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loki-cees-all · 5 months

Note

Hello and hi, my lovely!

I have this scenario for you that I sometimes think about.

How would Loki react if you (the mortal he might have feelings for but he’s not quite certain yet) were the only one to acknowledge his birthday? Maybe you put up a few balloons and even buy him a little cupcake with a candle on it? How would he react?

Happiest of birthdays to you! You’re a joy to know!! I love you!! 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

Cupcake For a God {Avengers!Loki x Avengers!Reader}

Cee's Loki Fic Masterlist / AO3 Link

Pairing : Avengers!Loki x Avengers!Reader

Summary : Loki’s birthday is approaching, and it forces himself to reconcile who he wants to be versus who he actually is, and to reflect on his almost certainly unrequited feelings for you.

But what if the feelings weren’t unrequited?

W/c : 1.9k words

Content/Warnings : Angst, a bit of fluff

Author's Note : I swear I tried so hard to make this not so angsty! Please forgive me, Saz! 😭😭😭

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

There were a lot of things for Loki to dislike about living on Midgard.

For starters, he was being forced to live there, inside Stark Tower with the other Avengers as penance for his crimes. It was only fitting, they’d told him, that he should assist in their efforts to keep the mortals safe because he was the reason they needed protecting in the first place.

Loki didn’t bother telling them what Thanos had done to him after he fell from the Bifrost; truthfully, he still didn’t quite understand it himself. That entire year was a blur to him - a painful concoction of lies and manipulations and tears and blood that left him unable to tell the difference between fact and fiction, even almost two years after the torture had began.

He didn’t want anyone to know how weak he was, about how much he’d lost himself. If they knew how vulnerable he was, they might decide he wasn’t worth the trouble and send him to the dungeons of Asgard instead.

Another thing he disliked was the forced pleasantries and unnecessary rituals humans had developed with each other, and by extension, him. The humans would smile as they past him by on the street, but it was a falsity every time; the sentiment never reached their eyes, and Loki could smell their fear from several blocks away.

Loki knew they didn’t actually care how his day was going, that their concern only went as far as making sure he wasn’t on the verge of invading with another alien force under his command. He wasn’t, but honestly, if it meant everyone kept their distance, then he wasn’t going to argue with it.

It wasn’t fair to say that Loki preferred being alone, but he was certainly used to it, and that was in direct contradiction of the forced socialization he had to endure on Midgard - press conferences, team building exercises (which Loki believed was just an excuse to consume copious amounts of food and drink), training sessions, something called “movie nights”, and missions across the world to dismantle S.H.I.E.L.D.’s various bunkers and bases.

It was so much talking, and even more listening. So much lying and pretending that everything was fine, that Loki didn’t feel like a caged monster, and that everyone else wasn’t waiting for the littlest thing to completely set him off.

But Loki was trying as hard as he could to ignore the dull ache that haunted his dreams and every waking moment. He knew he had hurt people, he knew he needed to make up for his grievous transgressions, but he didn’t know how else to make up for it all. So he pressed on, through the discomfort and awkwardness, in the hope that one day everything might become a little easier.

The one bright side to all of this, the one shimmering ray of light amidst the sea of gray, was you. Loki didn’t quite know what to make of his attraction to you - was it real, or was it just your absence of fear in his presence? Had it just been too long since he’d felt the touch of another, or were you actually everything he’d ever wanted?

Loki almost didn’t want to find out, in case it wasn’t real. Because your smile reached your eyes every time you looked at him, and your laughter was like sparks blowing across the embers of a dying fire…but he couldn’t shake the fear that it could just be another trick.

Perhaps his mind still hadn’t fully recovered from Thanos’ torture. Maybe Thor had put you up to this, as a way of making assimilation easier for him.

Because why else would you look at him like that? Why would you go out of your way to sit next to him during the team’s movie nights? Why else would you lean towards him on the couch and fall asleep against the shoulder of a villain, of a monster, of a fool?

