#and they both mourn him. like we saw them drink over his (supposed) death in 3x01. and killian mentions once that emma told him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

leedosbunnyboy · 10 months

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Kyojuro Rengoku; The Flame Burning in My Soul

Genre: Angst

Pairing: Kyojuro Rengoku x Male Reader | (side) Tengen Uzui x Male Reader

Warning(s): Very Narrative Driven, Very Long(?), Slight Manga Spoilers, Mourning, Death

Summary: Living without the love of your life can do a number on you, especially when you’re living everyday wondering if you even want to go on.

Part I

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

He’s gone…

It feels like it was only yesterday that he was holding you and promising to marry you…

He’s gone…

He said the mission was going to be easy…

He’s gone…

He was supposed to come back safely…

He’s gone…

He’s just playing a prank!

He’s gone…

He sent that crow with a phony letter to scare us!

He’s gone…

Mr. Uzui must be in on it as well!

He’s gone…

They’re such pranksters!

He’s gone…

He’ll be back soon…

He’s gone…

I can’t wait until-

HE’S

GONE

NOW

…

It can’t be real…

it just can’t be…

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

You tried to convince yourself it wasn’t real. That it was all some sick game Kyojuro thought would be funny. That was until you saw his crow flying to the estate while you were outside cleaning with Senjuro, followed by a young boy with a scar…

“Are you Senjuro? And Sir Rengoku’s lover?” The boy asked before politely bowing.

“I take it you know about Mr. Rengoku? I’m so sorry. Before he died, he asked for some messages to be delivered to you, your father, and his lover. I’ve come to pass them on.” He stated.

“From my brother? Thank you, but i’m already well aware of what happened to him.” Senjuro solemnly stated. You moved closer to him to rub his shoulder. “What’s wrong?! Your face! It looks as pale as a ghost!”

“Knock it off!” All three of you were surprised by the sudden outburst. “Whatever message he left means nothing anyway! Why would he become a swordsman when he had no talent to being with! It’s no wonder he died! He’s worthless.” You gripped on the broom tighter, your eyes beginning to swell with tears at Shinjuro’s words. “He was a fool of a son from the start! A person’s potential is determined the day they’re born. Only a mere handful have any talent… the rest are just dregs of society. You’re either born a genius or someday killed by one!” Shinjuro stopped to take a drink. “It’s clear which one Kyojuro was. He had no future to begin with. No surprise he got killed.” Senjuro cuddled closer into your side.

“You shut your mouth!” You screamed, surprising all three boys. “Kyojuro had a bright future ahead of him! He was to come back and marry me! We were to be wed and start a life together! All my life, I dreamed of spending my last days with him, so don’t you dare stand here and soil his name by calling him worthless because he meant everything to me!” You fought back tears as Senjuro leaned closer to comfort you. “Just because you’re a sad old man who gave up on his own life doesn’t give you the right to speak badly about an other’s!”

“Give me a break! The funeral is over! It’s high time you both move on with your damn lives!” You held the youngest Rengoku behind you as he cried into your kimono.

“Just a moment!” The boy with a checkered haori moved to stand in front of you and Senjuro. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit too harsh? Please show some respect for your son!” He yelled.

“And just who the hell are you? Answer me! Or get off of my property!” Shinjuro yelled.

“I’m with… the demon slayer corps!” He announced. Something he did somehow caused Shinjuro to drop his jar of saké.

The next few moments were a blur to you. One second, he was yelling at the young slayer boy about sun breathing, the next he had him pinned to the ground, and then you were holding Senjuro after his father had hit him.

“Don’t you dare lay a hand on him you monster!” You rushed to put some distance between Senjuro and the altercation in front of you. “Why are you acting so hostile like this in the first place? Insulting your own child who lost his life… in front of his fiancé no less! And striking your son; what’s the matter with you?!”

“Are you alright?” You examined Senjuro’s face. He nodded, but still held the injury. “I’ll get you some ointment after he calms down, okay?” Senjuro nodded and you held him close to him, before turning back to see the boy lunging at Shinjuro.

“Young slayer, be careful!” You yelled. “He’s a former hashira!” Senjuro shouted as the boy was punched in the face by Shinjuro. “Please father! Have mercy!” You stepped away from Senjuro to rush towards the boy.

Your eyes widened as you saw the boy knock out a former hashira… with a head butt? You put your shock aside and caught both of them.

“Senjuro, please take this boy inside. I’ll deal with your father.” The young boy eagerly came to assist you as you painstakingly took the older man inside.

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

Now you three found yourself in the main living area of the house as you applied some ointment to Senjuro’s injury and examined the other slayer boy’s injuries.

“I feel like I’ve made a grave mistake.” The boy said with a bowed head after you applied a simple healing balm to his forehead. You left to your room soon after, but you kept your door open to keep an ear out for Senjuro.

“Please sir, have some tea.”

“Thank you very much. I hope you can forgive me… for head butting your father and all. He’s okay right?” The boy asked.

“Oh yeah, he’ll be fine. (M/n)’s an amazing doctor, so it’s not like he’d be down for too long. And besides, he’s back to getting saké already.” Senjuro explained.

“What a relief.” The slayer huffed.

“You have my thanks.” Senjuro said, seemingly to the other boy’s surprise. “For standing up to him. I was too scared to. Even when he badmouthed my brother like that. I’m sure (M/n) is grateful too.” You watched through the back door as Shinjuro wobbled off to purchase more saké. “Tell me. What were my brothers last moments like.” You suddenly remembered why that boy was here in the first place. As that all too familiar pain began to emerge in your chest, you shut the door. You didn’t need anymore grief. Your heart has had enough as it is.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

A knock to your door awoke you from the nap you hadn’t even noticed you took. “Come in.” You groggily called and watched as Senjuro slowly walked in. “Our visitor has left.” He said. You nodded before Senjuro ran over and collapsed in your arms. You raked your fingers through his hair as he loudly sobbed into your shoulder. “It’ll be alright. We’ll get through this.” You cupped his face and looked into his teary eyes. “For Kyojuro, okay?” You held out your pinky to him. He nodded before interlocking your fingers.

“It was difficult getting him to accept Kyojuro’s sword guard. He swore he couldn’t accept it.” Senjuro lightly chuckled recounting his encounter with the young slayer boy you now knew as Tanjiro. “He said that you should’ve kept it.” He smiled. “I couldn’t keep that thing even if I wanted to. I’d get too sad.” You said, running your fingers through Senjuro’s hair.

“‘Don’t let me limit your heart’,” Senjuro said out of the blue. “‘Please allow someone else to give you the love i wish i could’ve, because you deserve the world and more. I hope you find a man who will treat you like the prince you are in my place.’” “What are you on about?” You turned to face him. “Those were Kyojuro’s last words to you. Tanjiro said he had the most to say about you. Apparently he wouldn’t shut up about how excited he was to marry his boyfriend when he returned from his mission.” You felt Senjuro’s tears falling in your lap before you even noticed the ones dripping down your cheeks.

You two cried a lot that night…

And the next…

And while you could’ve sworn you were hearing things, you knew Shinjuro was crying too.

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

“You shouldn’t push yourself ya know? That’s not very flashy of you.” The sound hashira called to you as you continued to train.

You had chosen to become Tengen Uzui’s tsugoku as a means of defending yourself after Kyojuro’s death. It would be hard for anyone to train like this, but now imagine you’ve gone your whole life without as much as touching a sword, to now pushing yourself to train every day with one until your heart felt like it was on the brink of giving out.

“If you expect me to be ready for battle within the current century, you’ll let me continue.” You said, not even sparing a glance towards the older man behind you.

He scoffed before walking towards you and gripping your sword. “That’s enough (M/n).” He sternly instructed. “We’ll pick this up tomorrow.”

You let go off your sword and stormed off, leaving the taller to slowly trail behind as he fiddled with your blade.

“You can be quite the brat ya know?” He commented as you made your way back towards the Rengoku residence.

“And you can be quite the headache.” You pulled off your geta and made your way towards the kitchen, not before greeting Senjuro with a hug and kiss to his forehead. Afterwards, starting on dinner for you all, as well as your unwanted flashy guest.

“I don’t know why you insist on staying here. You have a home with three wives to return to.” You snidely commented as you poured stew into Senjuro’s plate.

“Well, my home doesn’t have my cute tsugoku at it now does it?” Tengen smirked at your irritated expression.

You inhaled deeply before launching his plate at him; however, he caught it rather easily and began to dig in as if nothing happened. Curse him for being a skilled hashira. “And besides, you know they’re not there.”

You took your place next to Senjuro and angrily began to eat. Stuffing your face full of stew and barely even giving yourself time to chew.

“Thank you for the meal (M/n)!” Senjuro hugged you before running off to his room, realizing the tense atmosphere he found himself in the middle of.

“If you want a real answer, I worried about you (M/n).” Tengen stated as he placed his bowl down. “You never wanted to even touch a sword, but now you push yourself to train with one every day. It’s not healthy.”

“Who cares how I was in the past. So what if I want to wield a sword now? You should only concern yourself with training me.” You glared at him.

“You won’t defeat the demon that killed Kyojuro.” He deadpanned. “You’re far too weak… and if you plan on pushing yourself like this, you’ll be dead before you even have the chance to try.”

You tighten your hands into fists and inhaled deeply, attempting to keep yourself from crying.

Tengen shifted to be seated beside you and laid your head on his shoulder. “It’s okay to cry ya know? Just let it all out.” You sobbed into his shoulder as he rubbed your back.

“Once we get back from this mission… please listen to me. I promise I’ll help you get stronger, without you pushing your body so hard.” You nodded against his body and he smiled gently down at you. He cupped your face so that know you were facing his.

“Go get some rest.” He pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Meet me at the Butterfly Estate tomorrow morning. I’ll be there to find a girl to help on this mission.” You nodded. He smiled and placed a kiss to your forehead before standing up. “See you later (M/n).”

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

“You’re an idiot you know that?” You cried as you held the only hand Tengen had left.

While you expected to engage in battle during this mission to gather information on the sound hashira’s wives, you never expected to encounter an upper moon, much less two of them. Now you sat in the aftermath of the battle: bloodied and bruised; but your injuries were nothing compared to Tengen’s. His forearm had been cut off and he was poisoned. He didn’t have much time left.

“Hey calm down.” He cupped your face gently. “Nice to see that pretty face of yours wasn’t damaged.”

“Shut up! Focus on yourself!” You yelled at him as you struggled to apply pressure to his severed arm.

“Appreciate the effort sweetheart, but it’s not this injury that’s gonna kill me.” You realized that the poison was still ravaging his body.

“Shit! I forgot my medicines back home. If only I would’ve brought them none of this would’ve-!” A small tap to your shoulder averted your attention from the sound hashira to the young kamado girl that now sat beside you.

She gently pressed her hand against Uzui before… SETTING HIM ON FIRE?! You and all of Tengen’s wives screamed in horror as you watched the older man being engulfed in pink flames. Makio, Hinatsuru, and Suma bickered amongst themselves as they yelled at Nezuko, but you focused on how Tengen’s once purple skin now began to clear.

You sat amazed as you watched Uzui heal from what was once a deadly venom.

Tengen slowly turned to you and smiled. “I guess I’m so flashy, even death can’t beat me.”

You wept as you tackled the larger man into your embrace, the others watching with endearment as the sound hashira held you. “Don’t scare me like that you asshole.” Uzui simply laughed as he wiped your tears.

“What do ya say we get out of here?” He announced to his wives as they, alongside you, helped him get up and walk away.

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

You very carefully worked on reapplying the sound hashira’s bandages as he carefully held you in his lap.

“You’re really cute when you’re all focused like that.” Tengen commented once you finished wrapping him up.

“Shut up.” You walked away from him as you worked on reorganizing your ointments and medicines. Uzui chuckled to himself as he lovingly watched you work.

“Hey (M/n)?” Tengen called out which caused you to turn to face him. “Yes?” He beckoned you to come closer to him, and you obliged. Adjusting yourself to sit in his lap. “Why don’t you come and live here with us?” He offered. “What do you mean?” You looked up at him, confused as to what his true intentions were. “Will you allow me to court you and become my husband? I could use another man around the house to balance things out ya know?” He smiled gently at you.

You slowly moved off him as you attempted to put some space between you. “Is something wrong?” Tengen shot you a concerned look, looking shocked when you rejected his attempt to hold your hand. “I-I’m not- I can’t… I still…” Tengen grasped your hand. “It’s alright (M/n). I understand.” He rubbed your knuckles lovingly. “I’m sorry-“ “Don’t be.” He cut you off. “You have no reason to explain yourself.” He knew your heart still belonged to Kyojuro and he respected that. You two sat in a comfortable silence as you slowly allowed yourself to return to sit in Tengen’s lap.

“My heart still isn’t ready to move on, but I promise you, the day it is, it’ll be yours.” You looked up at him. “And I’ll be more than happy to accept it.” He brought your hand to his lips and pressed a sweet kiss to your knuckles.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

It all moved entirely too fast.

One day you were enjoying a day out on the town with Uzui and his wives, and now you watched as the demon who killed Kyojuro faded into dust.

“We did (M/n).” Tanjiro wept as he attempted to apply pressure to the wound in your stomach. “You did it.”

You smiled and coughed up blood. “You’re not injured are you?” You looked up at the scarred boy.

“No sir.” He wiped some tears from his face. “I’m glad.” You breathed deeply before realizing one of your lungs must’ve been punctured as you struggled with something as simple as that.

“You should be worried about yourself. You’re in two pieces.” Tomioka quietly stated as his sat down beside you.

“I’ll be alright.” You felt your eyelids slowly become heavier and heavier with each blink of your eyes. “Stop with this nonsense Mr. (M/n)! You’re going to die soon! Please speak with some urgency!” Tanjiro cried out. You simply chuckled and reached up to cup his face. “Why should I be sad? The killer of my lover has been killed by my efforts and now I’m presented with the opportunity to see Kyojuro again. I have no reason to be upset. In fact… I’m rather relieved. So please, don’t mourn me. Who knows how many lives I have helped to save by ridding the world of that demon. I will go on with no regrets in this world.” You explained, watching as both men before you accepted your death.

“Tanjiro, please tell Senjuro I’m sorry to give him another loss, but please assure him I will be watching over him. Me and Kyojuro both will be excited to see the great man he becomes.” Your breaths started to become much shallower. “And for Mr. Uzui, please tell him I apologize I couldn’t give him my heart, but that I will cherish all the love he still gave me in spite of my inability to do so.” Tanjiro became more panicked as he realized your heart beat was slowing down. “Please, save your breath-“ Tomioka covered his mouth, allowing you to continue. “And for you both, go out there and save the world. I’ll be cheering you on.” You shut your eyes. “Set your heart ablaze.”

And just like that, you were gone…

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

You awoke in a grassy field. The sun was bright and wind was warm, feeing almost as if it was pressing kissed against your skin every time it passed by. The tall reeds swayed in the blowing wind and brushed against your legs, slightly tickling you. Everything was perfect.

“I’m proud of you!” A familiar voice boomed through the air.

You slowly turned around as you laid your eyes on the man you have longed to see ever since that faithful night…

“K-Kyojuro…?”

“It’s me (M/n).” He smiled to you and opened his arms.

Your eyes rang and your breath hitched. It couldn’t be…?

Your shock was short-lived as you rushed towards him, immediately landing in his arms and tackling him to the soft grass. His body was as warm as you remembered. His arms immediately resting at your waist, just like he used to. His scent was as vibrant as you recalled.

It was him.

He was here.

With you.

“Where are we?” You looked around you. While it was peaceful, it was not where you recalled ever visiting.

“We’re in heaven love.” Kyojuro stated as he ran his fingers through your hair.

“Ah, I guess I died during that battle against Akaza.” The former flame hashira nodded as he held you close to him.

“No matter how you got here, you did amazing!” He smiled brightly at you, causing your heart to skip a beat. “And now we’ll never be separated again!”

You smiled back at him.

Sure, nothing has gone how you would prefer it to, but life has a way of subverting expectations, yet somehow managing to give you everything you wanted.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

Note(s): I wasn’t planning on making a part 2 to the original fic, but I had a sudden urge to write a bittersweet ending and immediately got to writing. I apologize if it’s too choppy, but I didn’t want it to be crazy long and a lot of what I originally planned was really just filler lol. Anyways, I hope you enjoy and have a great day/night!

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naruhearts · 3 years

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I’m done keeping my composure.

Sorry, this will be a LOADED post! (And I’ll be repeating the points others have made)

for real, to everyone being nasty and telling heartbroken fans that “Dean was always supposed to die get a grip you’re just butthurt etcetera etcetera—” F you royally.

How dare you police the brutal feelings that’s been embroiling us since the Finale That Must Not Be Named aired.

The show you think you all watched, the show you all believe was the same SPN from Season 1-4, changed at some point. Kripke wrote his original vision, put it to screen, saw it through in S5 as he intended, and closed the door on that era.

In 2008, Supernatural was adopted and inherited. As you know, there was a supreme paradigm shift post-Kripke era. The show FLOURISHED (we won’t talk about Gamble thanks). It evolved, transformed, grew beyond trauma-induced self-worthlessness and toxic masculinity and endless death and hegemonic social ideals and conservatism and repressive anti-revolutionary ideas. Castiel, the iconic favourite and beloved staple of the series portrayed by Misha Collins, was introduced in Season 4 as the core lead character, and he ushered in a brand new era of Christian mythos that SPN took advantage of. Longevity SKYROCKETED. Audiences were INTERESTED. SPN amassed an incredibly groundbreaking fanbase infused by non-nuclear principles. A massive subversive wave began, fighting the Status Quo of the times since 2008. It’s precisely why such an abysmal ending to a show of extensive Freud-Jungian metanarratively meta META complex stature and social POWER will render us totally and unbearably broken for years to come.

Point is, DEAN WINCHESTER NO LONGER WANTED TO DIE. HE WANTED TO LIVE. HE WANTED TO SIT ON THE BEACH, PLUNGE HIS TOES IN THE SAND, AND SIP UMBRELLA DRINKS WITH HIS BROTHER AND HIS BEST FRIEND. He said this in Season 13. And then, a season later, he told the ghost of his long-deceased father — the source of his deep-running trauma and the figure of self-reductive authoritarianism permeating his arc since Season 1 — after being questioned why he didn’t pursue the Nuclear Fam, that he already has his own: his brother Sam, his adopted child Jack, and Cas.

Dean’s best friend Cas. Oh god, Cas, who made his inevitably permanent mark on Dean’s soul beyond allyship. Castiel, renamed to Cas, God’s -iel removed by Dean. Dean, the human spark that lit the fire of pre-existing autonomy in the inherently rebellious angel who was, this entire time, the catalyst for free will in God The Writer’s puppet show. Their friendship set on goddamn fire. I can also write paragraph upon paragraph about my love for Cas while devastated tears stream down my face, but I digress—

Cas’ romantic love for Dean pushed our main Heart of SPN to love himself. Love is free will. Free will is also love. Of note, Cas’ love confession in 15x18 was supposed to offset something so vastly important and fundamental...to maybe (read: most likely) pull the trigger on SELF-TRUTHS in conjunction with free will. And The Great Anticipated Follow-Up to the episode penned by the passionate Berens should have included (read: seemed like it was going to be) Dean, closeted trauma survivor in love with his best friend, being given the opportunity to do it right: to SPEAK HIS TRUTH, and then that very singular opportunity was STOLEN so grossly. After poring over it for days, I refuse to believe we made their years-long story up out of thin air, spun it out of fantastical-delusional dream cotton candy, because we DIDN’T. IT WAS REAL.

As I said in another post: “I’ve just been feeling physically ill for the past >40 something hours with the terrible knowledge that 19/20 undid years of vital progression towards healthy interdependence, autonomy, and a positive endgame, where Sam, Dean and Cas close the ring of found family in final empowering self-fulfillment...where Dean, no longer repressed and set free, is able to use his words and speak his truth as a queercoded trauma survivor, henceforth confirming and self-affirming his own bisexuality since S1 by reciprocating — by telling Cas that he always loved him, too, loved him endlessly, which would have altogether divested Supernatural of its cult status and catapulted it into global worldwide significance as the longest running sci-fi genre show in American broadcasting history that actually dared to defy and, by proxy, empower LGBTQ2IA+ everywhere who found profound personal meaning in Destiel through VALIDATION,” — found themselves mirrored in Dean and Cas’ respective character journeys individually and as each other’s queer love interests.

THIS IS WHY DEAN WASN’T MEANT TO DIE.

THEY WERE SO ESSENTIAL, NOT JUST TO THE OVERARCHING STORY AND HEALTHY INTERPERSONAL THEMATICS OF MODERN SPN, BUT ALSO TO THE SOULS OF THOUSANDS OF PEOPLE ACROSS THE WORLD WHO FOLLOWED THEIR JOURNEYS, HOPED FOR THEM, ASPIRED TO BE LIKE THEM, TREASURED THEM, WEEPED FOR THEM, AND FOUGHT FOR THEM, LIKE YOU AND ME.

Heck, how could anyone think Sam Winchester had a well-deserved characteristic ending? He didn’t. Dean’s brother was shafted so badly. He stopped hunting when seasons ago, he had canonically accepted that he no longer wanted an apple pie life. He simply...turned the lights off in a resoundingly empty bunker and left — abandoning his dead brother’s room — never to return (he did return later to get the Impala, family photos etc, I mean this symbolically)...as if — dare I say it — Supernatural itself eerily told us, in the negative-spaced pitch blackness, that the organic show and the wonderfully complex, matured characters we’ve grown to love weren’t going to survive or be revisited...that it was all going to perish, and that they no longer gave a single shit about their own show, which, to me, is the worst cardinal sin, because how dare they throw Team Free Will, an immovable and indomitable and passionate found family they built from the ground up, a found family CHOCK FULL TO THE BRIM OF LOVE AND LIFE RAGING AGAINST THE AUTHORITARIAN MACHINE IN ORDER TO ACHIEVE FREE WILL, under the bus no matter who is to blame. Growth was stomped on.

Then Sam married a faceless wife who wasn’t his textually established (and deaf) love interest Eileen, named his son Dean Jr., and grew old miserably, still mourning the passing of his older brother, shaken and sombre. Back to square one. IT WAS ALL ANTITHETICAL, even OUTSIDE a shipping context, and I ripped my hair out at this point in sheer disbelief.

This 15x20 ending would have fit somewhere between S4-7. Now? IT DOESN’T FIT. IT’S A JAGGED PUZZLE PIECE THAT DOESN’T BELONG ANYWHERE. IT’S THE FOREBODING UNKNOWN STRANGER IN ITS OWN LAND, BOTH LITERALLY AND FIGURATIVELY. This kind of ending was basically an illogical, unsound cluster of metastasized cells that, to me, ruined the viability of previous seasons to sustain bold praise and respect and dignity and rewatches and classic nostalgia in such insidious ways.

Dean Humanity Winchester and Cas, after everything they’ve been through, were silenced and lost in death, ripped apart from each other, unable to love each other the way they deserved, because of disappointing, vile incompetency and homophobia. The greatest love story ever told, again obliterated in less than 60 hollow minutes.

You know what this tells your audience, CW SPN? Death without self-growth is the way to go, and no one is allowed to forge their own path to freedom.

HOW INSULTINGLY HARMFUL IS THAT?

I don’t think I’ll ever stop grieving.

We all deserve answers.

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toomanyrobins2 · 3 years

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Those Four Words Pt. 1

Summary: an escalating fight between Jason and his girlfriend leads to a tense two weeks in Wayne Manor

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: language, mentions of sex and excessive drinking, mentions of character death

masterlist // next part

Jason Todd was in a terrible mood, having just got into an argument with Bruce. He decided to go up to his girlfriend’s studio to get away. She had been hard at work the past couple of days and he was getting needy. He came up behind her on the floor and pulled her into his lap. She tried to wiggle out of his arms. “Jay, I'm trying to do something right now.

He tried to snuggle closer to his girlfriend, “I deserve some of your time too.

“Deserve? You’re especially demanding today. What did you do?” Jason scoffed and pulled away. “What has crawled up your ass?”

“You did.”

She managed to escape and turned to look at her boyfriend, “I did? Huh, I think I would’ve remembered such a disgusting journey into your body.

“Dammit, Y/N! Enough with the sarcasm! You know what I’m saying.”

She sighed at Jason’s attitude, “I don’t understand what you’re doing right now, but you are starting a fight just for the sake of an argument. I’m sorry, but I can’t give you what you want right now.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” Jason was standing over his girlfriend, his whole body tense, “From any of you.”

“Why are you being like this? What happened?”

“What? You thought the minute we started dating all of our problems would magically disappear? Are you really that naive?”

Y/N put her brushes down and stood. She tried to walk closer, but he matched each step, moving away from her. “Jason, where the hell is this coming from? I thought we had got past this. Even you and Bruce are in a better place.”

“You think I'll ever forget you abandoned me. You all did!”

“Abandon you! What have you been smoking? We thought you died!”

“You replaced me!”

Now, Y/N was angry too and it was rare that anyone saw her this way. She was deadly calm, but the fire was roaring in her eyes, “I did not replace you.”

“That’s right, you were too busy whoring yourself around Gotham to even think about me.”

“That is not fair and you know it. I mourned you. We all mourned your arrogant ass. I never stopped missing you.”

“I saw the articles, Y/N! Don’t pretend you were mourning me. You were too busy whoring yourself around Gotham.”

Her mind went back to three years ago. Jason had died in an explosion set up by the Joker. She was sixteen and her best friend had died, and she hadn’t handled it well. What started as a way to get out of the house with friends, had led to this wild, secret life. Y/N had snuck out at night and used Bruce’s name to get into clubs. She drank anything she could get her hands on and had gone home with multiple men, trying to forget her pain. Once, Bruce had found out, her world had imploded. He sent her away and finally got her the help she should have received when her parents had passed. The only reason Y/N had moved back to the manor was that Jason had been found. She couldn’t believe that he was trying to use her moments of weakness against her, “How dare you throw that back on me. I was just trying to numb the pain. It wasn’t like I was celebrating the fact that you were gone.”

“Yeah, it really looked like you missed me.”

“God Dammit, Jay!” she stamped her foot, knowing it was childish, “If you would just listen to me!”

“Oh fuck off, Y/N! If I had known I was ever going to be stuck with you and your nagging, I wouldn’t have come back.”

“I wish you hadn’t!” The minute the words left Y/N’s mouth, she gasped and slapped her hands over her mouth. Jason’s emotionless mask slammed into place, and suddenly he was as blank as the day Bruce had found him. He turned to walk out and Y/N chased after him, “Jay, wait! I’m sorry!” He jumped onto his motorcycle and was out the door before she could stop him. She slammed her fist into the wall and cursed in frustration and pain. No one would see either of them for the rest of the day. Y/N stayed in her studio, wondering how they got to the point of shouting such hurtful things at each other.

The next day, they had both shown up for Friday night dinner, as was expected of them. Neither spoke, and the tension was too thick to be cut with a knife. Y/N had tried to pull him aside and apologize after dinner, but he had shot her with a cutting glare and stalked away. The other could tell that something had happened, but no one had the details. Tim wandered into the library after patrol that night, to find her in a chair tucked into the corner. “What are you doing here (Y/N/N)? Isn’t it a movie night with Todd?” He noted the tear tracks down her face but knew she hated showing weakness, so he said nothing about them.

