in love with someone new and-”

“Isn’t that what you want?”

It was. You wanted Xiao to be happy without you, to learn to love again. You wanted him to bury his love for you so you could both be free.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Hu Tao says, “Xiao will find you again one day.”

She clasps her hands together and reaches them out to you. You look down and see a moving image of Xiao. He’s still talking softly, this time with a small smile on his lips. You close your eyes suddenly, not wanting to see anymore. You step outside of the funeral parlor and whisper “I love you” into the wind.

The sun is shining high in the sky when Teyvat begins to disappear from your vision.

Maybe in another life you and Xiao will spend forever together. You’ll have a grand wedding, start a family, and grow old together like you should have. But for now, you’ll see him from the moon.

[thisisarcanereverie]

What it Means to be Worthy (Thor x Reader)

ULTIMATE MASTERLIST

THERE IS SMUT IN HERE 18+ YOU THIRSTY SONS OF BITCHES.

WARNINGS: unprotected sex (wrap it up pals) Do NOT read unless you are 18+. 

Also I have never written smut before so I hope it’s ok. I honestly couldn’t have written it if I hadn’t been listening to Deity by Valeree (highly recommend listening while reading the smut. It will probably make it better.) 

“Thor,” you called the God of Thunder, “Thor it’s (Y/n).”

You heard a small grunt coming from the living room as you entered through the front door. You immediately went to cover your nose from the stench that invaded your senses upon entering. 

It seemed as though the whole house smelled of rotten food, sweat, and something akin to a pigs feces. It was a smell that you never quite got used to, even after 2 years of smelling it every day. 

You quietly made your way through the house until you saw a sight you were quite used to seeing now. 

Thor on the ground, shirtless, covered in sweat and grime. His beard was filthy from vomit and dandruff and his hair greasy and matted to his head. 

There had been a time where he cared so much about his hair that he got triggered if you had tried to trim it. 

After 2 years of seeing this scene before you, it failed to surprise you. 

Now it just angered you. 

You knew you couldn’t understand the pain he was in, he lost his entire family, half his people, and Asgard. 

Sure, the people of Midgard were generous and gave your people sanctuary, a place for your people to call home once again. 

But that didn’t stop you from missing Asgard’s golden palace and it’s mountains of lush green forests. How you missed running with Thor and Loki through those forests after dark to get to the highest peak you could to watch the glittering of the gold during sunrise. 

You had been playmates with the Princes since infancy. You had trained and fought alongside them in battle, joined them in celebrations after each conquest, mourned the loss of Frigga with them. 

You went with Thor all those years ago to retrieve Loki and joined the Avengers with him. 

But now the Avengers were gone, long since disbanded before the battle of Wakanda. 

You weren’t angry at him, your anger was towards the cruel fate that had befallen your precious friends. You had cared for Loki, almost as much as Thor if not equal to. 

If you were honest, you weren’t in better shape. Your grief had taken hold of you as well. Your kind smile had turned cynical. Anyone who tried to get close to you often was met with your icy glare and scoff. 

Thor was the only one who brought out the caring person you once were. 

With a deep sigh you expertly walked around the empty booze bottles and to the grieving man before you. Thor may have gotten soft around the middle but he weighed about the same as you slumped his arms around your shoulders. Thor groaned and went pale, his eyes barely opening. 

“C’mon blondie,” you softly spoke, “let’s get you washed up.”

You half dragged the god to the bathroom, he threw up halfway there but you paid no mind. You would clean that after getting him in the shower. 

You didn’t bother stripping him before setting him in the tub. Without warning or mercy you pointed the shower hose directly at his face and turned the water to icy cold. 

Thor yelled at the icy feeling, borderline pleading, for you to turn off the water. However, over the course of 2 years the patience you had for him had worn thin and so you continued to spray until the stench subsided a little. 

Thor was fully awake and sober now, seeing your figure as clear as day tower over him in the tub with a look on your face akin to a mother scolding a misbehaving child. 

Thor felt so small and powerless under your gaze and he loathed it. 

“You could have stopped a while ago.”

“This needs to stop Thor.” 

Your hands motioned to him, Thor once admired those hands and the strength that they had. Now he just found them annoying. 

He found you annoying. 

You came by everyday and pulled him out of his stupor, clean up after him a little, and try to clean him up. You treated him like a child who couldn’t take care of himself and he loathed it so. 

“I am King of Asgard you do not get to tell me what to do.”

“What King would wallow himself in such a way.”

He bolted upright and stood in the tub, successfully towering over your frame, you had gone too far. You didn’t get to say such things to him. 

What Thor didn’t count on was the world getting fuzzy and a little dark when he stood up, so although he towered over you he was as stable as a wind chime. 

You held onto his frame to prevent him from falling flat onto his face. You felt Thor stiffen under your touch. 

You knew Thor was now sensitive and insecure in areas he never was before. 

It seemed like yesterday that he was admiring himself in one of Asgard’s golden mirrors, his long hair had looked like spun gold in Asgard’s sunlight and his figure was that befitting of a god. 

But none of that had ever mattered to you, even when Thor became full of himself to the point of him being ill tempered and arrogant, you couldn’t find it in yourself to ever give up on him. 

Not that you tried to give up on him anyways.

Loki had asked you one day why you didn’t. Why didn’t you give up on the golden prince when he clearly would never feel the same way. 

“I love him too much to be without him. Even if that means watching him parade himself around as a peacock and watch women fly to him like bees to honey.” 

Then Thor was banished and the only reason why you didn’t follow was due to Loki’s intervening. 

Then Thor met Jane Foster. 

The memory of the beautiful scientist brought back bittersweet memories. You had never seen Thor so deep in love, and that made you both sad and happy. 

Happy that he finally found someone who could keep him humble and who he loved just as much as you loved him. 

Sad that when you often caught Thor daydreaming, that it wasn’t you he was daydreaming about. 

You shook yourself out of your thoughts and sat the giant on the edge of the tub while you went to gather fresh clothes for him. 

You gathered a simple sweatshirt and pants for him to pull on once he was finished with his shower. 

As you set the clothes beside the sink you couldn’t help but feel the gnawing feeling in the deepest parts of your heart and the nagging thoughts in your head. 

You knew that Thor was hellbent on this self destructive path and you knew that there was nothing you could possibly do to prevent it. 

It was either you let Thor drown himself in his despair or you let him drown you with it as well. 

You had accepted long ago that Thor would never see you as anything more than what you had always been. 

His playmate since infancy. 

The girl who got a starry look every time he entered a room. 

You had saved up money from the jobs you had worked over the past 2 years, you finally saved up enough to get away from New Asgard. Leave its people to the hands of their self pitying King and Val. 

It wasn’t like they needed you or the other way around. 

No one would notice your absence. 

You began to pick up around Thor’s home, recycling empty liquor bottles and trashing pizza boxes and rotted food. Vacuuming the carpets and dusting here and there. 

This will be the last time you do as such. 

You needed to leave, staying here and wallowing in Thor’s despair and depression as much as your own wasn’t good for you. And you knew deep down you had been enabling him, every time you cleaned his house and washed and fed him you knew that he only got worse and that you were supporting him when you did this. 

You needed to leave for Thor’s sake as much as your own. 

You wondered how long it would take him to notice. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to tell Thor, you doubt he would even care at this point. 

The walk back to your house was only a few minutes, having moved into the house closest to his in case of emergency. 

Most of your things were packed and already in your apartment in New York waiting for you. Well things of value, the rest you had sold online, it was amazing what the internet could do. By far one of the greatest inventions on Midgard in your opinion. 

All that was left to do was, pack a few pieces of clothing and toiletries. 

And write a goodbye letter to Thor explaining where you went and why. 

You had avoided writing it, not wanting to say goodbye. Not wanting Thor to not care. 

It wasn’t like you were completely leaving Thor, Valkyrie (Val as you called her) assured you that she would make sure he didn’t starve or drink himself to an early grave. 

You trusted her to make good on her promise. 

You leaving wasn’t even your idea in the first place, Val had tried to get you to leave a year earlier, but you were too stubborn to leave then. 

You grabbed the piece of stationary and began to write. 

‘Thor, 

By the time you're sober enough to read this I’ll already be gone. I don’t predict that I’ll be back. 

Val will be making sure you don’t starve or drink yourself into an early grave in my place. 

I just can’t do this anymore Thor. 

I had loved you since we were but children running around the palace gardens, I still do. However I accepted the fact that you could never see me as anything more than your old playmate and dear friend so long ago. 

I had tried to be by your side in a supporting role no matter how much it had hurt me. 

When you became an arrogant ass I tried my hardest to explain away your tantrums. 

When you came back from banishment I listened to you swoon over Lady Jane Foster with a smile on my face even though it tore me apart. 

I had stayed with you, took care of you. It took me so long to realize that I had just been enabling you this entire time. 

I had been supporting your self destructive behavior and I refuse to play that part any longer. I need to leave, not just for me but for you. 

You need to sort through your emotions, you need to learn how to handle yourself by yourself. You need me not holding your hand when you do that. 

I need to discover for myself what it means to be worthy-’

A loud pounding at your door disrupted your train of thought as you wrote. Normally no one would bother you, not unless it had to deal with Thor. 

The floorboards creaked as you made your way to your door. The pounding had not ceased until you flew the door open to reveal Thor. 

His hair was still damp from his shower and the sweats you had picked out were already stained from the beer he held in one hand. His sky blue eye was hidden behind dark shades. 

“(Y/n),” Thor said, “I need a thing.”

“Thor right now isn’t a good time.” 

“Don’t worry Lady (Y/n) it won’t take even a second I’ll be in and out.” Thor assured, flashing you a smile that could make your legs go weak. Despite how much hurt you were in you were still no match for Thor’s charms. 

“What thing do you need?”

“Just a thing I’ll know the name of it when I see it.” 

You stepped aside as you let Thor in, hoping that he won’t notice the lack of furniture or the note left on the table. You decided to let him be while you went and finished packing whatever was in the bathroom. After that you went back to the living area where you had left the note only to see Thor sitting on the couch, his fingers clenching the paper tightly. He had taken his shades off, the deep dark circles stood out against his skin a tribute to how tired he truly was. 

He looked up and you were taken aback by the sorrow that filled his eyes. red rimmed the blue eye as fresh tears began to fall. 

“You weren’t supposed to read that yet.” 

“And when was I supposed to read it then?! When you were god knows where you will be!” His voice bellowed as tears continued to fall down his cheek. 

“Thor please don’t yell.” 

“No (Y/n)!” he cut you off, “you,” his finger pointed at you, his gaze as intense as lightning, “you don’t get to leave like this. You don’t get to leave me too.”

“Thor I don’t have a choice,” you argue, “I need to let you go. I need to find who I am without you and you need-”

“DO NOT TELL ME WHAT I NEED!” 

You could hear thunder roaring in the distance outside, lightning danced around his fingers faintly. Thor had never scared you, but right now you were close to it. 

“Thor,” you say calmly hoping somehow your calm tone will calm the God of Thunder, “I’m sorry for choosing the cowards way, I wanted to avoid this.”

“Did you truly think you would be able to avoid me for long.” The lightning had yet to cease but his eyes seemed to stop glowing ever so slightly. 

“I didn’t think you would have noticed for at least a few days.” 

“Why would you think I wouldn’t notice immediately?” He asked like it was the most incredulous question. He took a step closer to you while you took a step back. Thunder still roared outside and lightning still curled around his fingers. Thor furrowed his eyes in confusion until he finally seemed to hear the thunder storm outside and realize he had scared you. 

Thor had scared you. 

Immediately the pain in his chest worsened with the guilt that he had scared you. That he had so little control over his powers when he was so emotional. Slowly he closed his eyes and he took a deep breath in and out. He then felt his powers subside and the thunder had stopped. 

You could see his shoulders hunch forward with shame and you instictivly placed a hand over his shoulder to comfort him. Thor was quick to envelop your hand with his. Holding onto your hand for dear life. 

Your eyes then met, closer than you had ever been before. 

“What thing were you looking for?” you asked softly, “you said you came over for a thing.”

“I lied,” Thor admitted softly, “I just didn’t want to be alone.” 

The next thing you knew was the faint taste of beer and blueberries on your lips and strong, calloused hands making their way to your shoulders. 

Thor was just as good a kisser as you imagined. Lips moving expertly over your own, moving against yours so desperately. Like a man dying of thirst. 

You knew you should push him off of you, but for one second you wanted to enjoy his lips on yours. Kissing you like you had always wanted to kiss him. 

You moved your lips against his, relishing every moment. Because you knew you wouldn’t be able to kiss him again. 

Only when Thor's hands traveled to your waist did you break away. Albeit, you couldn’t push him further than just enough to give you some breathing space. 

“Thor,’ you said, “you’re drunk you don’t want this.” 

‘When will you stop telling me what I want and don’t want.” His lips moved from your lips to the corner of your mouth and slowly made their way to your neck. 

“Thor I do not want this if your reasoning is impaired.”

“I appreciate the thought dear one, but I only had half a beer tonight.” 

Asgardians could handle their booze well, especially Thor. For Thor to be the least bit intoxicated he would have had to drink 3 large bottles of Asgardian booze. However, when it came to Midgard it took 4 large barrows of Midgardian beer for it to have the same effect on him. Thor mostly drank it for the taste.

“Unless you would rather I stop.” Thor said, before his hands had removed themselves from your waist you stopped them. 

With every ounce of passion in you, you grabbed a handful of his long hair and pressed your lips to his. 

It was a mess of passionate and needy kisses and moans. Thor’s battle-worn hands had roamed over your body in a desperate need to feel you. 

He was quick to rid you of your shirt, hands feeling every inch of naked skin as he could. Holding you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded to the earth. 

You moaned as his hands found your breasts, his large hands covering them over your bra. Your hands made quick work with your bra, removing the suffocating fabric before lifting Thor’s shirt. 

you felt him stiffen as you rid him of his shirt. 

He wasn’t as muscular as he had been 2 years ago, however it took more than 2 years to completely diminish what his body had been. Although his stomach had softened as well as his arms. You didn’t care in the slightest, loving Thor in every shape he came in. 

Your hands lovingly brushed over his torso as you began to leave open mouthed kisses down his neck, over his chest, it wasn’t until you were at the waistband on his sweatpants did he bring you back up and kissed you with fiery passion. 

Thor laid you in front of the fireplace that you forgot you lit a while ago. Honestly a little surprised that the fire was still going. 

You didn’t have much time to think about that as you felt Thor’s lips travel  from your neck and over your breasts. Your nails scratched the floor beneath you as you felt him at the waistband of your jeans. 

You felt Thor pause and you looked at him. 

“Are you sure dear one?” 

Your heart melted at the new nickname, as you nodded to him. However that wasn’t enough for the blonde adonis as he traveled up your body and littered your neck in open mouth kisses. 

“I need to hear you say you want this dear one.” 

“Please Thor,” you pleaded as he ground his hips into yours slowly, your hips meeting his as his pace slows even more successfully driving you insane. 

“I need you Thor.”

“What do you need dear one?”

“I need you to finish what we started.” 

With that Thor slammed his lips on yours as he rid you of your pants, underwear included. He leaned back and his eyes drank in your figure illuminated by the fire light. You were breathtaking, any one would buckle at the sight of you. 