It was stupid, and pointless, and illogical, and just like him to irrationally want something he couldn’t ever have. He was a God, and you were a mortal, and it would ultimately end in heartache either way. So while he had the chance, Loki forced himself to remain content and to just linger in the question of what if you could want him too.

The final thing about Midgard, and the one he despised the most, was the mortal obsession with birthdays. Loki was grateful the Asgardians never paid any attention to such silly and exhausting traditions - which was surprising, considering how much Asgardians loved frivolity.

So he really shouldn’t have been shocked when Thor discovered, and subsequently fell in love with, the concept of birthdays. His brother immediately requested his mortal companion Jane to perform the necessary calculations to determine the Midgardian equivalent of Thor’s birthdate - and Loki’s as well, which his brother gleefully announced to the entire team and embarrassed him to the deepest pits of his soul.

A massive celebration was planned for Thor, with enough food and drink to sustain a small country, and on the special night, flashing lights and loud music bathed the massive common room of Stark Tower in merriment and laughter. Everyone was invited, and it would have been rude for Loki to not make an appearance - but it wasn’t because he wanted to admire you in your party dress, although that was a very lovely bonus.

But as gorgeous as you looked - the longer the party went on, the sadder Loki became. Everyone was talking, smiling, and dancing, congratulating Thor on his many accomplishments and swapping happy stories of all the good times they’d had together. It was painful to witness, to know for a fact that no such party would be happening for himself when his birthday rolled around.

Loki tried telling himself that he didn’t want it, and that he’d be miserable during it. He tried convincing himself that it would be too loud, and too bawdy, and vain, and that he didn’t need other people’s reassurances that they were happy he was there with them. He told himself he didn’t need it at all, that he was completely fine without it. But it was a lie, so of course it didn’t work.

As the days approached to Loki’s birthday, he became even more withdrawn than usual. With the exceptions of necessary missions or training, he stopped leaving his room. He was silent during travel on the Quinjet, and refused your invitations to further movie nights, even though the disappointment on your face ripped him apart in ways he’d never experienced before.

He felt like he deserved to suffer, to collapse in on himself like a dying star because he knew he’d never be worthy of the love and attention his older brother seemed to collect so effortlessly. It wasn’t Thor’s fault; it was just Loki’s lot in life. And the further he receded, the more likely his heartache would be justified, and he couldn’t be surprised if he was already disappointed.

The evening of his birthday was the worst night he’d experienced in a long time, not since the day he let go of the Bifrost. Loki didn’t even come out of his room for dinner that night, choosing instead to feast on pain, and anguish, and regret, and all the feelings he hadn’t ever had the time to process over his thousand years of existence.

Thor tried several times to lure him out of his room, to no avail. Loki wouldn’t leave - no, he couldn’t leave. He couldn’t bring himself to witness the fact that they’d done nothing special for him, even though he’d be furiously uncomfortable if they did.

As the hours passed, he tried to distract himself with sleep, and then reading, but neither did the trick. Eventually, he curled up on the window seat of his private quarters, wrapped himself in furs and pressed his forehead against the glass, watching the tiny little mortals going about their nights in blissful ignorance of the god suffering fifty floors above them.

And Loki was so lost that he could barely respond to the cautious knock on his door, the one that threatened to pull him away from his misery. But his heart leapt in his throat when he heard your voice calling his name, and he wanted so much to let you in, to feel you next to him.

But the urge to say something cruel, to push you away and continue on alone, was just as strong. Loki didn’t know which to concede to, even as his feet slowly carried him to the door. He didn’t know what he was going to say, even while his fingers raked through his messy curls and rubbed the pain from his eyes.

He felt ridiculous as he hesitated to open the door; he was a God, and once the most fearsome villain this entire planet had ever seen - but here he was, nervous and split open and too raw to simply open a door and look upon a beautiful woman while he was hiding away from his birthday.

There was a soft rustling sound on the other side of the door, and Loki’s forehead rested against the wood as he heard your footsteps quietly retreating down the hallway. He’d waited too long, paralyzed by his self-indulgent indecision, and it had pushed you away.