“I wasn’t feeling up to it, so I canceled. I think I’ll head to bed now. Night, Timmy.” Y/N went to her room and cried herself to sleep, the guilt overwhelming her as she played the argument over in her head. If only she had just taken a break, maybe the whole situation could have been avoided. She woke up multiple times in the night, crying out Jason’s name after seeing him and the Joker over and over again. Finally, around 3 in the morning, she gave up on sleep and went to the kitchen to pour herself coffee. She decided to keep busy and started making breakfast for the family.

Alfred was the first to appear in the morning, as usual. Y/N tried to pretend that everything was normal, but nothing could be hidden from the family’s butler. He noted the dark circles under her eyes and the tremors in her hands from over-caffeination. The boys slowly started to emerge, and Alfred started to bring out all the food she had made. She made two plates out of habit and headed for the dining room. Y/N started to hand Jason his breakfast as she had every morning for a year, but suddenly she remembered and pulled her hand away. Jason didn’t even bother to look at her, and her heart clenched. She placed the plate on the table and walked back into the kitchen. “Sorry, Alfred, I’m not hungry. I think I’ll go paint.” She placed the plate she had made for herself on the counter and left.

Y/N’s studio had been a safe space since she had first moved into the manor. She had hidden away when she first arrived at Wayne Manor, unused to such an active family. Bruce had called workers to the manor and redid the room when she had told him she liked art. Now, after years of work, canvasses filled the room on all sides. Some paintings, others photos, she had accumulated in the three years. They hung on the walls and were laid across the floor. She flooded the room with Swan Lake, her sad music, and started to mix her colors. The music she played had become an easy way for the others to discern her moods since she hadn’t spoken to anyone except Fallon, Bruce’s wife, when she first came. Bruce and Dick had installed a speaker system in her studio to drown out the noise when she was overwhelmed, and everyone in the Manor could hear it if she turned it on loud enough. When the first notes hit their ears, all eyes in the dining room turned to Jason. He refused to look up and make eye contact, instead, he stared at the breakfast that had been abandoned on the table. Once everyone had averted their gaze, he pushed away from the table and disappeared.

This led to one of the most uncomfortable weeks in the Manor ever. Y/N barely left her studio and no one saw Jason for three days before he returned. When he did, he started to act as if nothing had happened. The music had eventually stopped playing altogether, so they had no idea what kind of mood she was in. Finally, Damian was the one to gather everyone else together, “Y/N/N has not come out of her studio in a week. Since Buckethead has just decided to pretend nothing has happened. We need to fix this.”

Bruce spoke up first, “Jason and Y/N are both adults. They are both being immature, and it will eventually work itself out.

“How can we fix this when we don’t even know what happened?” Tim looked up from his laptop, “I’ve been checking in on Y/N on the cameras. All she does is paint, and the most she’s slept in days is when she falls asleep accidentally. That never lasts long, and she cries. A lot.”

“Why did Fallon have to leave! We need to fix this, or the family vacation is going to be the worst!” Dick collapsed on the couch. Fallon had finally convinced Bruce that the family needed a vacation, but two weeks before they were supposed to leave, her sister had had a baby. She decided to go help her out and just meet them at the resort. They now had a week left, and it was not looking good. No one wanted to bother their mother since she very rarely took time for herself and was enjoying time with her family. They decided Alfred would be the one to try and convince Y/N to leave the studio at least and eat something.

He appeared in the doorway and watched silently as Y/N worked on a large canvas. He walked over and saw that it was a portrait of the family. “This is beautiful, Miss Y/L/N.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” her voice was hoarse from disuse.

“What is the plan for this one?” Alfred sat down next to her on the floor.

“Everyone hates photos, but Fallon wanted a family portrait for the sitting room. Since no one can sit still long enough I decided to paint one and give it to her for her birthday,” she slowly sucked in a breath, “Plus they only have the old one, and J--some people-- are missing from it.” Tears started to well up again in her eyes. Alfred wrapped an arm around Y/N and just sat with her for a moment.

“I’ve kicked the boys out of the kitchen. Do you think you could come down and eat something? For me?” She only nodded and they both stood. Y/N sat on a stool and silently ate the soup Alfred had laid out for her. She barely tasted anything, and she was starting to feel dizzy. Her vision started to blur, and the next thing she knew, she was waking up on the floor and had five heads floating above her.

“Hi, guys. Thought the floor looked lonely.” She tried to sit up but was cut off.

“That is it,” Bruce spoke firmly, “You are going to bed, and you are sleeping. I thought you were mature enough to deal with this but I see I was wrong.” He picked Y/N up and noticed she had lost weight. He carried her up the stairs and before he had reached her bedroom, she was already asleep again. Bruce turned to the boys. “At least one of you is staying in here with her and making sure she sleeps.”

Tim volunteered for the first shift and settled into her desk with his laptop. Y/N had barely been asleep an hour before she woke up from a nightmare of Jason dying. She shot up and shouted out his name, before bursting into tears. Tim -- being the awkward person he is -- was ill-prepared to deal with the crying Y/N. The only solution he could think of was to climb into bed with her and pull up a movie. She slowly fell asleep again and clung to Tim like a starfish. When Dick came to relieve Tim and saw that he was unable to leave, he climbed into bed with the duo. Anytime Y/N would start to become distressed, they would calm her down. Eventually, Damian and Titus joined the cuddle pile, the former somewhat reluctantly, grumbling about how he was only doing this for Y/N. Little did the Bat-Family know, Alfred had called Fallon and told her about the situation and she had rushed home.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd #batfam #batfam imagine #batfam x reader #tim drake imagine #dick grayson imagine #bruce wayne imagine #damian wayne imagine #batfamily #toomanyrobins #red hood #red hood imagine #red hood x reader

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redrobin-detective · 3 years

Text

The 101 Deaths of Danny Phantom

AO3 link

One of the first things people learned about dealing with ghosts, other than not to try and date them, is to never asks about their death or obsessions. That doesn’t mean the citizens of Amity Park aren’t curious though, especially about their resident ghostly hero and the confusing and concerning comments he sometimes makes.

“Are you okay?” Phantom asked Maisie as she shook and tried to hold back tears after that car had almost slammed into her. She sometimes joked about getting hit crossing the street of her college campus to pay her obnoxious loans but it was another thing entirely to almost experience it herself. Maisie was nearly twenty, she shouldn’t be comforted by someone younger than her little step sister but here she was, shaking like a lead and leaning into Phantom’s comforting, chilly touch.

“Sorry,” she stuttered, “thank you, I’m sorry I’m just-”

“Hey, it’s okay to be upset that was very scary. The thought of dying is very scary.” Through her adrenaline and her tears, she took in the ghost’s unnatural glow, his faded, barely visible appearance and the fact that he was floating a foot off the ground. Maisie knows this ghost, this boy, knows more than she ever could about death.

“And getting run over by a car sure is a bad way to go,” the ghost kid chuckled awkwardly, taking his cold hand off her shoulder to scratch at the back of his neck. “You should see how my dad drives or my mom or my sister if she’s running late enough,” Phantom paused in thought. “No one in my family should have a license now that I think about it. Anyway,” he dismissed with a wave.

“My sister and I were getting ready to head out to school and my dad was backing out of driveway too fast and didn’t see us and uh, luckily I got my sister out of the way in time haha,” Phantom trailed off awkwardly. Was it because of the uncomfortable conversation or because he noticed her dawning horror.

Her best friend ran the community college’s Phan club so Maisie was a member by default. Phantom’s death was sometimes talked about late at night, everything from wrongful murder to a freak accident. She never in her worst nightmares imagined being him being runover in front of his own house by parental ignorance. It was so normal, a quick mistake and a life lost.

“Oh my god,” he said with an adorable little green blush. “Why am I babbling about that? You almost got hit by a car, I’m probably retraumatizing you or something. I should probably go get the jerk who almost hit you,” he said before disappearing into thin air.

“Tia is not going to believe this,” she whispered to no one. All she knew is that for the rest of her damned life she was going to look both ways when crossing the street. She’d seen first hand what a single moment of reckless driving could cause.

XxX

Matthew, not Matt or Matty or Hughie, Matthew shivered from the cold. He was only in his boxers with little Pacman on them. It had been fine when he’d gone to bed considering it was mid-August but Phantom and this stupid flaming mecha ghost had tussled outside the summer camp he was working at. He could see some of the kids snickering at his state of undress though he was just extremely glad they were alive enough to disrespect him like this.

“Oh man, I’m sorry,” the ghost kid said with big, sad eyes that looked so human despite the fact that they were literally glowing. He looked around at all the snow and ice left over from his fight. “Jeez you guys must be freezing, I wish I could warm you all up but all I can do is make things colder.”

“S’okay,” Matthew said through his chattering teeth. “Teaching the kids how to start a fire was supposed to be next week but we can get a jump on it.” That got a smile out of the ghost and within a half hour, the other counselors were distributing blankets and hot beverages to the kids clustered around multiple fires. They didn’t seem particularly upset by the potentially fatal attack, Matthew will breakdown about that at a later time when he was alone. For now, he just smiled as the children chattered happily with the ghost while he cleaned up as much of the damage as possible.

“So you spend all day fighting ghosts?” Zoe asked with stars in her eyes.

“A lot of the nights too,” Phantom nodded, “I do other stuff but yeah it seems ghost fighting takes up most of my time.”

“Where’d you learn those cool powers?” Zuri asked, miming a punch.

“Comes with being a ghost,” Phantom shrugged, “my ice powers came in later though so I still struggle a bit with them but I’m getting better every day.”

“Why ice though?” Morris said with his cocked curiously to the side. “I see some ghosts use fire or shadows, why do you have ice?”

“Ah that’s a little personal,” Phantom chuckled but his posture was easy despite the invasive question. “Specialty powers like my ice require special circumstances and a certain uh connection to the ghost. Someone like me couldn’t use fire or electricity or plants, ice is in my soul, it’s who I am.”

Matthew paused in drinking his lukewarm coffee as a horrible thought came to mind. He’s been an outdoorsman all his life, practically from the time he could walk. He’d been a deep woods camping guide for a decade before switching to working at summer camps. But the years working in the relative comfort of a stable camp didn’t erase his knowledge of how unforgiving and deadly the woods in the winter could be. A grown man, much less a young teen, would freeze to death in 20 minutes if it was cold enough.

It made sense for ghosts to develop powers related to their deaths. Had Phantom been one of the dozens of unfortunate kids he read about every year who ran away in the middle of winter only to found later as a frozen corpse. He eyed the boy’s snow white hair and frigid aura he exuded with mournful trepidation. God, what a horrible way to die.

“I’d get chilly with ice powers,” Tabby said with a shudder, she held out her cup of cocoa. “You want some of my cocoa to warm you up?”

“No thanks,” Phantom said with a soft smile that was warm despite everything. “The cold hasn’t bothered me for a while.”

XxX

Ghost attacks may be the norm but, if there was one good thing that came out of whole mess it was the fact that violent human crimes went down drastically. So when the rare murder did happen, the shock and fear rippled through the whole town.

Stanford Newton had only been sheriff of Amity Park for eight months after the last guy had gone gray overnight and moved to Florida the next day. It was a daunting position but one he bore proudly. This wouldn’t be his first murder investigation having initially cut his teeth as a beat cop in Chicago but it would be the first in Amity. And it certainly was the first in which the dead served in an active capacity.

“Amanda Chastain, 27. Officially she was a waitress down at Spengler’s Diner but she’s been picked up for prostitution twice in the last year,” Stan said calmly, ignoring the cold, angry presence over his shoulder. “History of polysubstance abuse as well, not that either of those things mean she deserved this.” Used, beaten to death and then dumped in the trash like yesterday’s paper.

He wondered if she’d come back a ghost or if she’d finally get some peace this world hadn’t offered her. “We don’t have many leads right now, I’m afraid. Acting illegally as they are, there’s not a lot of resources these poor girls have to turn to.”

“I’ll find them,” The Phantom said with blazing conviction, his voice thick and sharp as ice. “I’ll find and bring them to justice and make sure no one else is hurt again.”

“I believe you,” Stan nodded, shutting his notebook as he finally turned to face the teenage superhero haunting his town. He can’t say he liked what he saw. The Phantom looked even less human than usual, his aura flaring and flickering like the foggy mist before a heavy snowstorm. His unnatural green eyes glowered, painting his too young face in a terrifying light.

The kid looked furious, clearly taking this death to heart. He’d read the Fenton’s memos about obsessions and such but this seemed beyond that. “But don’t hurt anyone to do it, or yourself while you’re at it.”

“I won’t, I’ll make sure they’ll face human justice and don’t worry,” Phantom gave a snarling smile. “No mortal can hurt me, not like this,” he growled causing the hairs on Stan’s arms and neck to stand on end. He flew off after that, presumably to track down Amanda’s killer.

“Not like this,” Stan mumbled to him, pulling out his handkerchief and wiping his brow where a cold sweat had broken out. “Jesus Christ that poor kid.” Stan had seen plenty of murdered and mutilated bodies in his lifetime, some of them even kids. He just never got to talk to them after they’d had their life forcibly snatched away. It would explain the ghost’s near fanatical determination to save others, why he took a stranger’s murder so personally.

“I hope your own murderer is behind bars,” Stan said as he tucked his handkerchief back into his coat pocket. “Or even six feet under, for killing a good kid like you.” Stan made his way back to his squad car so he could head back to the station and move forward with the official investigation. But he’d eat his hat if there wasn’t a stammering lowlife there by tomorrow ready to turn themselves in.

Maybe after all this was settled down, he’d delve into some of the cold cases stacked in the cellar. Maybe in there he’ll find a picture of a smiling, carefree teen who’d disappeared and returned with the power now to ensure no one else suffered as he had.

XxX

“Yes, I know about the Phantom,” Luis Oliveira will say to anyone who so much as brings up the ghost kid. Locals know better by now but the tourists eat it up every time. He twists his finely combed mustache and gestures to the floor where his audience is standing. “He died right there oh ten or eleven years ago.”

Luis has worked his way all across the the United States since he emigrated from Brazil in the 70s. He finally settled in Amity Park about twelve years ago. He’d never intended to stay in the small Midwest town but the fatal shooting of a young customer kept his little corner market open.

“He was a nice kid, always said hi to me and paid in exact change. Was big fan of the snacks I made, would stop by after school and take half my inventory. He had big brown eyes and a crooked nose,” Luis would smile at the memory before closing his eyes and frowning sadly. “One day, he came late. His teacher made him stay after to go over a failed test, I remember he complained. He was pulling out his money when robber burst in, demanding my money. I fumbled for the register key, dropped it. I bent down to grab it and I hear shots going off. Two over my head, another right into the boy’s throat.”

Luis will hear the sound of that sweet boy’s guttural choking sounds as he drowned in his own blood until the day he himself died. The robber left after the shot, Luis called the police and held the young man’s hand as he died. The would be thief were never found and Luis never did learn anything about the boy who’d died on his floor for getting hungry after school.

“As soon as I saw Phantom on the TV,” Luis would say, perking up after his moment of somber grief, “I knew it was that boy come back. Those kind eyes, I’d recognize them anywhere. He’s never come here but one day he will and I will be able to pass on my regret on not being able to save his life that day.”

XxX

“I think he killed himself,” Mikey whispered to Lester during lunch period, angling his voice low. “The jocks may love Phantom for his powers but I just know he was one of us, an unwanted nerd. I’ve seen him chatting up a ghost I’m pretty sure is Poindexter, Casper’s suicide kid. They’re probably bonding over their similar deaths and the circumstances that led to it.”

“That’s pretty dark,” Lester whispered back. “I also get unpopular vibes from him but I don’t think he’s the time do uh do that to himself; he’s too stubborn and protective. But I bet he was the victim of a prank gone wrong. Dash locked Fenton in the Janitor’s closet last Wednesday, he got out okay somehow but maybe something like that happened to Phantom. He always looks kind of annoyed at the A-listers, maybe they remind him of old bullies.”

“Nuh-uh,” Clara said, pushing up her glasses with her middle finger. “The ghost kid totally got electrocuted or something. He was fighting that weather ghost and he sent lightning bolts his way and Phantom flinched. He fought the Ghost King and yet a little electricity scares him? It might not’ve even been a lightning strike but something manmade like a machine backfiring or something.”

“Get real,” Mikey scoffed, sipping his milk with an eyeroll. “I’m sure we’d have heard about some poor kid getting zapped to death; this town isn’t that big.”

“We’d have heard about a suicide too,” Lester noted with a wry grin.

“Shut up Mr. I base my theories around Fenton who’s a known weirdo”.

XxX

“I’m telling you, the ghost kid died of some debilitating illness,” Abbie McMillian, retired school teacher and three year reigning champ at the Tristate area’s Daylily Competition. She sipped her tea and spoke with as much confidence as she had back in the day wrangling Amity’s impressionable youths. “The superhero thing is clear wish childhood fulfillment, a chance to live and be free like he never got to in life. You see how happy and carefree that young man looks while flying? Clearly he spent his formative years sick and weak.”

“No way,” Greta von Martin frowned as she aggressively stirred her own tea to show her displeasure. “I worked in a hospital for close to 30 years and I know what chronically sick kids look like and Phantom doesn’t fit the bill. I will agree he’s carefree when he’s not battling spooks but he acts like a stupid teen. I’m telling you, the boy got into his parent’s liquor cabinet or took a few too many of whatever pill was going around his school. Tragic but something that happens every day.”

“Greta, dearie,” Abbie said with a pinched frown. “We’ve been friends since grade school and I love you like a sister but you are wrong and until you admit it, I won’t share anymore of my recipes.”

“You’re just being stubborn because you can’t see what’s right in front of you even after working with kids half of your life, Abbie, love,” Greta sniffed. “And you can kiss my grandson’s help weeding you garden goodbye until you relent.”

XxX

Perhaps one of the most human traits is curiosity, especially about what comes after death. Now the good people of Amity Park know a great deal about the dead so the lives before is what attracts their attention and none so more than the ghost boy. Maybe it’s because he’s their hero or maybe it’s because he’s so young. Or perhaps it’s because Phantom is such a mess of contradictions that it’s very hard to guess how the unfortunate boy met his end. But everyone has their own theories, from the mundane to the fantastic, some with evidence backing them up and others pure poppycock.

But for all their curiosity, as much as it burns them to know, they’ll never ask. They don’t want to risk the powerful ghost’s wrath but, moreover, it seemed in poor taste. The boy risked his afterlife to keep them safe, they couldn’t ask what traumatic and miserable circumstances had led to this point.

And besides, it was so much more fun to look up at ghostly figure as he sped through the skies and wonder.

#danny phantom #my writing #i made a headcanon post and immeaditly said 'i have to write this'#and then I did #tw: suicide mention #there is a non described background death of an OC #opinions are like assholes #everyone has one #and *everyone* has an opinion on how phantom died #some are reasonably close and some are waaaay far off #but they wonder and gossip and argue when the kid cant hear #its human nature

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ijustwant2write · 4 years

Text

Brought Together-George Weasley x Reader

(GIF credit to @tanrininsonteki)

(I’ve written loads about Fred, George needed some love too!)

Summary: Who ever gets over the death of their brother? The death of their son? A friend? (Y/N) and the twins were always together, as if joined at the hip (or hips rather). But once the trio became a duo, one person had to become stronger than the other, pushing down their emotions and feelings to help the person they loved; because when things are put in perspective, it’s so obvious who their soulmate should be.

Characters: George Weasley x Reader, Weasley family x Reader (platonic), mentions of Fred Weasley

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Lots and lots of fluff, death, mourning, suppressed feelings/emotions

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

My body was numb. Whether it was from exhaustion, shock, trauma, fear or the wounds scattered across my body, it didn’t matter to me, I couldn’t bring myself to move. With my knees hunched up to my chest, my hand tightly gripped onto my wand, showing how much I was shaking. A shadow cast over me, but I didn’t move my head. In my peripheral vision, I saw someone sit next to me, gently taking my wand away before I snapped it in half.

“You haven’t moved. It’s over now (Y/N).”

George saddled up to me, slowly put an arm around my shoulders. I leaned into him, letting him rest his chin on top of my head. My hand grabbed his free one, guiding it to wrap it around my waist, pulling him close for a hug. It felt relieving to have human contact, to feel someone else’s heartbeat, knowing that they were alive here with me. There was too much blood, too much crying, too many friends lying dead or unconscious on the stone floor. Although fear had been pulsing through my body throughout the entire time we were fighting, my mind wouldn’t accept the concept of anyone dying; yet here I sat, having watch the life drained away from one of my best friends.

“George?” I suddenly gasped, pulling away from him.

His eyes widened at my movement.“What?”

“You’re here, aren’t you? George, please don’t tell me I’m imagining you?!” my voice raised as I panicked, and George tried to shush me. I was disrupting the first sign of peace.

“Yes, yes, (Y/N) I’m here. I’m real,” tears started rolling down his cheeks, but he attempted a smile,“I’m not leaving you. I won’t ever leave you.”

I groaned as I picked up another box, feeling the pain in my back. At ‘Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes’, we were re-stocking for the beginning of the Christmas season, changing around the shop to give it a fresh look. George was rolling up his sleeves, stepping back from the display he created. I approached him, standing with my arms crossed as I admired his work.

“I like it.” I simply said.

“Just like?” George nudged me with his elbow.

I smiled, rolling my eyes.“You know what I meant.”

“Come on, I’ll help you with the last boxes.”

“You don’t have to George. Have a break.”

He walked past me.“Nonsense. We’ve got places to be.”

“What do you mean?”

“Drinks after work of course. Seeing as it’s just us today, I thought we could head to the Three Broomsticks, like we used to.”

I blushed, happy that he turned away from me to not see it. Following after him, I tried not to stare too much as he decided how we should set out the certain product. When he was engulfed in his work, something that he was so passionate about, it was like I was seeing the old George, the cheeky chap from school (not that he wasn’t cheeky anymore). These small moments were captured in my memories, pushing back the old, terrible ones. He deserved to be happy, especially when all he wanted to do was make other people laugh with the jokes and pranks they sold.

We managed to finish the new displays within the next hour, meaning it was time for us to relax with a good drink. It wasn’t going to be a night of getting drunk, just two...friends enjoying each other’s company. Wrapping up warm, George locked up, holding out his arm to me as we hurried to the pub, wanting to be out of the cold as soon as possible. Once at the Three Broomsticks, we were easily able to find a table, being served instantly as it wasn’t busy, only a few locals filled the space.

“Actually,” George started after setting his drink down,“I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

There was that blush again. It seemed that words didn’t want to form.“Hm?”

“Well, obviously you’re always welcome round mine. But I was wondering if you wanted to come over for Christmas? Not the actual day cause I know you’ll be with your family, but just before-”

“Yes.”

“What?”

He chuckled.“That didn’t take much persuasion, did it?”

“I love your family. You didn’t even need to ask. But you sounded nervous.”

“Did I?”

I nodded, taking a sip of my drink.

“W-well, I...I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he looked everywhere except in my direction.“You ever seen me nervous?”

I giggled.“You don’t remember asking me to the Yule Ball-”

He waved his hands dismissively, which only made me laugh harder.“We said to never speak of that again, remember?”

I shrugged, a grin still on my face.“I still think it was more cute than nervous.”

Now it was his turn to tease me.“You think I’m cute?”

“Thought, I thought the whole idea was cute. But you can’t deny that it wasn’t a good night.”

“No, that was fun.” we were both in thought.“You looked beautiful in that dress.”

I waited for a snarky remark, but nothing came.“But?”

“What do you mean, ‘but’?”

“Oh, usually you just...never mind.”

“Anyway,” George cleared his throat,“you know mum wouldn’t take no for an answer, so you’ll have to pack a bag to stay a few nights.”

I laughed.“I would expect nothing less. Gosh, what to get all you Weasley’s for Christmas?”

“Don’t be daft. You don’t need to get everyone presents.”

“Of course I do!”

“Tell you what, why don’t we join up for presents? Buy them together.”

“You know what George, that’s probably the best idea you’ve had for a while.” I smirked.

He scoffed a laugh.“Right, I know I offered to buy the drinks, but that stops now!”

We had a few weeks before my time at the Weasley’s, meaning we were able to think and buy everyone’s presents. During lunch breaks or on days off, we would scour the shops, coming out of them with bags and bags hanging off our arms. I was always excited to see my second family, and Christmas was a fun, special time of year for everyone. The night before we were set to visit them, I stayed with George as we had to set off early the next morning. It was lovely when we stayed with each other.

"I know you only clean this place up when I come round, just admit it!" I giggled as we laid in bed facing the other, discarded chocolate wrappings scattered between us.

George laughed with me, rolling onto his back, looking up at the ceiling. As we calmed down, I bundled up into a tight ball, feeling a slight chill, which George noticed. He said nothing as he leaned his upper body off of the bed, grabbing a blanket from who knows where before wrapping it around me. My gaze remained on him as he tucked me in, enjoying the small amount of attention. Feeling hands on me made butterflies emerge in my stomach, and the caring side to him was the sweetest thing I had ever seen.

"I will admit, I did buy that blanket just for you. You complained about being cold enough to drive me mad." he smirked.

I clutched onto the soft fabric."Well, if you're going to speak to me like that, then I guess I'll just leave."

He tucked his arms beneath his head, closing his eyes slowly."Go on then. See you later."

When neither of us moved, we tried to contain our laughter, both failing miserably as our cackles rang out in his bedroom. It was like our sleepovers we had when we were much younger, they stopped as we...changed at a certain age.

“Are you sure everyone will like their presents?" I wondered.

He sighed lightly."We've been over this. You could pick up a weed from our own garden and they would fawn over it. It's not the gift they want, it's you."

My mouth open, prepared to protest against him as he teased me again, but I was stuck for words."George...that's a lovely thing to say."

His head lolled to face me, his face scrunching up in disgust."I take it back."

"No!" I quickly said."You can't pretend you didn't say that!"

"Say what?" he teased.

"George!"

Carrying everyone’s presents in our arms, George and I prepared ourselves for the onslaught of hugs and kisses we would be attacked with before we could even set down any of the presents or our bags. We were still a few steps away from the door when it was fiercely pulled open, Molly squealing and throwing her arms up in joy.

“Oh, you’re here! Arthur, they’re here!” she was beaming.

She hastily took the presents from George’s arms, impatiently ushering him inside as Arthur (who was a bit more reserved) took my presents, before I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek as a greeting. Once all of our belongings were set down, proper hugs were given, just as bone crushing as they usually were.

“Oh, it’s so lovely to have you over dear.” Molly gushed.

“Mum, she was here a month ago.” George said.

“Well, it wouldn’t matter if it was just a day, I would miss her the same amount.”

I smiled at her.“Thank you Molly. See George, maybe you should be as kind as your mum.”

“I see you everyday, that’s almost too much for me.”

“Well, Ginny and Harry should be arriving tonight, Ron is already here, I think Hermione is supposed to be coming tonight too, but I’m not sure when, Bill and Fleur-”

Molly continued explaining the plan for the next couple of days, but I was distracted by George talking to his dad. Their voices were hushed, they kept side glancing at us as they spoke, before a shy smile emerged on George’s face. I somehow went back to Molly’s explanation, pretending that I had heard everything she said. Politely nodding, I was relieved that she started asking me about myself, changing the topic of conversation, even though my mind was occupied with someone else.

Everyone had arrived as the evening came, squeezing into the house and around the long table. As we sat down to eat, I noticed an empty chair besides George, realising who should have been there. My breath got caught in my throat at the sight, not hearing George call my name until he placed his hand on top of mine.