Pride swelled in Thor’s heart as this view was reserved for him only. 

Just as you were about to say something you felt Thor’s beard tickle the inside of your thigh and without warning Thor dived in. 

Your hands immediately flew to his hair and grabbed fists full of it, anything to tether you to reality. 

As Thor worked his magic on your bundle of nerves your moans filled the empty house. Thor moaned as your grip on his hair tightened which sent waves of pleasure throughout your body. Thor lifted your legs over his shoulders and gripped your thighs firmly as his tongue worked faster. 

Just as you were about to reach your blissful release you felt him pull away. Your arousal practically dripped from his lips onto his beard. 

He rid himself of the last piece of clothing before capturing your lips once again. Unlike the kisses from before, this was gentle and sweet. You could taste yourself on his lips as he tenderly kissed you. 

You slowly ran your hands over his chest, committing him to memory. 

Thor pulled away from your lips as he entered you. 

Your mouth let out a silent scream of pleasure as Thor let out a shaky breath of pleasure. Thor waited for a few seconds, relishing in the feeling of you around him before finally moving his hips against yours. 

Thor was soft and slow in his thrusts, making sure to worship every part of you. His lips were everywhere, from your face to your breasts. 

You met in time with his thrusts. The only sound in the room being your shaky breaths, moans of pleasure, and skin on skin. And it sounded like a chorus to you. 

Thor’s thrusts became erratic and unyielding, the knot in your stomach was on the verge of bursting when Thor whispered in your ear. 

“Let go dear one, I’ll catch you.”

With that the knot had become undone, leaving your body shaking from the overwhelming pleasure. 

Thor had not been too far behind you before he too reached his climax. 

Thor laid down beside you, still coming down from his high. You laid your head on his chest and he instinctively wrapped his arms around you. 

This was everything you had ever wanted, to lay beside Thor with his arm beside you. Well almost everything. 

As Thor began to play with the ends of your head as you replayed the past two years in your head. 

“I think you may have been right.” Thor broke the silence, you lifted your head off his chest to see his gaze distant as he stared at the ceiling. 

“When have I ever been anything otherwise.”

Thor’s chest rumbled in laughter as unshed tears began to fill his eyes. He refused to cry, not now. 

“I agree that you need to leave dear one.” Thor’s voice cracked, “I have become a pitiful king to my people, but I have been an even worse friend to you.” his eyes left their place on the ceiling and rested on your face. “You have been faithfully by my side ever since either of us could remember. You had defended me when I didn’t deserve it and loved me when no one did. Not even myself.” His calloused hand caressed your cheek, thumb brushing the tears that had escaped your eyes away. “you don’t deserve to drown in my despair with me. You deserve a life of adventure and you deserve the time to figure out who you are.” You pressed your forehead to his as tears leaked out. “I need to let you go.”

---

Thor had spent the night committing every touch and every scent to memory. He had no idea when his feelings for you grew to such lengths but he knew now that he had figured it out much too late. 

He wasn’t the man you deserved by your side. 

Thor waved you off at the airport and watched as the metal contraption took you away from his side for the first time since his banishment all those years ago. 

He hoped that if you returned he would be a man worthy of you again. 

Thor only wished he knew where to start.

[aphrodite-would-be-proud]

Anon said: tried to read through all your request rules, but I didnt specifically see which Characters you write for. If you do, could you write for Porco helping his S/o sleep? I have super bad insomnia most days, and I just really want something fluffy with Porco...just cuddles or stories or something. If you dont write for Porco though could you switch it with a AoT character you do write for, I'm not really picky. Thank you so much in advance! 🥺💗

Porco helping you sleep

{Porco x reader | tw:none | sleep help, fluff | canon }

{ "The Night School" C.1660-C.1665 By Gerrit Dou 1613-1675 }

Unmoving shadows cast into the empty white walls, slightly flickering with the flame on the white candle sitting on the nightstand. Half lidded eyes observe their small movements for they're the only interesting thing in this empty hotel room you've been assigned. 

Your beige uniform tucked into the small closest with a single hanger inside, the armband hanging on the closest door for easy reach. The squeak of the spring mattress chirping up whenever you moved to flip your too stiff pillow. 

Judging by the amount of melted wax collecting on the bottom of the candle, you've been awake for far too long. 

This isn't the first time this has happened, you're used to getting acquainted with the room's walls and shadowy furniture.

Sleep has abandoned you long ago, its friend insomnia visiting you daily instead. Only leaving every week or so to remind you of what you could never have, taunting almost.

You've tried to force yourself to sleep really, did every known trick in the book, you even tried mediation like Zeke has been preaching to you about, but to no avail. so you've started making peace with the thing, you know at least using the night time to get things done since you're not getting rest either way.

Books were your first friend, for staring at the walls could only be entertaining for so long, but now with your stash of books miles away back home, you're left with nothing else to do.

The nightstand drawer only contained an emergency gun with several bullets inside, and the pocket knife under your pillow wasn't interesting enough.

Getting up from the bed, you picked up the candle before slowly inching the creaky door open. Maybe a glass of water could help, who cares that this is your third time going for water in the last hour? Well hydration is important after all, or so you tried to bargain for an excuse to stretch your legs.

Attempting your best to glide through the old wooden boards without as much as a squeak, you headed towards the kitchen, passing through several other bedrooms in the process, probably all deep in dream land already.

Everything was too quiet, the sound of water filling the glass was the only thing interrupting the silence, its cool feeling going down your dry throat helped you a bit.

Drinking down what you can, you decided to take the rest with you back, a good excuse for a trip to the bathroom later. Although as you turned, a figure was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and staring at you.

"Isn't it too early for breakfast?" Porco said, covering his mouth with his hand as he yawned, "you should get some rest while you can, we're getting thrown in the front trenches tomorrow." 

Just the mention of it made your stomach roll at the thought of staying in a muddy hole for days, the smell of gunpowder and yelling of soldiers, not to mention the crowded train rides back home.

"I know, it's just…" you stared at the water moving inside your glass while tilting it, "one of those days, you know?" 

eyes narrowing with his eyebrows pulling down in concentration, even Porco's sleep clouded mind could recognise the heavy bags under your eyes. The ride here used all of your energy and now you're too tired to even sleep.

Feeling an unpleasant weight on his chest, he wasn't sure what to say as he approached you, awkwardly leaning against the sink, a heavy sigh left him.

"You know, you should bother me more often, I don't mind it." His gentle tone was followed by a melancholic smile, "let's just...go to bed."

With that his hand wrapped around your wrist, loosely at first like he was reluctant about it, before it got more secure once you didn't pull away.

…

The old door gave out a creek as it closed behind you, the room dimmer than you left it with the candle you're carrying almost burning out. 

Looking at the small bed with a single pillow, you wondered how the two grown people would fit in it and judging by the frustrated look Porco was eyeing it with, he must be thinking the same.

Looking at him, your mind wondered back to all the battles you've fought together. For some reason the superiors always seemed more strick and harsh with him, especially after the paradise mission was launched.

Belitting and nagging, carelessly throwing him in risky situations.

Your grip tightened around the water glass, feeling growing thickness in your throat. "Hey...it's okay you can go to your room, you need sleep." You said moving past him to sit on the bed, "I'll be fine."

"Should've thought of that before waking me up, now scoot over." He said, rising an eyebrow and stepping closer.

"I didn't wake you up, you're just a light sleeper." Laying down, you stretched your limbs filling the bed, "there's no room, it won't fit."

Silence filled the room for a while, you could feel his eyes roaming over you, "Oh really? Well…"

One second, you were laying on the mattress while staring at his stubborn expression in confusion, the next a pair of arms was lifting you up as he stole your place before dropping you on him. His arm circled your waist not trusting that you won't pull away

"I made it fit." he looked at you with smugness in his eyes

His warm skin felt comforting against yours, contrasting with the cold room air, you could hear his slowing heartbeat with being so close to his chest, your legs slowly tangling to fit under the blanket covering you.

Apparently that's as far as his genius plan went, because after that an awkward silence filled the room.

"So...you made it fit huh?" You couldn't help but say, a grin slowly spreading on your face. 

Porco blinked in response, tilting his head, before his eyes stilled as his ears flushed. "Fucking god, you're such a-" his attempt to scold you was interrupted by a chuckle escaping mid-sentence.

Having a contagious laugh, soon enough you too joined him.

After it died down, the atmosphere was replaced by a much more relaxed one as his hold on you softened, more intimate than the previous one. 

"When I was a kid, i used to have trouble sleeping- well more like i was too stubborn to fall asleep." Porco said, trailing his finger up your back soothingly, "and since Marcel was stuck sharing a room with me, he'd tell me stories to get me to fall asleep."

"What kind of stories?" 

"...if you tell this to anyone I'm reporting you to the higher ups you for treason, they were flower stories." Clearing his throat, you could feel his heartbeat rising under you, 

Closely watching your reaction, Porco continued after some seconds. "now I'm not calling you a kid nor do i think it's as simple, i just think...we should give it a chance." 

With the heaviness of the blanket above you and warmth of his body underneath you, it was hard to refuse his request, especially with the way he looked at you so earnestly. 

You agreed, and felt his other hand reach to pull up the blanket more, tucking you protectively between his body and the soft fabric. 

"This first one is called...well i don't remember what names Marcel gave them, but it's about poppies."

Crimson red bringers of eternal sleep, their crumbled petals and dark centers often found in the ancient tombs of soldiers.

As the mother of nature, Demeter, mourned and grieved from the betrayal of Zeus, it wasn't only the mortal realm in which death loomed at every corner, for her own mind was a tormenting prison of never ending suffering.

And so a droplet of her blood sprang and flourished to create a six petaled flower, easing her heartache if only for a moment as the poppy put her to sleep, numbing the pain.

Following in her trail was a red carpet of poppies, soon enough death and sleep themselves wore the flower, red crowns resting on top of Thanatos's held up head and one almost slipping from Hypnosi's leaning one as he dozed off. for eternal sleep was only another name for visiting the underworld. 

A symbol of peace in resting and condolence for the loss of a loved one, became the poppy's role. 

"This is why you'd often see them in people's front pockets whenever we return home." Porco said, the light slowly vanishing from the room as the candle burned itself out, the flame snuffed.

You've never questioned why a delivery of poppies would always be on the requirements in each returning celebration, it's just always been there. 

Slow and easy breathes flew through you, lazily stretching your arms up till it met something soft. Porco seemed to tense as your fingers loosely combed through his hair, leaning into the touch after a while.

"Don't stop." He murmured, sleep clear in his voice as another yawn left him.

"Do you have any other stories?" Drowsiness sweeping through your mind, you buried your hed deeper against his neck, eyelids fluttering shut.

"Yeah just…" his hand stilled from behind you as he looked into space attempting to recall a memory, soon enough the soft stroking returned. "This one is about peony."

Named after none other than Paeon himself, these flowers lived up to their reputation of healing and honour, for they have their own story to tell.

How the peony came to be declared king of flowers.

During the Tang dynasty, empress Wu Zetian strolled through her garden. Frowning at the empty field of green covered in thick white blankets of snow, the harsh season not showing mercy for the plants.

With a new goal in mind to flip this dreadful looking graveyard of a garden, she set to defy nature for she is the ruler of the land and her word is law.

Per her majesty's order, all flowers shall bloom in the midst of winter's visit.

As the word travelled far, all the fairies in the land couldn't believe their ears, how could such delicate fragile petals grow amidst the storm and snow. For flowers only bloom in spring, how could we go against mother nature?

While merciless mother nature was cruel, she couldn't compare for the empress's strong rule. For the fairies feared for their wings as their knees shook in her presence.

When the sun shined again, it welcomed colourful fields of different flowers in full bloom. The empress was pleased with their sweet smell and proud colours, each one rivaling the other.

And yet, she stood still near one flower bed, eyes wide. The peony deified her words and stubbornly refused to open, only sticks and brittle leaves left in their place.

In a fit of rage, the empress banished the flower to a far away city, striping away their status.

Living up to their stubborn nature, the peony bloomed that spring the most beautiful flowers humans have ever seen, turning the city of Luoyang into a heavenly soft land as their petals danced through the wind.

But their beauty couldn't last long, for a hungry fire swallowed them all, under the order of the empress who turned their green to coal.

And yet to everyone's surprise, when the earth circled the sun again, the peonies were back in bloom. Springing from the ashes were their mesmerising big petals and soft colours. 

In their respect, the fairies crowned them for their bravery as the ruler of the flowers, for wasn't it for their sacrifice the flowers wouldn't have been freed.

"They stayed on the right way, even if it meant going against the world." Porco's slurred words were half muffled against the pillow, head buried in it, his eyelids seemed to get too heavy for him to force them open again.

Turning his head to the side, you felt his lips press a light kiss against your forehead before whispering a goodnight, his hold still comfortably secure around you as if you might slip away. 

Soon enough, you too drifted into sleep as only his soft snoring filled the room. The moon watching over both of you through the windows as her light barely reached inside. 

And at this instant, you didn't think there was anywhere else in the world you'd rather be. Thoughts of what the future holds were pushed to the back of your mind next to the past, for the present is now and what a waste it would be not to bask in these rare moments of peace in this horrible world

[dancingwiththeplanets]

Relief

Paz Vizsla x fem!reader 

     masterlist

Summary: “I know that we’re strangers but something really awful has happened to me and I need you.”

A/N: highly recommend listening to “everything i wanted” by billie eilish before reading because that is just the vibe.

Warnings: angst, ruminating, lots of dialogue, mourning the death of a parent, deals with depression and anxiety, soft!paz, a big brute with an even bigger heart

Word Count: 11k (oops)

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

“Death changes people, it brings some people together, pushes other people apart...” You remember your buir’s words as if they were spoken to you just yesterday. They were the words he said on the day of your mothers funeral. “...but you and I, we do not let such things hurt us. We are stronger together, my ad’ika, we can only get through this together. Yes?”

“Okay, buir.” You said. Your wide, 5 year old eyes not fully comprehending the situation.

He nodded, pained, and whispered, “That’s a good girl,” before leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead and departing to the ceremony, your small form in tow.

He was right, death did change people. You remember seeing him in pure agony, as much as he tried to hide it from you. Your aunts and uncles would always be over, consoling him, distracting you, oftentimes just having you stay with them so your father could grieve away from your eyes.

But he never let it hurt your relationship. No, he was the best buir anyone could dream of. Your buir.

He was a proud man, respected and admired by all the warriors in the covert. Fierce, honorable, diligent and selfless. He would and did do anything for anyone. And the tribe respected him immensely. They even elected for him to be the Alor on more than one occasion, and he practically was. But he refused the title again and again, preferring to do all the work without carrying any official status. Even so, he certainly inherited the same amount of respect that the actual Alor had.

“All of the privilege and none of the responsibility.” He would tease, winking at you as the two of you would sneak out of the kitchens or any other ‘off-limits’ part of the covert, everyone turning a blind eye to your buir and ad’ika antics. Mainly just because they respected him too much to chastise you.

Truly though, he was a very respectable man. He trained the little ones, led hunts and security protocols for the covert, found lost Mandalorians and brought them home to the tribe. He dedicated his life to building the strongest and most operational covert that Mandalorians had seen in years. And he did it all for you. All so that you would have a safe place to grow up, so that you would lose as few brothers and sisters, and as few aunts and uncles as possible. So that you wouldn’t lose anyone just as suddenly as you’d lost your mother.