He thought about yanking the door open and calling after you. He considered begging for you to come back. He desperately wanted to wrap his arms around you and to pull you closer, but all he could manage was to gently pull the door open after he was sure you were gone.

On the floor of the hallway, waiting patiently and comfortably for him, was a beautifully-decorated cupcake and a note resting on a small paper plate. A single candle rose out of the emerald and sapphire swirls of frosting, and the pink paper was folded in half, with his name written in the loveliest cursive on the outside.

Loki fought back tears as he retrieved the gift from the floor, and he cautiously balanced the plate in one hand while holding the note in the other.

Hey Loki,

I know birthdays are hard; they’re hard for me too. But hopefully this treat makes you smile, even just for a second.

I’ll be awake for a little while longer - stop by my room if you need to talk. I promise I won’t find it weird :)

XOXO

P.S. I’m really glad you’re here, even if you’re not ready to accept that yet.

He swallowed hard as he stared at the most generous gift he’d ever received. He didn’t know if you even fully understood what you’d just done for him. He fervently wanted to go after you, and he desperately wanted to continue hiding.

But you’d extended an invitation, one he could feasibly take you up on. No one would argue it wasn’t in his right to do so. And Gods above, he wanted to, more than anything else he’d ever wanted. But would it be worth it, or would it just make everything worse?

Loki tore his damp and heavy eyes away from the note and glanced up and down the hallway. He shut his door, just as quietly as he’d opened it, wondering if it would be a mistake to allow his heart guide him to where he’d rather be.

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

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the-californicationist · 5 months

Text

Guile & Guilt (Ch. 09)

Soap/Reader - MDNI/18+ AO3 Link

WEDNESDAY — Evening: 2 days until the wedding

The worst part was the pretending. You thought that you’d be in the most pain when you were alone, sobbing in your room, clutching Marlowe like a comfort stuffie, but that wasn’t it. The hardest thing, actually, was smiling when you should be smiling.

No, the hardest thing was staring down at his bed and knowing you had to sleep in it because why shouldn’t you sleep in it? What reason could you tell her that you weren’t able to climb into his sheets and smell his scent in your nose again?

You couldn’t tell her that the softness of his Rangers jersey felt like thorns to you now. You couldn’t tell her why you’d prefer to sleep on the couch, the floor, outside — anywhere but his bed. No. You had to smile, and it needed to be believable. It couldn’t be a masked grimace through tears like you’d been using to get back and forth from the coffee shop and your bed, unable to even make yourself a boiled egg.

You’d come down, as planned, for the rehearsal dinner tomorrow night, and the real kicker — the stake that just twisted right into your heart — was that Johnny and his whole team would be down, too. Of course all the hotels (of which there were one) and the bed and breakfasts were booked solid. So, they’d all just crash here, as usual. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing except for you.

You were anything but ordinary. You were desperate for some sort of relief from the pain in your chest. Every time you looked down at your phone, you felt it. You ignored the 47 missed calls and the countless text messages, keeping it on silent no matter what. You’d gotten calls from him, from all of his friends, even one from Ghost. You didn’t return them. You thought he had even come to your door one night, but you didn’t answer it. You couldn’t. All you could do was tell yourself to breathe, to eat, to shower, and to make it to the next hour in one piece so you could get through this wedding without falling the fuck apart.

“You all set in here, babe?” Pidge asked behind you, watching you stare down at the empty bed, “Johnny’ll be here in just a bit so be sure to claim the good side before he does.”

She laughed. You laughed. You sounded crazy.

“Makin’ your favorite tonight. Chicken tikka,” she was talking to you like a parent talks to a child when they know something is wrong but are determined not to pry.

“Thanks, Pidge. I’ll come help in a moment.”

“Alright,” she smiled again and shut the door.

You dropped your bag and waited what you assumed was a normal amount of time before heading out into the kitchen, a brave mask on in place of your face.