“You OK?” he whispered.

“Um...” my head slowly turned to face him.“Yeah, sorry. I’m fine.”

“It’s strange, isn’t it? What I mean is, it’s weird to think he’s...he’s not here.”

I squeezed his hand, but before I could say anything, Arthur stood, preparing to make a speech. Keeping my hand in George’s, I listened just like everyone else, trying to push away the flashes of Fred filling my mind.

“Well, I know it’s a bit early to be celebrating Christmas, but we know that you all have your own plans for this year, now that you’re grown up. But it is important to ensure that we get together, especially during this season about love, giving gifts, drinking, eating, and spending time with family and friends, because...because you never know what the future holds. And I think...no, I know that the last year has taught us all that.”

People were either getting teary eyes, already crying, or had a solemn look on their faces. Glances towards the empty seat were common. I didn’t wince as George’s grip tightened, strongly pinching my skin. Keeping my head down, I suppressed any tears, taking in a deep breath as Arthur managed to carry on.

“I just want you all to know, that I love you, your mother and I love you. And for those extended family, (Y/N), Harry, Hermione, Fleur, Audrey, we love you just as much. You’re our family too. We need to make every moment count, make every moment special. So, with that being said, let’s have some fun tonight!”

We raised our glasses, clinking them all together before drinking. I took a big gulp, and then another as the chatter built up again. Once we were done with food and the conversations afterwards, we were going to start playing games, lifting up the atmosphere in the room. Before it started, I excused myself, not that anyone took much notice. Scurrying upstairs, I tried to slow down my breathing as I shut myself in my designated room, covering my mouth to silence my cries. I collapsed back onto the bed, head in my hands as I felt tears try to stream down my face. My shoulders shook as I forced myself to make no noise. The door opened, causing me to flinch back, even though it was George.

“(Y/N)? Why are you crying?” he panicked, immediately kneeling in front of me.

I shook my head that was back hiding in my hands.

“Hey, come on, you can talk to me. Did someone say something?”

I sniffled, looking away from him.“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be crying, it’s not fair.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just seeing Fred’s chair...without him in it, it was heartbreaking. And, and I know you and your family have to deal with that every day for the rest of your lives but...but I miss him so much George!”

“It’s alright. Hey, I’m here.” he moved to sit beside me, holding my close.

“I’ve always wanted to make sure you were happy, and I knew that if I started crying like this then it would make things worse. He was your twin brother. What right do I have to be like this?”

“Listen to yourself,” he softly said, gently pushing me away so that I would look him in the eyes,“you’ve never mourned properly. You heard my dad downstairs, you’re family. Fred loved you, you loved him, we were the best of friends us three! The fact that you’ve not let out all of this makes me worried. It’s not healthy.”

“I know, I just couldn’t stand to see you upset anymore. I wanted to make you happy.”

“You do make me happy (Y/N). You make me extremely happy by just being with me, by just being you. You’re right, all those times I saw your smile, I smiled. Making you laugh is one of the best things in the world, and the fact that I can see you everyday, well, I couldn’t ask for anything more. I just wished that you had been able to talk to me about this, you know I’m always here for you.”

“I should have, I realised that now. But when you would start to let everything out to me, I couldn’t bring myself to say anything, I felt like I was adding to your trauma and making it about myself. And after relentless weeks of nightmares, nightmares that involved you dying alongside Fred, it would all disappear from my mind once I saw you.”

His hand pushed away the hair stuck to my wet face, sadly smiling.“I understand. Promise me that you’ll tell me about these sort of things?”

I nodded.“I promise. I’m sorry that I didn’t speak to you sooner.”

“Don’t apologise. You have nothing to apologise for.”

Strangely, we both leaned in towards each other, quickly kissing. We didn’t pull away a lot, kissing once again, though this one was firmer and more confident. It wasn’t leading to anything, it was something we both wanted but knew tonight wasn’t the right time to go too deep into this. After a few seconds apart, I couldn’t help it, I had to kiss him again.

“My dad asked about us earlier. After hearing that we bought presents together and stayed with each other, he was wondering if something had finally happened.”

“Glad he’s not the only one wanting something to happen between us.”

“We’ll definitely talk about this tomorrow. But just so you know, I enjoyed that.” George said.

“I did too.” I mumbled, suddenly becoming shy.“And thank you for always being there George. I will get better at expressing my feelings in the moment.”

“I just hope you know that it doesn’t matter how you’re feeling; happy, sad, excited, annoyed, you can tell me anything. And also, if Fred was here, he would have certainly burst in and ruined the moment.”

I giggled.“You’re not wrong there. Perhaps he’s watching down on us know, wishing he could have put some sort of plan into action to embarrass us.”

“I bet he is. But I know he would have also been happy.”

“And we’ll be happy too. We are happy.”

“Yes, now that I’ve got you, I’m going to cherish every moment, just as dad said to.”

I hugged him close.“Don’t ever leave me George.”

“I won’t, not ever.”

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elias-code · 3 years

Text

That's My Job - Glatt x gn!reader

~ Ask Link ~

Characters: Glatt x gn!reader, Fundy, mentioning Quackity

Summary: You haven't been back to Manburg since Schlatt died. Now that Techno's destroyed every trace of it, you've returned with Fundy to drink and mourn. Fundy leaves you to your devices and Glatt ends up waking you up, taking care of you, and confessing...

Warnings: lots of cursing, heavy drinking, death, mourning

------ sorry it's so angsty lmao I just love torturing myself :) ------

Ever since Schlatt suffered his massive heart attack at the end of his presidential term, you’ve been wandering the SMP. You’d gotten close to him during his campaign trail, eventually helping him do paperwork, or rather, you did it all for him. You hadn’t been back to Manburg since his death, but now that it was gone, completely gone, you decided it was time to return.

It was a crater. Nothing was left. The office building was gone, the festival grounds were gone, and even the presidential podium was gone. Now, glass covered the crater, giving you the full view of what you had been most afraid of. It made you sick to look at it, bringing up memories from the election.

The worst part of it was that he was gone. Everything in Manburg that reminded you of him was gone, even his friends were gone. The group split shortly after he died, giving up on the decimated country. He was the only thing keeping them together. For better or for worse.

“Hey, Fundy,” You said, stuffing your hands in your pockets. He'd offered to come with you, knowing just how hard it was to be back there.

"Hey, it's nice to see you again," He carried a bottle in his hand and offered it to you. He'd already popped it open and taken a sip of it. "It's a bit strong, but you might need it."

"Thanks," You took it readily, not bothering to read the label before you took a swig. The liquid hit your tongue and burned as it went down. You coughed, spitting the remaining drink on the ground, "What the hell is this stuff?!"

Fundy was practically on the ground laughing. Your tongue and throat still burned from the alcohol and you rotated the bottle to read the label.

Fundy™ Vodka, (98% alcohol)

"Are you trying to kill me Fundy? This shit is ninety-eight percent alcohol?! How did you manage that?" he continued laughing at you as your face burned from embarrassment.

"It's a trade secret," he chuckled, "The people in Las Nevadas really love it," he shrugged.

"How are they all not dead?"

"Don't ask me," He said, "I'm just their dealer. Quackity buys in bulk."

For a moment, it was as if Schlatt never died. You laughed with Fundy for a bit, drank, and reminisced. It was like old times, the hay day, but every time you looked around, you were painfully reminded of the past.

"Hey, I wanted to show you something." Fundy stood, offering you a hand. You were both buzzed already. Each sip of the vodka went down like two shots and you'd gotten a decent way down the bottle by now.

"I'm happy to stay anywhere other than here," You took his hand and gestured around at the crater, "This place sucks." You swallowed a lump in your throat and followed Fundy off the path.

You looked down as you walked. You didn't want to be reminded of him any more than you had to. The people here were moving on from it all already. To be fair, it had been a while, but you'd been closer to him than anyone else, even closer than Quackity.

"Here," He stopped and pointed at the clump stones in front of him. He sat down on the bench as he had done many times before, letting you inspect your surroundings.

"What is this?"

"It's a shrine thing I made," He said sadly, "A long time ago. I haven't been here in a long time, so I refreshed the flowers a bit for you."

The cobblestones were unmarked, put in a rough pile surrounded by oxeye daisies and dandelions. To any passer-by, it was just a pile of rocks. To you and Fundy, it was Schlatt's grave.

Of course, he wasn't buried there. He'd been buried in a nice grave surrounded by gold and diamonds, but it had been griefed so many times that it wasn't worth visiting anymore. Instead of being reminded of him, you were reminded of how many people hated him. Here, it was much quieter.

"Thoughts?" Fundy asked, passing you the bottle as you sat with him.

"It's not bad," You took a swig, used to the taste by now, "I can't help but think that it's painfully accurate that we're getting drunk at his grave."

Fundy laughed briefly, eventually letting the blanket of silence fall over you. The lump in your throat rose once more and you swallowed it with another sip. This must be what he felt like at the end. Drinking to forget, shoving his problems down as far as he could with each drink until, one day, his heart couldn't take it anymore.

"You ok?" Fundy asked, concerned.

"Huh? Yeah," You stared blankly at the stone pile, "Just thinking."

"You're crying," He said.

You touched your cheek and found it wet with tears. You hadn't cried since the day he died, the day you left.

"Do you..." He sighed, "Want some time alone?"

You hesitated. "Yeah," you croaked, "as long as I get to keep the alcohol,"

"Just don't drink it all," He touched your head and walked off.

"Hey. Hey. Get up," You felt a finger poke your temple and you jerked awake to Schlatt's voice.

"Finally," He sighed, "What do you think you're doing on my property?"

Through your hazy vision, you saw him.

"Schlatt?" You reached your hand out towards him, but you felt nothing.

"Yeah, yeah," He moved out of your reach, "Hands off, kid."

You rubbed your eyes and squinted, there's no fuckin' way...

"What the hell?" You spat, "Is this a fever dream or some shit?"

In front of you was Schlatt, or a paler blue version of him. He was holding the bottle of vodka, reading the label.

"Oh so Fundy's got a damn business now, does he?"

"Whoa whoa whoa," You ignored him, "Schlatt?! You're alive??"

"Calm down," He rolled his eyes at you, "haven't you ever seen a ghost before?"

He tossed the bottle back to you but you fumbled it and it shattered on the ground.

"Shit!" The bottle broke into sharp, jagged pieces. No vodka came out of the bottle, it was empty.

"You're still a terrible catch, good to know," He sat beside you, walking through the glass. You realised with a start, He's translucent...

You woke up fully, putting your hands on your face and shaking your head. Your brain rattled around in your skull, giving you a painful migraine. The bottle was empty... how much did I drink? Your memory from the past few hours was more or less blank, only the occasional flash of sunset or Fundy was left.

"You're drunk as fuck, you know that?" He said, sitting judgingly.

"What?" I must be if he's here, "Are you even real?"

"Yeah," He sounded offended, "Look at me! What do you mean am I real?"

You laughed, now convinced you were out of your mind. "How was I supposed to know?"

He furrowed his eyebrows at you, evaluating your mental state. "That stuff will kill you." He said, genuinely concerned.

"Oh, and you'd know all about that, Schlatt," You spat, "As if I hadn't warned you a thousand times,"

He leaned back, "Says the person who left the country the moment I died,"

This sent you over the edge and you started sobbing. You put your hands to your face, practically screaming into them. You refused to deal with these emotions for so long, and in some cruel twist of fate, you'd become the thing you hated the most. You'd done the thing you warned Schlatt about countless times. It finally came back to bite you in the ass.

"Sorry, I-" He started, putting his hand on your back. He didn't know what to say, he wasn't the best at comfort, "I've missed you,"

Your sobbing calmed down slightly, downgrading to crying. The tears stung your eyes and your throat burned, partly from the drink, partly from the stress you were releasing.

"C'mon, let's get you cleaned up," He said, standing to lead you down the path. You followed, stumbling slightly as the drink caught up to your balance. Just before you fell, he caught you and slung your arm around his shoulder, practically carrying you.

"Man, I was hoping you'd be in better shape the first time I saw you."

"What do you mean?" You mumbled, leaning on him heavily.

"I mean I haven't seen you in so long," He bit his lip, "I was starting to think you'd never come back. Then I saw you with Fundy, drunk as a skunk, sleeping on my bench. Not what I'd say was a good first impression. In such a long time, I mean."

"Yeah, but you're... dead."

"So? What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you died. You had a fucking heart attack, alright? We mourned for you, I mourned for you. I ran away because I couldn't bear to look at them. Those people who said they were your friends. They took different sides. They gave up on you. In a way, I guess I did too, just because I had to."

He grits his teeth but kept walking. "I was just as disappointed in them as you, kid."

You'd reached the end of the path. He looked around quickly and opened the door. You recognized it as Fundy's house. It was vacant, Fundy was nowhere in sight. Schlatt laid you down on his bed, leaving to get a washcloth and a glass of water.

"Sit up," He said, pushing the glass into your hand.

You grabbed it readily and took a swig, dehydrated from the tears you'd shed. As you drank, he put the damp washcloth to your forehead and neck, trying his best to sober you up a bit.

"You're on fire." He said, frowning at you. "Your face is all red. How much of that stuff did you drink?"

"The whole bottle," You muttered.

"And you're still alive?" He laughed.

"I'd ask Quackity the same thing,"

"What does this have to do with Quackity?"

"Fundy's selling it to Las Nevadas, I guess." You shrugged and he haphazardly dropped the washcloth in Fundy's cauldron.

"What?"

"Las Nevadas," You laid back down, "Quackity has a city now. Leaned into the whole gambling thing."

"Jesus, I missed a lot, haven't I?" He laid next to you, the sheets didn't move.

"I guess so." You turned to look at him. His suit was torn like he hadn't changed it since the day he died. His beard was barely shaped, his hair a mess, and his horns were as sharp as ever. He was exactly the same as he looked that day. Dishevelled and broken down.

"I mean it, I missed you." He said, "It's not like I had any paperwork to watch you do, but I wish I had."

"You watched me do that?"

"Yeah, I had to make sure you weren't stealing it or something," He excused.

You chuckled, "You never kept track of that shit, there was no way you would have known."

"Alright fine, you want me to admit it?"

"Admit what?"

"You make this... face when you work. When you're really focusing on something... It's hard to look away."

Your heart skipped. The ghost of Schlatt confessed to having a crush on you? No one would believe this, especially since you barely believed it yourself. You burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of it.

"What?!" He snapped.

You kept laughing as your head throbbed, the headache coming out in full force now, "You had a crush on me?"

He scowled, "No." He sat up and tapped his foot on the ground, "I have a crush on you."

Huh? "Even though I've been gone for months?"

"Yeah," He said, "It's not like you forget someone like that."

He sounded sad, distant almost. Like you were the ghost.

"Hey," You shuffled over to him, putting a hand on his leg, "It's super cheesy, but," You sighed, god I sound like a child, "I like you, too."

His face flushed, as much as a dead person's face could flush. "Little old dead Schlatt?"

"Yeah, why not?" You sighed, "It's been so long since I've seen you, but... I mean, why do you think I left?"

"I don't know. I thought about that a lot while you were gone."

"I left because I cared about you. It was too hard to see you in everything around me. I left to get my mind off of you because every waking moment of every goddamn day was spent thinking about you," He looked at you, poorly holding his poker face, "I only came back because everything was gone. There was nothing to come back to. Or so I thought."

"Yeah, Technoblade did that." He jeered, "Twice."

"This isn't about him," You put your head on his shoulder, "If I'd have known you were still here... I would have stayed."

"To be fair, I was stuck in... hell... for a while until I finally figured out how to get back up here," He said, "By the time I'd come back... You were long gone. Months had passed."

"It was selfish for me to leave. I'm sorry."

"No, it was shitty of me to be mad you didn't stay. You told me so many times to put down the damn bottle and yet, you stayed by my side until the end. I let you down."

"I guess we both have things to be sorry for, then." You said.

You sat in silence for a while, coming to terms with what you'd both just said. It wasn't in either of your characters to say anything like this. There were some serious feelings passing back and forth between the two of you, and nothing to prepare you for them.

"Fuck I'm gonna puke," You said.

He pulled back, "Don't do it on me, sicko, Jesus!"

You laughed, "I'm fuckin joking, relax,"

"Just..." He leaned back and grabbed a blanket to swaddle you in it, "No more drinking, no more feelings for tonight. You need to sleep, and I've got all the time in the world to watch over you."

"It sounds creepy when you put it that way," you pouted.

"I'm not gonna-" He rolled his eyes and tucked you in, "Just let me know if you need anything. We don't really need sleep with the 'eternal slumber' bullshit, ya know?"

---

I don't know how to end this lmao, I hope you enjoyyyyyyed :3

#eli drunk glatt #dsmp glatt #glatt #fundy #dsmp x reader #dsmp #dreamsmp #schlatt #jschatt #mcyt #mcyt x reader #elias original #schlatt x reader #glatt x reader

121 notes · View notes

yslkook · 3 years

Text

sonder

pairing: taehyung x reader (exes au) summary: sonder: the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own. or

“What am I about to say?”

“That nothing has worked out for you since we dated, because even though the women you date are all wonderful, all you see in them is me,” You exhale, “I might have to kick you out if you say something as predictable as that.”

word count: 3459 warnings: alcohol, smut (penetrative sex, oral f receiving, tae is possessive for like half a second, some tears) a/n: inspired by these pictures of taehyung. also if this feels rushed, that was on purpose- i wanted to make them kinda messy

Your second whiskey of the evening burns something bitter in the back of your throat, but you welcome it. It’s a welcome respite from the shitty week you’ve had, but that’s besides the point.

One of your favorite things to do to unwind after a tough week is to people watch, and one of your favorite places to do so was at the bars near your apartment. You liked to create vivid stories for these people that walked through the bar- who they were, what their backstories were. It was an amusing game to you, and even if both Yoongi and Hobi told you that you needed a better hobby, you’d only scoff at them.

Speaking of, Yoongi was supposed to be joining you soon. But apparently he’s running late. About fifteen minutes late, according to his cryptic text from earlier:

yoongi: running late, im bringing a friend

You think nothing of it, not really. And you just sip on your whiskey, watching a pair of new faces walk through the door from your stealthy booth in the corner of the bar.

You should’ve known that when Yoongi had said he was bringing a friend, it meant Taehyung. You briefly remember Yoongi telling you that Taehyung had moved back to the city a few weeks ago.

Taehyung, who had moved away halfway across the world years ago as a novice in the art history world. Taehyung, who had broken your delicate heart and taken pieces of it with him more than five years ago.

But even so, you harbor no ill feelings towards the man. He did what he had to do, and you did as well. It’s been so long now, that he should almost be a stranger to you.

Yoongi watches the way your lips part in surprise at the sight of Taehyung- he knows there are still lingering feelings, maybe a lack of closure. Maybe something else that you don’t feel like discussing or diving into. You send him a hearty death glare his way but Yoongi ignores it.

You and Taehyung are nothing if not stubborn. Taehyung hasn’t stopped asking about you since he moved back to the city.

After all, you’ve hardly dated since Taehyung broke up with you. You had sincerely, genuinely believed that he was your one and only, your forever. It just hadn’t felt right, not with anyone else. So you just stopped, not wanting to force love with people if your heart really wasn’t in it.

And now, Taehyung is standing in front of you, dressed in expensive black from head to toe, looking as if he had just walked off of the runway before meeting up with Yoongi. His hair is longer than you ever remembered it being, two small silver hoops in his ears.

Handsome. He looks healthy and warm. He looks good.

You clear your throat and wave at both of them, opening your arms for a hug. Yoongi’s hug is brief, you see the man at least once or twice a week, but you pinch his waist for ambushing you like this. You gasp softly when Taehyung wraps his arms around you. You’d apparently forgotten how his body just fits into yours. Even after all this time.

It truly hasn’t been that long, but it feels like it.

“Hi,” Taehyung breathes into your hair. You should pull away, you really should. You can’t even meet Yoongi’s eyes, too bewitched by the hold that Taehyung somehow still has on you.

You feel as though your heart is running a mile a minute, and yet it feels like you’re greeting an old friend after a long time.

“Taehyung,” You say softly, his name sounding like a ghost of a memory, “It’s been a long time.”

You sit in your booth and Taehyung sits next to Yoongi. It feels like three old friends catching up after a while, not like if two exes are sitting with their mutual best friend trying not to catch glimpses of the other.

You take a sip of your drink with shaky hands. It’s going to be a long night.

At some point during the evening, Yoongi claims that Hoseok has an emergency and that he has to go. You think he planned this (both him and Hobi), because there’s a meddling glint in his eye that you haven’t seen recently.

You panic, scrambling to somehow get Yoongi to stay, so that you’re not alone with Taehyung. You’re afraid of what you might do or say. Or for what you might not do or say.

And yet, talking to him comes like second nature. Maybe it’s because you have years of history between the both of you, even if you haven’t spoken in the last five.

It hurt so much. When he broke up with you, you mourned the loss of your best friend. He had said you could try to be friends, but you couldn’t handle it at the time. And then more time went by… and suddenly, he was barely a thought in your passing mind. Yet, he still lingered, in your mannerisms. Maybe some part of you was still waiting on him. Which wasn’t healthy… But it wasn’t hurting anyone. And besides, you were okay. But you had never really believed in soulmates until Taehyung. Perhaps it was the lack of closure.

At least that’s what you convinced yourself, because seeing Taehyung like this, laughing and talking to you as if no time has past throws you for a loop.

Mainly because… it’s so easy to fall into conversation with him. It’s so easy to laugh with him and make him laugh. You enjoy learning about everything he’s been up to over the last few years, all of his adventures, the sights he’s seen. How enthusiastic he is, how he finds beauty in everything.

You both had always been such good friends. Maybe that’s what you miss more than anything. Somehow, hours go by and you both are left to be the only ones in the bar-

“Hey what brought you here to begin with?” Taehyung asks, holding the door open for you, “Had a bad day? You still like people watching?”

“Yeah,” You say wistfully, “Something like that.”

He squeezes your shoulder in reassurance. You catch his eyes in the streetlights and feel your heart swell.

Even if it’s been more than five years since you saw Taehyung last, since you felt his fingers thread in between yours… it still feels so familiar. It’s funny, isn’t it? How so much time can go by, how you can be strangers on paper but feel like you’ve known his soul for this entire time.

His smile glows in the moonlight. A light breeze cradles him, carding through his dark strands of hair gently. You can vividly recall a time when it was you- your fingers running through his hair through soft laughs and unkept promises.

You wonder if your heart is still his, after all this time. It’s not as if you’ve had many people to compare your all-consuming five year relationship to in the last few years. Every person you met, you found yourself comparing to your ex-boyfriend. It wasn’t healthy.

And you had known that he had moved on from your own mutual friends. You don’t even know if he’s single right now, but you knew he was in a relationship a year ago… Or maybe two? Maybe you should care a little more, but you’ll blame it on the whiskey for causing you to squeeze his hand a little harder and lean into him.

Taehyung looks exactly the same, he feels exactly the same as he did when you were twenty-two and stupid enough to believe that you would make it. He’s always felt like he fit the messy edges of your soul perfectly, and even now, you feel that familiar warmth of his soul rubbing up against yours.

Even as he’s chatting away, eyes crinkling in genuine happiness, you’re hardly listening. You’re only thinking about how nice he feels next to you.

Serendipity. It must be serendipity, for him to show up in your life again when you had been teetering on the edge of misery and self-deprecation. Your head is jumbled, brain filled with nothing but sweet memories of him and your heart is aching for something you might never have again.

But all you have is now. So when Taehyung twirls you easily and sways with you under the dimmed light of a street lamp, pulling a surprised laugh out of you, you make your decision.

“Where’s your new big girl apartment?” Taehyung asks, a hint of longing in his tone.

“It’s not new,” You scoff, “But I live, like, five blocks away.”

Taehyung takes your hand in his again, asking you questions about your apartment. How you found it, do you like it, do you have roommates. To which you shrug and tell him that you like being alone. Something shifts in his eyes, something sad. He recalls your thirst for life when you both had been together- always ready to try something new, always wanting to be around people, always dreaming with your head in the sky.

He wonders what changed. You’re so quiet, eyes a little dark, shoulders tense. Maybe that’s what growing up is. Maybe that’s what tumbling out of your early twenties and into your late twenties is.

Or maybe you’ve just changed in general. It’s been a long time, after all. Since you both mutually broke up, since he moved halfway across the globe.

But still, he catches sparks, flutters of embers in your gaze. He catches the tender, playful excitement that you’ve always held near and dear to your heart- it’s what made you and him such a good team years ago.

Talking to him is so easy, not that you thought it would be difficult to begin with. It’s always been easy with him, easy to laugh with him, easy to love him.

The front door of your apartment building comes into view. Your hand is still in his. Taehyung hesitates on letting you go, but he does.

“It was nice to see you,” Taehyung murmurs, allowing himself the brush of the back of his hand on your cheekbone, “I mean it.”

“Yeah. I’m glad I ran into you, too. Even if I was stuffing my face with whiskeys,” You grin and lean into his touch, “Even if Yoongi probably played both of us.”

“Don’t know when you became such a whiskey girl.”

“It’s been years, Taehyung. I’m sure I’ve got a few more surprises for you,” You say, smile falling into something more intense, “Wanna come find out what they are?”

“Thought you’d never ask, sweetheart.”

Taehyung’s lips are on yours the minute you close the door to your apartment. His hands are molded to your hips over your clothes and you instantly moan into his mouth loudly, slipping your tongue past his lips eagerly. Drinking him up as if he’s been yours to drink up this entire time.

You fumble with the buttons of his peacoat, nearly ready to yank the buttons off. Patience has never been your strong suit, but you just want to feel him.

But the minute you pull away for air, you re-center yourself. No matter how enticing his bitten lips are…

“Are you single?” You ask bluntly.

“Why?” Taehyung says with an arch of his stupidly perfect eyebrow, “You falling in love with me again?”

“Shut up, you wish. I thought you had a girlfriend,” You say pointedly, toeing out of your heels and hanging your jackets up in the coat closet.

“You keeping tabs on me? I knew it,” Taehyung says, looking a little too smug about it.

“Shut the fuck up,” You swat his chest, “Yoongi may have mentioned it to me once or twice.”

More like he told you multiple times when you were drunk, wasted and crying over Taehyung because you never truly got over him. In some corner of the deepest part of your heart, you never got over him.

“I’m not dating anyone. Or talking, seeing anyone,” Taehyung shrugs, “That didn’t work out. Nothing’s really worked out, not since…”

“Don’t say it,” You mutter, “Don’t say what I think you’re about to say.”

You need another drink. So you pour yourself another hefty glass of whiskey and pour one out for him, too.

“What am I about to say?”

“And if it’s true?”

“Then I’m definitely kicking you out. Might need another five years to see you again,” You whisper. He moves closer to you, tentatively holding your hips in his. You don’t push him away, only looking up at him with wide eyes.

“I missed you so fucking much,” Taehyung breathes into your hair, wrapping you in a hug, “You have no idea. And you? Are you single?”

“No, you missed the idea of me. Of us,” You mumble, but you’re unable to pull out of his hold, “We were young, we had dreams… And yeah, I’m single.”

“We could’ve made it work-”

“Taehyung, stop it,” You mutter, throat going dry with barely concealed yearning for him, “We both made the choices we made for a reason. You’re here and I’m here for a reason. Don’t wanna talk about what if’s with you anymore. Just kiss me, Taehyung-”

Taehyung doesn’t need to be told twice, cupping your face in his big hands and pressing his soft lips to yours instantly. Time feels like nothing between you both, but it feels like he’s trying to learn this new version of you through your kiss.