But he never prepared you for the day you would lose him.

The two of you were unimaginably close, so close that now you regretted ever developing a relationship that strong with him even if he was your father, because look at what it got you.

How were you supposed to go on? What was your life without your buir? What was this covert without your buir?

You look around the room, dozens and dozens of armored warriors here to pay their respects to your father, his body already having been buried.  The tears leak out of your eyes without reserve as you hold tightly to your friend's hand, scanning the room for the comfort of your boyfriend. “He’ll be here soon” She whispers, though you sense doubt in her voice, “I’m sure of it.”

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

You’re not sure what time it is, only that you’ve spent yet another restless night collecting tears in your pillow. Your booted feet pad down the deserted hallway of the covert. It’s aboveground, hidden beneath the treelines of a dense forest on a nearly desolate planet. It’s beautiful, unlike most every other secret covert that exists, though very few do. It has bulletproof glass paneling all around to allow for light to peek in through the trees. It’s warm and inviting instead of cold and gloomy.

“We need a home. Not a prison.” Buir had said.

You wince, face contorting in pain at the memory of him sharing the design with you. He had a dream. He wanted to live the way he used to, on Mandalore. Embracing nature and training warriors in the traditional way. He wanted your small tribe to grow into the hundreds. And that it did, well, to just over a hundred at least.

The most recent tribe came in from Nevarro, about seven months ago. He’d managed to track them down and get into contact with their Alor. Though some members of their tribe were reluctant to merge- they always are- they soon decided to join forces with your own, strengthening your numbers. Plus, they got to move to a much more beautiful, safe, and spacious planet.  

Regrettably, you hadn’t gotten to know many members of the new tribe still. They were...different. Still pleasant from the interactions you’d had with them at least, good sense of humor and all, but they were devoted to the old ways of Mandalore, conservative, reserved, passionate. Most unusually they didn’t arrive with any women in their tribe, aside from their Alor. For some reason odd, universal reason, Mandalorian women were hard to come by. It was a troubling issue that distressed many people in the tribe, in any tribe. It felt like a curse on your people. But this tribe literally had only one. They obviously cherished and admired her immensely, they made her their Alor.

Also, their creed didn’t allow for them to remove their helmets, a drastic difference from the one you had sworn that didn’t even require you wear your armor all the time, though you and most everyone almost always did. You were still Mandalorian; Training, honor, armor...they were still as big a part of you as your soul was to your body. But everyone around here knew your face, and vice versa, even if you did spend most of your life behind the shield.

This week however, you couldn't bring yourself to put it on once. Hell, you didn’t even bother with your flight suit. You just stayed locked up in your tiny room all day and night, only leaving when you were forced out by your friends. “It’s for your own good,” they would say. You suppose they were right, but no matter how good of friends they were to you right now, their company seemed to make it all worse.

A part of you wanted Collin, your boyfriend of two years, but he seemed to disappear from sight every time you caught his eye, an action that made your friend, Brie, chase after him in a rage the last time. He had been so blatantly obvious. You were in tears, yet again, mourning your father, yet again, when you caught the flash of his grey armor slip past your crying form in the common room. The hurt you had felt was unimaginable. The betrayal. You know that your relationship was strained as of late, but this, the death of your father, how could he not be around for you? Even if just as a friend?

So here you were. Another sleepless night, another late hour gone by without the noisy comfort of the of the tribe at work. Your head was pounding from the tears, the dehydration and the pain. The kriffing pain.

This time you couldn’t do it. You couldn't stay trapped within the dark walls of your room any longer, quickly pulling on something decent to wear in the late night or early hours of the morning- you didn’t know what time it was- before mindlessly wandering the covert.

Empty. It must be smack in the middle of the night. Well, at least you could sulk freely, allow the tears to escape without worrying about what a blubbering mess you must look like. A part of you was thankful, this was...kind of nice? There was nobody hovering around you. No visors following your every move in pity or concern, waiting to catch you when you break. You did pass one or two guards patrolling the halls, but you avoided them as best you could, hoping to avoid being questioned.

You finally take a moment to sit, hiding yourself beside some phony shrub in the corner. You’ve wandered to the dining hall. You look around, hoping to distract yourself with the silent chatter of the five or so warriors lounging around, probably on break from late night duties. Your eyes finally resting on a group of three of your vods sitting around, talking. They’re from the new tribe, well, most recently new.

You don’t know any of them particularly well, least of all the heavy infantry warrier whose figure commands your attention. He spends most of his time with the higher ups or teaching the foundlings, and you fall somewhere there in the middle. But he’s broad and robust and by maker if he doesn't captivate your attention.

You listen to the quiet echoes bouncing around the spacious dining hall. There’s hardly anybody here, it must be so early. You groan, to you it just feels unbearably late.

You don’t know how long you sit here, hidden behind the leaves of the plant, hazy eyes focused on the blue warrior. You just sit, staring, he’s...peaceful to observe. His arms are crossed over his chest, leaned back comfortably against his chair.  He huffs at something one of his brothers says, you can barely hear it, but you see the shake of his shoulders before he adjusts his posture and a small smile pulls at your own lips for some reason.

You shake your head. Is this wrong? You think, averting your eyes away from Paz’s form. You feel guilty for some reason, you mind reminding you of Collin. The guilt impacts you painfully for a moment, adding to the feelings of loss and exhaustion before you shake the thoughts away.

No. You think, eyes squeezing shut at the new wave of emotion hurting your already distraught mind. I’m just people watching. Not admiring. This is allowed. This actually feels...kind of nice, it’s allowed.

You permit your gaze to return to Paz and his friends, watching them nod at another couple of Mandos who pass by.

There was something so...comforting about Paz. You don't even know how you can think that? You don’t know him.

You watch his attention shift to his boots which are sprawled out in front of him, heels resting on the hard floor. He kicks his feet out a little bit, watching them wiggle from their movements. His action again tugging the teeniest of smiles to your lips.

You feel a small and brief glimmer of warmth in your chest, though quickly replaced by a pain that pinches from your gut to the back of your throat. Tears gloss over your vision before you’re able to fight them away with slow, deep breaths. It feels as though your body is chastising you for daring to feel a degree of happiness so suddenly.

No. You cower away from the invisible being hurting you, eyes squinting shut again.

You yearn for the slight relief and warmth to return. You need it. It just...feels so damn hard to breathe like this.

The anxiety, the fear, the distress. It just won’t leave you alone.

You don’t even realize what you’re doing until you’re already out in the open. You’d abruptly stood from your hiding spot and started walking toward the source of relief, before nearly choking on air realizing what you were doing.

Holy shit, you gasp, It’s too late to stop walking. You’re already out in the open, and you’ve made it well into their field of vision. If you stop, they’ll notice you.

Kriff, kriff, kriff, kriff, kriff.

The anxiety is burning in your chest again. Your steps falter before you stop, you’re not even sure what you’re doing anymore.

What you do know is that now you’ve caught the attention of the Mando sitting next to Paz, whose visor now watches your frozen form in the middle of the hall. Your heart beating loudly in your chest as you stand there motionless, eyes wide and breathing faltering at having been detected.

You must look absolutely deranged.

But of course, it had to get worse. Noticing the stillness of their friend, the other two shift their attention to see what’s silenced him.

Three visors. There are now three visors on you. Staring down your shaky, frozen form.

You can’t walk this off, you can’t play it cool. They’re already looking at you, you’ve stood still here now watching them for now who knows how long.

What do you do?

Kriff.

You recoil slightly, crossing your now shaking hands in front of you, hoping they wouldn’t notice your trembling palms.

What the hell is wrong with you? Relax. You’re a Mandalorian, just think.

What is the least horrible way out of this?

Carry it out. Whatever it was that you were doing, whatever mission your subconscious had led you on, just execute it.

You breathe in a shuddery breath, placing one foot out in their direction and hesitating before allowing the other to follow its movements.

Geez, walk much?

It’s so quiet in the empty hall, only 5 or 6 other Mandos out on the other end, so each tap of your feet is as audible as that of a bantha on crackling ice as you make your way to them.

“Okay, vod’ika?” One of them asks kindly. You recognize the maroon helmet from up close. Ramsey?

Ramsey, you think.

You nod slightly, suddenly remembering how out of it you must look. Eyes puffy and red, lips swollen, hair in disarray. You feel even more anxious to desert the mission than before, resigning to just get it over with and face the object of your desire.

“Paz,” you say, internally groaning at how pathetic and fatigued your voice sounds. “May I please speak with you for a moment?”

Kriff, what’s the plan now, di’kut?

The question directed at him takes him aback, but his posture instantly straightens. “Of course,” He says, rising from his seat.

You blink back a little as he stands to his full height. Have you ever been this close to him? Surely not, you would remember the feeling of being towered over like this. Paz hesitates, waiting for your instruction. Osik, were you just brazenly sizing him up right there? Great, and now he must think you’re intimidated by him.

Abort, abort, abort.

He tilts his helmet at you, snapping you out of your thoughts. You move for him to follow, which he does. You try to move as far away from the others as possible without being terribly obvious in hopes that they won’t overhear your conversation.

“Is.. everything alright?” He asks once you’ve guided him a safe distance away.

“Yes.” You say instantly, eyes locked on your hands. “I-I mean, n-no.”

This is weird.

What have you done?

You force your gaze up to meet his, noticing his visor tilt in concern. He no doubt already knows what’s troubling you. Everybody in the covert knows about your father’s passing, there was a ceremony for kriffs sake. Paz was probably there.  

Your lip trembles suddenly, embarrassed, and instantly you’re cursing yourself for having put yourself through this. With everything in you, you squeeze your eyes shut and look down, the only way you know you’ll be able to ward off the tears, though you know your conduct is a dead giveaway as to what you’re trying to do.

He says your name, and there it is again, relief. Fleeting and short-lived, but making that one small breath easier to inhale than the rest.

“I’m so sorry,” You whisper in frustration. Opening your eyes to see his feet having moved closer to you than they were before.

Always concerned with the wellbeing of his tribe. You remember. That’s what this big brute is known for anyway, right? You can trust him.

“No,” He says, his tone soft spoken, a sharp contrast to his intimidating form. “Take your time.”

You take a deep breath, nodding your head at the floor before forcing your eyes up once again.

Always maintain eye contact. It’s a show of respect. And you always show your superiors that you respect them. Your dad's words remind you to keep your head level to Paz’s. Or...at least as level as it can be to Paz’s.

The reminder that you are indeed speaking to an alor’ad stirs up new nerves in your belly, you were falling apart in front of a captain. Worse, a Vizsla, Mandalorian royalty.

“Um,” you eventually sputter out, collecting your thoughts. “Well I...I kind of have a weird request.” Your murmur.

Are you going to faint? It feels like you’re going to faint.

“Okay,” He nods to indicate you have his full attention, “What is it?”

“Um,” Your voice wavers, suddenly feeling very shaky and lightheaded again, and incredibly annoyed that you didn’t just opt to put on your helmet for the sake of hiding your face. Only...it makes it really hard to breathe when you already feel like you can’t get enough air. And pulling it off every five minutes to clean your face of newly gathered tears was difficult.

He says your name again, this time slowly raising a hand to your shoulder. You exhale in relief when you’re met by his touch. “Hey,” He says, “It’s okay, what do you need?”

You take another calming breath, soothed by the weight of his hand that hasn’t left your shoulder. “Well first, are-are you busy today?”

What a stupid question, you think. He ranks high up in the chain of command, of course he’s busy. Not to mention, it’s probably, what, 5 a.m. right now? And he’s sitting in the dining hall. He certainly didn’t wake up this early because he didn’t have something to do.

“Not at all.” He assures with a shake of his helmet.

Sure.

You dismiss the obvious lie, staring his blue visor straight on. You can see your pathetic, teary-eyed reflection staring back at you in the space where his eyes would be.

He wants you to tell him what’s wrong, you remind yourself, just do it.

Using what remaining courage you have, you open your mouth to speak. “I...I know you don’t know me that well. I don’t really...know you either. I-I don't even know why I’m here asking you this right now. But, um,  my-” you choke on your words, confidence diminishing “-my dad is dead, and I’m hurting and afraid and feeling completely unlike myself. I don’t know when the last time I slept was or if I’ve eaten anything in the last couple of days. I just know that-that something really awful has happened to me and I know y-you and I we-we’re practically strangers but right now I just n-need someone and I r-really want that person to be you-”

You hadn’t even realized the flood of tears gushing down your cheeks or the defeated sobs suddenly shaking your body until you were pulled into a pair of arms, his arms.

Strong, protective, shielding arms.

You hear the gentle sounds of Paz shooshing you, his hand pressed to the back of your head and cradling you in a comforting manner.

“I’ve got you, cyar’ika.” He hums, voice light and sweet like honey.

You almost don't mind the heavy sobs racking your body for a moment.

Sweetheart. He called you sweetheart.

You feel his body stir above you, either looking around or else...motioning something to someone. “Hey,” He whispers, keeping your head tucked into his arm, “Come over here with me.”

He guides you away from the dining hall where no doubt, despite your best efforts, whoever was in there had both seen and heard you throw your fit. At the very least catching your sobs at the end.

Ushering you around the corner to an empty hallway, he helps you down on a bench, sitting next to you. Your sobs slowly subsiding to small sniffles under the gloved hand moving soothing circles up and down your back.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, allowing you time to gather yourself. Once the wobbliness in your breathing evens out to a calmer, drawn out, pace, he asks again, “What can I do, vod’ika? I’ll help you, just tell me what you need?”

You nod your head, electing not to rub the abused skin around your eyes that was being continuously irritated by tears. “Could you maybe, stay with me today?” You ask timidly.

“Yes,” He responds instantly, “Yes, of course. Wh-what would you like to do? How can we...divert your attention?” He attempts to sidetrack the word distract, acknowledging that his word choice probably doesn’t make much a difference. “Is there anything on your agenda today?”

“N-no.” You sniff. “All my responsibilities this week were redistributed to other people. I have nothing to do.”

He hums, considering your words.

“But um,” you offer, “I suppose it would be good to take a shower.” You chuckle lifelessly, tugging at the unwashed ends of your hair.

You see his form tense beside you, and your eyes widen in horror in realising your error.

“O-oh maker, no. I was kidding, cause I’m a mess and all that’s - kriff - that’s not at all what I was insinuating-” You panic, fumbling for words.

He chuckles lowly beside you, raising a hand up to ease your stammering, “No, it’s okay. I understand. Allow me to...escort you then?”

“To the-” You swallow, cheeks no doubt pinkened by the encounter, “You really don’t have to I wasn’t seri-”

“Self-care is important.” He says, rising to his feet. “It’s the start of a new day, and it’s early enough that you’ll likely have the entire washroom to yourself. C’mon,” He extends an arm out to you. You contemplate taking it for a moment, briefly, again, considering Collin.

Who isn’t here.

“Really?” You ask, stunned both by his willingness to wait outside the washroom while you shower and his consideration of your privacy.

He lifts his elbow again in response. You rise from your seated position, hand hesitantly grabbing a hold of his arm as he lowers it back towards his side, making the gesture less obvious to prying eyes.