She set you to work after you washed your hands, and you were grateful for it. Pidge was talking for you, retracing her steps from her hen do, telling you the parts she couldn’t remember. It was as if everything she’d said to Johnny had just disappeared into thin air, and you wondered how much of that was by choice or by accident. She didn’t even remember you getting a cab.

Now, she was gushing about how amazing her photographer was, and how he was coming down for the walkthrough. You nodded when you needed to nod; you smiled when you needed to smile.

“...told him you’d stand in for me at the altar.”

“What?” You’d missed something important.

“The photographer needs to shoot Hamish and I, but we cannae be at the altar until our wedding, obvi, so I told him you and Lachlan would be the stag and hen for that practice shoot. Is that alright?” She was looking at you like she’d made a mistake.

You shook your head,

“Yeah, yeah. That’s fine. No problem. Whatever you need me to do.”

The front door creaked open and you almost dropped the saucepan onto the floor.

“Pidge?” His voice called through the house.

“In the kitchen!” She called back.

You stirred the sauce.

He must have been staring at you because Pidge made a comment,

“We’re doing chicken tikka. It’s her fav, and I thought she deserved it after what I put her through last weekend.”

“Aye,” his tone was odd, “I’ll go drop my bag. The lads are on their way in.”

You could tell he left the room. It was as if your body could sense it somehow. You wondered if he was staring at the bed. You wondered if it would feel like thorns for him, too.

Why would it?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You screamed inside of your mind. Get it together.

You stirred the sauce. It was the only thing you could do. If someone had tried to take the pan from you, you might have smacked them with it.

Hamish came up beside you with the cream,

“Ready for me?”

“Sure,” you held your spoon away so he could pour it in.

“Smells great. Go sit, lass. I poured you a wine. I’ll make your wee plate.”

You smiled at Hamish and marched yourself over to the table. Price came in and saw you sitting there, and after he said hello to Ham and Pidge, he sat next to you in some sort of act of mercy. Hamish poured him a wine as well and they caught up. Small talk. Just the weather. You performed your vanishing act, becoming invisible.

Until you weren’t.

His eyes bored into you from the hallway as he made his way into the kitchen. He was forced to sit all the way at the other end of the table, as far from you as he could be, next to Gaz and Ghost.

Everyone was chatting, drinking, eating. And you worked hard to be unseen. But, he just kept staring. You felt his eyes when you took a bite, when you dropped your fork, when you wiped your mouth… he may as well have been pinning you down with his huge hands; you were so scrutinized. You felt like you were being dissected, a frog on a student’s desk, your heart plucked out for examination.

What was he looking for? Forgiveness? Wrath? You didn’t know, and you didn’t want to guess. You wanted to melt into the carpet like a fallen ice cube, to evaporate into nothingness so you didn’t have to feel his eyes on you anymore.

Suddenly, you looked up at him, catching him. Only then did he look away. He must have seen something inside of you that answered his question.

You cleaned up the plates, making an excuse to do the dishes while everyone else lounged in the den.

Then, disaster. Hamish cut himself while putting away his knives. Blood rushed out of the cut and down his elbow, dripping onto the counter and the tile. You rushed over with a towel,

“Here, put some pressure.”

Pidge took over for you, and she told you,

“Go check Johnny’s bag. He’s got a wee first aid kit in there, I know he does.”

You looked around for Johnny to make him do it instead, but he’d gone outside to smoke with Price, so you jogged off to his room alone. His bag was on the bed, and you took a deep breath before unzipping it, staying tight to your mission. Then, you spotted the little red kit near the bottom. You pulled it out in a hurry, and the rucksack dropped to the floor, spilling its contents.

“Shit,” you muttered, bending to clean it up.

You tossed all the clothes back in, but you noticed a journal that had fallen out. It was splayed open, its spine facing you. Your hands shook a bit as you went to pick it up. Then, you saw the one thing you hadn’t expected to see: you.

Your face was sketched out in careful detail. There were little scratches of pen for the shadows, and negative space for the highlights. Your eyes were looking off in the distance, and your smile was soft, almost like it wasn’t even there. You looked beautiful.