You’re undecided on whether this is a one time thing, but all you know is that you want him. And you want him now. His hands are warm over your thighs as he lifts you up in his arms, your chest plastered to his. His hair has gotten longer, dark strands effortlessly falling into his forehead.

He’s so handsome and you swoon when his lips press against your neck. Taehyung still remembers what you like, what your favorite spots are.

It’s almost as if no time has passed. You both ignore it, ignore the nostalgia creeping into the crevices of your kisses.

“Mmm, my bedroom’s that way,” You mumble hoarsely, pulling away with hooded eyes.

“You’ll have to give me a proper tour later,” Taehyung says, his voice somehow even deeper.

“Yeah, you’d be so lucky,” You snort and Taehyung shuts you up with another searing kiss. He doesn’t miss the meticulous way you’ve decorated your cozy home, pops of color and decorations that are so very you in every corner. He sees a small photo collage in the corner of your bedroom.

Once upon a time, a photo of you and him would’ve been the crown jewel.

“Tae,” You mumble, “Stop, focus on me. I want you-”

So he does.

Your legs close around Taehyung’s head, his tongue slipping into your glossy folds for the third time that evening. He can’t get enough of your soft noises, even when you’re telling him it’s too much, you widen your legs for him to slot in between them easily. Taehyung hikes your legs over his shoulder, nearly rutting into the bed at the sight of your quivering bottom lip and the way your tits bounce.

He palms you lewdly, squeezing and pinching. “You’re so wet,” Taehyung moans into your pussy, “Fuck, baby-”

“Taehyung,” You breathe, voice sounding broken even to your own ears, “I want you, I want your cock…”

“You sure you want this?” Taehyung asks, his voice strained.

“Yeah,” You nod eagerly, “Do you?”

With a nod, “Do you have condoms?” He rasps, nose nudging your clit.

“Y-yeah,” You moan, “The nightstand, first drawer. Brand new box, never before used-”

“Really?” Taehyung raises an eyebrow, “When was the last time, baby?”

“The last time what,” You whine, tugging on his forearm.

“Last time you had sex,” Taehyung says, pulling the box out from your nightstand.

“Uhhh… when you broke up with me?” You shrug sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Shit,” He groans, “Seriously?”

You don’t miss how he palms himself over his pants at your words. He’s always had a hint of possessiveness in him, and you already know that he’s trying to process that the last person, the only person to have ever seen you like this was him.

“Yeah, I didn’t have luck the way you did, I guess,” You say lightly, “Not that I was trying very hard, though.”

“Damn, baby, nobody’s been loving you right, huh?” Taehyung says, pulling out a condom from the box with shaky hands.

“Yeah. Not even you,” You say. Maybe that was mean, but his eyes flash at you in warning.

“Come here,” He says, a soft demand, “Did you miss me?”

You shrug playfully and unbutton his pants for him. He swats your roaming hands away and they land on his belly, your nails scratching lazily. Taehyung has always looked like a vision, but seeing him like this, hovering above you with golden, tanned skin and his jaw locked, looking every bit like the man of your dreams...

He commands, demands respect. Your pussy throbs just from the sight of him shucking off his pants and his boxers in one go, tugging his hard and heavy cock roughly with one hand.

You swear you drool. Your head is empty, only thoughts of him, his big hands, broad shoulders-

“Did you miss me, baby,” Taehyung asks again, voice a little rougher, a little harsher.

“Does it matter,” You challenge him, “You only want my pussy-”

“And you only want my cock-”

“So give it to me then. Since you know me so well,” You sneer. You gasp in surprise when he swats your thigh and then moan his name when he pushes the head of his cock into you without much warning.

“You talk so fucking much,” Taehyung breathes, cupping your cheeks with one hand.

“Shit,” You gasp, “You’re so fucking big-”

You squeeze your eyes shut and Taehyung stills inside of you, giving you time to adjust to him. He peppers sweet kisses over your forehead, a contrast to his previous words. You cannot believe that somehow, Taehyung is back in your bed, his cock buried deep within you.

The thought makes your eyes water. You’re a little overwhelmed.

“What’s wrong,” Taehyung asks when he sees your wet eyes, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Nothing, you’re just so big,” You mumble, avoiding his eyes. Taehyung looks at you suspiciously but says nothing.

He’s the only one who’s ever had you like this. The thought makes something in his belly flare, the urge to leave bruises on your welcoming hips and pound into your wet pussy growing and growing with each second.

But he doesn’t move, not until you give him the okay. Taehyung’s fingers are tight around your hips, loose around your neck, his lips plastered to any inch of skin he can reach. With the first rock of his hips into you, you wrap your legs around his waist and shudder in his arms.

He nuzzles your neck, chest plastered against yours. Your nails are tightly pressed into his biceps, surely leaving marks for tomorrow morning. Your soft cries of his name sound like sweet rapture, something he’s been searching for for years. Or something that he had and something he let go of.

And then he wonders how he ever spent the last few years not buried in your pussy, when you feel something like home to him.

“You know, I moved back here a few weeks ago,” Taehyung says, turning on his side to face you, hands gentle over your chest.

“Oh, I know. Yoongi and Hobi wouldn’t shut up about it. They really missed you,” You reply, not meeting his eyes.

“And you? Did you?” Taehyung asks again. You hesitate.

“Does it matter, Taehyung?” You mumble, brushing his hair away from his eyes, “Does it change anything?”

“It could. If you wanted it to,” He murmurs, pulling you into his chest. His fingers are light over your spine, but you scoff.

“Don’t say shit like that,” You sigh, pressing your hand to his face.

He only laughs with his big, bright smile and pulls you in closer, kissing your forehead. “I can leave you know. If you want me to. If this is... weird.”

“I think we’re way past weird, Taehyung. If I wanted you to leave, I would’ve kicked you out by now,” You say easily and ignore the way his smile sends unfamiliar butterflies through your belly, “Go to sleep. I’ll decide if I wanna kick you out in the morning.”

#taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung fic

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justyoursimpleflower · 3 years

Text

A Letter of Love, A Letter of Apology

Warnings:- just angst, no fluff, nothing mentions of death, sucide, crying, death eaters. Not the best of me.

Word count:- 2k

A/N:- this is short and not my best of work, I actually list inspiration for it after sometime. The gif belongs to its respective owners I got it from Pinterest.

July 12th 1978.

Lily was sitting in her apartment that she shared with Marlene and Alice, drinking a glass of wine. Who cares if it's ten in the morning? She wanted to, so she poured herself a glass. Last week had been hectic for Lily, moving out of Hogwarts, and then James proposing her, healer training and so much more. It was as if she didn't even get a moment for her.

It had been not so long since she left Hogwarts, though it felt like a distant memory. Getting out of Hogwarts, joining Order, leaving some friends, leaving some memories, leaving-

"Lily!"

Marlene's voice broke her out of her thoughts, no one knows what would have happened if she hadn't broken her out of her thoughts, she didn't need to go back to those thoughts.

Turning around she saw a horror struck face of Marlene, immediately rising panic in her mind. She left her glass of wine on the railing of the balcony, she rushed to Marlene.

"What is it?" Her voice was heaved with panic, a million of what ifs swirling in her head.

"Another attack." A gasp left Lily's lips, as the words came out of Marlene's lips. Another attack. Another death. Another pain for the people.

But something was different in Marlene's eyes. It wasn't the usual, hatred or sadness at the name of attack, her eyes were teary. Assuming the worst Lily whispered,

"Who?"

"Y/N"

At that moment Lily wanted nothing more than the ground to swallow her or the sky to fall on her. Tears started streaming down her eyes, her heart felt heavy, her mind went fuzzy. Lily couldn't hold herself anymore and fell to her knees, sob racked her body. She was now crying completely, Marlene kneeled herself in front of Lily and held her in a hug. Rubbing her back, she kept whispering,

"I know, I know, she was my friend too."

She didn't know. No one did, and that pained Lily more.

Collecting herself up Marlene made Lily look up, the pain in Lily's eyes was breaking her too but she was supposed to take her for the mission, they can mourn later, but they had to go now.

"C'mon Lils, it's time to go, we have to investigate the place."

Lily didn't even hear her, she was feeling only the voidness she had pushed you into. It was all her fault, you didn't deserved that, maybe if she had never pushed you till there, you would still have lived.

She felt a hand shaking her. Marlene. She wants her to come and investigate the place you took your last breath. She didn't even has a choice in this. She had to. Slowly, she stood up and nodded her head.

Marlene clasped their hands together and they apparted to the small home. It was just like you used to describe, Lily had never visited your home but she knew how it looked, you had painted a perfect picture of it in her head.

James was already there, he, Lily and Marlene were to investigate the place for any traces of Death Eaters. He saw Lily looking broken, his heart broke too, he knew that you and Lily were good friends, but the look in Lily's eyes was pure sorrow.

He was quick to his feet and reached to her, he enveloped her in his arms. Lily's arms never went around him, she just started sobbing on his shoulder, she knew what she was doing was betrayal but how could she stop the pain, coming in the form tears.

"Shh...calm down, love."

Knowing that if she didn't stop now, she won't for long, Lily removed her face from James' shoulder. She gave him a weak smile and nodded her head towards the house, signalling him to enter. James was hesitant but entered anyways, his hand still holding Lily's.

Marlene was standing in the hallway, looking around the pictures, in case any clue. Lily and James joined her and roamed their eyes on the pictures, your smiling face, their joyful days, everything, in the most perfect way. And here are they, falling down by the insurmountable grief, mourning your death, investigating your house.

Lily was slowly breaking, the more she looked at those pictures the more suffocating became the pain. She felt like she's betraying everyone, you, James, her friends, herself.

James rubbed her back and gave her a sad smile, she smiled back but it was genuine, not anymore at least.

"I think we should seperate. Marlene you check the kitchen, I'll go for the living room and Lily you should check bedroom." James said, nodding they all seperated.

When Lily entered your room, everything was mess. Maybe you came here to hide from the death eaters. Shaking the thought from her head, she started looking for any evidence that Death Eaters came.

She flipped the pillows, she racked the desk, she looked in cupboard, but she found nothing. Sighing, she sat on your bed, looking around the room, the mess she made.

Lily's eyes landed on the drawer beside your bed, knowing she won't anything she almost didn't check but something in her was telling her to, believing her instincts, she opened the drawer to find it empty except an envelope.

She was going to leave it when James' voice called her but in the end she turned and stuffed it in her pocket. She reached the living room to find James and Marlene there.

"Did you find something?" Marlene asked.

Lily's hand touched the envelope in her pocket, but she shook her head. She can handle this alone, and she would.

Marlene and Lily apparted after that to their apartment, and Marlene left Lily's side saying, she wants to rest but Lily knew better, she knew that Marlene only wanted to grieve alone, she was never the one to show her emotions openly.

Lily entered her room, and changed into more comfortable clothes. As she sat on her bed, she took out the envelope and looked at it. She turned it few times to check if there was anything she could understand by it, when she found no signs, she hesitantly opened it. Inside it was a folded parchment, no doubt a letter. Lily didn't want to pry but she found herself opening it. So, she started reading.

Dear Lily,

I don't even know if I have the right to call you that anymore. You seem distant more than usual now, I knew it be bad but...this is unbearable. It's eleventh of July, it's my birthday tomorrow, but I think you wouldn't remember. I don't want a lot from you, I would just address this letter and send this to you, just want an acknowledgement from you that you read it.

It's been such a small time but it feels like an eternity when we used to meet, secretly, it hurt me that you didn't want to be seen with me but no worries, no hard feelings, it atleast gave me some thrill.

Okay, no more small talks, I would just tell you want I want to know.

Lily, was it necessary? Was I that bad? Even on my worst day, did I deserve the hell you gave me? What changed?

You promised me, didn't you? You promised me an infinity, but here I am dying slowly, why? Because I can't take this anymore. Till the time you'll find it, I would be long gone. Away from you, away from everyone, away from everything. Look at me, what a coward. I didn't even fight, for the better world. I don't even have it in myself to go with grace, and you are a hero, flying around saving faces.

Our love was calamitous, we were never meant to be, but Lily I hope you live happily.

I won't say don't grieve on my death, do, atleast that'll assure me that even a little, sometime, you loved me, I meant something to you. But Lily, did I actually?

I am happy for you, happy for James that he finally got you. I am happy for your upcoming future with him. Say yes to him, he is a nice guy. Or atleast better than me.

Do you remember our first kiss? Everyone was drunk that night, so drunk that it took two vials of hangover potion, per person to make their headache go. You didn't drink that night, I did but not too much. We both were sitting near the fireplace, you asked me what kind of person was I interested in, I was hesitant, cause to me, you were the only person I had even thought about having romantic feelings. When I didn't answer, you put your hand on mine, I turned around and saw the fire reflecting on your face. You truly were a blessing for eyes. We didn't notice that we leant towards each other until our nose bumped, you initiated the kiss, your lips were on mine, all I could taste from them was strawberry chapstick. Our lips touched softly first, then your tounge swept across my upper lip, my mouth opened on its own, and you took over the kiss, just like you did with my mind, my heart and my soul.

Just like you took over the kiss without me noticing, you took over my life. I was so in love that I never noticed you slipping away from my fingers. But now, I want to tell you that I love you.

I love you, for the best and worst, till my last breathe, until my end. Wish I could tell you that.

I fought with my inner demons, but maybe they were stronger than my love for you. Just so you know, it not entirely you, its me too.

Yours truly,

-Y/N

Tears ricocheted on the parchment, Lily was more than ever broken now. This is what she caused. Death Eaters were not the ones who killed you, you killed yourself, because of her. A sob wrecked her whole body, was she such a bad person?

She loved you, she did but she knew her family would never approve her relation with you, you weren't some

Questions pondering in her head, Lily didn't noticed when she drifted off to sleep.

The next morning was glum, no one talked in the whole apartment, everyone was getting ready for the funeral. It was going to be a really small one, only family and close friends.

Just like that the funeral was over, everyone was quietly talking to each other. James was talking to Lily when he noticed the jewel on Lily's neck,

"Lily, is it the one Y/N got you?"

Lily slowly nodded, she felt hollow, you were the dead one but Lily felt like a corpse.

James sighed and said,

"At least Y/N died a hero."

The furrow between Lily's brows told him that Marlene didn't actually told her the truth, so he said,

"Death Eaters, Y/N killed them but a killing curse during the end..."

That's when it clicked in Lily's mind, you never gave her the letter, meaning you were still contemplating your decisions but till then the Death Eaters...

Slowly, everyone started to return back and towards the end it was only Lily left. She made her way to the grave and fell to her knees, tears started falling, she cursed herself for not telling you how much she loved you. She cursed herself for not one more time telling you how brave you were.

She put the envelope on the grave and left without any other thought. It killed Lily, that she did that but she couldn't do anything now.

The envelope remained there for years, was it the love behind it or was it something else, it was always there, with two words written on it,

"I'm sorry."

#marauders era #remus lupin #harry potter #james potter #marauders oneshot #sirius black #sirius black fluff #sirius fluff #sirius x you #books & libraries #lily x reader #lily x james #lily evens #lily potter #hp angst #hp fanfic #hp #jily fanfiction #fanfic

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thesmokingguns · 3 years

Text

Three Loves

Word Count: 1202

Pairings: Izzy Stradlin X OC, Randy Rhoads X OC

Warning: Mention of Death, Cheating

Request: “The reader was with randy rhoads until his passing and Izzy finds out about her past and they talk about randy and share stories “

They say in life you’ll have three loves.

The first one is the fairytale love which was my first boyfriend in high school. We were the two kids that seemed like they should be together. Popular and good looking. Our parents were friends and we all just fit together in that neat little package. Plans of getting married after HIgh School was in our future. My mother was so sure of the ring that would grace my finger that on weekends we’d go into London to browse shops for a potential China that I’d want to get.

It was on one of those trips that I met my second love, The Hard love. It seems foolish to call Randy my hard love. There was nothing hard about loving him, It came easy. From the moment that I literally walked into him when I ducked out of the shop we were hooked. He was a skinny blonde American and I was a short brunette from outside of London but it was like sparks and fireworks despite the chilly rain.

For a week I thought about the stranger that had bumped into me outside of the shop. I begged my mother to let me go to London by myself that weekend and she did. When we saw each other on the street we both had these stupid smiles on our face because we knew that we were looking for each other.

We talked all day in a little tea shop. Randy kept ordering more and more stuff so they wouldn’t kick us out but when there were no customers left we realized we needed to go. He walked me to the train station and before I got on the train he pulled me into a kiss that had my mind spinning on the ride back home. After church the next day I broke up with my boyfriend. I knew if I could feel like that after one kiss that I couldn't stay with him.

Two weeks later I had packed a bag and was moving into a small house with him. It was easy playing house, even though my parents didn’t approve of the man that was so much older than me.

Randy was my soulmate. Everything we did was together. It must have driven everyone nuts how we became a packaged deal but now knowing how our story was cut short I appreciate how deeply he loved me.

When we got to the US I loved laying in the California sun but he pushed me to go for a degree. He always wanted better for me and believed in me when I wasn’t sure of myself. I grew up with Randy. We had plans of being in school at UCLA, him for music studying classic guitar and me for business.

Randy insisted I stay in school and not come on tour. He wanted to make sure I was getting settled in. He sent me pictures of all the places that we were going to see together. All the places he wanted to take me. I have all the letters that he sent to me in a shoebox in my closet, with the polaroids and film.

I was in our apartment sitting on a stool in the kitchen well I worked on an assignment, the radio playing in the background when I heard them say they were going to play a block of Ozzy songs and they said you had died. A plane crash. But you hated flying so how could that be true. I was confused and scared. My mind is not making sense of anything. When Sharon called me an hour later to confirm it I had screamed before dropping the phone.

I mourned Randy all through college. Not thinking of anything but getting my degree and making something of myself for him. I wanted to do something to make him proud of me. We had been together for two and a half years and it felt cruel he had been taken from me. I didn't know how I was even going to heal. Some days now I get sad over it now thinking of what had been.

But I met my last love five years later.

When I met Izzy it was a set up. A blind date. A date that I did not want to be on but got set up on by a few friends. I walked into the restaurant ready to explain to the person that I was supposed to meet that this had been a terrible mistake and I wasn’t ready to date anyone, Being lead over to the table I sat across from a man who had me talking like we were old friends in under 20 minutes. Breaking down walls that had been built and crafted to protect me.

We had our second date the next day at a small sushi place where I drank Sake for the first tme and laughed loudly at how he ate with his fingers. It didn't feel like a date as much as it felt like we were just catching up as friends.

Our third date was two days later where we went to see a show together. Izzy towered over my 5ft nothing frame and picked me up on his shoulders to see the band playing. As he walked me home to my flat that night he asked me if he could kiss me. I hadn't been kissed by a man in years so instead of responding I had cried.

Izzy had got me inside and on the couch, getting a warm cup of tea in my hands and listening to my love story with Randy. I told him everything that I could think of. And he listened to it all and when I was calm he said something that made me know I’d love him.

“You don’t have to stop loving Randy, ever. But you deserve to be loved again.”

And I did love Izzy now.

It was a different love. We both were older and had been through different situations of love before. So we were ready for each other, comfortable in ourselves and our careers. It wasn’t all consuming but more like two puzzle pieces fitting together. Solid and right.

Izzy taught me how to have fun again. He took me to shady bars where we would play pool or darts and drink beer that tasted flat for a dollar. He made me stay up past my self imposed bedtime to go to parties with celebrities that he’d whisper gossip about. He liked to wake up early and drag me with him outside, wrapping me in his arms as we sat on lawn chairs watching the sun rise together.

He loved me for who I was and always gave me room to be that person. It was the type of love that we would always have because it was a love that was truly with my best friend.

I had been lucky to love three amazing people and have three amazing stories. But as I adjusted the white veil I knew Izzy was the one that I’d grow old with. He was my last love.

#izzy stradlin #Izzy straddlin request #izzy stradlin x reader #Izzy stradlin headcanon #izzy stradlin imagine #Imagine #GNR #Guns N Roses #Headcanon #Fan fic #80s rock #80s fanfic #80s #GNR imagine #Three loves #requesr

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beskarhearts · 3 years

Text

Mourn (Din Djarin x reader)

Connection series Pt. 9

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader (no use of Y/N)

Warnings: cursing, mention of family members passing away, drinking, smallest mention of prostitution, death/killing, angst (let me know if I missed any)

Word count: over 12.0K

Summary: Din mourns his newest loss and you learn that you might not be able to run away this time.

Notes: Woof! This was a big one but it’s one of my favorite chapters so far. I have a few more chapters planned before we start getting into the events from season 2!

Previous Part ____ Next Part

__________________________________________________

Din sat in the seat of his Crest, his hand tightly clutching onto the necklace in his hand. He couldn’t bear to look at it, just the feeling of the cool metal against his bare skin serving as a reminder of his lost.

He knew where she would of gone. He had mentioned the bounty had a ship that was not too far from where the Crest had landed, probably only a matter of a few hundred feet away. He had realized relatively quickly what had happened and he could probably get to her before she left, and that was assuming the ship the bounty stole even worked anymore. If she had to fix something really quick, he could definitely get to her.

Din listened as the kid let out a little mewl, sat in the passenger seat beside him. In the seat she usually sat in. The child looked over at Din with big eyes and he knew the kid understood she had left. Probably had watched her do it.

She left him. Din let in a deep breath, trying his best not to let tears fall. Because even though he would have the helmet on to cover them, he couldn’t allow himself to do it. If he did, he didn’t know how he would stop.

Din had two options. He could either find her and try to find out what happened or he could turn in his bounty and let her leave. Let her leave him like she wanted to. Like she chose to.

The Mandalorian had always been a loner. He never had anyone beside him. No friends, no family, certainly never a woman he loved. He had been accustomed to that lifestyle for many years. She had changed that though. She made him feel whole, filling in a hole in his life he hadn’t even truly understood he had. She made him feel worthy of more and made him feel like he mattered to someone. Was more than a piece of metal that took down bounties for men richer than him. She made him realize he didn’t want to be alone anymore and he wanted to spend life with someone who made his days far happier than they ever had before.

And he fell in love with her because of it. He fell in love with her personality, her warmth, and the way she opened his eyes to what life could be like, even for a man like him. She expanded his clan, his family, by one and had made life so much sweeter.

But now she was gone. Not because she had to leave or he had wanted her to. Out of her own volition. She chose to. And while Din loved her and his heart was aching, he wasn’t going to force himself on her. She didn’t want him.

Din had lost before. He would just endure another one and move on. Like he always did.

He took the necklace in his hands and placed it on the dashboard of the Crest. Din would try to ignore the pain, try to move on and find a Jedi for the kid, but he could keep this little token. Just as a small reminder of what maybe could of been.

Din cleared his throat and punched in his next location, preparing the ship for a jump into hyperspace. “Let’s turn this bounty in, kid.”

The child let out another small noise but Din didn’t bother to look. He’d just see the confusion and pain in his eyes, the same he had in his but were hidden away. He simply shook his head and heard the ship hum as it prepared to leave. Leave the planet where she could still possibly be.

“She’s gone. We’ve got to move on.”

___________________

You felt sick to your stomach.

The ship was easy to find. Din was right, it had only been a few hundred feet away, easy to run to. It was a small x-wing, probably stolen, but it wasn’t too old or damaged. Certainly in better shape than the Crest had been when you first saw it. You just had to fix the control panel, which you did with hands that shook and your heart slamming in your chest. You had worried Din might of tried to find you, knowing you were going to the bounty’s aircraft, but he must of not realized what was happening because he never came.

Once the ship was finally in order, you hauled your body into it, placing your bag at your feet, and closing the hatch of it. The x-wing smelled, probably from the Klantooinian who had stolen it. You were surprised he could even fly it and hadn’t crashed into the planet, but was thankful it was there. It was your ticket out.

But once you were in the pilot’s seat, hands ready to punch in your next location into the navigation system, you were suddenly lost. Where would you go? You couldn’t go back to Yungbrii. You had been there for so long and hated it. You couldn’t bring yourself to go back, even though your small mechanic shop may still be there. You also couldn’t risk going back there. If Din did decide to try to find you, that would probably be one of the first places he would think to stop at.

Where else would you go? You thought of the planet you had stopped at with Din that had the marketplace. There were lots of people there, meaning there would be work. You could blend in, hide away. Probably wouldn’t garner a lot of attention from anybody. But you weren’t even exactly sure where that was and that would hurt. Going to a place you had gone with Din, your family, would be pouring salt into a fresh wound. And you weren’t sure you could go there and relive those memories and not try to find your way back to Din.

You could technically go anywhere. You could punch in any location and try to start anew. You could hide away everything that had happened, like you always did, and become a new person.

But instead of just going to a random planet, you went to the one place you had ever find yourself yearning to go to. The one place, besides the Crest with Din, that had been your home. Where you had grown up and loved. It was risky and it might be the worst decision, but you punched in the coordinates.

And then you were off. To Jakku.

___________________

“He’s dead.”

Din stood across from the client who ordered the bounty. The man’s arms were crossed, his face twisted into a firm grimace. “I did the job.”

The man let out a snarl, his jaw jutting out as he tried to temper the rage consuming him. “I wanted him alive. I wanted him to suffer under my hand, not yours.”

“There were... complications.” Din tried his best to not think of her, of the sobs she had let out with the body laid out on the floor in front of her. He couldn’t let himself crack right now.

“I thought you were supposed to be best.”

“It couldn’t be avoided.”

“What? Did he try to kill that pet of yours?” The man snarled as one of his crooked fingers pointed to the carrier on his hip. Din turned to look down at his side. The kid looked right up at him, his face covered by the fabric of the bag but his big eyes and ears popping out. Din couldn’t help but to think of what her reaction would be right now. She’d probably make some sarcastic comment to the client and then given Din a look that said something along the lines of ‘what a joke’. Din shook his head, trying to shake away the thought from his mind.

“I did what I had to do. I did the job.”

“Well, I’m not paying you the full price. I’ll give you half.”

Din huffed. Half of this bounty was supposed to go to fuel alone. He needed the other half. The whole reason he did this job was because he needed the credits. If he hadn’t, then he wouldn’t have landed on that damn planet and maybe, just maybe, she’d still be around. “That wasn’t the agreement.”

“The agreement was to bring him to me.”

“I did.” Din could probably be described as an abnormally calm man. Part of it was being a Mandalorian. You get used to dealing with shady people. You get used to the looks, to being swindled, to being treated like a droid who was just meant to work away for the rest of his days. Eventually, it just became part of the scenery for Din and he never got bothered by it. But today was a bad day and Din was feeling all the emotions he was bottling up turn into annoyance with this man.

“I wanted him alive!” The man yelled, his fists clenching tightly.

Din let out a loud sigh, his hands grazing the blaster on his side which the man took notice of. “Give me my credits.” He said plainly, but he knew there was a danger to his words. He saw the way the mans hand shook slightly and his anger expression dropped for a split second. Din was aware of the effect he could have on people, the fear he could instill in them even when he had no plans of actually doing anything.

“Fine. But you are never getting hired by me ever again.”

Thank the Maker for that. Din wanted to call him a damn asshole (something she probably would of done with that dangerous mouth of hers) but instead he nodded his head and reached a hand out. The client dropped the credits in his hand with a dramatic huff, turning around without another word and storming off.