You hold onto the crease of his elbow, your other hand mindlessly joining your other so that you practically hang onto him. He tugs you forward, and you begin walking at a comfortable pace.

“Thank you,” You say, sounding stunned again. “I...I can’t imagine that when you woke up this morning you thought you’d be babysitting a stranger.” You mumble, embarrassed.

He huffs, “You are not a stranger,” then he says your name, again. Honey, pure honey.

“You are a member of my tribe,” He continues, “Even though we do not know each other well, I still care about you.”

You blink back your surprise at his words. This man truly is honorable. Caring and considerate and selfless. A big brute with an even bigger heart. You can’t stop yourself from looking up at him, nearly gaping at his words. “You care about me?” You ask.

He hums, looking at your wide eyes staring up at him. 

“You don’t even know me.” You mutter as he looks away. You can’t possibly care about someone who you don’t know. 

“I’m observant.”

You hesitate, feeling another foreign feeling flutter in your belly. 

“Observant?” You challenge.

His visor looks back down at you, your puffy eyes swimming with curiosity. You want him to prove it. 

He takes a tentative breath, hoping you’ll allude his suspiciously observant behaviors of you with the fact that he was trained to be hyper aware of his surroundings. He speaks slowly, “Your favorite food is vegetable pie, probably because it’s a main course, but also sweet. You like to busy yourself with your hands, often tinkering with whatever small, broken objects you manage to find around the covert. Every morning, you head to the training room early to run your own drills and stretch before everyone else arrives. You have a boyfriend, Collin I believe, who you like to align your chores with so you can do them together, except for cleaning the kitchens, which you always try to switch off with somebody else.”

Your eyes stare unblinkingly at his profile. “How-how do you know that?”

“Because kitchen duty is always crossed out under your name on the chores chart, and a different chore is always handwritten underneath.” He says, unable to contain an amused laugh. He opts to only remark on the last of his observations.

You slow to a stop, feeling suddenly incredibly ashamed. “Wow,” You say in admiration. “I-”

You can’t think of anything to say in response, you don’t know anything about him. And here he was telling you that not only does he care for you simply as a member of his tribe, but he actually knows things about you.

You’re overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness, “Paz- I’m...I’m ashamed to say that I don’t even know what your favorite color is.”

He barks out a laugh, surprising you. “Are you concerned with what my favorite color is, cyar’ika?”

“Yes.” You answer, perhaps a silly amount of gravity. “Upon hearing all the things you know about me that most others don't, I mean I’m...I’m touched Paz.”

His tilts his head, visor lingering on your face a moment, and you’re sure that while it was a somewhat silly conversation, he can see the annoying little pools of water that gathered in your eyes again.

He’s silent for a moment. “My favorite color is brown,” He says.

“Brown.” You reflect.

He nods, “It’s warm, soothing.”

“Okay,” You say, hand reaching for his elbow again. “Brown. I’ll remember that.” You squeeze his sleeve in promise.

“I’m sure you will,” He smiles. Or at least you think he does. It sure sounds like he does.

You continue walking on in silence, only passing one other vod in the spacious hall. You’re fairly certain that the Mando approaching does a double take as he sees you clinging to the heavy infantry warrior, but Paz just gives him a nod as you pass in silence. It’s still terribly early. Or late, to you at least. For it to be early you would have had to have slept in the first place.

Your pace is slow, and you wonder if Paz notices the utter exhaustion plaguing your body.

Oh. He must, you think upon catching a reflection of yourself.

Kriff, you look about as good as you feel.

He stops outside your room so you could run in and bag some clothes, before you venture down to the washrooms. You walk comfortably in silence, despite having enjoyed some distracting conversation with him, it feels like the most you’ve spoken all week, and it was tiring, though not unpleasant.

“Could I, ask you something?” He hesitates, clearing his throat. Noting that you keep your eyes glued to the space in front of your feet. “Where is your...uh, Collin?”

He should be doing this. Paz reflects. Taking care of you.

You raise your eyebrows at the floor. “Sleeping I’m sure.”

“Well yes,” He says, “But why hasn’t he been, you know...around?”

His brows furrow at his own words. Well done Paz, you di’kut. First the poor girl’s dad dies, then you offend her by asking why her boyfriend hasn’t been taking care of her. Let alone the fact that you just made it known you’ve noticed his absence. That did not come out at all how he wanted it to.

He’s surprised by a little laugh emitting from your lips. Small and half-hearted and barely audible, but by maker if even then it isn’t one of the prettiest sounds he ever heard.

“Cause..” you sigh, searching for the answer. “-cause he’s an asshole.” You mutter, blunt as the truth leaves your lips.

Oh.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn't have overstepped-”

“It’s okay,” you mumble, “what’s one more thing in my life..”

Paz is silent for a moment. You’re surprised your eyes haven't welled with tears again. Lately it seems like they prefer looking through a blurry lens rather than a clear one. But maybe a part of you expected this with Collin. Your relationship isn’t what it used to be. For the last six months it seems as though his interest in you has slowly diminished. It takes having something fun and interesting for him to seem excited about spending time with you. Cause maker forbid anytime you try to just sit and hang out with him you enjoy yourselves, he’s always got some excuse on hand to get him out of it.

“No,” Paz insists, interrupting your ruminations. “I’m sorry. Perhaps he thought space is what you wanted?”

I think space is what he wanted.

You don’t answer, arriving to the washrooms. Being the only two people in at this hour, the echo of his heavy armor clinks around the wide space. You pass door after door of the enormous shower rooms. Kriff, this is weird. Why was the first thing you thought of when he asked you what you would normally do to shower? I mean sure that was true, but certainly you could have forgone this item on your agenda for the sake of being...proper?

You glance at your passing figure in a mirror and flinch.

Although.

Maybe you...need a shower.

You must have showered within the last few days, right?

“Okay,” Paz says, breaking the silence. “I’ll wait out here.” He says, standing in the communal space with sinks and benches. “You just, take your time vod’ika. Let the water...freshen you up or, soothe you or..some shit.”

Your frown abruptly turns into a wide smile as you giggle.

Victory. He thinks.

His breath hitches behind his own helmet. Kriff, you have a lovely smile. How had he never noticed your smile before?

“Thank you, Paz.” You say, retreating to a random facility and briskly closing the door.

You lean against the door once it’s shut, the ghost of a smile still on your cheeks.

He’s really just going to stand out there. Just so that you know he’s there, that you’re not alone.

“Wow.” You whisper, soaking in the warm feeling in your stomach. It feels like forever since you’ve felt that, giddiness.

You move to turn on the water, slowly stripping yourself of your clothes. You were still wearing your nightshirt from your fruitless sleep endeavors. It was nothing indecent, just a plain, black, elbow-length shirt. Luckily, you had had enough sense in you to pull on a sports bra before you abandoned any notions of sleep, lazily just slipping on some green cargo pants over your leggings before wandering aimlessly through the covert.

You look comfortable but...certainly not like a fierce Mandalorian.

You try your hardest to wash the gloom off your face, focusing your attention on the mission at hand in hopes of keeping distracted. Now you remember why you’d been putting off showering. For some reason, whenever you’re buried under the protective warmth of the loud, secluded shower, at least since it happened, you started to-

The first sniffle comes before you sense its approach, and within seconds your body is shaking in silent sobs.

“Shit.” You whisper.

Pull it together, it’s okay, just breathe. Paz is out there, you don’t want him to hear you.

Your tears blend together with the water running down your body from the shower, making it impossible to discern what is the result of your own pain and what procured it.

You let out a silent whimper, quiet enough that thankfully, you’re sure Paz couldn’t have heard.

Breathe. It’s okay, you’re okay.

No. I’m not okay.

I’m all alone.

“Stop it.” You scold yourself harshly, your soft breath echoing only in your ears.

You are not alone.

Someone is here for you.

Paz. Paz dropped everything to take care of you.

He’s right outside that door, waiting for you.

You take another moment to compose yourself, allowing the last few suds to wash down your form before turning the water off. You quickly dry yourself off and pull on your change of clothes, now wearing a blue sweater and leggings. You didn’t even bother bringing a flight suit. What’s one more day of not suiting up. But at least you’ve still got your boots.

You walk to the mirror, sighing once you get a good look at yourself.

Great.

Swollen, red, angry eyes stare back at you with a red nose to match.

Fuck. You shove all your things back into the sack, giving your hair a final few shakes with the towel before moving towards the door.

It swings open, and you’re met with the sight of Paz leaning against the opposite wall. Arms crossed, one foot propped up against the wall. His visor turns in your direction as you emerge from the chambers. He hmphs, observing your appearance.

“What?” You ask, hesitating to step closer.

“I like the color.”

You look down at your sweater, unknowingly having sported a blue in the exact same shade as his armor. You hide your gaze in your chest, mumbling a half-amused, “Oh.”

“It signifies reliability, did you know that?” He asks.

You still don’t meet his gaze, but smile. Makes sense.

“It is very fitting for you.” He finishes.

You finally look up at him. For you? He believes you to be reliable? “Oh, th-thank you.” You stutter, feeling truly flattered by his compliment.

His visor tilts silently back and forth on your features as you step up at him. He notices your freshly irritated eyes.

“Are you-”

“-it’s nothing.” You interrupt, shaking your head.

“I um,” You shift awkwardly from foot to foot, trying to lighten the mood with an obviously forced smile. “I tend to emerge from showers with angry eyes, at least, as of late.”

Paz’s hand surprises you as it reaches up, gently cupping your elbow, so swiftly you’re not even sure he meant to do it.

“Not angry, mesh’la,” He mutters, “sad.”

Your mouth gapes open slightly, not having expected such a remark from him. He seems slightly distressed by his own slip of the tongue as well, immediately tensing.

His mind is reeling, guilt flooding over him like a tidal wave in a storm. He feels as though he crossed a line. He’s supposed to be caring for you, distracting you, not calling you beautiful when you already belong to someone else.

“I’m-”

“What the hell is going on here?”

Both your gazes snap up in the direction of the source.

Standing under an archway, halfway between the entrance of the washrooms and you, is Collin.

Your breath hitches, “Collin.” You breathe out.

Paz’s hand jerks instantly from your elbow, hanging tensely by his side.

Collin says your name questioningly, taking another step towards you. He’s wearing his armor, but his helmet hangs down by his side. Blonde eyebrows furrowed suspiciously at the two of you.

“I said,” he repeats, “what is going on in here?”

“Nothing.” You say instantly, taking a step away from Paz.

Well that was a suspiciously guilty maneuver.

Collin eyes Paz for a moment, whose form hasn’t moved even an inch since Collin interrupted you both. He closes the distance between the two of you, but still stays a generous space away.

“What are you doing down here at this hour?” He questions, eyebrows furrowed tightly together.

“I..I couldn’t sleep.” You say.

“Again?”

Again? Your father died not one week ago, does he really expect you to be sleeping soundly?

“Yes it’s- been difficult to find the right headspace for rest.” You answer. “I thought perhaps a warm shower would help alleviate the uneasiness.”

His eyes flick to Paz before quickly landing back on your own, suddenly morphing his face into one of concern. His posture loosens slightly and he reaches towards you, showing you more affection than he has in months. “Well, are you okay? You don’t look very good.” Collin says.

Your frown deepens, suddenly you feel very offended. 

“Yeah? Well I look the way I feel, wise guy.” You snap, startling both of you by your outburst. His hand retreats from your space, moving to clench and unclench by his side.

“I’m sorry,” He scoffs after taking a tense breath, “Have I done something wrong?”

“Collin-” Paz’s voice breaks his role as an audience member to your discussion, polite but still warning in his tone.

“-No, I am not speaking to you.” Collin spits out, “I’m speaking to my girlfriend. My girlfriend who you were getting awfully close to in the privacy of this empty washroom.”

Your heart is thumping in your chest. He’s right, this certainly was not a good look. It was highly irregular for you to be up so early. And here you were alone at an ungodly hour with a man who wasn’t your partner. Kriff, how could you be so stupid? You should have known that Collin would stumble in here at this time, he does early morning flight training every week, today must be his lesson. It must have slipped your mind, or maybe you’d forgotten his schedule. Had he even shown you his schedule?

No. No, he hadn’t. When was the last time you even saw him? Surely a few times a day but had you even shared a moment of substance together since the funeral? You’ve gone to him for comfort yet you can’t remember how any of those interactions went. He dismissed you, or offered you a peck on the forehead before changing the subject.

Come to think of it, how dare he come in here angry with you for anything. If anything, you should be the one who’s angry. Paz was right, where has he been?

“You’re right.” Paz says, shocking you and Collin both, your gaze quickly snapping in his direction. “I shouldn't have reached for her. But I was only trying to comfort her, I swear to you that is all. Regardless, you need to relax.” He speaks calmly, the warning back in his tone.  

Collin huffs, taking a menacing step in Paz’s direction. He always was arrogant. 

Your eyes widen, “Collin-”

He rasps out his next words in with a snarl, cutting off your attempt to de-escalate the situation. “Listen here, vod-” He spits, but not before being cut off by a startling quick grab to the front of his chest plate, yanking him forward.

Collin’s heels barely graze the floor as he looks directly up at Paz’s visor, who seems to have grown another six inches, the two quite literally helm to helm.

“You do not address me as your vod in such a manner of disrespect.” Paz growls, his voice sending a harsh shiver down your spine, slightly in alarm, slightly in...something else.

Your breath hitches, frozen as you watch the scene unfold. If you’re too frightened to move, you can’t imagine how Collin feels. Although...maybe a small part of you wishes you did.

“Jare’la,” Paz scoffs, shaking his head. “I am your alor’ad. And I do not tolerate a lack of respect. If you are confused about your place, then I will gladly show you where it is. Tayli’bac, vod?” He spits the words out menacingly, challenging Collin to oppose his authority.

“Elek! Elek, alor’ad!” Collin stammers, “N’eparavu takisit!”

Paz huffs, visor staring Collin down a moment longer before releasing him, shoving him back in the process.

He stumbles to catch himself, grabbing onto the side of the sink for leverage. You’ve never seen him look so...cowardly.

He looks to you, taking a moment to gather himself. Your eyes are still wide, mouth agape as you just stare at him in disbelief. He wets his lips with his tongue, seeming to swallow down another remark, eyes darting to Paz before returning to you. “So, that’s the way it is, huh?”

You’re speechless, “I- I don’t..”

You contemplate the severity of the moment, what’s at stake. Your silence is answer enough, you decide, before opting to look down, relinquishing your chance to speak. With it goes your willingness to explain, to try and salvage whatever pathetic excuse of a relationship you thought you had had with him. “I’m sorry, Collin.” You say, unsure of the words as they leave your mouth.

You hear only the sound of heavy breathing. Two sources of heavy breathing, and neither of them are coming from you. Then, a sound akin to that of a growl. You look up to face him again, only to see his focus on the man beside you. Paz looks back at him, unmoving, domineering, daring him to overstep.

Was Collin challenging you, or Paz?

Was Paz simply defending you or...challenging Collin? And for what?

You feel another spike in anxiety, suddenly feeling as though you were observing a mating duel, a challenge over possession of a lioness, a female...not...terribly uncommon in Mandalorian culture, though nonetheless offensive.

“That’s enough.” You whisper, though with enough exertion to be heard by both males.