You couldn’t help yourself. You flipped the page. You found a map, and a sketch with some attack dogs, but in the margin you saw Sonnet 91. You turned the page again. Your face was everywhere. Your body, your eyes, your hands… you were scattered across the paper in bright blue ink. Then, Sonnet 145. Coffee stains and what may have been blood marred the masterpieces he had left behind. You flipped again, and it was you. Pieces of Sonnet 29. Then you. You were on every page. All of the images of war and maps and guns disappeared and now it was just you, you, you.

Your heart slammed into your mouth and you couldn’t breathe. You thought of golden sunrises across the Urzikstani desert half a world away, imagining him sitting on the open tailgate of a Humvee with this book open in front of him. You thought of how closely he had watched you for months; how his hands had traced the curves of your body so beautifully sketched before you. How he had noticed the three freckles on the side of your eye, the ones you thought no one could see.

You shoved the book back in the bag and ran back into the kitchen, first aid kit in hand.

Pidge noticed something was wrong.

“You alright, hen?”

“Just squeamish,” you feigned nausea, pointing to Hamish’s blood.

Johnny came back in from the porch, looking at you, distress creasing his brow,

“What’s happened?”

“Hamish…” You gestured at the injured man, pointedly avoiding looking at Johnny.

“Don’t like the sight of blood, thief?” Price asked, using your nickname. In your periphery you could see Johnny stiffen at the comment, but no one else seemed to notice. Price continued, suggesting, “Why don’t we go for a walk.”

“Thanks, John,” Pidge smiled at him, glad that he could tend to you as she was tending to her fiance.

You let yourself be led out of the house through the front door. Price had you by the arm, none too gently, you thought, and walked you into the cool night air, wrapping his jacket around you and shutting the door.

He was relighting a fat cigar, letting the smoke linger in his mouth, walking slowly, aimlessly down the path, without a destination in mind, leading you nowhere.

“Are you alright?” He asked, knowing the answer.

“No.”

You weren’t sure why you told him the truth. He was just going to run back and report to Johnny. But, there was something in his eyes that made you think he genuinely cared, and you so desperately needed someone to care.

“Have you listened to his side of it?”

“No.”

“Do you want to?”

You didn’t answer. You wanted to say no, but something stopped you.

Price stopped walking, his boots scraping in the gravel of the path, his bright blue eyes icy and a little sad.

“Listen,” he frowned, “I’ve known Johnny a lot longer than you. I’ve seen him broken. I’ve seen him scared. I’ve seen him mad, and drunk, and happy, and beaten… but I’ve never seen him like this.”

You crossed your arms in his jacket, trying to find some warmth. Suddenly, you felt Price’s finger dig inside of the neckline of your shirt. You almost knocked his hand away, but he put up his other in a sign of peace. And when he found what he was looking for, he smiled.

He’d pulled out Johnny’s dog tag from beneath your shirt, and you knew you’d been caught. Price held the coin up to you like the sacrament, discovering your shame, bringing your sin out into the open. In that moment, you wanted to bend down on both knees and take it into your mouth, and you wanted him to make you whole again with it.

“This isn’t like him,” he said, the porch light made the silver gleam, and it blinded you for a moment, “He’s generous enough with his smiles and compliments, but he doesn’t give freely of himself. Not like this. Would’ve thought you’d known. He’s kept himself hidden all this time. But, not from you.”

You cried. You didn’t want to. You bit your lip and furrowed your brow. You swallowed your spit and tried to breathe through the tears, but they came anyway. He held you to his chest, and you knew his tee shirt would be wet from your weakness, but he kept a steady hand on your back, regardless.

He tucked the tag back into your shirt and it lay cold against that spot between your breasts; the same spot Johnny had kissed you when he’d taken your guilt from you the first night you’d been together, there, in his bed. You thought Price would make some sort of face, some judgment. But, he didn’t. He simply walked you back inside and held the door for you.