Din turned around, heading back in the direction of his ship. The town he had landed on could best be described as grimy. It was dark and dingy: a stale smell filled the air and every wall was covered in what looked like grease. There were a few buildings, including a hotel and cantina, both of which looked run down and run by folk who probably weren’t the most pleasant. Din continued strolling away until he heard a loud laugh fill the air. It was bubbly and feminine, and Din couldn’t help the pit that filled his stomach at the sound of it. It came from the cantina and it didn’t even sound like her that much but he couldn’t help it. He knew she wasn’t here. She had no reason to stop on a planet this horrid but his feel still turned in the direction of the cantina. He froze before entering. He needed to see if it was her, even though he knew deep down it wasn’t. He let out a huff before he entered the building. His eyes scanned the dimly lit cantina. It wasn’t too busy, just a few people at the bar and a couple in the corner who were practically attached to each other. The smell of liquor was overwhelmingly strong in the room and the air in it was stale. The establishment felt like a bad hangover that left you sick.

The couple in the corner finally detached themselves from each other and the woman let out another laugh. Din nodded his head. It wasn’t her. Of course not. Din went to turn towards the exit when the bartender spoke, “You want a drink or you just come to stare?”

Din was going to walk off, ignore the man like he did with most people. Din wasn’t a drinker, never really had been. He didn’t like the feeling it gave him. The numbness and the fogginess. But right now, that didn’t sound like the worst feeling. In fact, it sounded like it would be better to forget and drown his sorrows tonight rather than sit in the Crest and wallow in his pain. Din turned his head and walked towards the bar, dropping a couple credits onto the counter. “A bottle of whatever you have.”

The man nodded, his slimy fingers reaching out for the credits as he gave The Mandalorian a crazed look. He grabbed a bottle from behind the counter, one Din wasn’t too familiar with, and placed it down for him to grab. Din reached out for it, ready to leave, when the man spoke again. “You want any company, pal?”

The man leaned his head to the right and Din looked to find a woman sat at the bar, scantily clad and giving him a sickening smile. Her fingers waved at him slowly.

“No.” Din turned without another word, storming out of the cantina with the bottle grasped tightly in his hand.

___________________

Even though it was nighttime by the time you landed on Jakku, the air was still warm. The sky was dark but filled with what appeared to be a million little stars, a scene that was so juxtaposed to the environment it was in. You looked up to the sky and felt a peace in your heart, looking at the very stars you had stared into during your childhood here. You recognized certain constellations, ones your mother had taught you.

You were fatigued but your body was also cramping from being inside such a tiny ship for so long. By now, the x-wing was done for. They were meant for fighting and battle, not traveling through hyperspace for extended amounts of time, and you had sufficiently pushed the ship to its breaking point. You stepped onto the sand, feeling it give under the boots you wore. You looked around, trying to see if there was anyone nearby, but you found it was just you. You had parked not too far from Niima Trading Post, a place where you had worked and knew like the back of your hand. Part of you wanted to venture to it now, maybe find some food and a place to stay. But you had left most of your credits with Din, only a small handful in your pocket. Certainly not enough for a bed for the night. You also weren’t sure what would greet you once you traveled into the post. You had changed plenty since you lived here last and weren’t worried a lot about people recognizing you. Most people on Jakku came and went. There weren’t a lot of people who lived there permanently besides the scavengers and criminals, who didn’t bother to get to know people, and people who ran the few booths that were there. But you still felt a bit of fear in your heart at the prospect of entering the post and decided it would be better to save that for the morning, when you were more alert.

You were absolutely exhausted. You were still worn out from what had happened the day before and the long day of traveling hadn’t done you any favors. You sat down on the sand, your back leaning against a part of the x-wing. You closed your eyes, bring your hands to rub at your face. Today had been so long and you had spent most of it trying not to think of Din or the child. You couldn’t bear to do so. It would only lead to heartache. But even despite your desperate attempts to keep thoughts of your Mandalorian at bay, your chest still felt heavy and you had felt like you were on the verge of tears all day.

All you wished right now was that Din was with you. That you were in the Crest, laying in bed with him again. You could show him your home, the town where you had grown up. You knew it wasn’t much but you still think Din would of appreciated seeing it. Getting to learn more about your origin, how you had become the person you were now.

You opened your eyes, shaking your head. You had to stop thinking like that. Din was gone. You had left him and the child behind. You had left that clan. And even though that left a gaping hole in your chest, it was for the right reasons. You weren’t the type of person who could have a family. It just wasn’t part of you. That was for normal people with normal lives.

You rested your head against the hot metal of the ship and let your eyes slip close.

___________________

Din brought the bottle to his lips again. The Crest was back in hyperspace, heading to some planet on the Outer Rim. The child was asleep, in his hammock with the door closed so he couldn’t see Dins face. The ship was completely silent, except for the soft whirl of it traveling. This was normally when Din would sit in the cockpit for a while before going to bed, staring off into the galaxy. That was what he did before she came along and joined him. But now he couldn’t bring himself to sit in that seat, with the passenger one empty and without her sweet voice filling the small confines of the space. Instead he sat on the cot on the floor, the one she had slept on. His helmet had been taken off and he had rested it on her pillow. His legs were splayed out, reaching past the small cot and laying heavily on the cool floor below him. He was still adorned in all his armor, the only helmet being the only piece of metal he was bare of.

Din brought the bottle up to his lips, letting the warm liquor run over his tongue and down his throat. It was a large bottle but was now half empty at this point. It tasted like shit, definitely not worth what he paid, but he hadn’t expected much from a place like that. And in the end, it was partially doing its job. Din felt his eyes droop, his senses dull. His body fell limp against the bed that still smelled of her, like honey and fresh laundry. At this point, Din was sufficiently drunk, teetering on the edge of hammered.

He probably should stop, but he couldn’t refrain from guzzling down the drink. He had hoped it would ease his pain, make the tear in his heart mend a little. He wanted to stop thinking, to let all his emotions slip away. But all it seemed to do was make it even worse. Everything felt rawer and drinking was just pouring salt in the wound. Din’s only hope now was that he could get black out drunk and forget. At least forget tonight and the weakness he felt in this moment. The way his hands shook and his eyes glossed over. Forget the pit in his stomach and the necklace that he had put in his pocket before he left earlier.

But the problem was that he’d never forget her. Din felt something wet against his cheeks, bringing a hand up to his skin and wiping at it. He looked down at his fingers and saw that he had started crying without even realizing it. The warm tears continued to slip down his cheeks. traveling down to his chin so small drops landed on the metal of his chest plate.

“Why... why did you leave me?” Din knew she wasn’t there and he was alone, but he still spoke the words that rung through his head over and over. He would of done anything for her. Didn’t she know that? He didn’t care what was wrong or what was happening. Nothing would change the way he cared for her and loved her.

He couldn’t stop imagining the night before. The way he had held her and how her skin had felt. It had been so soft and sweet. She had filled every single one of his senses. All he could think of was her and how he wanted her, no, needed her. He should of tried to find her. He should of followed her to the ship, begged her not to go. Told her he loved her and she was his anchor.

Din wiped away the tears, putting down the bottle. He needed to sober up.

He needed to find her.

___________________

Walking into Niima Trading Post was like walking into the past. Not much had changed. The same booths were there, full of scavengers selling their parts and towns people selling their goods to the people who came and went. It was different faces but the same place and same environment. The sand still covered almost everything, almost like a blanket of snow. The post was relatively quiet this early in the morning, just the usual bustle of scavengers heading out for the day. So far you hadn’t seen anyone who you recognized, which didn’t particularly surprise you.

You continued your stroll through town, not even really considering where you were heading until you were face to face with it. You stopped completely, staring at the small garage-like building in front of you, and felt your chest squeeze. It was what had used to be your father’s mechanic shop and it looked exactly the same as it used to. Run down, but obviously well taken care of. It was pretty empty, only one small carrier in the corner that was being worked on. You stepped closer to it, letting your hand reach out and touch one of the walls. You had spent so much of your life here. This is where your father had taught you to be a mechanic and to work hard. This is the place you spent the most time with your dad.

“Do you need some help, ma’am?” You turned to the right, looking over to see a man ducking out from under the carrier that was being worked on. He was an extremely tall, large man with a long, wispy red beard and no other hair. Several grease stains were on his overalls, which were tied around his waist, a white tank top covering his upper half that was just as dirty. A sheen of sweat covered his skin and he held a tool in his right hand. He wasn’t a particularly attractive man but he had a big smile on his face that was welcoming.

“Oh... umm... no. I just,” You paused and bit your lip. “I knew the person who used to run this shop.”

The man’s smile dropped slightly and his broad shoulders sagged. “Oh, he... no longer works here. He passed away right before I started working here.”

You gave him a sad smile. “Oh. Do you run this now?”

He let out a small chuckle at your question. “Oh Maker, no. Just a mechanic. The lady runs it here.”

Your eyebrows lift up. “Who is she?”

“She was a friend of the family. Knew them before they were all killed.” He must of noticed the way you winced at the casual mention of your parents murder. “Oh, you must not know. I wasn’t at Jakku yet but I heard the rumors. Horrible, horrible thing. Whole family was killed. The only one who may of survived was the killer.”

Your eyebrows shot up at his words and you stared at him incredulously. Did the Empire make it look like you had died and left behind a killer to take the blame for the attack? “Who was the killer?”

“Believe it or not, their daughter. Rumor has it she went nuts.” The man gestured to his head, indicating the ‘killer’ had lost their mind. “No one knows for sure but she was the only one who wasn’t found so people just made their assumptions.”

You clenched your fists tightly. The Empire must of covered their tracks and gotten rid of any evidence they had come and slaughtered your family, letting the towns people of Niima gossip about what could of happened. You felt shame and anger pour into you. The very people you had known your whole life had pointed the finger at you. Jakku wasn’t the kindest place but it had been your home and you couldn’t believe that they’d label you as a killer.

“Zeke, are you bothering a potential customer with useless rumors?” You turn around at the sound of the voice you knew all too well. Your heart stopped at the sight of the woman behind you, who immediately made eye contact with you and froze.

“Oh, no ma’am. She used to know the family.” He looked back and forth between you and the woman, lowering his voice and whispering to her, “I don’t think she knew what happened.”

“Mai.” You calmly said and the woman gave you a small smile. Mai had been a long-time family friend, extraordinarily close to your grandmother. People had said they were practically sisters and you couldn’t help but to see so many similarities in her. They were both loud-mouthed and bossy, but also exceptionally kind. When your grandmother had first landed on Jakku with a daughter and no father for the child, Mai had been a helping hand, allowing your grandmother to settle down and learning about her past. She had been there at your birth and had watched you grow up. If there was one person at Jakku you ever truly wanted to see again, it would be Mai.

“Zeke, I am going to take my friend over here. You continue working on that carrier.” The man nodded and turned around, getting one last look at you before crawling back under the carrier to resume his work. Mai strode towards you, her arms immediately reaching out and hugging you tightly. “Maker. I thought you were dead.”

You clutched onto Mai and felt a wave of relief wash over you for the first time in days. She let go of you, placing her hands on your shoulders and giving you a good once-over before grabbing an arm and dragging you over to the small office attached to the garage. She pushed you into the room, locking the door behind you before once again looking you up and down like she was surveying you. “You look older.”

You let out a small chuckle. “That’s what happens when six years passes by.”

Mai rolled her eyes playfully and grinned, her arms crossing over her chest as she leaned against the door. “Still a smart ass like your grandmother?”

You nodded. “Yeah. That part didn’t go away.”

She pushed her body off the door, strolling over to the desk in the room and sitting on it, gesturing for you to sit in the chair in front of her. You dropped your bag next to it before plopping down, looking up at her as she continued to study you intently. “As happy as I am to see you, kid, what the kriff are you doing here?”

Your smile dropped and you rested your elbow against the arm of the chair, bringing your hand up to your face. “I... don’t know.”

“You can’t be here. They think-”

“That I am a killer.” You interrupted and Mai gave you a pitiful look.

“You know how people are here. Nothing else to do but scavenge and gossip.”

“So they just label me as a murderer?”

“Nobody knew anything. All they found was your house burnt down and your parents and grandmother laid out on the ground.” Mai paused as she watched your expression shift from anger to sadness. Realization washed over her features. “Fuck. You were there?”

“Of course.”

“I was hoping you had escaped before whatever happened... well happened. I thought that or you had died.” She let out a small sigh, brushing one of her gray hairs behind her ears. “What happened?”

You could sense the sadness in her voice. She had loved your family, pretty much been a member of it. Your family was a tight circle with a lot of secrets and Mai had accepted the responsibility that came with that. She knew everything about your grandmother and mother. The Force and how they had fled where they had lived in order to escape the threat of death. You had often wondered what she was thinking in the days following your family’s death, wishing you could console her and explain everything, but feared returning to Jakku. “The Empire happened.”

Mais face went slack, her dark skin seeming to pale at what you said. “Shit. How did they find out where you were?”

You had often wondered the same thing. How did they know you were Jedis and how the hell did they know where you were? Jakku was low-profile, not the kind of place people worried about. Once people came here, they usually never went back to where they were from. It was just the way it went. So why had the Empire searched Jakku for your family, just to wipe you all out even though you posed no direct threat? You shrugged and let out a sigh. “No clue. But they knew about my grandmother being a Jedi, as well as my mom having a connection with the Force. Didn’t know she wasn’t trained though.”

“So they just... killed them?”

“Yep. Mom and Dad first. Gram wasn’t there so they... umm... used some tactics to try to get me to talk.” You pulled the jacket you were wearing against your body even more, not wanting her to see what exactly they had done exactly. It would send her into a frenzy, because much like yourself, she was overly protective.

“Gram showed up and they killed her...” You voice drifts off. You were leaving out some details, things you couldn’t bear to talk about, but Mai nodded understandingly.

“I’m so sorry, kid.” She leaned over and reached a wrinkled hand out to your knee, patting it. She sat back up and shook her head, allowing herself a minute to process everything. “What did you do?”

“Took one of their ships and got the hell out of dodge.”

“Where did you go?”

“Yungbrii for a long time. Haven’t been there in months though. I was with-” You almost feel yourself say his name and stop yourself short. You didn’t want to cover that.

“Why did you go to Yungbrii?” Mai’s eyebrows wrinkled together.

“I just landed anywhere small. Lived somewhere that makes Niima look like a bustling city.” Mai frowned at your description. She knew you when you were the type of person who liked to be around others. You used to thrive off human contact. But that had changed very quickly.

“What are you doing now?”

You let out a huff. “I don’t know.”

Mai shook her head and stood from the spot on her desk. “I love you, kid, and you can stay at my place for a few days. But you can’t stay here.”

“People won’t be fond of the murderer hanging around?” You said, feeling your face pinch up into a scowl.

Mai uncomfortably nodded. “You know the people here aren’t the kindest, especially if they sense any potential threat.”

“Great.” You closed your eyes and leaned your head back. You didn’t know where to go next. You had no ship, no family or friends, almost no credits.

“I have a ship at my house. A complete piece of garbage but if anyone can fix it, it’s you. You can have it and work on it there.”

You give her a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

“But you need to find out where to go.”

“Yeah. That’s the problem.”

Mai frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. “Where were you after Yungbrii?”

“What?”

“You said you haven’t been there in months. So where were you?”

Your shoulders sag and you try to not let your emotions overwhelm you. You give yourself a moment, letting out a deep breath. “Doesn’t matter. It’s not an option.”

The woman gave you a knowing look. “What happened?”

You stand from your seat, grabbing your bag. “You know, I am absolutely exhausted and should start working on the ship.” You change the topic to which Mai huffs. “You still live in the same place?”

“Of course.”

“I am going to head over there then. If it’s okay.”

Mai gave you a soft look, understanding there was something more under the surface, something you weren’t telling her. “It’s fine. But we are talking later.”

You give her a quick nod before opening the door to the office. You give her one last smile before you begin to walk towards your next destination.

___________________

Din’s head was absolutely pounding. It felt like a drill was slamming through it with every step he took and every movement. The kid had woken up with bustles of energy but every-time he made a noise, Din winced. He swore to himself he would never, ever drink again.

Luckily the kid seemed to take notice of Din’s change in behavior, calming himself and keeping his attention occupied on the metal sphere in his hand. Normally Din would take it from him, explaining it wasn’t a toy, but he didn’t have the energy to do so today and anything that kept the kid quiet was fine by him. He also had too much to think about already.

Din was sat in the pilots seat with the child buckled in beside him. His hands lightly grasped the navigator but he was frozen. Where would she have gone?

Certainly not Yungbrii. She hated that place with a passion, never haven spoken one good word about the place. Also, if she was trying to make it so Din couldn’t find her, she wouldn’t return. She would know he would think of that. Din considered the planet with the marketplace they had stopped at. It had been busy, somewhere she could blend it. But she usually didn’t run to people - she ran away from them. That would be too much for her and Din wasn’t even sure if she knew the coordinates for it. Din considered the planet they had stayed at with the flowers. But there was absolutely nothing there - no place to get food or anywhere to even live. If she took the x-wing, she probably only had one long-distance trip she could get out of it. She wouldn’t waste it on a place she couldn’t even stay.

Din felt hopeless. She could of stopped anywhere. Hell, she could of punched in some random coordinates and ran off. But that didn’t seem likely to Din. She wasn’t the type to not think before she acted. She had purpose behind every decision she made. This would certainly be no different. So Din just had to think of one planet, out of the millions out there, that she would of stopped at.

Nowhere cold. She hated the cold, having told Din once how much she detested the snow. It would be somewhere warm, where she could work in the sun. It would also not be somewhere with a lot of people but enough that she could work. She was an incredibly talented mechanic and Din knew she loved the work. It would have to be a place where maybe a lot of people didn’t live but stopped by on their way somewhere else. Somewhere where they quickly got their ship freshened up and then were on their way. She would have to find somewhere where she could either get hired or start her own place. Din then considered how she had left most of her minimal credits behind, meaning she only had a little on her, if any. She wouldn’t go to anywhere too expensive. She didn’t have the money for that. It would have to be somewhere with a mechanic shop already established, so she could get a job and make some money. Maybe somewhere where she could also sell parts from the x-wing, put some credits in her pocket before she was on her way.

But, Din also thought she would want to go somewhere familiar. She had spent so long on Yungbrii, which was the polar opposite of everything she had once known. And once she was with Din, she had gotten used to the environment. It had become a sort of home where she knew her surroundings. Knew the dynamics of the place she was at. Din imagined she wouldn’t want to throw herself into a place that had no sense of familiarity.

Then it hit him. She had nothing: no ship, barely any credits, and no family now. She was a lone wolf once again but she no longer enjoyed being on her own. She needed a sense of belonging or home or something of that nature . She also had nothing left to risk. “Dank farrik!”

Din punched in the coordinates and clasped his hands onto the ships steering controls. He had to get out of here and go, now. The kid cooed behind him and Din turned to see him eagerly looking up at him.

“We need to go get your mom, kid.” Din didn’t even consider how he had referred to her as the kid’s mom, his body and mind too busy in hyperdrive and worrying. She could be in danger. “We’re going to Jakku.”

___________________

“Well, you really went to work.”

You turned at the sound of Mai’s voice, seeing her walking towards you with two mugs in her hands. You hopped down from your spot on the ship and she handed a cup of caf to you, which you welcomed happily. It was now nearing sunset and you had spent most of the day in the sun, working on the ship. “You weren’t kidding about this being a piece of junk.”

Mai let out a hearty chuckle. “It is in bad shape. One of the worst I’ve seen.”

“Eh, I’ve seen worse.” You smiled slightly at the thought of the Crest and how you constantly teased Din about his shop being a flying death trap. The ship you were working on now was small and not even operable, but at least it wasn’t pre-empire. Just abused and in need of a little love.

“What’s with that smile?”

You dropped the grin from your face and feel your stomach twist. You had to stop thinking about Din or the kid or the Crest. It would only hurt more and more. “Nothing.”

Mai scoffed at that, taking a sip of her caff and then giving you a sly smile. “You are a bad liar.”

“Shut up.”

“Does that smile have anything to do with where you’ve been the past few months?”

You hated how much Mai knew you, how she could piece things together like this. Your grandmother was the same way, always able to know what you were thinking. You were never able to keep a secret from the two of them. “It doesn’t matter.”

Mai rolled her eyes. “I thought you were supposed to leave your angsty, secretive phase in your teens.”

“Guess I am just special.”

“Or holding too much in. You need to talk to me, kid.”

“I’m fine.” You insisted.

Mai shook her head. She looked over at your box of tools you had laid out next to your bag. “Still have your dad’s tools?”

“Oh, yeah.”

The woman bent down at the knees, reaching out to touch the box when something caught her eyes. She tugged at the wool pooling out of your bag and pulled out the blanket you had gotten at the marketplace. “This looks just like the blanket your grandmother gave you.”

You smiled as you saw her eyes brighten up. “Yeah. Found it at this booth on some random planet.” She gave you a quizzical look. “I was, umm... traveling for a while.”

“With who?”

Your smile dropped and you put down your cup, grabbing a tool and turning back to the ship. “Like I said: doesn’t matter.”

“Kid-”

“It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have been there.”

“Well, surely that’s not the case.”

Mai was persistent, just like you. Now you were realizing how annoying it was for Din when you wouldn’t stop bothering him. “He... they are better without me.”

You cleared your throat, trying to seem unbothered but the older woman saw right through you. The corner of her lip quirked into a smile and she let out a chuckle. You huffed at her and frowned. “What in the Maker is so funny?”

“I just thought I’d never live to see the day.” she said teasingly.

“What?”

“This man you traveled with... why did you leave?”

You shook your head. “Stop.”

“I just never thought I’d see the day you were in love.”

The tool in your hand dropped, causing you to jump and you looked at her with bewilderment. You had forgotten how she could read you like a book. It was flustering you. You were trying to move away from everything, not talk about it and dwell on it. “I’m not.” you defiantly said, but even you could hear your voice waiver.

“I’ve seen that look before. Your heart is hurting.” Mai’s gaze on you softened and you felt your head drop as you realized you weren’t going to get away with not telling her what had happened. “So tell me what happened with this man you love.”

“I’m just not the kind of person who can be with someone. He deserves better.” You plainly said, even though your heart was pounding and your vision was blurring with the tears that threatened to spill.

“Bullshit.” Mai rolled her eyes and put her cup of caf down on the ground, grabbing both of your shoulders after and looking you dead in the eye. “You are incredible and deserve the best.”

You rolled your eyes and pulled away. “I am a mess. A dangerous mess.”

“What in the kriff are you talking about?”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “I can’t control... it anymore.”

Mia nodded knowingly. She wasn’t a Jedi herself, but she was the only person outside of your family who knew of your family and their secret. Your grandmother had explained the Force to her extensively and she knew how you struggled and trained with her. “What happened?”

“There was a man and he was trying to hurt the kid-”

“The kid?!”

You shook your head, waving away her dramatic response. “Not my kid.” You clarified. “He was a foundling. Anyways, this man attacked me when the kid and I were alone and I... killed him. Without even thinking about it. It’s like my body went into auto-pilot and I couldn’t stop it.”

“So that is why you left.”

“Yes. What if I hurt the kid or-” You found his name almost slip from your lips and you pause.

Mai nodded knowingly. “You stopped using the Force?”

“Yes. After everybody died, I couldn’t anymore. That night they attacked... I used it to kill for the first time and I never, ever wanted to do it again.”

“Can I ask you a question?” You nod slowly and Mai let’s out a long sigh. “To clarify, every time you’ve used the Force in this way, it has been to protect people you care about?”

“Yes. I supposed that is true but-”

“And never have you ever hurt anybody who was innocent or you loved?”

“No. But-”

“And you’ve never wanted to hurt anybody who wasn’t posing a direct threat to you or your family?”

You let out a grunt as she continues interrupting. “Yes. But it doesn’t matter. Gram taught me not to use the Force to harm people. And I have multiple times now.”

Mai paused for a moment before letting out an exasperated, tired laugh. “You are so much like her.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your grandmother. You are just like her. She let unnecessary guilt eat away at her.”

“What?”

“You know how your grandmother came here, escaping?”

You sighed, feeling annoyance bubble with your chest. You had heard this story so many times and didn’t know why it mattered. “Yes, but-”

“Your grandmother had done everything she could to protect your mother. Including kill a man.”

Your jaw slacked and you raised your eyebrows at her. “No. She said she never used the Force to hurt anyone.”

“That’s true. Except for once.” Mai grabbed her mug and leaned against the ship you had been working on, taking a long sip of caf as you stood there dumbfounded. “Your grandmother was attacked by her husband - your grandfather - before she left. He hadn’t know your grandmother was a Jedi and once he did, and he realized his daughter was probably one as well, he wanted your grandmother to abandon your mother and told her to never use the Force.

She wasn’t willing to do that. But he was a violent man with a bad temper. And he brutally attacked her. She didn’t lift a finger - until he started approaching your mother. Then, she did what any mother in that situation should do: she protected her child, even if it meant killing someone.”

You let out the deep breath you were holding in, bringing your hands up to rub at your temples. Your system felt like it was in overdrive. The last couple days had just been too much and this was so much information. You didn’t know whether you wanted to cry or yell. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

“She was ashamed of it. Let the guilt get to her too much. Never told you or your mother.” Mai shook her head solemnly. “I am not going to say what you did felt great because it didn’t. But what I will say is that what you did was what you had to do.”

“It doesn’t feel like that.”

“That’s okay. But the very fact that you feel guilty shows you are a good person. And you only ever used the Force to protect your family when they were being threatened. There is no reason to assume you are just going to hurt people.”

You stood in silence, allowing your brain to process everything. You had spent so much time hating yourself and laying yourself in blankets of guilt that you hadn’t even considered anything else. You knew deep down you would never hurt Din or the kid. Never lay a finger on them. And there was no reason to think you would, but the fear had clouded your brain. And even with hearing Mai’s story, learning about the secret your grandmother had kept, a small part of your brain still tugged at you. If you couldn’t even protect your family, what made you think you could do it with your new family? “I’m still afraid.”

“And that is okay. But you can’t just run from it because it scares you.”

“It’s too late though. I left. I have no clue where he is and he probably hates me now.” You couldn’t even begin to imagine how Din was feeling right now. You were sure he hated you now. How could he not after you just left him like that? You had abandoned him and the kid, even though he told you he didn’t want you to leave. Even if you were somehow able to find him, he could probably never trust you again, nonetheless want you to join him and the kid.

“I’m sure that isn’t true. He is probably confused like you. So is the kid.” That could be true. Din knew something was up yesterday, but you never confided in him what exactly was wrong. You didn’t leave anything behind to indicate what you had left, only the necklace. For all you knew, he could think you left for a myriad reasons. Your heart froze at the thought of him possibly thinking you left because of him. You felt like a damn idiot. “Tell me about them. What’s the kids name?”

You paused and awkwardly chuckled. “The kid doesn’t really have a name...”

“What?” Mai furrowed her eyebrows and stared at you with confusion.

“Well, he isn’t exactly a normal child. He is a creature... I don’t really know how to explain it but we just call him the kid. Or womp rat.” You laughed as you remembered all the times you jokingly called the kid a womp rat and he would smile up at you, having no clue what you were even calling him but just glad you were around.

“Okay... that makes no sense. What is the mans name?”

“I can’t tell you that either...” You murmured quietly.

Mai tilted her head at you. “Are these two even real?”