You see Paz’s visor turn to face you out of the corner of your eye, but you don’t move, keeping your gaze averted to Collin.

He stares Paz down for another moment before meeting your eyes, saying your name with a stiff nod, and uttering a “Goodbye,” before briskly leaving the room.

You let out an exhale once he’s rounded the corner, catching your breath. That was it.

You’ve lost him.

You stare at the empty door, at the ghost of the shadow where he once stood, waiting for the tears to fall. You feel heavy, you feel distressed, but perhaps not anymore than you already had. There’s not a swirl of emotion in your gut nor rising in your throat that compels tears to swim in your eyes again.

You hear your name being called once, twice. The third time, you look up, much higher up than you’d expected to, at the imposing figure now standing directly above you.

“Are you alright?” He asks softly.

You hold his gaze, watching your reflection blinking up at him. He doesn’t move, waiting for your response to his question. Your gaze drifts down slightly and to the side, staring at the plain wall behind him, before reconcentrating your focus.

“What um,” Your voice comes out somewhat both hoarse and mellow, quiet as you continue, “What should we do next?”

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

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Paz was guilt ridden. Surely he could have let the little brat mouth off to him one time to spare you from getting hurt. But no, he just had to go and threaten the kid right in front of you. It was just instinctual. He would have done it without restraint any other time to any other member stepping out of line, but upon reflection, maybe the whole thing was his fault. Collin had walked in on you two nearly close enough to embrace. Of course he was pissed. And then, he degraded him, ordering him into submission right in front of your eyes.  

You didn’t blame him. Not in the slightest. I mean, what did Collin expect? He straight up challenged the alor’ad. It was foolish and insulting, and quite honestly Paz wouldn’t have been out of line to clock him then and there. But you suppose he was holding himself back for the sake of your wellbeing, not wanting you to watch your boyfriend - ex-boyfriend - get pounded on while you were already in such a state.

“Yes.” You say, emitting a heavy exhale. You really were.  

The halls have started filling with armored warriors, the covert finally beginning to come to life with a sunrise shining through the trees and early risers popping up.

“Vizsla!” Someone shouts, the two of you turn to see Stephan jogging towards you.

“Hey,” He says, walking once he reached a comfortable earshot, “We missed you on that perimeter run. Was surprised you didn’t show up, is everything-?”

His voice trails off, visor finally ticking in your direction. He seems a little taken aback by your presence, or rather that you were within Paz’s company.

“Vod’ika,” He finally says. “What are you doing with- uh, I mean, how are you?”

“What am I doing with Paz?” You smile, “You don’t think I could handle a perimeter run, Steph?”

His helmet ticks back in surprise at your banter, “N-no, vod’ika.” He says, looking at Paz and huffing in amusement. “We’ll gladly have you join us on the next one.”

“Sure.” Paz nods.

“So…” Stephan continues with uncertainty, “How-how are you?”

Couldn’t make it thirty seconds in without having that question thrown out at you.

You hesitate, the frown slowly returning to your face. Should you answer truthfully? Lie? How are you? 

“I’m…”

You seem stuck on the word. Did you choose a word? What word are you even looking for?

You’re still talking. You remind yourself.

Shit, now you look like you’ve shut down.

You feel a hand rest on your back, blinking forward from your gaze that had somehow been drawn down towards Stephans boots.

“We were just heading to the kitchens.” Paz responds, you tilt your face in his direction without raising your eyes, keeping them glued to the space in front of you, ashamed.

“Okay, yeah.” Stephen says hastily, “Well, uh, Jay made some really good morning muffins, vod’ika, and they’re still warm I bet.”

You nod your head in acknowledgement, offering a pitiful smile, “I’m sure.”

Poor Stephan, it’s not his fault you were like this. He’s just checking in on you, and here you are making him feel bad for asking about your wellbeing. It’s just a question.

Kriff, why are you so weak?

You conceal yourself back in your thoughts, sure that you look absent with glazed over eyes. But you can't bring yourself to care. That’s the weird thing about feeling so desolate, you just don’t have the energy to hide it sometimes.

You hear the foggy exchange of words between the two warriors, simply choosing to retract yourself from the conversation and instead focus your attention on the gloved hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

Stephan’s modulator rises to a more upbeat tone before stepping forward and offering Paz a light slap on the arm as he passes, evidently dismissing the two of you to carry on with your business.

Paz’s form shifts to watch Stephan leave before turning to you. “Okay?” He asks.

“Okay.” You nod.

He hums, sounding unconvinced as he lightly nudges you forward again, letting his hand drop from its place on your jumper.

No... come back.

You walk side by side in silence, trying to get him to walk a step ahead of you so you can follow. But anytime your step falters purposefully to give him the lead he slows his own, silently insisting you walk side by side. Instead, he steers your direction with fleeting contacts. A hand pulling your arm, his gloved fingers tapping your shoulder. You’re happy to let him guide you, appreciating the delicate touches in direction.

Feeling a sliver of life breathed into you at each one.

The touches stop far sooner than you need them to upon arrival to your destination. You notice you’re heading towards the mess hall again, feeling discomfort at the idea of seeing more of your vods, or worse, having a repeat of your public meltdown you’d had just a few short hours ago.

You’re more alert now, having picked up on the light buzzing from the dining hall. There’s probably quite a few people out there now. And you’re not sure you’re ready to face another wave of concerned and attentive brothers and sisters.

“Paz-” You say, ready to object, but not before you’re steered off to the side, scarcely missing exposure to the hall full of bustling Mandalorians.

Instead, Paz opens a door and gestures for you to walk through, which you do.

Oh. The kitchen.

You’ve been in here many times, but not often during the day. Jay keeps a tight lockdown on the kitchen, only allowing his apprentice to be in here during the working hours of the covert. He’s got a considerable number of Mandalorians to feed, yet he prefers to tackle the challenge alone. Usually kicking anyone out who pops in to help, scolding them for messing up his rhythm.

He has no problem allowing people to make their rounds of kitchen duty though, but that only consists of cleaning up the space once it’s shut down for the night. Mopping, washing, organizing...he tends to lock up all the good treats and hide away the key, making the task totally not worthwhile for you.

Of course, being the daughter of the unsanctioned Alor and all, you had special privileges. One of them being you could hang around the kitchen without Jay kicking you out every time. He still did, but he gave you more leeway than the others if you stayed out of his way and only snacked on the scraps he wasn’t saving.

The door swings shut behind you and you round the corner, the clink of your armored warrior just behind you.

Whoa, whoa. You stop yourself. Your?

You catch sight of a red Mandalorian viciously attending to something on the stove. “What are you two doing in here?” Jay shouts over his shoulder, turning back to his frying.

Paz looks around the empty kitchen, “I heard a rumor about morning muffins.” The deep rumble of his voice saying the words prompts a breathy giggle from your lips, catching his attention, before he continues to glance around for the treats.

Jay huffs, motioning with his wooden spoon to the corner, “Over there. Take one and get out.”

“Thanks,” Paz says, his hands lightly resting on your shoulders from behind and nudging you forward. “Nice attitude.” He mumbles for your ears, an amused smile still lingering on your lips.

“Nice signet.” Jay scoffs, evidently having heard, “Or lack thereof.”  

“Nice apron.”

“Okay- get out of my kitchen.” Jay says, looking up from his dicing.

You surprise yourself by letting out a lively laugh. Paz’s hands tighten over your shoulders at the sudden sound, feeling damn near enamored by Jay for having caused it.

He looks to Jay and gives him a grateful nod, who nods slightly in return, so as not to be caught by your gaze, before returning to his work.

You make your way to the tray of muffins in the corner, boldly sitting down on the couch in front of the fire. Exactly where you and your dad would sit and enjoy the freshly baked cookies or cake made by Jay that morning, the small area being off limits to everyone else in the covert.

Paz is certain Jay would have snapped at them to get away from his personal space if it weren’t for you. You’re sat next to him, gazing at the fire that Jay lights every morning to warm the frigid kitchen.

“For you.” Paz says, handing you a small muffin with a napkin wrapped protectively around it.

You smile at him, accepting the gesture, just allowing it to slowly warm up your fingers in your lap. The movements of the fire captivating your attention as the flames dance in the soft lighting.

“Cyar'ika.” He says softly, the word sending a shiver down your spine. “You really ought to eat something.”

You look to your side again, taking in Paz’s appearance on the tiny couch. Its small size having forced you to sit right up against each other. The leg closest to you is propped up and over the other comfortably, his knee resting elevated slightly above your own.

You wonder if you clink your knee against his own if his hand will slip off it and land on yours.

A silly thought, you think, amusing yourself.

His tilting visor alerts you that you’ve been shamelessly gawking at him. Twice in one day.

“I- um,” You stutter, averting your gaze. “I’m not terribly hungry, Paz.”

He hums, “Well it’s a good thing you’re not terribly hungry because all you’ve got there is a teeny muffin.”

“Yes, it would appear so.” You smile, still making no movement to eat it.

Paz breathes in a slow, contemplative sigh. Guilt starts to flood your senses again, he’s done so much for you today, why can’t you just do this one thing for him?

“Tell you what,” he offers, your eyes rising to meet his visor, “You eat that muffin, maybe have a little bit of tea, and I’ll tell you about the time your vod and I went to Jabba’s Palace.”

Your eyes widen, and you boldly swing your hand down to grasp his arm as you straighten. “The Hutt story?” You choke. “You’ll tell me the Hutt story?”

Paz’s modulator rumbles as he chuckles, knowing he’s got you entrapped by a golden exchange.

He nods, “I’ll tell you the untold and widely sought-after story about the time Devin and I went to visit the Hutts-”

“-Deal!” You squeeze his arm, still gripping tightly from earlier.

“Yeah,” Jay utters, his looming figure now standing directly behind you both, “Kriffing deal.”  

“Get out of here.” Paz huffs, shoving Jay back over the arm of the couch. He doesn’t argue, but you see his retreating form adjust the volume settings on his vambrace.

Paz shifts back cheekily with his arms spread around the couch. He gestures to the uneaten muffin on your lap, waiting for you to uphold your end of the deal.

You sigh, unwrapping the baked good. But the thrill of getting to know the story that caused such an uproar in the covert shoo’s away the discomfort, replacing it with a slightly giddy feeling.

You take a bite, looking at him expectantly. He just scoffs, gesturing again to the tiny muffin in your hand. “C’mon, that thing is like the size of a whistle bird, you finish that before you get the story,” He says, with much emphasis on the “before.”

Fair.

You down the muffin faster than you thought you could, much too excited to finally hear the secret tale. You were going to have bragging rights around this place forever. Paz shakes his head at you, lightly laughing, “So that’s all it takes, huh?” He nods to the empty napkin in your hand.

You ignore him, knowing he knows full well the value of this information. Whatever it was that happened when those two visited Jabba’s Palace, Devin had come back damn near afraid of his own shadow. It took months for him to pull himself together. Your vod would literally jump at the sound of an egg cracking open, reaching for his blaster and slipping up on his grasp. It was kriffing hysterical to you and everyone else in the tribe. And you assumed you weren’t really being malicious. Paz had been there too and returned unscathed, and laughed all the same. And even though he teased Devin to no end about it, he swore he’d never tell a soul what happened, so up until this point, nobody knew what it was. But here you were.

Paz turns over his shoulder, “Hey Jay,” He says politely. “How about a cup of tea for your vod’ika?”

“What am I your maid?” Jay retorts.

“You are the cook.”

Jay mutters something under his breath, but you don’t pay him any mind, having heard him fill up a pot of water immediately upon Paz’s request.

You avert your gaze from Paz’s helmet as soon as he turns to face you again. You look to the fire, biting your lip as a smile slowly grows on your face. It crosses your mind that you feel not only okay in this very moment but actually...happy. The fleeting moments of relief you’ve been feeling all morning, small moments of peace jumbled in with all the sadness and the anxiety, were all because of him. This man who you did not even know three hours ago. Who let you cry in his arms, who stood guard outside the washroom while you showered, who defended you, called you sweetheart, made sure you knew he was always there with you. The same man who now sat next to you on the couch you weren’t allowed to sit on in a kitchen you weren’t allowed to be in. Your smile grows wider, and in your peripheral you’re very aware of his visor still staring at you.

“What?” Paz chuckles.

“Nothing.” You giggle, tears gathering in your eyes. But for the first time today, first time all week, forming not in pain but in relief.

“What is it?” He insists, still playful in his tone. His knee nudges you as if to prompt a response.

A tear slips down your cheek and he leans forward instinctively, his hand finding yours in your lap without hesitation. “Mesh’la, what is it?” He asks again, this time void of all silliness, concerned.

You shake your head, your small smile still present, but certainly reflecting more of the emotion you were feeling.

You place your other hand on top of his own that covers yours, trapping his gloved fingers in your two hands, before looking up at him.

“Just, thank you Paz.” You say, admiration and gratitude dripping from your voice.

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

He likes your voice, he decides, it sounds so sweet, like pure honey.

His eyes are lost in yours behind the visor, watching another tear slip down your delicate cheek. He can hear the relief in your voice. The pure relief and admiration. Admiration? Do you feel admiration for him? He sure hopes you do, otherwise you might find it weird that he’s staring at you for so long. Kriff, he should stop staring at you. But look at those eyes. Those wonderfully expressive eyes that aren’t looking angry or sad or pained, but warm. He feels ensnared by your gaze, a light smile trailing your features, a sprinkle of tears sliding down your cheeks. He watches one slip down the shape of your cheek, rounding your nose and lips before forming a teardrop on your chin. He watches it glisten, unable to bear letting it fall. Mindlessly, he raises a gloved finger to catch it.

Your breath hitches at the contact, and his finger hovers under your jaw before sliding up to catch another.  

Your eyes flit back and forth along the dark shade of his visor, searching, wondering what his eyes look like, head tilting unconsciously into his glove.

He takes the gesture as permission, slowly lifting his thumb, his palm, his whole hand up against your cheek.

You both feel suspended, his hand frozen caressing your cheek. Your eyes have dried up now, carrying a glow of wonder in them. His head tilts slowly and unknowingly to the side, almost like he can’t hold up the weight of his helmet a second longer.

The sound of approaching footfalls brings you back to reality, Paz’s hand drops from your cheek and your faces turning towards the source that dared to interrupt your moment.

“Geez, no need to cry about it, I’ve got your tea.” Jay quips, perfectly deescalating the tension of the moment. Making it a point to show you he was minding his own business.

“Um, thank you.” You mutter, still coming back to the present.

“It’s sleepytime tea.” Jay says, “Ground with dandisonyl.”

“Dandisonyl?” You ask, more alert, “That stuff is rare and expensive.”

“And strong.” Paz huffs.

“And expensive.” You insist again, looking down at your tea. “Jay, why would you waste this on me?”

He leans down against his forearms, now looming over your shoulders. His smug nature radiating off his posture alone, “Now, and this is just an observation, but you look kriffing tired. And that there,” He gestures to the cup of earthy smelling tea you’ve placed on the table in front of you, “That’s sleepytime tea. And you, vod’ika, of all people, look like you need some serious, quality, sleepytime.”

His statement ends with a pinch to your cheeks, and it’s your turn to aggressively shove him backward, causing Paz to let out a sweet laugh.