You went through it on your own accord, and Johnny’s eyes were the first thing to greet you. He raked them over you like a forest fire, burning you from roots to boughs, seeing Price’s jacket over your shoulders and lingering on it for a while until you handed it back to his captain.

“All covered!” Hamish chuckled, holding up his bandaged finger to you, “Sorry, babes.”

You smiled,

“No worries. I think I’m just tired from the ride in. Gonna lay down early.”

Pidge caught your attention,

“Don’t forget, you and Johnny have to make it before two. Pictures are at two.”

You nodded, retreating to what used to be a sanctuary. Now, it felt more like a cell.

Your goal was to get to sleep before he could join you. You knew it would be too suspicious for him to follow you into his room, so you had the advantage of time. How strange it was to avoid what you had been craving.

You climbed into the sheets, and you did your best to ignore all of the memories that kept rushing back. The smear of her purple lipstick across his soft earlobe haunted you like a ghost.

THURSDAY — Midnight: 1 day until the wedding

He came in as quietly as he could, but you woke up anyway. You tried your best to pretend to be asleep, keeping your breathing heavy and long. It was pitch black, and when he sat on the bed, you heard the familiar creak of the coils.

He pulled the covers back, he fluffed the pillow, he took off his watch, and then he just… laid there.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting he would do. Wake you up? Demand your attention? You’d shut him out completely. He knew his company was unwanted.

The dark voice laughed at you in your head. It knew the truth. It wanted him to fight for you. It wanted him to beg for your mercy. It wanted him to take you in his arms anyway, despite your protests. It wanted him to ignore your wishes. It wanted the animal in him to claim the animal in you, to remind you that you were his woman and that he could do with you as he wished.

But, he wasn’t an animal. He was a man, and he respected you enough to stay on his side of the line.

It was only when he thought you were well and truly asleep that you felt his finger graze the metal chain of his dog tags on the back of your neck, not heavily enough to wake you, but enough to feel that they were real. You wondered if Price had ratted you out or if Johnny had noticed himself. You thought it was the latter, knowing him.

You passed out eventually, listening to the sound of his quiet snoring, your pillow soaked from tears that had spilled out across the bridge of your nose. Tears he wouldn’t be able to touch.

THURSDAY — 2:00PM: 1 day until the wedding

Saint Patrick’s church was quaint, and the interior was minimalistic compared to other Catholic churches you’d visited before. There was something sort of liminal about the space, as if it were unfinished. You wondered what it would look like when it was full of people.

You were standing at the altar, fake bouquet in hand, pretending to be a blushing bride. The photographer was very much in charge of this ordeal, and he was as outspoken as he was confident.

“Okay, perfect. See? She’s perfect. Can you be perfect, too, Mr….?”

“It’s Lachlan. Lachlan Black,” he reminded him for the third time.

“Ugh, okay. Lachlan. If only you were a little more memorable, but my brain just — whoosh!” The photographer, Gary, made a little noise and a motion with his hand like a bird flying through a window.

“And you’re just too damn tall, you know that?” Gary sighed.

He looked around the room, appraising all of the bridal party like a dealer at an auction, looking for the solution amongst the chaff. Then, he waved Hamish up from the front pew, getting him to stand. Gary looked him up and down, and motioned for him to sit again. With a snap of his fingers, he said,

“Hey! You. Mohawk. What’s your name again? You know what — that’s enough names actually. Mohawk will be groom instead. Nice and tall, but not too tall. Yes, yes… okay, thank you, Lachlan… buh-bye.”

You were face to face with Johnny at the altar.

You felt the panic make your blood rush into your cheeks. It was hard to catch your breath.

Of all the times you’d imagine being at the altar with Johnny, this was certainly not it.

You stared at your fake, paper bouquet and prayed in your mind, loudly, for a sudden plague. Toads, rivers of blood — whatever you’ve got, Heaven! Throw it down here, please. You begged for a miracle or a smiting. Either would do.

The Lord did not oblige you.