“Yes. I just can’t tell you his name. It’s kind of against the rules.”

“The rules?”

“Um, yeah. You see, he is a... well, you know,” You stumbled on your words, worried what her reaction would be if you told her what Din was. She knew of your grandmother’s opinions about Mandalorians and weren’t sure if she shared them.

“Is he a creature too?”

You laughed at the edge in her voice. “No, he is a Mandalorian.” You watched as Mai’s jaw dropped slightly and you nervously rushed to his defense. “But he is a good man and kind and smells nice and-”

“Smells nice?”

“I am going to be completely honest: I have no clue what I am saying.” Mai let out a loud laugh at that and her eyes crinkled from the grin on her face.

“You’ve got it rough.”

You let out your own laugh and shook your head. “Yeah, I do.”

“Your grandmother is probably rolling in her grave somewhere.”

“She would of killed me.” You let out a chuckle at the though. You knew she would be livid if she found out but you also couldn’t help to think she would like Din if she got to meet him and actually get to know him. She would of appreciated his strength and admired his dedication and loyalty. She would of had to look at the man behind all the armor, but once she did, you think they would of gotten along pretty well.

“You know you have to use this ship to find him now, right?”

You let out a sigh. “He could be anywhere.”

“Can’t you use some Force voo-doo to find him?”

You rolled your eyes at her statement. “The Force isn’t a GPS.”

“If it’s so great, it should be able to do that.” She jokingly teased, throwing a wink your way before walking off to leave you be.

You sighed and looked at the ship. If you worked all night, you could probably have it fixed and ready by tomorrow afternoon. It wouldn’t be in the greatest shape, but it would be enough to fly it and find Din. You already wasted two days on this and he truly could be anywhere. But you were willing the travel the whole galaxy to find him, so you could at least explain yourself, let him know it wasn’t his fault.

You grabbed one of your tools and walked towards the ship, beginning your work again.

___________________

“How can I help you?”

“I’m looking for a woman.”

“No offense, sir, but that is extremely vague.”

The large man looked back at Din, his red beard covered in grease, along with his clothing. He had his arms crossed over his chest and his eyebrows were furrowed together in confusion, but he still had a small smile on his face.

Din had landed on Jakku this morning, just a little bit of a way out from the Niima Trading Post. She had mentioned her family had lived close by here, which meant her father would of worked as a mechanic here. As soon as he entered town, he and the child asked the first person they saw where there was a mechanic shop. Din couldn’t imagine it wouldn’t be the first place she would stop at, whether it be to ask for a job or to simply see it.

The shop was small, definitely older and a little run down, but it was taken care of. Din couldn’t help but to imagine her as a child or teenager working here with her dad like she had told Din about. Seeing it gave Din a new perspective on her past. “She would of stopped by in the last day or so. She always wears this brown jacket and-”

“Oh, the family friend.” The man gave him a knowing nod and Din felt relief flood all his senses. He had been so worried he would of come here and she would of been nowhere to be found. That he had been wrong and she could’ve been on any planet, anywhere. But hearing him confirm she had been here made Din’s heart feel lighter than it had in hours and hours now.

“Yes. Where is she?”

“I don’t know. She talked to Mai and then left.” The man paused, his smile dropping slightly. “You’re one of those Mandalorians, right? If she is a bounty of yours, I’m afraid I can’t-”

“She isn’t. She is a...,” Din drifted off. Friend felt like a foolish word. She was so much more than a friend to him but that was still what he settled on. “friend.”

“Oh!” The man smiled once again. The child, who was sat in his carrier on Din’s waist let out a little peep and the man looked over at him. He gave the child a huge grin, waving a couple of his fingers at him. Afterwards, he glanced back over at Din with a shrug. “Like I said, she left and hasn’t come back. But Mai should be in soon and she might know something.”

Din nodded and let the man turn away to resume his work. He hoped desperately she was still here. He didn’t think she would of left, but it was possible she came to the shop to get a new ship and leave - though it didn’t appear any ships were for sale here.

He studied the trading post. It was early morning and was rather quiet, not much excitement happening. A few people were starting to open their booths while some headed out into the sand, presumably scavengers. Most of the people kept to themselves, the kindest individual so far being the man who worked at the shop. Din found it hard to imagine his cyar’ika having lived here. She was so exuberant and full of life. A place like this seemed so dull for her sprawling personality - though he supposed it was exponentially more exciting compared to Yungbrii.

Din kept a look out all around, hoping he’d see her. Hoping she’d walk by and he could stop her, tell her to come back. Din knew that if he found out she was gone and no longer here, it would crush him completely. He was already low on hope and he needed some. Even if she didn’t want to come back, Din just wanted to know she was safe and happy. That would be enough for him.

“Oh, Mai, someone is here to see you.” Din turned as he heard the man’s voice bellow out and watched as a woman looked over at him. She was older but still had a youthful aura to her. Her gray hair was pulled into a braid and her hands were wrapped around a mug of what Din assumed to be caf. She gave him a big smile, an action that shocked Din. He wasn’t usually greeted with a smile.

“I’m looking for someone.” Din said as she walked over to him.

She let out a chuckle, shaking her head. “Yeah, yeah. I know you are.” Her gaze drifted over to the bag on his side where the child was held and he watched her eyes widen slightly. “He must be the womp rat?”

Din looked down to the child who looked at the woman with a little frown. He loved when his mother called him a womp rat, but not so much with other people. Din looked back up at the woman who was still smiling, a sly little smirk that reminded him of his sweet one. “Where is she?”

The woman, Mai, looked up at him and nodded her head. “She is still here. Don’t worry. Good thing you came now though. She was planning on leaving this afternoon.”

Din thanked the galaxy she hadn’t left yet and he hadn’t waited to come. “I need to see her.”

“I’ll take you to her. She is at my place.”

“Thank you.”

She smiled again at him and before she turned to lead him, she quirked her head at him. “I’m glad you came.” Din tilted his helmet at her. “She mentioned you and the kid to me.”

Din wondered what he had said about him, wanting to ask but not wanting to seem invasive or waste time. He just gave Mai a small nod and she turned around, starting to walk, and Din followed her.

___________________

“Hey, kid.”

You heard Mai’s voice ring out behind you but you didn’t bother to look away. You were so close to being done on the ship when you found some big issue with the engine. You were now covered in oil, intently working away at it with a tool in each hand. “This ship is a total bitch.”

“Kid-”

“I was so close to being done and it just crapped out on me, spitting oil all over.” You huffed as you brushed a piece of hair behind your ear, knowing you got oil on your face but not really caring. “I take back what I said: this is the worst ship I’ve ever seen. I swear it’s doing it on purpose. I ought to-”

“Kid!”

You let out a grunt as she yelled out, putting your tools down and turning to see her standing in the doorway of the small garage she had. You jumped down from your spot on the ship and strolled towards her, wiping your hands on the overalls she had let you borrow. “Yes, madam?” you sarcastically responded.

“You have a friend here to see you.”

You froze and felt your heart start to pound in your chest. It had to be Din. There was no one else it could be. Who else would be here to see you? You brought your shaky hands together and took a deep breath. “Is it...”

You couldn’t bear to bring yourself to ask the question, afraid your heart would crumble if it wasn’t. “It’s either your Mandalorian or a man with a very odd taste in clothing.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. You wanted to run out, see if it was him, and hold him your arms. But you were so afraid, for reasons unknown to you. Din had come to you. He had found you and that was a good sign, right? He wouldn’t have come all this way if he didn’t want to see you. But you still nervously chewed at your lip. Mai sensed your nerves and gave you a pat on the shoulder. “He is waiting for you outside.”

You nodded your head and slowly walked out of the garage. As soon as you exited, you saw him standing there, with his back to you, and you nearly cried. It was Din, your Din. He stood upright, his arms crossed in front of him, and the child on his side sitting in his carrier. He was the first one to say anything, turning his head and letting out a coo as he saw you. His big ears that hung out of the bag twitched and his eyes brightened.

You gave him a small smile but felt it drop once Din turned around, being alerted of your presence by the child’s noises. His arms dropped but he didn’t step closer to you, his helmet steadily aimed at you. Part of you felt so incredibly happy seeing him. The sight of him standing in front of you was something you were worried would never happen again. And though it had only been a couple days, it felt like a damn year. Seeing him made you realized just how much you had missed him. You open your mouth, not knowing exactly what to say but wanting to say something, anything, just so you could hear him speak. But he was the first one to.

“You left me.”

You felt your heart instantly shatter at his words. You wanted to crawl into yourself and disappear. It wasn’t that you weren’t aware that your leaving would hurt Din, but you didn’t truly consider how much of an impact it would have on him. Maybe you did so selfishly because you know you’d stay if you did, or maybe you truly didn’t understand just how much the man cared for you until you heard the pain in his voice, the way his breath hitched in the modulator when he saw you. Hearing the inflection of his tone was what sent you over the edge. All the emotions of the last few days washed over you and you felt exhausted. “Mando-”

“Why would you leave me?”

Where did you start? There were so many things you wanted to say, but you didn’t know where to start and the pounding of your heart in your chest distracted you. You were scared. Scared to tell Din what was really going on and to watch him walk away. Or scared to find out he didn’t want you back anyways. “It is hard to explain and understand...”

“So you just leave?”

You feel yourself wince at the harsh words. Isn’t that what you always did though? Run away? You supposed it had become a habit of yours, but that wasn’t fair to yourself. Nonetheless to the man in front of you. “I’m sorry.”

Din finally tore his gaze away from you, placing his hand on his hip that the kid wasn’t at, staring into the sky. “I’m not here to force you back.”

You tried to feverishly blink back the tears threatening to spill. He didn’t want you. You had messed up this time. Din allowed one person into his life finally and then they turn around and leave. Of course he doesn’t want you. “Oh, okay.”

“If you don’t want to be with us, you don’t have to be.” You wanted to scream at yourself, tell him all you want is to be with him and the kid.

“Mando-”

“I know there isn’t something your telling me. And I assume it’s why you left.” Din looked back towards you, the sun reflecting off his helmet and making the beskar even brighter than normal. “Or maybe it is me-”

“No!” You interrupted, stepping towards him. “It isn’t you. At all.”

“Then what is going on? Because I’m lost.” You bring a hand to rub at your face, no longer caring about the grease and oil on them. You needed to just tell him, because you couldn’t handle the thought of him blaming himself for anything. “I don’t know why you can’t tell me.”

You pause and take a breath in, looking away. “Din.” You whispered.

“Please.” You heard the slight crack in his voice, the way his words wavered, and looked at him to find him stepping closer, his helmet tilted down to look right at you.

“I lied to you.”

Din tilted his helmet slightly. “What?”

“When you asked about my family. If there were Jedis... I lied.” You froze, looking up to him to try to gage his reaction but he remained frozen, still just looking down at you. You wished desperately he didn’t have the helmet, so you could see his expression and try to know what he was thinking, because right now it was like looking at a blank wall. “You need to say something.”

“I don’t... understand.”

“My grandmother was one. My mother was one. And I’m one, kind of.” You waited for his to step away from you or tell you he couldn’t do this but he stayed in the same position so you continued. “I was always taught not to tell anyone and my grandmother told me Mandalorians hate Jedis. I didn’t want to tell you and have you leave me.”

Din finally turned away from you, looking into the distance, as the child on his hip still looked up at you while cooing softly, one little hand reaching out. “I wouldn’t leave you. I told you that.”

“That was before you knew this.”

“I don’t care.”

“But-”

“I don’t care.” He repeated softly. You couldn’t see the truth in his face, but you could hear it. But you still felt your mind eating away at you.

“I’m not a good one. I didn’t even really finish training and haven’t used it regularly in years. I can’t train the kid. He will need another Jedi.”

“I don’t care.”

“I killed that man with the Force. I killed a man.”

“I don’t care.”

You let out an exasperated laugh and huffed at him, throwing a hand up. “How do you not care?”

“You do realize what my job is?”

You guess you had never really considered Din’s job. He hadn’t had to do any bounty hunting with you, the first body he had brought in being the bounty you had killed. You knew what he did, knew he had probably killed plenty of people, if not hundreds. But it never really crossed your mind or made you hesitant. He was a good man and he was only doing his job, one he had been saddled with at a young age. “Yes, but that’s different.”

“You’re right. You did it to protect the kid. ”

“But what if I can’t control it? That’s not the first time I’ve killed someone with the Force.”

“Was the last time to protect your family?”

“I mean, I tried to... yes.”

“Then I don’t care.”

“Din-”

“I don’t care about you being a Jedi or whatever you are exactly. You’re my cyar’ika, okay? This... magic stuff you have doesn’t change how I think of you.”

You almost chuckled at the way Din spoke about ‘magic stuff’, knowing he was completely clueless, but you settled on a soft smile, still tainted with sadness and regret. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me. Or the kid. You are a good person. The best person I’ve ever met.”

You felt a weight lift off your chest at his words, that little part of your mind that had been gnawing away at you fading away. You suddenly felt stupid for not telling him all this time. How had even the smallest part of you thought he had cared? You always took what you family taught you seriously, but maybe you had taken it too far. Din was different than everyone else and you should of known that he would be okay with it. And maybe you did know. Deep down, a little part of yourself always knew that in the end, Din wouldn’t care or really understand it. Maybe it was you who couldn’t accept what you were, what you had done. But you had to move on from that.

You looked up at Din and rested a hand on his chest plate, watching how it rose and fell with each breath he took. It was warm on your hand, but a welcome sensation. “I’m sorry.” you whispered out, your voice trembling.

“It’s okay.” He insisted, bringing a hand to rest over the one on his chest.

“No, it’s not. I left you and the kid.”

“And I found you.” One of his hands reached out to grab onto your wrist, the warm leather of his glove rubbing circles into the skin. “You can’t do that again though. I need you.”

You nodded up at him. “I need you, too.”

Din let out a sigh of relief and leaned his helmet against your forehead quickly. The metal of his helmet was warm, but it was a welcome feeling against your skin. You felt your heart stop racing, your hand begin to calm and shake less. You hadn’t realized just quite how much you needed Din, but you did. He was your home now. You pulled away and felt a small smile creep on your face. “You’ve got oil on your helmet now.”

You grabbed a rag out of your back pocket, handing it to him so he could wipe it away. Din did so, and handed it back to you. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” You stepped back from him, with a small smile.

“Sweet one?”

“Yeah?”

You watched as Din froze up, looking down at the ground and back up at you. His fist tightened a little and you swore you saw his hand shake for the first time. “I want you to know that I...” He trailed off and you felt your breath hitch in your throat. Please say it. “I’m glad you are back.”

You felt silly for a second at his response but just nodded in response, giving him a grin. “Me too.”

“You want to clean up and we can go?”

“Can we actually do one thing before we go?”

“Of course.”

___________________

Din watched as she stepped forwards, her gaze stuck on the sight before them. The child looked up at Din, seeming to understand the significance of the moment. He had a sad little expression on his face and stayed completely silent, sitting in the carrier solemnly. Din stood back, standing upright as he watched her kneel down on the sand and reach a hand out to graze the three stones in front of her.

It was completely silent. They had traveled a bit outside of town, to a spot where only three gravestones stood and nothing else. No names were marked on them but they stood on their own, nothing around them except for sand. Din assumed a place like Jakku didn’t have a graveyard, making this a rare sight to see.

She took a minute before standing back up and stepping back. She stood next to Din again, her gaze drifting into the distance. “Our house was somewhere right there.”

It was the first thing she had said since she told him what she wanted to do before they left. Din looked over to where she was looking. There was nothing to see, the parts of the house that had remained probably having been taken by scavengers and the rest had been ash. Din looked over at her. She was standing upright, her shoulders stood back, and her stare was intense. She looked strong. Din was shocked to see a small smile on her face. “My father once tried to plant a fruit tree here. Said somebody at the Post had given him seeds to plant. He waited months and months to see if anything would grow and when it didn’t, he dug up the seeds only for my grandmother to tell him they were teeth from some animal.” A laugh escaped her lips and Din found himself smiling. He had grown accustomed to that laugh and it had become one of his favorite sounds. He had missed it desperately.

“My mother couldn’t cook. It was actually rather pathetic how bad she was at it. But one time, for my birthday, she tried to make a cake. She got all the ingredients for it - even though they were almost impossible to find here - and worked on it for hours. And when we cut into it, it was just goo inside. I don’t even know how she did it.” She let out a louder laugh, a bigger grin on her face as she relived the memories. Din was relieved to see her like this. So often when she spoke of her family, her words always held a tint of sadness. Like she was always mourning and couldn’t accept what had been taken from her. This was the first time Din had ever heard her tell stories of her family without that sadness. She wasn’t mourning anymore. She was celebrating their lives.

“Oooh!” He heard her voice rise, clapping her hands together as she excitedly recalled another story. “One time, my grandmother tried to set me on a blind date which confused me because she always told me relationships were a waste of time. But, I went because she wouldn’t stop nagging me about it and the damn woman had me go on a date with a Crolute! He didn’t wear shoes and had flipper feet. It was awful and she thought it was the funniest prank she had ever pulled.”

Din let out a chuckle at that one, watching as she threw her head back in laughter. Even the child joined in, letting out a small noise that could be discerned as a giggle. She looked over at Din with a bright smile, the sun blazing behind her, and it took his breath away. Without thinking, he reached a hand out and grabs hers.

She looked down at their hands and intertwined her fingers. “Thank you for coming with me.”

“I’m glad you wanted me to come.”

“You can’t meet them but I don’t know.” She shrugged with a sheepish smile. “I think maybe they are somewhere. Seeing this.” Din didn’t say anything but she looked over at him. “They would of liked you.”

Din felt a warmth fill his chest. He imagined he would of liked them as well, especially if they were anything like the woman he loved. “Thank you.”

She smiled at him and leaned closer to him, their shoulders now brushing together. “Din?”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s go home.”

She began to tug his arm away from the gravestones, her hand still intertwined with him, and started marching towards the Crest that she now called home. Din couldn’t help to think though that his home was being held in his hand in this very moment.

Tag List: @ilikethoseodds @dindaddy @poguesvixen @starspangledwidow @fangirlalexia @the-scandalorian @ka-x-in @keepcalmandblogstuff @the-lady-of-stars @orneryscandalousevil @spaghetti-666 @afootnoteinyourhappiness

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian imagine #din djarin x you #mandalorian fanfiction #mandalorian imagine #mandalorian x reader #star wars fanfiction #star wars imagine #star wars fanfic #din djarin fanfic #connection series

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awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands · 3 years

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Laid out cold, now we're both alone (part 3)

A/N: Hello, this fic is very important to me because I tried my best to give justice to such a cool idea and I hope I did a good job. Plus I don't do multichapter ofter, so this was a challenge.

I wanna thank the lovely @livdonna for proofreading my work, you're literally the best <3.

P.S. If you want to get tagged in the next chapters, let me know.

Summary: Nikki needs to ask a favor to Vince Neil, in order to keep someone safe.

Warnings: Major Character Death,Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Drug Use, Angst, Overdose.

Pairing: Nikki Sixx x Tommy Lee

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Taglist: @slashscowboyboots @witchytombstonesmile @arnold-layne @emometalhead @i-dont-like-rice @nikki-sexx @smokeandmirrorz

Bittersweet. That was the best way to describe Nikki’s emotional state as he got teleported in front of Vince’s house. They weren’t the biggest fans of each other. He was always so annoyed by his singer, whom he considered more of a diva prince than a front man.

Sometimes Vince Neil was a stupid spoiled fucker, in his opinion, yet he needed him. What made his blood boil the most was that he had to put his pride to the side, because this wasn’t about him but about Tommy, and there was no way in hell he would have disappointed him again, even if that meant having to deal with the blonde’s bullshit.

He decided to get in the blonde’s house but without showing himself at first. He wasn’t being avoidant ( absolutely not) but just he wanted more time to think, that’s all. The first thing he noticed was how different Vince’s mansion looked from Mick’s : outside there was a big pool, in which the clear water was shining thanks to the sunny day, meanwhile the inside was mostly white and gave the whole house a very elegant and snobby atmosphere; however it was very messy too, which was a huge disappointment.

It reminded him of the singer: face of an angel but inside he had his demons. Who didn’t to be honest? Unfortunately Nikki wasn’t so lucky to get an angel face to hide his dirty soul, he felt like everyone could tell how fucked up he was.

Lost in his thoughts he almost didn’t notice Vince passing right through him, talking on the phone in an exasperated tone.

“I know Doc, you repeated that hundreds of times! Yeah , I’ll call Mick and Tommy and we will do this fucking conference!”

There was a small pause. Doc was probably answering back, and Vince looked like he was about to smash the phone on the ground.

“What’s holding us? We fucking lost our bassist, our friend and brother. Jesus, I fucking get it that you want our money but show some fucking mercy, bastard! Fuck you!” He violently put the phone down, only to fall ungracefully on the couch.

The whole conversation made the bassist laugh out of anger. He knew Doc was all about money, especially because they made his life a living hell, but Vince appearing concerned about his death was honestly so fake.

What? Were you saying that Vince Neil was mourning him? The guy who kept fucking up the band over and over again was sad for him?

“Fucking Nikki, real dick move you pulled there!”

Nikki didn’t wait one second before sitting on the couch and making himself visible to the blonde.

“Oh Vinnie, that’s so rude to say.”

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Vince screamed, trying to back away but just managing to fall off the couch.

The other man couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

“Nikki, is that you? What kind of joke is this?!”

“Yeah. Look it might sound nuts but I’m a ghost. I’m dead and couldn’t pass through because I have unfinished business to solve.”

If looks could kill, well Nikki would have died again judging by how Vince was staring at him. He saw his face turning into an angry snarl before he started to yell.

“What the fuck, Sixx?! You die, leave us all alone and then you even have the courage to stay a fucking ghost! You fucking selfish prick!”

The bassist felt his blood boiling, well not literally but he got the same feeling as if he still had blood pumping in his body. How did Vince dare to say such things? He was the selfish prick, he was the one never caring and always causing trouble. He was destroying the band!

“I’m a selfish prick?! I didn’t decide to fucking die! I put my heart and soul in the band and you kept destroying it. Now you want to accuse me? Fuck you!”

“You didn’t want to die? Oh well, what did you think would happen if you kept injecting that shit in your veins. We are fucking screwed now, without a bassist and ready to split up!”

Oh that was funny! Vince wanted to shame him, as Nikki was the only one drinking and fucking up with drugs. Oh sure Mick, Tommy and him could do anything but Nikki dares to shoot up, oh he’s a junkie! However he knew it was different, it wasn’t a simple way to party for him... He needed it to be alive. He had tons of pages written in his diaries that could be used as a proof.

“Oh because you’re such a saint, aren’t you Vinnie? I’m the bad one, I’m the one out of control. Well guess what? The only person I hurt was myself, meanwhile we can’t say the same thing for you!”

It was a low blow, a terrible one and Nikki knew that. Rage blinded him, but that didn’t mean he had to dredge up the past, especially on something as horrible as Razzle’s death.

Good job Sikki, great way to get your friend to do what you want.

Vince’s face turned red, his fists clenched and got up to Nikki’s nose. He looked like he was about to punch him, but he had to realize it wasn’t going to happen since the bassist was not tangible, so he kicked a small table.

“You’re the only one who you hurt? What about the band, the fans, all those people you lied to and made suffer. Most importantly, what about Tommy, Nikki? How is he? Because it doesn’t look like he wasn’t hurt when you left him all alone, when you preferred shooting up instead of caring for him.”

Tommy. If he knew Vince’s weak point, the singer knew his too. It fucking hurt so bad, now he was the one wishing to be able to slap him.

“You don’t know a fuck about me or Tommy. Shut the fuck up!”

“Oh, I know all the times I saw him scanning the room around hoping to find you, all the times he looked heartbroken when you disappeared in the bathroom during rehearsal. I saw him after you destroyed him, how he still loved you even if you threw him away like trash. His two worst nightmares came true: you left him and you died. So tell me again Nikki, how did you just hurt yourself?

He wasn’t about to cry, even if he felt like a thousand legs were kicking his chest, he wasn’t about to give that fucker the satisfaction to see him crying ( he probably couldn’t even do that). But after the pain came the realization : he was there for Tommy. He was angry to forget that this wasn’t about him but about the drummer, and he probably ruined everything.

Now the hard part came : swallowing his pride down and convincing Vince. Oh, he would probably torment the bassist as slowly as he could, but eventually he had to accept. Fuck, the two of them knew each other since high school!

“How’s Tommy?” His voice was so low, he doubted the singer heard him, but somehow he did.

“Oh, so now you want to know how he is?!” His voice was still loud and angry, but he must have seen the desperation on Nikki’s face, because he decided to answer anyway. “ He’s a mess. I just talked with him very briefly, he wanted to know if it was real. Then Doc fucking occupied this phone like it was his bitch, so I haven’t called him again, yet.”

This wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear, it wasn’t fucking reassuring at all… Fuck, literally anything could have happened, Tommy could have hurt himself or left the country and this was all because of him. He just hoped his family was going to be close to him, he was loved, they would have never left him alone. That was supposed to be his job too, but he failed.

He failed his sweet Tommy.

“Sixx, what are you thinking about?”

It was the moment. Even if his heart wasn’t beating, he still felt the oppressive pressure of anxiety. He wanted to run but he had to do it.

Swallow your pride. You fucking owe it to Tommy.

“Vince, promise me that you’ll protect Tommy, no matter what.”

“What?” The blonde was visibly confused and how to blame him!

“You were right, I broke Tommy and he’s going to have such a hard time. He fucking loved me, even if I didn’t deserve it, and now I’m terrified he’s going to destroy himself. You can’t let that happen!”

“Nikki…”

“I fucking love him Vince. I still love him so much. He deserves a good life, I can’t ruin him even in death. He needs support.”

“Why me? It’s not like Tommy and I are best friends.”

“Because both you and him have known each other for a long time, and when the band will keep playing there’s going to be you, him and Mick left. He would never tell his stuff to Mick and he has something else to do, which means that you have to do it.”

A dry laugh escaped from Vince’s mouth.

“What if he doesn’t want to get helped?”

“You know how to get what you want. You’ll find a way, I’d do it but I’m a little dead… look I know you hate me but I’m only asking this. Like I said to Mick, this is my dead man’s wish.”

“Okay.” The voice was so low and Nikki barely had the time to react before Vince disappeared in the kitchen.

All his insecurities came back to eat him alive. What was even the point of being a ghost if he still had feelings? The truth was that he wasn’t sure on how much Vince could help, sure having someone close to Tommy was good, but he knew his boyfriend and fuck if he was a stubborn fucker.

His boyfriend.

It was a dagger through his chest, yet it still felt warm like the first time Tommy called him that. His face always lit up whenever he said it. The drummer always made loving him seem like the easiest thing in the world, as it was even possible to love someone like Nikki.

But Tommy did and what did he get in return? A junkie boyfriend and eternal heartache, because the love of his life was dead now.

Vince came back with a beer and softer expression on his face. Nikki didn’t move from the couch so he sat back to where he was.

“I will do it. I’ll keep an eye on Tommy.” His firm voice eased Nikki’s worries a bit.

Fuck, he never expected to see Vince Neil agreeing with him.

“Thanks dude, I know you hate me but Tommy didn’t do anything.”

“I don’t hate you.” His voice was shocked and the bassist had to suppress a laugh.

Yeah sure Vince Neil, not hating Nikki Sixx.

“Oh c’mon, don’t tell me you weren’t happy to hear I was gone.”