“Paz,” You say, looking to the only superior present, “He wasted good, expensive herbs on me. That stuff can be used medicinally.” You say with reprimand in your voice.

Paz surprises you by shrugging, “He kind of did use it medicinally.”

“Oh, alor’ad.” You chastise, using his official title to remind him of his role here.

He shrugs, using his whole body for the movement, before picking up your cup and placing it back in your hands. “I suppose you’re right, alor’ika.” He teases, “So you’d better drink it all so as not to let it go to waste.”

You roll your eyes, taking a sip of the tea. With your nose nestled into the cup you miss the silent exchange of approval Paz gives Jay.

Readjusting your position so that you’re facing the fire again, you turn your head towards Paz, taking another sip of your tea, it is surprisingly good. “Get on with the story then.” You command, grinning at your victory.

“Okay.” Paz says, grunting as he adjusts himself to sit comfortably once again on the small couch, opting this time to keep one arm swung over behind your head. You smile in content, looking down sheepishly at your tea and having a bit more.

“Well, it all started on the ship. I mean before we even got to Tatooine. Devin, being the utreekov that he is, forgot to bring the kriffing-...”

You listen intently to his story. He’s using his hands as he talks, passionate and perhaps a little dramatic. He’s taking extra care to include all the details, probably indulging in the fact that you and, undoubtedly, Jay, are paying him your absolute, undivided attention. You sip at your tea, the taste warm and comforting alongside Paz’s sweet voice. Your eyes are getting heavier, and you blink at the burning feeling stinging your eyes from the light of the fire, deciding that you’ll be able to listen better with your eyes closed, and gently placing the empty mug on the table.

“So, finally we get to Jabba’s palace. And Devin’s already a nervous wreck after that encounter with the Trandoshans, and-”

His voice carries a hint of thrill in it. You wonder if he feels exhilarated in finally getting to tell this story. Your lips twitch slightly, content that he’s trusting you with it. 

Feeling heavier on one side, you allow your head to swing slightly in his direction, snuggling more into the embrace of the couch.

You notice his words trailing off, realizing you weren't paying much attention. Hearing only the sounds of the crackling fire in front of you, you slowly force your eyes open.

Paz’s head is turned down as much as it can in his position. And though you can’t see his visor, you’re certain he’s staring at you.

“Keep talking.” You mutter, resting your head back again.

You hear the sweetest breath of a chuckle sound from beneath his helmet, which you suddenly realise you're very near to. “Close your eyes again.”

“No, I wanna listen to the story.” You mumble, your low energy blending the words together.

“You can only evade sleep for so long sweetheart.”

“We’ll see.” You challenge, eyes fluttering closed against your will.

“Yes, we will.” He whispers. He’s silent another moment, admiring you and your peaceful expression with a smile on his face before carrying on with the story, speaking much more softly than before. The light humming of his voice is soothing, and you notice it growing quieter and quieter, yet the feelings of security and warmth and relief all stay with you.

Paz looks towards the fire as he speaks, trying to draw out the story as long as he can. He feels the light weight of your head resting against his shoulder, not daring to move a muscle and disturb your peaceful slumber.

It’s still early in the morning. Behind the fireplace and through the density of the thick wall, Paz can hear the covert coming to life. And while their days are just starting, yours has finally come to a peaceful end. He listens to your serene breathing through the long pauses he takes in his story, knowing that really, he’s only telling it to Jay now, who notably moves through the kitchen swiftly and with as little clicking and clanking as he can muster.

“-And so, that’s what happened on Tatooine.” Paz whispers, looking at your parted lips and lightly closed eyelids.

The fire casts a harmonious glow on your face, making your features look warmer, livelier, serene.

You look utterly angelic.

He remembers how you crumbled in his arms not five hours ago, pained and distressed and lonely. You sought him out even though you didn’t know him, not knowing how much he’d admired you from afar. To see your normally light and radiant face masked with such despair, he couldn’t bear to see it again.

He watches your sleeping form take a staggering breath, your body relaxing into its position, nudging your face further into where it fell on his shoulder. He dares to let the arm wrapped around the couch lower slightly, so that it rests comfortingly around your form.

“Sleep, cyar’ika,” He whispers. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

He hopes his silent promise is enough to soothe your sleeping form, listening to your breathing even out to a more peaceful rhythm.

“I’ll be here for as long as you need.”

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

Translations:

Alor - chancellor Vod’ika - little sister Osik - shit Di’kut - idiot Jare’la - stupidly oblivious of danger / asking for it. Alor’ad - captain Tayli’bac, vod? - Do you understand, mate? (menacing) Elek! Elek, alor’ad! - Yes! Yes, captain! N’eparavu takisit! - I’m sorry (lit. I eat my insult) Alor’ika - little leader Utreekov - fool, idiot (lit. emptyhead)

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

a/n two: They both think the other person’s voice sounds like pure honey.. 🥺

also we need more Paz x reader content on Tumblr my dudes. 

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Taglist: @wandsmith​ 💖

[youarejesting]

Wash Out.22

[Master List]

Banners: @purpleskies1999 Pairings: Dolphintrainer!Taehyung x SharkDiver!Jin,  Mer!Jimin x Reader, Scientist!Namjoon x MerKing!Jungkook, Mer!Yoongi x Mer!Hoseok. Rating: 16+ Genre: Mystery, Romance, Comedy, Drama, Fantasy, little bit of Action, Slice of life, Enemies2Lovers, Friends2lovers, Social media au, Fake Texts, Fake Subs.

Summary: Taehyung and his best friend Y/N are Dolphin trainers at Wash Out; Marine Wildlife and Theme Park. When the nerdy marine biologist and resident veterinarian Doctor Kim Namjoon goes missing; the two friends form a ragtag team with Taehyung’s rival Seokjin and a…. Fish?

[Prev] 

There was no limit to which Taehyung could grieve. But there was a limit to his bank account. The new CEO Tom was a kind man, offering them a chance to mourn their losses and collect themselves before returning to work. There was a small funeral and memorial for Mr Schmidt within the theme park. 

Although the employee’s were respectful they remained impartial to the change of leadership. With new management came more appropriate wages. 

Waking beside Y/n reassured him things would be okay. You were the only reason he got out of bed and Taehyung suspected you felt the same. Uncanny how the two of you were sporting matching puffy eyes and pink tipped noses. Taehyung gave a soft smile, you had been supporting him while he broke down assuring him that Seokjin would return. 

It was time to show Y/n that she had someone to lean on. Knowing you had lost the first person you had developed such a strong bond with. There had been a few before Jimin and there may be more to come, but like magic the two of you had a special kind of love. The rare kind that happens only to few.

Taehyung wondered what you were thinking, if you were really okay, or just saying you were because that's what people wanted to hear. Dressing quietly he noticed you stir out the corner of his eyes. Begrudgingly pulling yourself out of bed and getting ready in the bathroom.

The playful banter on the way to work became silent pondering of thoughts. Hands reaching for one another if those thoughts turned dark. Taehyung was grateful for the company, grateful for the silence. He had no pressure to act like things were okay when they weren’t.

In saying that pulling into the employee parking lot Taehyung cut the engine. Pulling the visor down to look in the mirror, he tested a small smile. Almost foreign and unfamiliar to him, the muscles seemed to have weakened.

How many days had it been? Two and a half weeks later, as the days passed any hope of Seokjin or Namjoon’s return dwindled extensively. 

“Tae, we should go in,” Y/n smiled hand ready on the door handle braced for work like it was war. 

“Yeah, sorry.”

The security seemed awkward greeting them, rightfully so they had been accused of stealing money from the theme park. It wouldn’t surprise them if everyone kept their distance. Dolphins on the other hand seemed to understand their feelings better than humans. Bubbles, Captain, Dolly and her new pup Hopster came up to greet them, sensing their mood and trying to cheer them up with little jumps, squeals and splashes.

It pulled soft genuine smiles from you both, it was mid practice when a voice called from the bleachers behind the show tank. “You know Joonie, I have never seen a dolphin show, but it looks pretty lackluster, the dolphins are doing all the hard work. The instructors don’t really feel committed to the show.”

“I think they have been having a rough week, maybe they might have lost someone close to them.” Namjoon said softly. “You can never know what someone else is going through without asking.”

“Should I go ask them?” Seokjin said, standing and strolling over, the two looked clean and fresh like they had just come back from a vacation and not the bottom of the ocean.

Taehyung had broken down in the water, crying as the dolphins playfully bumped him with their noses trying to stop his tears. You pulled yourself out of the water and ran over, hugging Seokjin. His whines echoing around the small amphitheater.

After practically suffocating Seokjin in a firm hug you pulled Namjoon in as well, he was surprised by the action. Probably because the two of you were never really close but unlike Seokjin he didn’t complain about the wet patches left on his clothes.

Taehyung had practically crawled out of the dolphinarium show tank, the dolphins wiggling on their bellies beside him on the small raised surface. Seokjin walked towards him sorrowful and compassionate, opening his hands for the young dolphin trainer and groaning when he was pulled into the knee deep water. Letting Taehyung clutch him tightly, his complaints ceased when he felt the younger man shaking in his arms.

“It seems you must have been suffering with me gone.” He tried to coax Taehyung’s head from where it had buried into his neck, but it only encouraged him to grasp tighter and bury his face deeper into Seokjin’s chest. “Hey, you can’t be crying like this, you are going to make me sad.”

“I thought you had died,” Taehyung whimpered voice broken and small, his hands clutching the soft sweater fabric pulled tight over Seokjin’s shoulders. Taehyung looked up, eyes wet, puffy and red for yet another time this week. “I thought I lost you, before I had a chance to tell you properly.”

“Tae, I can barely understand what you are saying,” Seokjin wiped his sleeve under Taehyung's nose, “You have to speak clearly, don’t ruin my good pants for nothing.”

Taehyung pulled him forward kissing him passionately. Taehyung was thrilled to have Seokjin back in his arms. He was unable to stop himself from slowly walking backwards more and more until he reached the edge of the water. Seokjin was too distracted by the kiss to realise until it was too late.

Pulling the older man into the dolphinarium and giggling when they resurfaced. “Ya!” Seokjin shouted, “We were going to dinner after this, I was dressed up and everything.”

Taehyung was apologizing, his grin never faltering as he chased a soggy Seokjin back to the locker rooms. The three of you emerged from the change rooms spotting Namjoon standing awkwardly by the entrance.

“Are you ready to go?” Y/n asked, slapping his back playfully, “I hear Seokjin is paying for dinner tonight.” 

“What, you wanted me to come to dinner?” Namjoon said his words, stumbling unsure and confused.

“You don’t want to come to dinner, Namjoonie-Hyung?” Taehyung grinned up at him, before the two of you took Taehyung’s car following Jin’s from the parking lot to the restaurant. It was a small barbeque place, it was a secret treasure known to only a few.

The drinks started flowing. Namjoon seemed awkward at first but he was soon laughing with the rest. “I have never really done this before.” He admitted sheepishly.

“Drank?”

“No, I haven’t had dinner with friends before,” His ears were pink and your smile fell, Taehyung felt like the worst person to ever exist. “I know Jin and I tried but there were always things getting in the way.”

“Hey, we are your friends now, we were just rude idiots. We didn’t know about how cool you were until Seokjin told us how special you meant to him.” Y/n explained pouring him another drink.

“You weren’t rude, I just am really awkward and I know I talk about crabs a lot. It isn’t the most appealing conversation people want to have.” Namjoon waved his hands trying to calm the sad looks around the table, “I am just happy you think of me as your friend.”

Seokjin gasped, pulling a small cloth from his pocket, “Jimin asked me to give this to you.” He placed the cloth in your palm and you opened it slowly. “He got back safely and was definitely worried if you were okay,”

Opening the cloth to reveal a necklace, a cream shell spiraling in a cone shape and in the opening fitting perfectly secure was a gold Pearl. Taehyung leaned over, taking the necklace and helping you secure it around your neck.

~

You were called into work early one morning by Namjoon, he said something was wrong with Dolly and her pup and he needed help. Taehyung was outside and you sleepily let them drive you across town. You were being pushed into the old marine clinic, Taehyung threw you some swimmers and pushed you into the change room.

Moving quickly you followed Namjoon who was talking about the pups condition seriously, “This is our last chance, just go in first and check on how he looks and appearance and then we will begin the treatment, make sure you keep him calm and make him feel safe.”

You nodded, slipping slowly until you were treading water by the catwalk, about to ask a few questions when you were pulled under by the ankle. Confused and scared, you spotted Jimin in the water, his face showing how happy he was to see you. He swam at you grabbing your waist and resurfacing. You started crying and you wiped your eyes laughing and coughing from the water you had partially inhaled in shock.

“I am leaking,” Jimin touched his cheeks and you kissed him happily. 

“How did you get here?” You sniffed, “We have to get you back to the water.”

“Hey, it's all good I have something special with me this time, it allows me to walk on the ground just like you. Our king Jungkook gave it to me. He says I can visit whenever I want, because you are my promised.”

[Prev] THIS IS THE END! YAY! I hope you enjoyed it.

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A Distant Dream IV // Luke Patterson

Summary: In 1994 seventeen year old Luke Patterson had once again tried to ask out the girl that held his heart. With the belief he would see the younger Mercer girl the next morning he decides to wait to confess his feelings. Only to have soft music bewitched the reader into an antique wardrobe with lots of history

Warnings: Swearing, grief, mourning a relationship, sadness, angst, war/death, mention of strict parents, and fluff

Words: 3.1

A/N: This is a disclaimer: just because the reader and Luke start to get along better and have a date does NOT mean she isn’t grieving her relationship. Whether the love faded or not with Peter that is still a large part of who she was/is or don’t expect her and Luke to fall into a relationship immediately.

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The phantoms had disbanded for the night, leaving Julie alone in her room surrounded by books and Flynn. You’d snuck down to the basement as you had since you arrived in 2020 from a different world. The wardrobe that quite literally changed your life was in the back corner, unassuming for the young girl.

Your e/c eyes pinned to the antique wooden furniture that had traveled from England to America as if fate had guided it. No matter how long time went by you’d never been able to touch the wardrobe, let alone touch remotely close. A part of you feared finding if you could return to Narnia or not.

It was something you kept private from the new people helping you to assimilate back into a life on Earth. The boys often refused to leave you for very long after the traumatic disappearance, even when you urged for space. It had almost been as tricky as negotiating peace with a land boiling with civil unrest.

Alex had taken to holding your hand as you slept for peace in both him and you; he’d noticed the state of sleep you endured. It was fitful and often filled with memories in the form of nightmares. The one from last night reared its head once more.

An intake of breath as you pulled your fingers closed to your cheek. Eyes on the movement before you released the bow. The arrow sailed true into the unsuspecting enemy with a faint whistle as it travelled.

The body dropped, one of many of the battles you had attended since defeating the White Witch. A life was still a life, and taking one was incredibly difficult. You saw it in the eyes of Peter, heard it in Susan’s strained voice, saw it in the way Edmund carried himself, but the most heartbreaking was the feeling of Lucy’s tense shoulders in certain moments.

Edmund and Lucy had been children when the White Witch had reigned and fought. Lucy had been only nine years old when her foot first touched Narnian snow. At that tender age, she’d watched the evil of the world up close. Edmund not that incredibly older. The youngest Pevensie had watched her brother take his last breath. Felt the trauma of Edmund’s gasping as the cordial bled one life-giving drop of liquid.