“Fuck no. Nikki we might have fought a lot and you were a fucking pain in the ass, but I’d never want your death. I cried, you were still my band mate and brother!”

He wasn’t sure why this whole conversation was hitting him so hard. It was probably because he didn’t know how to react to the simple act of someone caring for him beside Tommy. Especially when this someone was his singer.

But did they really hate each other as they thought they did? If the roles were reversed, would he be happy about his death?

“I felt the same. Ya know, when we thought you were dead in the car crash.”

Vince gave him a small sad smile.

“Maybe we can bury the hatchet. You don’t follow me for eternity and I won’t talk shit about you in interviews. Deal?”

“Deal.” Nikki smirked.

It’s time to go, Nikki.

The same sense of helplessness he felt before with Mick, came back. Because he could pretend everything was somehow normal, until the voice reminded him that this wasn’t his place. Even if in this case it was for the best for him to go, considering how awkward it felt for both of them to be so friendly with one another.

“Vince, I have to go now.”

The singer made an expression between sad and relieved, but maybe for the first time ever, it was genuine.

“Don’t be a stranger. Send us some bottles of Jack or some strippers from hell, okay?”

Nikki let out a chuckle. Since when he was laughing with Vince Neil?

“I’ll try my best. Vince, keep the promise.”

“He loves you. You should visit him, he deserves to say goodbye to you one last time.”

He knew that, he fucking knew that already! It didn’t matter how hard he was trying to avoid that, he was going to go to him anyway, not only because Tommy deserved it but because he was selfish.

He wanted to see him one last time too.

“I know. I’m going to go to his house next.”

Vince seemed happy and gave him a small smile. Nikki took a deep breath and got out of Neil's mansion, feeling every type of emotion.

God, now it was show time.

#nikki sixx #Tommy Lee #Vince Neil #Mick Mars #Motley Crue #motley crue fanfiction #80s rock band #80srock #fanfiction #My writing #tommy lee x nikki sixx

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

Note

Could you do something where Jiang Yanli kills Jin Guangshan? Reason why and when are up to you.

“It’s just in case,” Jiang Cheng said.

“A-Cheng…” Jiang Yanli said, smiling helplessly. Her little brother was all grown up now and pretending like it was his duty to be protective of her, rather than the other way around. “A-Cheng, it’s really not necessary. I’m going to my own engagement dinner – I don’t think anyone’s going to cause trouble.”

“It’s just in case.”

“A-Cheng, you do know that once I get married, I’m going to live there, right?” she said, laughing a little helplessly. “I’ll be in Koi Tower all the time. I can’t take Zidian away from you forever.”

“It’s fine after you get married,” Jiang Cheng said. “Jin Zixuan is a peacock, but he loves you; he’ll be by your side as often as he can manage it. But an engagement party like this – it’s so unorthodox to have something like this anyway, I don’t know what LanlingJin is thinking – he’ll be occupied getting congratulations on his side, you on yours, and then you retreat to separate bedrooms. If someone wanted to cause trouble in your marriage, that would be a good night for it. So just take it.”

“I don’t even know how to use Zidian properly!” she protested. “Not the way you do! I always…”

She waved her hands.

“Massively over do it?” Jiang Cheng said dryly.

Jiang Yanli grinned bashfully. “Yes.”

Zidian was a delicate spiritual weapon – in her brother’s hands, it was like watching artistry, the crackle of lightning and the shifts between ring and whip and back, never stronger than he meant it to be, able to draw beautiful patterns in the air that left after-images on the eye.

In Jiang Yanli’s hands…

She’d only ever managed to figure out how to activate Zidian’s self-defense mechanism, an extremely powerful lightning zap designed to send anything it touched into the next room and usually the next life.

“I’d still rather you had it for this party,” he said firmly. “Please, indulge me.”

Jiang Yanli stood on her tip-toes and pulled her little brother down by the collar to press a kiss to his forehead. “Always, A-Cheng.”

No one notices an extra ring on her finger that evening – if anything, she’s under-dressed compared to most of the ladies in Lanling, who cover themselves in gold and jewels; they flock around her and drink just as many toasts as the men do, albeit in their own fashion, and the rest of the evening is spent in gossip. Jiang Yanli wasn’t sure how much she liked any of this, but she supposed the engagement party wasn’t really for her – it was for Madame Jin, presiding over the events and puffed up with pride for having made the engagement work out just the way she and Madame Yu had planned it all those years ago.

If it had been for Jiang Yanli, her brothers would have been invited. Both of them.

Still, as the guest of honor, she’s obligated to stay very late, until the party could realistically be considered over and everyone lingering could pretend that they’d meant to do that anyway. Jiang Yanli pointedly yawned a few times before making her excuses – she didn’t need to fake it all that much, actually, given how much wine she’d drunk, even if she had only taken a single sip for every toast.

Of course, no one grew up with Wei Wuxian as a brother without developing some serious alcohol tolerance, so she’s not as affected as she made herself out to be.

Still, she thinks a little later that night, remarkably clear-headed, being drunk would probably be…helpful.

Jiang Yanli took a moment to survey the scene one more time, made a few small arrangements, nodded to herself, and started screaming Madame Jin’s name.

She’d been given a room in the main family hallway, as befitting her soon-to-be-daughter-in-law status, and Madame Jin had (somewhat reluctantly) bid the rest of her guests farewell shortly after Jiang Yanli left, so it didn’t take long before the woman ran into her room, followed very shortly by Jin Zixuan – they must have been talking in Madame Jin’s rooms.

Jiang Yanli flung herself at her future husband – well, she hoped he was still her future husband – and clutched at him, giving him a meaningful look as she did, hoping he understood. “There’s a man in my room!”

Jin Zixuan’s arms around her were a comfort, and his eyes were narrow as he looked around to see the scene she’d prepared: a man with a sheet over his face, lying against a wall where he’d evidently been thrown.

“Zixuan, you comfort Yanli,” Madame Jin instructed, then turned to the servants. “I want this locked down immediately. No one but you is to know what happened – if anyone asks, the story is that she saw a rat and overreacted after having drunk too much; we’ll figure out the rest later. If the real story gets out, it may affect Yanli’s reputation – and I’ll know it was one of you.”

The servants, pale-faced, rushed out.

“What happened?” Jin Zixuan asked her, and she really appreciated that he didn’t follow his mother’s instructions to comfort her as if she were a child.

She wiped the rather legitimate tears away from her eyes. “I came inside and began to change for bed,” she said. “My maid had just finished putting my hair down when she suddenly said we needed more incense and left –”

“Bought out, most likely,” Madame Jin said, looking grim. It had been a maid she’d appointed herself.

“And the someone came up behind me and put his hands on me,” Jiang Yanli continued. “I pulled away, so he only got my shoulders, but he tried to throw me onto the bed. I couldn’t see who it was, only a blur in the dark; I grabbed a sheet and threw it at his face –”

That was the only part of this story that was a lie. The sheet had been a later addition – and she’d seen exactly who it was.

“How’d he end up across the room?” Jin Zixuan asked, glancing over. His tone wasn’t accusing, at least – more puzzled. It was understandable: Jiang Yanli’s cultivation had never been anything very spectacular.

“He tried to grab me again and Zidian’s self-defense mechanism activated,” she said. “My brother gave her to me so I’d have something of my mother’s to wear at the engagement party…you know we don’t have much of her that’s left.”

Madame Jin’s face softened at the mention of her childhood friend.

“I’m glad he did,” Jin Zixuan said, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I didn’t even know Zidian had a self-defense mechanism.”

“It’s for people like me who can’t use it properly,” Jiang Yanli explained, leaning her head against him. She was a little confused – they were taking all the actions and precautions she’d hoped they would, keeping the story quiet and listening to her, but…why weren’t they looking at the body?

“I’m glad,” Jin Zixuan said again, and now that her head was against his chest, she could feel that he was shaking. “Mother…what are we going to do?”

“Zidian’s effects are similar to a lightning strike,” Madame Jin said. “Especially the – it was the zap, Yanli?”

Of course Madame Jin would know – Madame Yu had probably told her all about it. Jiang Yanli nodded.

“With the make-up to conceal the impact on the veins, the cause of death could just as easily have been a heart attack,” Madame Jin continued. “We can spin that. Maybe we say he came in here by accident, and in the confusion of realizing he was in the wrong room, had the attack…?”

They’d recognized him, Jiang Yanli realized. From the first moment they’d come in, sheet or no sheet – no. It was better to say that while they hadn’t expected this would happen, it also hadn’t surprised them very much.

Jin Guangshan had truly been a vile human being, if his wife and son didn’t mourn his passing even for a moment.

Jiang Yanli let the stress slip off her shoulders. “That would raise questions,” she said, composed again. “And I won’t be able to marry A-Xuan if people think I killed his father. How about a slightly different spin: the room was dark when I came in, my maid left, and I got up to look around and began screaming when I found the body. It would be obvious what he’d been trying to do, but if he died before I even arrived…”

“No, that’s better,” Jin Zixuan said. “It won’t – no one will be surprised at something like that, from him. I’m sorry. But you screamed very convincingly.”

She smiled at him. “I’m not very good at screaming.”

“If I hadn’t been in a war camp with you, I would’ve believed you?” he offered with a shaky smile.

“I never expected you to,” she said and kissed his cheek. “It was for the benefit of the audience.”

“The sheet was a good touch,” Madame Jin said, and she sounded approving. “The servants wouldn’t have recognized him – some of them will think it was a stranger, inevitably, and that will create additional confusion when the stories leak out…yes, I think a sudden heart attack while waiting is the best approach. We will need to take action, A-Xuan – reach out to everyone we can trust at once.”

“Is there anything I should do?” Jiang Yanli wanted to know.

“No, you’re not a member of the family yet,” Jin Zixuan said. “Your first instinct was right: you need to be the distressed young mistress.”

“Shocked and a little naïve about what he could possibly have been doing there would be best,” Madame Jin agreed. “‘Surely he just wanted to give me another toast’ – that sort of thing. Can you do that?”

“I can try. Most of the women here don’t know me very well, so it should work.”

Jin Zixuan ended up taking her down the hallway to the only other family housed there, knocking at the door. Jin Guangyao had a smile on his face when he answered – but then, he was always smiling.

The smile didn’t alter as Jin Zixuan explained the situation in short terms.

“I would be happy to help,” Jin Guangyao said. “Don’t worry. Miss Jiang is perfectly safe with me.”

#mdzs #jiang yanli #jiang cheng #jin zixuan #madame jin #jin guangyao #my fic #guess it's just a jiang yanli day #Anonymous

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pomegranates-and-blood · 3 years

Text

νοσταλγία (Chapter 40)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: The usual, alcohol abuse (sort of)

A/N: Second part of today’s update! It was originally just one chapter, but it fit to put them apart.

You can find the other part of today’s update, Chapter 39, right here

When you go into the main hall later that night, a call of your name in a voice you know by heart diverts your attention from anything else.

You answer Ivar’s call and stand next to him, nodding distractedly at the thrall that offers you wine. She scurries off to fetch you some, and a memory you long since believed lost comes to the front of your mind.

“Drink,” Sieghild tells you, offering you a cup. You take it between shaking fingers, and the shieldmaiden looks back ahead, in the direction of the grave. “That is how we mourn. We drink.”

You cannot keep the snide tone from your voice as you sit next to her, “Ah, you Vikings and your celebration of death.”

“You worship the Gods of the Underworld, little one,” She states without missing a beat, lifting the goblet of wine to her lips. She looks at you out of the corner of her eye, a silent command you do the same. You sip from the sweet drink, but your throat still feels tight, and your hands still shake. Sieghild clears her throat, “We rejoice when someone sups in Valhalla even if that means they aren’t with us, true. But we are people just like yours, little one, we all suffer at the loss of someone we love,” She takes another sip of the wine, green eyes stuck on the hill that now bears the grave of a mother and her child. “Drinking the way we do for those who are gone from our side, it isn’t as a celebration, it is coated in despair, in pain, as much as your own rituals. We drink because we want to…to be…”

“Numb?”

Your mother chuckles, “Maybe, but we are too proud to call it that.”

Still, you don’t feel like mourning, you don’t feel like this is grief. It feels like death, like a descent, like rebirth; but to you none of that means grief.

Ivar distracts you from your morose thoughts with hands on your hips. He looks up at you with a smile that is a tad more vibrant than usual.

“Tell Ubbe about the…the…” His brows furrow in a gesture you cannot help but find utterly adorable. “C-Chi-la…”

Ivar’s eyes search your as if you are supposed to know what he is trying to say.

Your eyes narrow, but you think you know what he means, and try, “Chiliarchiai?”

Ivar nods, smiling up at you as his hand on your waist moves further down and back, almost groping your ass before you stop him with your hand over his and a silent glare of reprimand that he only grins at.

“Tell him about them.” He insists, a liveliness in his voice you heard only scarce times before. Ivar motions with his head towards his brother, making your eyes slowly leave him to focus on Ubbe.

The eldest prince already has eyes on the both of you, and when you look at him, he lingers on looking between you and his brother before giving you his attention, leaning back on his seat.

Taking a seat next to Ivar and hoping you are subtle in the way you press close to him to dispel the cold, you start explaining, gesturing with your hands as you point out the different parts of the Byzantine army, and how they fight back in the Mediterranean.

Ubbe’s eyes stay on yours, and he leans his weight forward, blue eyes piercing as he tries taking in what you are saying. Eventually, he clears his throat to stop you.

“You are using a lot of words, and I don’t know the meaning to most of them.” Ubbe interrupts, a slight apology behind his tone. You nod, eyes searching the nothing ahead as you try putting a definition behind the words in your own tongue.

“The Skoutatoi are…warriors.”

“They all are, love.” Ivar interrupts, a mocking smile that he hides behind the rim of his cup when you turn to glare at him.

Ignoring his words, you explain further, “They carry shields and use either spears or longswords.”

Ubbe lifts a hand to point at you, as if to indicate he’s figured something out.

“Yes, we saw them. You formed a shield wall with warriors with spears in Dublin.”

“Yes, that was a phalanx, but we could never be as efficient as the Byzantines. For the Empire’s armies it is easy to lead and to hold on to plans, but for us…if we didn’t have Narses it wasn’t so easy to hold formations.”

“The commander?” You nod your head, wondering when you stopped feeling the weight of grief and guilt when thinking or talking about him. “They all fight like him in your homeland?”

You chuckle with a shake of your head, noting the awe and wonder in Ubbe’s tone, “No, he is-…he was one of the best.”

“Was he famous?”

“Something like that. It is said he was a descendant of Theseus, one of the greatest heroes in our history.”

“That’s the bride stealer, is it not?” Hvitserk questions, to which you frown. He makes a vague gesture with his hand, and insists, “You told me about him, he stole from one of your Gods.”

“He didn’t steal, he tried to,” You correct, your chest oddly warm at the fact that he remembers. “He tried stealing Lord Hades’ wife, and thus was punished. But no man, not even Theseus, could steal from a God, least of all the King of the Underworld.”

Shortly after the conversation goes on to other topics, topics that do not feel any less yours than those of your Gods and heroes, even if these are of the realms neighboring Kattegat or their plans across the sea.

And as he talks and argues with his brothers, you take to watching the man you married.

He always was an expressive man. With his hands, with his gestures, with his voice. When you first met you were endlessly enthralled by the movements of his hands and the tells of the furrow of his brow or the narrowing of his eyes; and in the months that came after you learned to listen for the cues in the cadence of his voice that gave as much away as his gestures did.

But when Ivar…overindulges, it is much more apparent, and you find yourself unable to look away. His hands gesture much more wildly, every inch of his face gives away more emotion and more expression, and even his voice is much livelier.

And, more than anything, you notice the way he touches you isn’t so laced by the need to show or display something, by the intent to keep up a façade or an act. Instead, it feels much softer, much more honest, much more him; the way he lays a hand on your leg -though you find yourself having to lay yours over it to stop him from trailing too high up-, the way he grasps your hand and plays with your fingers, the way when he talks to you he leans closer than he needs to -and maybe trails his cold nose up the side of your neck, chuckling devilishly when he makes you shiver-.

The night goes on, and you cling to each of these new discoveries you make, to each of these little figments you are allowed to be a witness to.

Later, in the relative privacy you can earn as Hvitserk dozes off against Thora’s shoulder and Ubbe watches raptly as two men partake in that strange game you never had the chance to ask about, where they each have a rope around their heads and tug; Ivar demands your attention with a press of his lips on the fingers of the hand he holds in his.

When you turn to him, his serious expression startles you a bit.

“The Greeks, you said they came here. Why?”

“I don’t know,” You tell him, and at the instinctual way he tenses up, as if ready to accuse you of something he knows you won’t do, you look into his eyes and offer a low murmur of, “I don’t lie to you, Ivar.”

His eyes search yours, earning a defeated edge you thought the drinks had successfully chased away.

“I-…a smart thing to do would be to kill them.”

Your heart feels struck by a pang of cold, and you shake your head, “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” He doesn’t hesitate to say, “What if they come back here? What if they call for you again?”

“They have called for me, and I am still here.”

“Because Stithulf is alive.”

“No, bec-…” You start, but Ivar interrupts you, stealing your breath with simple words.

“I let him go.”

And gone is cruelty, gone is the mask. And gone is your softness, gone is the resolve.

You can only look back at him with wide eyes, feeling your breath quicken because there’s a part of you desperate to understand why you are, while surprised, not bothered by the revelation.

Relief and guilt clog your throat, and makes your next words a gasp.

“You what?”

“We captured him. And I let him go.” He explains, as if this is what you were asking for.

“W-Why?”

The smile he offers is a little bit mad, a little bit broken, a little bit helpless.

It’s looking back at the manic resolve in the blue eyes of the man that told you the reward for a lifetime of pain was you, it’s looking back at the defeated slump of his shoulders as he replied ‘Who could?’ when you asked him if he believed you couldn’t love him, it’s looking back at the lost and stunned look in his face as you told him the Greeks were alive.

“Why did you stay?” Ivar asks back, an answer in itself.

You want to step back, you want to accuse him of trying to rob you of your choice, but…you had the chance to make your choice, and you made it. Stithulf’s survival didn’t matter, Ivar letting him go doesn’t matter.

It irks you, and he will definitely hear your thoughts on him trying to cheat his way out of the deal you made, when his eyes are less glossy and your chest less tight with the weight of the choice you made.

First you will tell him of your choice, you know you have to.

But for now, with the taste of mead still heavy on his lips and the feel of guilt still heavy on your heart, you will offer the truths that you can.

“I stayed because I love you,” You tell him, “You said it yourself, Ivar, Stithulf-…it was never the deal we made.”

He searches your gaze, giving away more clearly than he usually does how unmoored he is by your reaction, whether because he expected anger or because of your words, you don’t know.

Still a little lost, he mumbles, “I know.”

____

Later that night, alone in the room you share and ready to sleep off the day that has at the same time been familiar and completely new, you walk up to Ivar where he sits on your bed and after he undoes the laces of your dress work the jacket off his shoulders.

“Did you know my whole family is descended from the All-Father?” He asks you, and you only answer with a thoughtful sound as you then focus on the brace of his broken leg, choosing to take it off yourself, certain you’ll be at least partially more careful than him. Ivar continues, “That’s not just my brothers, that’s me too. I am a descendant of Odin.”

You have no idea what brought this on, and so you only offer a noncommittal answer, not really sure about what to say. You don’t doubt it, your mother always spoke of both Ragnar Lothbrok and the Princess that was a daughter to heroes; spoke of them in such manner, as did the travelers that could recount what was happening in Scandinavia, that you don’t doubt they were something more than just humans.

“That’s better than Theseus.” He comments petulantly, and you cannot help but smile.

“It is,” You confirm, when you move back up to be face to face with him not being able to stop yourself from stealing a kiss. It was intended to be soft, but there’s a biting edge to the way you press your lips to his that surprises you. Voice low, you promise, “Even if it weren’t, you are countless times the man Narses ever was.”

“Hm, am I?”

He is blatantly asking for praise, and if you’re honest with yourself you don’t have the slightest problem indulging him.

“No one compares to you in my eyes, you know that. Do you believe I would have let any other man get away with what you have?”

“Get away? Y-…”

You tug lightly on his hair to silence him, and Ivar complies with a breathed laugh.

“I’m not done,” You chastise, before your voice earns a softer tone as you search his gaze, “You are unlike anyone I ever met, you-…Sometimes I wonder if you were right, after all. When you said the Gods intervened so this could happen, so we could meet.”

“So you admit I was right.”

“No. Because if anything, the Gods sent you to me, not the other way around.”

Maybe he intended for his smile to be a grin, for his expression to drip mirth and the teasing edge you have come to know and love; but all that is left behind is this almost-startled softness, this open stance and vulnerable expression as Ivar gazes into your eyes.

And the smile he offers is lovesick and as lost as yours, making you wonder not for the first time if whatever the Gods made you out of is the same that they made him out of, even if the Gods and the realms and even the two of you are so different from one another.

When Ivar brings you closer and claims your mouth in his, you let him, surrendering and answering his call for you to be closer, pressing close to him as he drops on his back on the bed.

His kiss is hungry, reverent in a way you know by now but still makes a pang of heat travel through you, and his hands are insistent and leaving behind a trail of fire wherever they touch.

It doesn’t help that he has long since discarded his shirt, and the feel of his skin against yours, the feel of him under your hands, leaves you drunk and dazed, much more so than if you had been the one to drink the whole night.

Still, when impatient hands insist you lift the nightgown over your head, you pull away, breaths heavy as your brow presses against his.

“No?”

“No,” You confirm, trying your hardest not to betray a fond smile. “You’re drunk, love. Not tonight.”

His brow furrows, “I’m not drunk.”

Moving to settle against him, your body against his and your mouth unable to resist pressing a few kisses over the ink on his chest, you question idly, “What are you, then?”

His smile softens, so much so and so quickly that it takes you by surprise. Ivar chuckles, hand trailing over your loose hair.

“Last time I asked you that you told me-…do you remember what you told me?”

You nod, leaning more of your weight against him and resting your chin on one of your arms that is draped over his broad chest.

“I told you I was happy.”

His eyes fall closed, but you know he’s still alert. He always is, really.

“And you’re still happy, here with me.”

“I am,” You state, fingers tracing the familiar contour of his face, stopping -as they always do- on the scar on his cheekbone before they continue a trail down, exploring leisurely. Your voice is low, almost a whisper, “I love you, Ivar.”

The only answer he offers is a low hum. He does that a lot more when he’s had plenty to drink, you’ve noticed, but not for the life of you would you ever tell him, mostly out of fear of losing those little content sounds he lets out and probably isn’t even aware of.

“You should tell me that more often,” He states without any preamble, startling you into silence. Ivar opens one eye to look at you, “You once told me if you say things you make them real. You should say you love me more often.”

“You don’t believe it’s real?” You ask, a tug of something that makes your chest feel a little tighter.

“I do. I just…” He offers a shrug, lips quirking up in the beginning of a smile.

Your voice earns a teasing edge when you lean closer, lips almost against the skin of his jaw, and ask, “Don’t I make you feel loved?”

And your heart skips a beat at the way you make him shiver.

“Y-You do.” He replies, and it sounds the question surprised him. Or maybe his answer did.

You feel your intent to tease him ebb away, leaving softness and barely anything else behind, and you smile, lips pressing one last kiss against his skin before moving to capture his mouth.

As always, Ivar easily surrenders to the touch of your lips on his, leans into your touch and your kiss with a willingness that sometimes feels jagged with edges of need and desperation.

“I love you,” You promise for good measure, offering a smile and another quick kiss, “Now sleep.”

When you turn around to lay on your side, you feel Ivar do the same, and when you hear him shuffle behind you, you find yourself almost expecting the embrace, or at least the touch of his hand on yours. But no, instead you feel rough fingers running through your hair.

“What are you doing?”

“You should wear braids all the time,” He muses, to himself more than to you, probably. You notice he is parting your hair in three sections, and clumsily braiding it as he lays on his side. Ivar continues, “They make you look like…like you belong here, like you’re mine.”

“I am yours.” You promise, the closest you can get to admitting the truth behind the choice that was never a choice at all, for tonight. When the dust settles you will tell him, but for now, for as long as he is willing to forget spring was ever a possibility, you will indulge, and speak of the passing of the cruel season on another day.

The braid is forgotten for a moment, as Ivar’s hand trails down your side, inching forward at your waist. His fingers stop just shy of between your legs.

“Since you’re mine, I should be allowed to have you.” He teases.

“But you’re also mine.”

His eyes travel to your lips, giving away desire before he even speaks, “Am I?”

“Mhm,” You turn around, seeking his warmth when you nestle closer. You look up at him with a smile that makes his eyes travel to your lips with a want you know well by now, but that still makes your heart quicken. “So, are you saying I too should be allowed to do as I please with you?” You seal your words with a kiss at the place where his collarbones dip, and you barely even have to put any pressure to make Ivar roll on his back once again. Your body pressed against him lets you feel the slight stutter of his breath in each rise and fall of his chest, and it never ceases to make you feel powerful. Keeping your eyes on his, you continue, “Are you saying I too should be allowed to claim what is mine?”

His lips part, eyes widened just slightly, and it is an answer in itself, an answer that makes heat pool low in your belly.

“I am yours.” Is the answer Ivar gives, and you bite your lip to hold back a sound that you are certain would be something between a sigh and a whimper.

“I’ll remember that.” You promise, to which he nods, maybe a little quickly, a little shakily. Settling back against his chest, you close your eyes, and if in your dreams you hear the cry of a hawk, it is quickly chased off by the soothing thrum of his heart under your ear.

____ ____ ____

Thank you so much for reading! Would love to hear your thoughts on this!

Also, I have two things in this chapter that I want to point out: one, the Reader remembers Vikings overindulge in drinking when they mourn, yet she says she doesn’t feel like she lost someone, but the flashback is still there, I wonder why lol (I promise he’ll be less sulky soon); and two, when Ivar replies ‘Why did you stay?’ it could be that she stayed because Stithulf was alive thus his choice to let him go was the right one bc he got to keep her for the winter (which is obviously what he believes), or that his motivation in letting him go was the same as her motivation to tell the Greeks she wouldn’t leave with them, as in, she loves him and wants a life with him (though he has no way of knowing that). There you go, two useless pieces of trivia that aren’t that interesting (or that much of trivia really).

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @pieces-by-me @angelofthorr @samsationalwilson @peachyboneless @1950schick @punkrocknpearls @ietss @itsmysticalmystery @revolution-starter @chibisgotovalhalla @the-a-word-2214 @fae-sedai @crazybunnyladysworld @funmadnessandbadassvikings @stupiddarkkside

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar #νοσταλγία masterlist

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sabraeal · 3 years

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Sic Semper Monstrum, Chapter 6

[Read on AO3]

Obiyukiweek 2021, Day 2: Death Upright: Change, Ending, Release Reversed: Refusal to Change, Unfulfillment, Stagnation

A seam strains along a well-worn shoulder, so stretched he can actually hear it creak over the din of the canteen. That clinches is: that asshole’s got to be picking out too-small fatigues from the GI bin.

There’s no other way for him to look like that, biceps testing the tensile strength of cotton every time he takes a sip of his coffee. Sure, this guy’s jacked the way all the active rangers are, ready to heave 750 tons of metal onto their backs at a moment’s notice, but he’s not Mitsuhide. It makes sense when he pops buttons off his coverall, or stretches out one of their dingy cotton tees. But that’s not this asshole.