“I’d like to say it gets better, but it truly doesn’t, Your Majesty.” General Oreius’ announced from his station beside you. It was a lull in the tension building as people got ready for the enemies on the horizon.

Oreius’ addressed you but kept his gaze on the approaching army from an enemy land; the General was gifted in multitasking. He’d stopped to give you a little peace in only the way he knew how to.

“Thank you, Oreius.” You informed the General as he took off into the land ahead, leaving you to hold off the enemy with arrows. The short lapse is a game-changer for you as you run into battle.

Last night’s dream had been a reprieve from the dreams of Peter staring sadly at you curled around Luke. It hadn’t happened, of course, but that didn’t dim the bonfire of emotions you felt for the hazel-eyed guitarist.

You couldn’t quite figure out if you loved Peter the way a wife should love their husband. It wasn’t solely Peter that made you come to the wardrobe frequently. It had to do with the family that became yours when your parents had been shitty.

“Hey.” Julie spoke, stepping up to your side. The first person to have found you in the basement where you had an entirely different life.

“Hi.” You murmured, breaking your stare to meet the lovely teenager who had taken your brother and friends into her home. Even if it hadn’t been a smooth start, the band had grown infinitely closer.

“Do you think you’ll ever go back?” Julie softly questioned with soft brown eyes taking in the action you’d known for years. Your fingers brushed a strand of her gorgeous coil hair behind her ear with a gentleness you’d done so with Susan and Lucy.

Julie watched as your eyes saddened, “I don’t know. Mere seconds before I stumbled out of the wardrobe into your home, I was an adult. I had been in my early ’30s reigning beside my husband, and then I was the same sixteen-year-old girl breaking the chains of the Mercer name.”

“You feel guilty you left Alex, Luke and Reggie without answers, but you feel like you’re betraying your new family?” Julie questioned, shifting on her sneakers to stare at the emotional mask you’d developed in Narnia.

“Something like that.” You simply replied, casting one more look at the wardrobe in your haste to leave the basement.

Julie waited until you had left before she opened the wardrobe with a loud creak. Her hands brushed material hanging before her hand met a solid surface. Her face dropped at the physical evidence that Narnia couldn’t be reached from this wardrobe again.

Julie adored you, but she wanted to know how true happiness looked on your pretty features. Even if she had to give up you just so you could be happy, it was worth it, so when you left the basement each visit, she’d check the wardrobe.

It always failed. Not a speck of snow or a call of your royal title. Had Julie not seen you tumble out of the wardrobe, she’d have never believed the story.

“One day.” Julie murmured to the silent wardrobe.

Your foot barely passed the threshold of your attic space when your ’90s friends dropped unceremoniously on the floor. Each wearing a big grin that matched the fake one you plastered on.

“Where’d you go this time?”

“Top of the Hollywood sign.” Reggie piped up, skipping over to distribute a cheesy tourist keychain of the sign. Had it been someone else than Reggie, you would have joked about it, but you never could with the sweet puppy like teenager.

“Thank you.” You told the boy who had taken to grabbing little souvenirs for you. You couldn’t remember when he’d sat beside you, but he’d softly informed you how much he’d missed you. 

In the year following your disappearance, Reggie had built up a collection of trinkets he thought you’d love; he was the one with the most optimism. Even if he believed you’d met an end, that little spark of hope never died. He wouldn’t be Reggie Peters if the hope wasn’t there.

“I wish I knew if my parents kept that box.” Reggie sighed, referring to the trinkets he had collected the year you’d gone missing. You merely squeezed his shoulder in response before catching gazes with Luke.

“Flynn still here?” Alex questioned, pushing himself to sit on the box bench underneath the window. He’d proudly chosen the wear one of the t-shirts Flynn had personalized for the band.

You shrugged, “Dunno. Julie found me.”

Reggie and Luke were oblivious, but Alex knew to the core of his soul where you tended to spend alone time. Alex would see how you’d return with that ache in your eyes more prominent, and your lips quirked down just enough for him to tell. He saw the guilt when you looked at Luke, the way you thumbed your ring.

“Do you want to hang out? Maybe to use Julie’s computer to search for our childhood friends? See if Sarah got valedictorian?” Alex asked, swinging his feet, trying to pull you from your thought which he was successful with.

“Sure.”

Reggie and Luke watched as you and Alex left the attic for some one on one time together, leaving the two.

“I wonder where they’re going?” Reggie questioned, staring after the closed door. His hands pushed into the back pockets of his jeans.

Luke shrugged, “You wanna write a song?”

“Sure! We could-”

“Not country,” Luke told the bassist, who pouted but followed as his best friend poofed to the garage. 

The two Mercer siblings wandered the streets of Los Angeles, each in their own thoughts but comforted by the odd brush of their arms. For Alex, it felt like the old days when you both snuck out of the house just for some air. To just to leave the tense expectations shoved on their shoulders by their perfectionist parents.

“If I’d never disappeared and you didn’t die, where do you think we’d be?” You mused, thinking of all the what-ifs. Would you have gotten together with Luke? Would Sunset Curve had gone on to do sold-out shows.

“I don’t really know, to be honest. I think if we’d gone on to be successful that Reggie would have a ranch somewhere. He might have even released an EP of country songs. I think you and Luke would be together.” Alex thought with a bittersweet smile.

“And?”

“And what?”

“Where do you think you would be?” You questioned the older Mercer, who simply shrugged, “I like to think you would have been happy. Whether that was with someone, who was worthy of you or just by being yourself. Maybe you would have started a charity or been an advocate for the LGBTQ+ community.”

Your e/c eyes caught the smile growing on your older brother’s mouth, bringing a lightness to your body.

“I don’t think it matters. We’re exactly where we’re supposed to be. If we had survived, I would have never seen you again.” Alex confessed, “I think we were always meant to meet Julie.”

You went to open your mouth when your eyes found one of the last places you wanted to be. Somehow you and Alex had walked into the area where the country club was sitting just as it was back in the ’90s. From a distance, you could see the unmistakable form of Sarah, the girl in your grade who had always unwillingly competed academically with you. Sarah was just another girl with heavy expectations from her own wealthy parents.

“Is that Sarah?” Alex softly chuckled as the girl, now a woman, holding the hand of her husband with genuine happiness, “She looks happy.”

“She deserves it. The rivalry all our parents had was insane, so I’m happy one of us got the least complicated life.” You informed Alex bumping your hip against his leg as you talked with the pink-loving male.

England, 1940s

Four youth occupied one of the many rooms in the manor that didn’t hold a candle to Cair Paravel grand size and beauty. Not that the four confused siblings spent time taking a gander in the room. Each focused on how they’d lived well into their thirties before regressing back to the ages they were when they stepped into the wardrobe. There were minor changes.

Edmund wasn’t acting like a knob, Susan inserting herself as dominant, and Lucy was quieter than usual. Peter, however, had a boiling rage he could barely contain within himself.

“Do you think Aslan did this?” Susan questioned her siblings. A single tear rolling down her face at the grief she felt.

Each Pevensie was in the beginning stages of grief. They had to grieve the life they had lost in a magical place. A place where the war didn’t ravage like it did to their home country. For the suitors, she’d only just started to seriously look into.

Not a single shred of evidence tied themselves to Narnia.

“Who else?” Peter scoffed, bringing a gasp from Lucy’s mouth. They had all proudly reigned with Aslan in mind. Not a word is spoken against the great lion who’d died for Edmund and came back to life.

“Pet-”

“This is your fault.” Peter told his younger brother with a grimace on his face, “We had everything we ever needed in Narnia. Why did you need to catch that stupid stag?”

Edmund’s eyebrows furrowed, “You make it sound like our lives were perfect. Newsflash, King Peter, but it was far from that. You barely focused on your marriage, let alone Y/N.”

“Edmund.” Susan admonished, glancing between her brothers as if watching a tennis match. The only sister paying attention as Lucy stared out the window at the overcast day.

“It’s true! His marriage was a sham, and he lied to the entire kingdom!” Edmund shouted with a heated glare, “You acted like you were the most important person in Narnia, like the only reason the place worked was because of your hand solely.”

“Shut up,” Peter growled, stepping right up to his little; Edmund had lost a lot of inches, brother with a sneer. Their hair mussed from rubbing against the furs.

“Just because you’re older and you had High in front of your title doesn’t lessen our power too.”

“STOP IT.” Lucy screamed, stomping her foot, “Who cares about that. How about we focus on where Y/N went? She was right with us in there, and then out of nowhere, she’s gone.”

“I know.” Peter’s shoulder dropped in defeat as it settled further into his mind. Not only had he lost the years he’d lived, but he’d also lost you somewhere along the line.

While you’d fallen out of love, or maybe you’d never even been in love with Peter; he’d faithfully kept feelings for you. Part of him had always known your heart was taken by another, but he cherished the times you had together.

“And she’s not in another place right now. She’s somewhere in the far future.” Edmund added with his arms crossed over each other, “She never elaborated on when, where or what the future looks like. How can we find someone that doesn’t exist yet?”

“We hope our future selves can find her.” Susan finished sending a look at each of her siblings, “In the meantime, let’s live our lives for her, so we have tons of stories for her to listen to.”

Molina Household, America 2020

Luke Patterson shook in his black vans, his best pair he owned, holding simple flowers Julie had gotten. Money from busking down at the pier for some cash the boys could have for anything they wanted. They always left money with a note when they got items.

The flowers’ stems were definitely in a battle to survive the grip from the scared teenage ghost. He’d started the day with a tickle in the back of his mind to ask you out. Just a simple date with no strings attached to see where it could go. He couldn’t chicken out when he’d already knocked, and the door was opening.

“Oh! Luke.” You gasped, blinking at the sudden appearance of the phantom. Luke’s eyes melted at the oversized flannel layered over a cropped dark blue sweater.

Your style pre-Narnia and during Narnia had coalesced over the few months you’d found yourself on Earth. Your love of cropped tops returned with a modest twist, the modesty unshakable.

“I know it’s been hard adjusting from Narnia, but I was wondering if you would go on a date with him?” He blurted, dancing on the balls of his vans with an expression of pure nerves.

Your mind flew twenty miles an hour thinking through the implications of accepting a date with this teenager. A dead teenager at that. Sure he was only a year older, but fate had a sick sense of humour. 

“I don-”

“I know in your other world you have a husband. I get that, but there’s something undeniable between us. It’s been there since the ’90s, and we always just pushed it away. I learned over the twenty-six years that life is too short.” Luke pleaded, slowly pushing the pretty bouquet into your arms, “Just one date to see if this is worth pursuing.”

You should have said no, but you couldn’t, “One date.”

Luke mentally pumped his fist in the air in celebration as if he was starring in a John Hughes movie. As if reading his mind, you teasingly thrust your hand in the air, the very same hand coming into Luke’s grip.

“There isn’t a lot that we can do, but Willie knows a guy unaffiliated with Caleb. Well, he knows him through a few guys, but he hooked me up. In this lovely basket, we have a menagerie of food that I can eat.” Luke spoke proudly with that same twinkle he always had with you by his side.

Your lips parted in pure elation. Luke Patterson was taking you out on one of the things that had been on your bucket list. A picnic date, something you and Alex each desired to enjoy.

Luke led you down a few streets to a park notorious for cute dates. Julie stood over a cliche checkered blanket. In her hand was an old iPhone or iPod hooked up to a Bluetooth speaker, a playlist curated of your favourite songs ready to go.

“You remember how to use this?” Julie questioned the teen ghost with one raised eyebrow. Luke nodded in his mission to unpack the food in a form that was as romantic as possible.

Julie nodded before casting a quiet goodbye to the two ’90s teens.

“How’d you know?” You questioned Luke as he poured a glass of the beverage he’d chosen. His ever-changing eyes flicked up to yours with an endearing expression.

Your eyes scanned his messy hair. He had taken the time to meticulously styled for his date with you. He’d chosen that gorgeous purple corduroy long sleeve shirt that turned his hair to melted milk chocolate. He hadn’t done a 180 on his style; he’d never tell you he’d styled his hair off his forehead into what Alex had dubbed the Prince Charming hair.

“1994 in the studio for Alex’s fifteenth birthday. Bobby snuck some alcohol he’d collected from his uncle’s BBQ and his father’s stash. We got drunk for the first time and played truth or dare.” Luke recalled with a smile. 

He remembered how much of lightweights they were and the way his heart fluttered when Alex answered Reggie’s question. He explained how his ideal date was a picnic in a park with either a guy he was seeing or his celebrity crush. He’d mentioned it was something he shared with you, and then all Luke could think about was taking you on a picnic.

“Dealing with Alex’s hungover ass was a nightmare.” You grunted, swiping one of the pieces of watermelon from a container.

“I can only imagine.” Luke chuckled, slowly shifting closer to you with a sandwich in his left hand. His right arm slowly slinked over your shoulders to rest, the movement halting as your shoulders tensed momentarily.

“Were you really gonna confess that night I disappeared?” You asked the guitarist currently focused on the delicious sandwich. It reminded him of his mother packing his lunch every day, even in his high school years despite telling his mom he could do it himself.

“I was. I chickened out.” Luke admitted and had he been alive, his ears could have flushed along with his cheeks. The bashful ghost struggled to meet your gaze, “I had-have this massive crush on you. I’ve had it since you called me your knight in shining armour-”

“When I sliced my knee open, and you carried me home.”

“I’ve never told anyone, but you’re kinda the reason why I started wearing no sleeves. The guys and us were watching a film, and you mentioned something about the actor’s arms.” Luke snickered with a smile that faded at your sheepish grin, “Oh my god, you knew.”

“Bobby let it slip, ‘I watched him cut the sleeves of his shirts, stitch the raw edges of the fabric, prick his fingers a ton, and he nearly broke my foot’”

“Yeah I almost dropped a weight on him.” Luke snorted, shuffling to lay his head to rest on top of yours. He’d quickly learnt in his mission to gain muscle for your attention that he liked the exercise. He continued to get in shape and grow some muscle, but he still wore sleeveless shirts for you.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Luke beamed at your words, “Nah, you’re the beautiful one.”

The rest of the date was everything you had ever wished for. Luke went above and beyond your expectations, even as a ghost. He’d packed a sweater to help you into when the night appeared, and the cold came. He held your hand on the way home and walked you straight to your attic door.

Luke didn’t push for a kiss either. He simply raised your clasped hand to press a lingering kiss on the back of your hand.

“Sweet dreams.” Luke murmured before he walked down the stairs. The euphoria ensuring he forget his ability to poof.

He wore the same lovesick expression into the studio where two ghosts waited for all the details. Alex and Reggie each buzzing in anticipation for their guitarist best friend.

In your room, you analyzed your feelings closely.

The guilt wasn’t as suffocating as you’d anticipated after going on a date that wasn’t with Peter. Just the guy that had been a reason your marriage with Peter wasn’t how it should have been. You also knew in your heart that Peter would want you to be happy and move on. In fact, in the last two years of your marriage, things had changed to just being two best friends married. 

Your eyes met the window of your attic bedroom with a small smile. Your right hand slowly sliding the symbol of love from your finger. For the first time in a very long time, your wedding and engagement band left your hand.

“I’ll always love you, Peter Pevensie.” You murmured from your place in front of your dresser. The two rings slid into the old jewellery box where they would stay.

The only signs of your previous relationship status are just memories and a pale line on your ring finger.

Time to move on. Time to accept that Narnia was in the past and not in your future. Time to accept that Luke Patterson always had and always would hold your heart in his hands.

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[hoboal87]

Carry On

Pairing : Sam x Reader, Platonic!Dean x Reader

Summary : One year after defeating Chuck, Sam and Dean are still hunting, but you’ve quit the life. When the boys take a vacation that quickly turns into a hunt, none of you expect it to change your lives forever.

Characters : Y/N, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, mentions of Bobby, Jody, Donna and the Girls

Word Count : 3.1k (I tried to keep it below 3k, but...😕)

Warnings : SPOILERS FOR 15X20, Angst, Feels, Fluff (it gets a little gross at the end), A Sprinkling of Pre-Smut, Pregnancy

A/N : This will keep the canon of the finale, and takes place during and after 15x20, but with an added reader insert. This was written as a sequel to “The Tie” but can be read as a stand-alone.

A/N 2 : This is my entry for @negans-lucille-tblr “6k Roll the Dice Challenge.” My prompt is “I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace,” which is bolded.

No Beta, all mistakes are my own.

Check out my Masterlist here

You pull another book down from the library wall; everything has been relatively quiet since Jack took over Heaven, Rowena has put a leash on the demons, the only monsters you and the boys had to worry about were run-of-the-mill, so to speak. Adjusting to this new life is easier than you thought it would be, using the last year to learn that without the necessity to hunt, you and Sam were finally free to live your own lives. After Chuck was rendered powerless, you decided to give up hunting for good. Sam won't, you know that, Sam and Dean had been hunting their whole lives, but you were thrust into the life.

You make your way back towards your shared room with Sam, twirling the small diamond ring on your finger, passing Dean’s along the way. You peer inside, glad to see that the once mass trove of empty beer and whiskey bottles were gone. Sure, there’s still a few bottles strewn throughout the room, but nothing like it was before. In the months following Cas’ death, Dean had been a shell of himself, drinking himself into an early grave. He never told you or Sam exactly how Cas summoned the empty, or why it took him along with Billie. Dean always kept himself bottled up, until he would explode, letting his grief out by way of yelling and screaming. Cas’ trench was usually hanging in the corner, but it wasn’t there now, Dean must’ve taken it with him. Dean was still in pain, that much was clear.

Sam and Dean are off at some pie fest, and you opted to stay behind. You waved the boys off, asking Dean to eat a pie just for you. Sam and Dean needed this; brother time. It was something that rarely happened since you joined them over five years ago, even before you were with Sam, you, Cas or Jack were always tagging along. You saw it as the perfect opportunity to take some time for yourself as well, figuring out where you and Sam would go from here. Sam talked about going back to school, finishing his degree and applying to Law School again, he even had you buy him books on LSAT prep. You talked at length about taking the next steps in your relationship, you couldn’t ever get legally married, but you starting planning a ceremony anyway. Before Chuck was gone, you were content to just be, never needing more, afraid that it would be ripped out from under you the minute you let your guard down.

As you settle into your and Sam’s bed, book in hand, you feel as the weight that’s been sitting on your chest has finally lifted, you can breathe. It's been years since you've been able to truly relax, and as much fun as a pie fest sounded, you wanted to stay at the bunker, taking comfort in your and Sam's shared room. They’d only been gone a few days, but you already missed Sam terribly, pathetic, you know. Never in your life would you have imagined wanting and needing someone like you did Sam. The next morning you wake up to a text from Sam. The brothers mini-vacation quickly turned into a vampire hunt, a nest John had hunted years ago. The boys could handle it, you know that much, it's a milk run compared to everything they've fought over the years. Be Safe, Love You. You responded and went on with your day.

Sam always keeps you in the loop when he and Dean go on a hunt without you, providing you with a source of comfort knowing that they’ve killed the bad guy or solved the mystery. But now, they’ve been silent for too long, a nest of Vamps shouldn’t take more than a few days, and you start to worry. You’re heading towards the garage, determined to track down Sam and Dean, and lay it on thick about how worried you were when they went silent. You’re about to open the door to the garage when it swings open and Sam’s long body fills the frame. It startles you at first, even causing Miracle to bark in surprise. You throw your arms around Sam, all anger gone now that he’s back home with you.

“Don’t ever do that again!” You scold Sam. “You know how much I hate it when you and Dean stop responding.” You want to be mad, but you’re so focused on the fact that Sam’s back home with you again, that nothing else seems to matter. “If you’re gonna keep hunting you have to keep me in the loop,” you mumble.

Sam’s body stiffens against your touch. It takes him a minute, but he reciprocates your hug, pulling you tight against him. You stand there, waiting for some smart remark from Dean, normally barking at the two of you to get a room, but there’s nothing but the echo of the Impala’s engine filling the air. You try to pull away from Sam, but his grip around you only tightens, this hunt must have been more difficult than he or Dean anticipated. Head pressed against Sam’s chest, you can hear his heart thumping loudly and rapidly. Dean would never let you and Sam hold on to each other as long as you have.

“Sammy?” You whisper, trying to pull away again. Sam’s grip finally loosens, but his hands don’t leave you as you take a small step back. Your eyes travel upwards, finally landing on Sam’s face, his eyes are bloodshot and puffy, almost as if he has been crying. “Sam? What’s wrong?”

Sam shakes his head as tears fill his eyes.

“Where’s Dean?” You ask as you watch Sam slowly break down. His head nods towards the Impala, and you pull away completely from Sam’s embrace.

You run towards the Impala as fast as your legs can carry you, a swing open the back door, hoping to see Dean’s shining emerald eyes. Tears blur your vision faster than you can comprehend what you’re seeing. Dean’s lifeless body lays in the back seat, all color drained from him. You scan him desperately, waiting for some kind of sign that this is all a cruel prank, that he and Sam were trying to get one over you for not coming with them on this hunt.

But, there’s nothing.

You scream out, falling to your knees, Dean was just as much your brother as he was Sam’s, he was your best friend, and now, he’s gone. Your cries fill the otherwise silent garage, he can’t be dead, not like this, not on some vampire hunt, something he’s done a hundred times before. Not when you know that he was looking to settle down, find some normalcy, or at least normal for him. He deserved to live, he didn’t deserve to die at the hands of a monster.

Dean wasn’t going to be there when you and Sam got married, when you told Sam about the baby you were carrying. God, how were you going to tell him that? Dean was going to help you surprise Sam, as soon as they came home, he was going to start dropping hints, see how long it took Sam to figure it out. But now, you stared at his body, tearing streaming down your face, you couldn’t stop crying if you wanted to. Sam’s strong arms wrap around you, holding you close to him, and you both sit on the floor, unable to do anything but mourn the loss of the elder Winchester.

Through your sobs, you can hear Sam trying to offer you some comfort, assuring you that he went down saving the victims. You could barely process anything he was saying, and if this is how you felt, you can’t even begin to imagine how he feels. Dean was the only real family that Sam had left, there had to be a way to get him back.

“No, baby,” Sam murmurs in your ear through his tears, “I promised him. No bringing him back.” You didn’t realize you had said it out loud. “He wants us to keep going, he wants us to live.”

Three days later you’re surrounded by all the family you’d gained through the boys. Jody, Donna, Claire, Bobby and Charlie plus too many people to keep track of. You and Sam had already given Dean his proper send-off, dividing his ashes between the graveyard where Mary and John were buried and keeping the rest for yourselves. Jody told the story of the first time she’d met the brothers over ten years ago and how she’d come to think of the boys as surrogate sons. Claire talked about the time she and Dean went mini-golfing and how offended he was when she didn’t understand his Caddyshack references. The bunker was full laughter, it was Dean told you he wanted all those years ago.

You and Sam couldn’t stay in the Bunker after that. You’d left it open to all hunters, you’d still come back occasionally, but it was no longer home. You and Sam packed up most of your and Dean’s things, fitting as much as you could into the Impala, knowing that the two rooms would always be off limits to future hunters. Sam nearly slides into the passenger seat when you leave, and you can see it hitting him all over again. Dean’s gone.

You drive around the country for a few weeks, unsure of where to make your new home. Neither of you ever had a real home before moving into the Bunker, and you were the only family you had left now. You settle in Sioux Falls, Jody and the girls were there, Donna was close enough, and if need be, you could be back in Lebanon in a matter of 5 hours.

You find a small house close to where Bobby’s used to be, it is still a salvage yard, but Bobby’s house is long gone. As the weeks pass you don’t know how much longer you can keep your pregnancy hidden from Sam. Every time you try to tell him, it feels wrong; you are both still grieving the loss of Dean, and Sam has fallen into a deep depression. You have Jody take you to your doctor appointments, and she scolds you for not telling Sam, but when she drops you at your new home, and sees the current state of Sam, she backs off.

At your next appointment, she laughs and cries with you when you learn that you were carrying a boy, Dean. When you first told Dean that you were pregnant, he immediately insisted that the newest Winchester should be named after him, “boy or girl!” He insisted, “I’m named after a Deanna.”

“I think the world only needs one Dean Winchester,” you retorted playfully. Now, it seems the perfect way to carry on Dean’s legacy.

When you leave the doctors, you finally realize how obvious it is that you’re pregnant, your stomach rounding out perfectly under your shirt. You’re almost insulted that Sam hasn’t noticed your ever-growing stomach and the extra pounds you’ve put on over the last month, but he hasn't been himself since Dean died. You hadn’t been intimate with him since you settled into your new house, and he spends most of his day sleeping or in a fugue-like state.

Jody insists on taking you shopping for baby supplies, and by the end you’ve got a shopping cart onesies, blankets, something called a diaper genie, and many other things you didn’t even know you needed. As you walk through the store an iron-on name display catches your eye, and you make your way towards it. The names are written in large cursive lettering, and you hope that you can find the right one. You nearly squeal when you do, and find a plain onesie to attach it to.

You’re glad that the baby store carries labeless bags, especially when Sam is up and about when you get home. He looks good today, he’s slightly sweaty, and you know that he left the house and went for a run. He greets you with a quick kiss, a sheen of sweat covering his face, and makes for your room. He eyes the bags in your hands, but doesn’t say anything, and a few minutes later you can hear the shower running. Thank God, you sigh and take the bags into an empty room, Miracle following closely behind you. You set the bags down in what will be baby Dean’s nursery, Jody’s right, you think, we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.

You find the onesie and the iron-on decal, you place it in the center and carefully attach the decal. After letting it cool you tuck it into a small gift bag. You hear the shower turn off, and make your way back into your bedroom, placing the bag on your bedside table, waiting for Sam to exit the bathroom. You can’t help but stare at him appreciatively when he opens the door, a towel wrapped around his waist. You’re suddenly very aware of how long it's been since you’d been with him. Sam catches you eyeing him, and smirks, sending a jolt straight down to your core. You missed this, not just the sex, but how he takes charge with you, his domineering presence making you melt. He leans over you, and places a tender yet eager kiss on your lips.

You reach for the towel, letting it slide onto the floor as Sam deepens the kiss, and start to work him over in your hands. Sam groans at your touch, and starts to pull at your shirt, pulling his face away just long enough to rid you of it. Sam’s lips are back on yours just as quickly as they were gone. His hands palm at your breasts, and you moan into his hands reach into the overflowing cups, you really loved your pregnancy boobs, but your bras were doing very little to keep them in place. Sam’s hands travel to your back, and undos your bra, letting your breasts fall free. Sam finally opens his eyes when his hands land on your protruding stomach and takes a few steps back.

He quickly pulls on a pair of sweatpants as you pull your shirt back over your head, trying you best not to cry as he starts pacing the floor of your bedroom. You wait for him to say something, anything; you weren’t trying when you realized you were pregnant. You’d just gone off your birth control, and everyone told you it would take at least a few months for your body to get back to its natural cycle. You both knew it was possible but figured you’d have at least 6 months before really actively trying for a baby.

Sam’s face is almost unreadable; you can’t tell if he’s happy or mad, if he’ll tell you it’s too soon, that he’s not ready. He opens and closes his mouth multiple times, as if he can’t figure out what to say. If Dean were here, he’d probably knock him upside his head, telling him this exactly what he’s always wanted.

“How– why–” Sam stammers as you move to the edge of the bed. “Are you– You’re pregnant.” He says it almost as if it’s a question and you nod your head. “How long?” There’s almost an accusation in his voice, you’re sure it’s not intentional, but it doesn’t make you feel any better.

“18 weeks,” you murmur, trying to hold back your tears. “I wanted to tell you sooner, but it’s– it never seemed to be the right time. When you and Dean–” Sam winces at the mention of Dean’s name, you hadn’t said it out loud in almost a month, not since you left the Bunker. “I found out right before you left, I was going to tell you when you got back. But… after… I was afraid that you’d say it wasn’t the right time. That it was too soon.”

“It is too soon,” Sam mutters under his breath, you’re sure it’s not meant to be malicious, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. “You said it would take at least 6 months.”

“It’s different for everyone,” you offer, as Sam runs his hands through his hair, still pacing in front of you. “Please, Sam, can you sit down? You’re freaking me out.” Sam moves to the edge of the bed, and sits down next to you.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Sam whispers, eyeing your belly. “I don’t know how– I don’t know how to be a dad.”

“Yes, you do,” you grab his hand, and place it on your belly. “Dean taught you everything you would ever need to know.”

Sam smiles sadly, “I ever tell you about the night I left for Stanford?” You shake your head. “Dad and me, we got into this huge fight. So of course, Dean steps in– gets between us, attempts to calm us, but we were both just– just too fucking stubborn to listen.” He removes his hand, focusing down on them as he fidgets. “When dad said don’t come back, I called his bluff, and I was– I was so pissed at Dean, I thought he was taking Dad’s side, that I didn’t even say bye to him. I didn’t have it myself to go with grace. I walked away from him, the only family that I had, and I regretted it for years. I- I feel like he should be the one here, that- that we’re moving on too quickly.”

“Dean, he– he wouldn’t want you, us, to live like this, we owe it to him to keep fighting, to live our lives. I know how much you miss him,” a tear slips from Sam’s eye. “I miss him too, but you know what keeps me going everyday?” Sam shakes his head, and you take his hand in yours again, and place it back on the swell of your belly just as little Dean decides to kick for the first time. The smile on Sam’s face is instant, you can’t stop the happy tears from falling as Sam shifts in front of you, and lays his head on your swollen stomach. “Our son.”

Sam cries, truly cries for the first time since the day he brought home Dean’s body. You hold him against you, he’s been so pent up for the last 3 months, bottling up his emotions, he needs this, you both do. You’d been so focused on the baby growing inside of you never realized that you hadn’t realized that Sam had never come to terms with Dean’s death.

“It’s a boy?” Sam asks as his cries cease. “We’re having a son?”

“We’re having a son,” you nod, and hand Sam the gift bag still sitting on your bedside table.

Sam opens the bag, and you smile as he pulls out the green onesie, his eyes lighting up as he reads the lettering.

“You’re sure?” He questions.

“The world lost one Dean Winchester, let’s give it another.”

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