He’s lean, the kind that telegraphs that taking an elbow from him might be career limiting. There’s no reason the general issue tee should cling to his back like it’s painted on, his coverall hanging off his hips like he’s got an occupation other than freeloading. Shirayuki leans over, fingertips brushing over his sleeve with a laugh--

“Just punch him already,” Kiki drawls, “get it out of your system.”

Zen blinks, suddenly aware there’s still some Taco Tuesday left in his mouth. “What?”

“Kiki.” Dark bruises circle the skin beneath Mitsuhide’s eyes, underscoring the weary strain in his voices. “We shouldn’t be encouraging that sort of behavior.”

“Why not?” Her elbows dig into formica as she leans over her plate, shoveling rice into her mouth. At her father’s table, Kiki knows the use of every spoon, the name of every fork, but this deep in the dome, Ranger Seiran’s never met a meal she can’t inhale in five minutes flat. “I did it.”

Air hisses right through his perfect teeth, the only sign he’s annoyed besides the tense bar of his shoulders. “And you’re lucky you didn’t get caught.”

Kiki hums around the lip of her mug. “You mean like you did with Lugis?”

Mitsuhide doesn’t have skin like his, the sort that flares up like flash paper at the barest hint of sun or taunting. But still his neck flushes red as a burn, so bright Zen’s half tempted to slap it, just so he knows what it’s like.

“T-that was an accident,” he insists, even as his mouth settles into a satisfied smile. “Even the inquiry said so.”

It’s a struggle to keep his own from curling at the edges. “Only because Lugis didn’t want to press charges.”

“Only because he didn’t want it getting out that a girl ran circles around him on the mat,” Kiki corrects, each word a scalpel’s slice, excising those particulars from that shitshow with surgical precision. They can talk about this; Lugis’s challenge and the way Kiki swept him; that he was hardly on his feet when Mitsuhide somehow mislaid his fist and found it in his face, but everything else, the whys of it--

Those are all off the record. Forever. Or at least they would be, if Lugis wasn’t crawling through the dome like a stoat that’s caught whiff of an egg.

But that’s not what this is about. “And you want me to do that with that asshole?” Zen mutters. “Since it made Mitsuhide such good friends with Lugis, after all.”

“Obi isn’t Hisame,” Kiki informs him with the kind of steel in her tone that suggests she won’t be taking critique on that particular assessment. “All your issues with him are external.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he snaps, teeth gritting down.

It’s a mistake, a rookie one at that: never ask a Seiran a question you don’t want the answer to. “He’s got Shirayuki’s attention and you don’t.”

Mitsuhide clears his throat, shoulders set like Zen better plan to shelter in place. This particular storm isn’t about to hit its usual conversational breakwall. “Attention you’d have, if you hadn’t skipped out on your session.”

Zen grips the table to take that hit. But it’s not nearly the last; the stare Kiki turns to him is wide-eyed, half-betrayed. “You didn’t say anything about that.”

“It’s none of your business.” Even as the words fly from him, he knows it’s not fair, that he’s spitting nails into the wind so that they’ll hurt someone else instead of him. It doesn’t stop him, it never does, but a guilty knot settles in his gut. “The sessions are voluntary. They always have been. I don’t need--”

“Someone to keep your head on straight?” Every syllable snaps like ice, her eyes twice as cold. “That was the whole point, wasn’t it? So if something happens to us, you’d have--”

He can’t listen to this, not another word. “That was never the plan! I would never plan for you guys...”

Not coming back. For Redwood Dancer to be left a ruin on the sea floor, their bodies strapped in, hermetically sealed until the ocean wore the jaeger down to parts.

“Nothing is happening to you guys,” he grits out. “Shirayuki was always an addition, not a-- a replacement, because you’ll never--”

“No one can promise that.” Mitsuhide’s never one to throw a first punch, but oh, does he know how to end a fight. All the breath’s knocked clean out of him, and there’s Dancer’s right hand, shoveling down another bite of rice like it’s nothing. “Every time we go out there it’s a flip of a coin. It doesn’t matter how good we are, one day there’s going to be a kaiju that kicks us clean off our feet.”

He shakes his head, wishing the words would fall right out of them. “No. That’s not--”

“Zen.” He’s never heard a siren’s call, but it can’t be as inexorable as Mitsuhide saying his name in that tone, both firm and pitying and mournful all at once. “You know better than anyone. Rangers don’t grow old.”

There’s no thought when he levers himself up from the table, just up with away chasing its heels. He just can’t be here listening to this, not now, not after they just barely crawled home from another kaiju clawing its way across Korea’s shoreline. Not when he knows he should be fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with them-- that he would be if they stopped trying to saddle him with every rookie that rolled out of the simulator and finally put him with the only person that could fill that brace beside him.

“Zen!”

It’s easy to ignore Mitsuhide’s shout over the dinner rush; it’s just part of the noise, a buzz at the edge of his senses. Something to goad him, to push him out of there before either of them think to follow after. Their pity’s the last thing he needs, the last thing he wants. After all, it’s not him that won’t climb in the Conn-Pod, but his--

“Boss!”

Zen blinks, the empty corridor resolving around him. He’d let his feet carry him, their only imperative away-- and now he’s all turned around, every bulkhead the same. He’s heard about this happening to rangers when they lived in the dome too long; chasing the Minotaur, a ranger called it, three drinks down at the local hangar. And no fine little princess to give you string to find your way out.

Except he did have one of those. A person to help him through the labyrinth, even if she couldn’t show him the way. He’d been avoiding her.

That seems stupid now. It’s not like she’s on that asshole’s--

“Hey! Hey, boss.”

Speak of the devil. Zen turns, and there he is, too-tight t-shirt and all: his own personal problem. “What do you want?”

“Nothing.” He holds out his hands, as if that’s proof enough to clear him of ulterior motives. “I just...saw you head out and it looked like...”

Zen’s shoulders square, body braced like they’re back on the mat. “Looked like what?”

Obi’s breath rushes out of him. “It looked like you shouldn’t be alone.”

It’s not until he lifts his hand that he realizes it’s trembling, barely able to push his bangs back where he needs them. “Yeah? And you thought-- what? I’d want to see you?” Even to his own ears, his laugh is bitter, wrong, like it came from someone else’s mouth. “You, the guy who won’t get out of my way?”

Something ripples across this asshole’s face, too fast for him to catch more than its wake. “You think I’m the stick stuck in the mud here?” When those strange cat’s eyes stare at him, it’s out of placid waters, but that grin on his face-- it doesn’t reach them. “Rock, meet hard place.”

Zen’s hands clench, so hard his knuckles creak. “You think this is a joke? You’re trying to shove your ass in a seat that isn’t for you, and you--”

“You think I want to be out there?” He lets out a bark somewhere between pitying and derisive, arms folding over his chest. Zen takes special care not to check how stressed his seams are. “I did my time, Your Highness. I got out. I got told no one would ever look for me again.”

“Then why are you here?” Zen spits. “No one wants you.”

“You don’t know how true I wish that was.” A hand pulls at his shoulder, long fingers digging in around the blade. “But your brother dragged me down the coast because I’m not done. I’ll never be done, because I can’t sit on the sidelines and watch Snotju or Head Banger or whatever cosmic asshole crawls out of the rift wreck another wall.”

His hand lifts, scrubbing through the bristle of his hair, just a shade too shaggy to be regulation. “It’s fucked up, isn’t it, Master? I’m the one who doesn’t want to be here, but I’m the one who’s got the balls to get back in that jaeger. And you--” a cold gaze rakes over him-- “you’re content to sit there and watch the world burn just because I’m not--”

“Shut up.” He’s trembling, every muscle straining against his self-control. “Shut the fuck up. You don’t know a goddamn thing--”

“I’ve been in your head,” that asshole reminds him. “I know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“You don’t.” He can’t. “You don’t fucking know a thing about me.”

He cocks a hip, grin loaded like a bullet. “The prove it.”

Kiki’s right: in the instant where his knuckles hit that cut-glass cheekbone, Zen feels great.

Shirayuki’s office has always put him at ease; he stepped in here the first time before she’d even properly covered the walls, the tension seeping right out of him into the push carpet under his boots. There’s just something about how she fills a space-- something that has nothing to do with furniture or wall hangings or motivational posters-- that makes his brain put out whatever chemical that means safe. He’d never understood why the other rangers avoided her, not when they could have forty minutes in the room equivalent of a warm hug.

But it’s different this time.

“Izana made you call me here.” He’s ramrod straight on her worn couch, hands clenched in his lap. Or rather, right over the throw pillow he moved to sit. “Didn’t he?”

“The Marshal’s personal feelings have nothing to do with this.” Her words snap like a window on a sill, closing on that topic with a sense of finality he expected from the top brass, not their therapist. “The PPDC’s code of conduct is quite clear on the procedure to be followed after a non-sanctioned physical altercation between personnel.”

There’s a loose thread right by the fringe; he’d noticed it months ago, but never dared to tug it. Every time he’d felt the urge, he’d think of dominoes and load-bearing pillars, of the whole edge unraveling in his hands right as she looked at him.

Today, he pulls. It comes right off with a snap. “And that’s the only reason you brought me in?“

Shirayuki turns to him, one incredulous brow raised. “You were the one who cancelled our last session--” her mouth twitches as she twists the knife-- “last minute.”

Well, he deserves that one. Sure, he’s had his reasons, but Shirayuki-- well, she deserved more than one step up from ghosting. If the thought of having to look anyone in the eye after all that hadn’t made his stomach turn for three days, maybe he would have come to that conclusion before Kiki ripped him a new one over it.

“Sorry about that,” he mutters, aware with every word that it’s not enough, that there’s not enough apologies to patch up the trust he broke. “I wasn’t...ready to talk.”

He expects the clap back; yeah I got the message, or but you were ready to take a swing? But he should have known: that’s not how Shirayuki works. She’s a professional, whether that’s what he wants from her or not.

Instead he face softens, right back into his friend. “I know. What happened in the drift can be...intense.” She hesitates, teeth sinking into the plush bow of her lip. “I just wish that you had felt comfortable conveying that to me. As my patient, you’re supposed to be able to control--”

“I don’t want to be your patient.”

Her mouth closes with a grunt, hand pressed to her stomach as if he hit her. “O-oh,” she murmurs, breathless. “I hadn’t realized that you, ah, wanted to terminate our sessions--”

“No!” God, it would be nice to be able to say this all smooth like he’s sure that jacked asshole can, leaning against a wall with his hand right by her head, sexual tension rocking the Richter scale. “I just meant--” his teeth try to grind down his thoughts into something palatable-- “Shirayuki, I don’t want to just be your patient.”

He could fall into her eyes they’re so wide, rounded ‘o’s that match her mouth’s geometry. “Ah, Zen, that’s...”

“I don’t mean because I-I like you.” Even though he does, but there’s rules for that. The kind the PPDC will look the other way on, but not Shirayuki. She’s not from under the dome; she still worries about what people might think outside of it. “I just...wish you were on my side.”

“I am on your side.” Her shoulders pull straight against the back of her chair, her soft look hardening into resolve. “Which is different from telling you want you want to hear.”

He jerks back, cheeks stinging like he’d been slapped. “I didn’t say I wanted that,” he mumbles, hands clenching over his lap. “But I don’t need you to tell me to do whatever it is Izana wants me to either.”

“I wasn’t going to.” The notebooks in her lap closes with a snap, and with trembling fingers, she sets aside her shield. “Izana wants you back in a jeager for the legacy. For the unbroken line of Wisterias standing between humanity and the rift. But I...”

Her eyes lift to his, and they’re no longer the lush, leafy green of a forest, but the hard glint of emerald. “If you get back in that cockpit, you need to do it for yourself.”

It’s an effort not to say, I don’t see the difference.

“I saw you when the siren went off.”

Zen scrubs a hand over his face; he remembers. Their eyes had met over that seething mass of fear and competence, and-- and he’d been so sure that if he saw her, something more than that glimpse of red in the corner of his vision, he’d forget every inch of his resolve and go to her. That he’d just take her in his arms and tell her all the thoughts roiling in the sea of his mind, but--

But he hadn’t. He’s taken one look at her and, without even a pang of guilt, left her there. A real hero.

“Zen.” She says his name so firmly, so seriously, that his head jerks up, gaze tangling with hers. “You don’t want to be on the sidelines. You don’t want to be the general hiding being his troops. You want to be out there, Rex Tyrannis shoulder-to-shoulder with Redwood Dancer. And you could be.”

It’s his breath that’s rasping, the death rattle of the man he’s let himself be these past few years. “How?”

There’s not an ounce of hesitation in her when she says. “You have to choose to move forward.”

And cozy up in the cockpit with that asshole. He thinks about that grin, cocked with a confidence he’s never been in the neighborhood of having, and...

It’s so familiar that his double vision makes his head pound. “I can’t work with that-- Obi. I won’t.”

“I know that...” Her lips press together, bursting apart with a pop. “I know there’s no limit to the amount of people a ranger could potentially drift with, but there’s something...special when you find the right one. That there’s something right about it than can’t ever be replaced.”

He stares, head galloping in his chest. She shouldn’t know that-- there’s no way she could. Most rookies out of the academy just drift successfully once, and that’s it-- that’s their partner, for better or worse, like marrying the first kid you kiss. There’s exceptions-- emergencies, injury, irreconcilable differences-- but even though this job has a high turnover...rangers rarely die alone. There’s not enough people for a paper.

“Yeah, I’ve...heard that too.” Probably from the same mouth she did, though it seems Mitsuhide’s polished the speech since he last gave it. To him, at least.

“I understand that you have a vision of who you want beside you in the pod,” Shirayuki presses, voice growing tighter, more tense with every word. “But Atri’s gone.”

Every drop of blood in him turns to ice. “Atri?”

Her breath hisses out through her teeth, relief slumping her shoulders. “I know no one can be him, but--”

“You think this is about Atri?” A giggle bubbles up from him, bitter on his tongue. “I’ve been sitting here for weeks-- no, months! And you think all this, the whole reason I won’t climb in a jaeger with just anyone off the street is because of Atri?”

Every corner of her face lost. “Isn’t it?”

“No, I...” He pinches the bridge of his nose, like it might stem the pounding of his heart behind his brow. This whole time he’d been so careful, trying to be understood for once, to let someone see him instead of his mistakes--

But he should have known; as long as his brother is obsessed with sending him an endless parade of nobodies which he sits behind a desk, it’ll only be his hang ups hung out for everyone to rifle through.

“I should go,” he finally manages, levering himself to his feet. The room spins, his heartbeat thrumming in his ears, but he can’t stay here, not when she thinks-- when she’s always thought--

“Zen,” she murmurs, voice muffled by distance. “Are you all right?”

--That he’s pathetic. “Yeah.” He stumbles to the door, swinging it open. “I just need to--”

And of course, standing right there is that asshole, hand half-raised to knock.

“Boss,” he breathes, clearly stunned. “I, uh, didn’t think you’d be...”

The awkwardness in the office is palpable, so thick that he might as well be moving through molasses. Before this guy showed up, he’d though he had half a chance; he was practically the only one outside of K-Science that would even look at her, and his sessions always felt like more, but now--

Well, it’s no wonder he didn’t stand half a chance next to him, if she thought he was waiting for Atri.

“Don’t worry about it.” Zen pushes back him, shoulder clipping his. Or at least near enough to claim the feat. “I’d hate to keep you two from your--” date-- “dinner plans.”

Shirayuki’s breath gasps from her. “Zen, wait, we’re not--”

“It’s fine,” he lies, every muscle tense where he stands, fighting the urge to look back. “A couple of things are clearer now.”

It’s not just her. They all think he’s waiting for him, that one day he might stroll back in here like nothing happened, and Zen--

“Please.” Shirayuki’s voice trembles, and even if he’s not looking, he knows she’s at the door, vibrating in its frame. “Let’s just finish the session.”

-- and Zen’s been giving them nothing else to work with. All these years, looking like a kid stood up on prom night.

“No, I just remembered there’s something I’ve got to do.” He forces a smile on his face, giving her a bare hint of it as he peeks over his shoulder. “I’ll see you next week.”

It kills him how much hope lights in her eyes. “Next week?”

“That our appointment, isn’t it?” he says, light tone limping. “Unless I see you around the dome before then.”

“Right,” she breathes, cheeks flushed at both corners of her smile. Obi’s watching her, concern writ large in his eyes, and well-- maybe he’s not as much of an asshole as Zen wanted to believe. “Until then.”

He gets halfway down the hall, before Obi calls out, “Hey, boss...”

It’s clear when he looks back that Obi hadn’t meant to speak, but now that he has, he clear his throat, giving himself a visible shake.

“You could come with us,” he says, hesitant. “If you wanted.”

It’s an olive branch, one he doesn’t deserve. One he should take, if he wants all this to heal over without a scar. But he’s not ready for that, not yet.

“No.” He shakes head. “I wasn’t joking about having something I got to do. Go enjoy yourselves.”

This is a terrible idea.

He knows it the entire time he’s walking, the anxiety cresting the second he sees the plate on the door, engraved and letters painted black: IZANA WISTERIA. MARSHAL.

“Well,” Izana hums from his desk. “Are you going pace outside my office all day, or are you planning to come in?”

Zen lets out a rush of breath and pushes the door open the rest of the way.

“You win,” he says, all in a rush. “I’ll do it. I’ll give him another chance.”

“I think at this point, he’s giving you another chance,” Izana tells him, barely glancing up from his pile of papers. “But...I’ll arrange it.”

He nearly says, I figured you’d have it all arranged already, but bites it back. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure. And Zen.” His brother looks up, capping his pen calmly before he folds his hands over the desk. “It’s not me who wins. It’s humanity.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, meeting that steely gaze. “But I’m not doing it for them.”

For once, his brother doesn’t have anything to say.

It’s Obi who’s locked in first this time.

His cheeky smile is already waiting when Zen steps on deck, body gripped by Rex Tyrannis’s hydraulics when he throws him a wink. “Second time’s the charm, right Your Highness?”

“Third time,” Zen mutters, keying in his code. “It’s third time’s the charm.”

“Right, but you were top of your class.” A guy like Obi shouldn’t be so comfortable when he’s got twenty tons pinning him in place, not when he’s got a face just asking to be hit. “So we can shave one of those off, right?”

“Depends.” His mouth twitches. “Where did you rank?”

Obi’s grin grows stiff enough to float. “I think you’d say I’m a natural talent.”

“That bad huh?”

A laugh saws out of him, raw in the loud silence of the pod. “You have no idea.”

“I think I could take a guess.” The hydraulics hug Zen tight; even lifting to his arm to the panel is a chore. “Ready?”

“For you?” Obi’s mouth stretches into a leer. For once, he feels like he’s in on the joke. “Any time.”

Don’t chase the rabbit. It’s Obi’s voice that says it; not the way he had before, serious and concerned, a scolding and a reminder. No, this one is a laugh restrained, sing-song. One pill makes you big and one makes you small.

There’s a faint riff of guitar, and Zen’s about to tell him to can it, that putting trash in the drift just clogged up the flow, but--

But between one breath-- one blink and the next, he’s lost in the tide, rolling through his memories rudderless. When a hand grips his shoulder and--

“I’m ready.” Zen’s always too honest, too eager but he’s young here, younger than he ever remembers being wearing the badge. “To pick up the legacy. To be what father meant us to be.”

The memory runs true, his younger self still chatting away with Shidnote, unaware that his whole world’s about to be cut off at the knees. But he’s not watching that now, he’s watching the way shadows crawl across his brother’s face, a storm front that appears and vanishes in the moments no one looks.

“About that.” Izana settles his hand on the desk, but the drumming is no longer bored but...nervous. An asynchronous beat that runs at the speed of his thoughts. “I meant to tell you. I’m being promoted.”

“Promoted” The word still kicks his legs out from under him, still knocks the wind out of his lungs as efficiently as any punch to the gut. “But I thought we would--”

“They want me in a command capacity now that Mother’s taking over Anchorage.” Izana won’t look at him. The man who has built his career on being able to stare down Orochi in Sagami Bay can’t bear to look him in the eye. “I’m being taken off active duty.”

“But--” He looks between them. “But--”

“But--”

The memory stutters. It’s him, he’s the one who’s pushing away. He’d always thought he couldn’t give this to someone, to some guy right off the street, someone who might pity him, but it’s-- it’s him. He can’t look at this. He can’t face failure another time.

And he doesn’t know how to stop.

Hey. Obi’s voice is too close, but he’s just an outline in the drift, blues and grays fuzzing between misfiring synapses. Hey, we don’t have to watch this.

They do. They have to, if he’s going to get through this.

Right. There’s no way for Obi to sigh here, where there’s no air, but he does, long and loud. It sounds...different. Almost...feminine. I have worse. Want to see me wet the bed when I was--?

The words fuzz before they can continue. Go ahead, Obi says, sounding like himself. Take as much time as you need. It’s not like we have clocks here.

Zen can’t nod here, not without a body, but he breathes, one solid in and out--

“It’s supposed to be us.” Even with the distance of time, every word is carves straight from his flesh, laid out on a platter for his brother to see. “We’re supposed to carry on the legacy.”

“Shidnote will continue on in his current capacity,” Izana explains, bored, as if he didn’t even speak. “He’s served me well. I’m sure you’ll both be sufficiently compatible.”

“But--” Zen grits his teeth. “It’s supposed to be us. Why are you giving me an excuse--?

He blinks. He never said that. He’d been thinking it the whole way to his bunk, but in the moment it had only been a yes sir. I understand, sir.

Then why--

“It’s an excuse.” The shine’s all worn off Atri’s grin, baring the raw edge beneath. “That’s all I’ve ever been to you.”

Scrap litters the floor at his feet; he’s never known what jaeger-grade parts sold for on the black market, but he knows it’s not pocket money. This is a small fortune if someone knew where to sell it.

Which clearly Atri does.

“You’re going to blame me?” Zen’s laugh limps with bitterness. “I catch you with stolen goods, and it’s my--?”

“It’s not stolen, it’s salvage,” Atri snaps, snatching a length of steel from his hands. “It’s not like they’re using it.”

A lie-- there’s not a shred of steel or wire that’s wasted in the dome. Jaegars come with a price tag that only governments can pay, and any corner that can be safely cut on maintenance is considered savings passed onto tax payers. There’s no way he can’t know it, not after six months, but--

He doesn’t care. He never did.

“This is why you agreed to be my copilot.” Every word aches as he births them from his lips, a truth that cuts even as he speaks it. “You didn’t care about protecting your friends. You just wanted access to parts.”

Atri shrugs, the barest twitch of his shoulders. “I never said I gave a single fuck about all that hero shit. You just assumed I did, because you do.”

“But the drift...” His breath wheezes, the way it did when he was a kid, before his dad paid for all that to be fixed. “How did you...?”

“I just thought about the stuff you cared about. Friends. Kaiju. Me.” Atri’s grin turns smug. “Some of us don’t wear our heart on our sleeves, Wisteria.”

Wow. Obi’s outline fuzzes as he circles behind Atri, a single brow raised. He’s a real fucknut, huh?

His memories are jumbles, him-now and him-then all tumbled together until his first instinct is to jump to Atri’s defense. He may not be an academy-trained ranger, someone who has a lifetime worth of experience in a simulator, but put him in Rex Tyrannis and he’ll--

Steal the toilet cover? Obi offers, mouth canting into that insufferable grin. The one that always reminded him of--

Ah.

Obi darts a glance to where Atri stands frozen beside him. Jeeze, you really know how to hit a guy where he lives. You think I look like this asshole?

Just the grin, really. He’s almost a head taller, broader in the shoulders, and Asian besides. Better looking too--

Obi’s smile stretches into a leer. You don’t say, bossman?

Maybe Atri’s right. He’s got to get better about what he thinks about in the drift. Especially with someone this insufferable around.

If anything, Obi’s more amused. So it’s this guy though, he’s whole hold up you have with me? It’s not--

Against his will, Atri springs to life, mouth curled into his nastiest sneer when he says “I don’t know why you’re acting so betrayed. After all, you only wanted me to get back at the Marshal, and I played my part, didn’t I? I’m sure he’d jump in the pod if that meant he could be rid of me.”

“That’s not--” true, he should say. He can’t though, not when he’s not this-Zen, when he’s just looking out from his eyes, straight into Obi’s.

“Yeah.” There’s no spit to swallow in the drift, but he does anyway, a force of habit. “It is.”

The memory fuzzes away from him, and it’s just them now, two men braced in the Conn-pod, staring at each other through their visors.

“Right hemisphere, calibrated.” Zen blinks, watching as his hand opens and closes, the robotic voice’s dulcet tones washing over him.

“I never wanted this, you know,” he murmurs, “not if it wasn’t with my brother. That’s how it was supposed to be, me and him versus the kaiju.”

“Left hemisphere, calibrated.” His arms seem to move on his own, and it’s strange how he can’t keep the smile off his face this time. It feels good, moving like this again.

“No,” he breathes. “It was supposed to be me and him versus the world.”

“Ready to activate the jeager.“

Obi’s arms lift, a fighting stance to mirror his. It’s easy, so easy. Easier than he ever thought it could be. “What changed?”

He’d shrug, if the hydraulics would let him, but this isn’t Redwood Dancer. “Seemed like a shitty reason not to save the world.”

“Calibration complete.”

Obi grins, teeth shining bright under the lights of his visor. “Doc tell you that?”

Zen laughs. “Pretty much.”

“She’s got a gift,” Obi agrees, hands moving in sync with his. “And it’s making you feel like an asshole.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Looks like you jokers are getting along,” Kiki deadpans through their helmets. “How do you feel about taking Rex out for a drag?”

“After being cramped under this dome for months, Princess?” Obi drawls, tossing him a conspiratorial wink. “It’d be my pleasure.”

“Just give us a sec!” It’s been a long time since Zen’s talked much with the crew in CIC, but he recognizes that voice-- Yuzuri, one of Shirayuki’s friends. The peppy one with the cute accessories. The one that told him she’d give him cement shoes if he made her cry. “Let’s see if we can get you off your leash.”

He’d always liked her. Hopefully the feeling’s mutual, since she’s right next to the plug.

“Hey, boss.”

Zen blinks, glancing across the cockpit. “Yeah?”

“I know Atri was supposed to be a big fuck you to His Majesty, but...” He hesitates, thoughtful. “You drifted with the Big Guy for a while after that. Why?”

“Ah--”

It’s impossible not to think of it, the siren rising in the air, the men running past them, voices drowned out by the drone.

“I’ll do it,” he says, glaring up at the man across from him. “At least you know you’re just a seat warmer.”

“Zen--”

He blinks, the memory stuttering beneath him. That’s not what Mitsuhide called him then, that wasn’t until after--

“Zen.”

That’s not inside the memory, that’s inside his helmet. “Mitsuhide?”

“You’re out of alignment.”

He shakes his head, uncomprehending. “What do you--?”

“You’re out of alignment.” He repeats, each words strained. “You both chased the rabbit, and...Obi went straight down the rabbit hole.”

It doesn’t make any sense. “But I--”

“You have to go get him,” Mitsuhide says, dire. “He’s pointing the plasma cannon at Mission Control.”

#obiyukiweek21 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #pacific rim au #my fic #ans #never did i think i'd cause so much controversy about who would end up in Rex Tyrannis #but i'm glad that this chapter was already going to cover it #and oh my what's that?#are we getting Obi backstory next chapter?#>:3c

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