“Okay… better! Yes, this is much better. Cute. Can you scooch in a bit, mohawk? She doesn’t bite, I don’t think.” Gary winked.

Mohawk scooched in. You dared to look up into his eyes, and when you did, you knew you made a mistake. You were trapped in him and he was trapped in you. You felt like you were frozen in place, unable to breathe or speak or scream, no matter how badly you wanted to.

You had a whole conversation with him in the span of those few seconds. You asked him why he’d been covered in someone else at the bar. You begged him to give you some evidence that you hadn’t seen what you saw. You told him about all the nights you’d lay awake, about all the times you’d thrown his tag into the corner of your room, only to crawl on your hands and knees to retrieve it, clutching it to you and feeling sorry that you’d done so.

He was telling you something as well, but you couldn’t hear him. He was screaming it, you knew that much, but it wasn’t loud enough.

Gary interrupted you,

“Okay, hold hands around the bouquet, pretty please…”

He grasped your hands, and it was so familiar, you almost melted into him. By some magical power, you held yourself together, but as the camera clicked and flashed, with every moment you lost a little more control.

“...annnnnnnd now the kiss? C’mon. We’re all adults here. This lighting is shit — forgive me, Father — and I can’t deal with the actual money shot being trash. Today, people!”

You hesitated. But, Johnny didn’t. He seemed to set himself, his mouth in a tight, resigned line, and then he held your face in his hands, just as gently as he always did. When he kissed you, he really kissed you. He didn’t fake it for the cameras, and he didn’t hide his passion from Pidge or any of the others. You couldn’t help but kiss him back, letting him guide you as he liked, his big jaw shaking a bit as he let go.

“Perfect! Okay, and now the happy couple is smiling at the crowd…”

Gary took a step back into the aisle, and Johnny held up your hand in the air in mock triumph, posing for a gleeful moment that didn’t exist. You looked right at Pidge, but she was laughing at something Hamish had said, fully oblivious to the war raging right in front of her face.

“Alright… well, I don’t know if I’d call that smiling, necessarily, but here we are. Okay. Mohawk, you’re done.”

The way Johnny dropped your hand made you feel like you were on fire, as if he could no longer stand to hold you, or like he had been burned. It was sharp, and you weren’t sure what you were expecting. Did you want him to linger? To profess his undying love in front of his sister and ruin her one special day? You didn’t. So you let his absence cut you like a blade, severing you like a limb from a tree.

THURSDAY — 7:00PM: 1 day until the wedding

The rehearsal dinner venue, the Auchentoshan Distillery, was gorgeous. Johnny had spared no expense on the stylings, and there was food everywhere you looked. The cakes were elegantly plated, the roast hung shining, its drippings making the shank glitter, and even the boiled potatoes made your mouth water.

Johnny had obviously arranged the table settings a few weeks ago, because you were sat right next to him and Price, across from Gaz and Ghost. Pidge was two seats down, and the rest of the girls were across from her and Hamish. Lachlan and the other groomsmen were on the opposite side. But, other than for the initial dinner, you hadn’t been made to sit by him much at all. He mingled around the room, talking to everyone except for you, making sure all of the cups were filled and all of the faces were smiling.

He was an impeccable host. His charisma was electric. And he looked upsettingly handsome. He wore a kilt tonight, one of his hunting tartans, with a sharp button down embellished with gleaming pearl buttons. His shoulders were bursting through the fabric, pulling it taut against his wide back. If you looked carefully enough, you could imagine where his tattoo peeked through.

Gaz cleared his throat, whispering low,

“Have you talked to him, then?”

Your eyes tore themselves away from Johnny to stare at Gaz. You checked over your shoulder to see if Pidge had heard him, and he glanced at her, too.

“No.”

Ghost spoke at full volume, not caring who heard him,

“Are you going to?”

Price dropped his fork so that it clattered on the plate, giving Ghost a chastising glare.

“She’ll talk to him when she’s ready to talk to him, and it’s none of our bloody business.”

You didn’t hear much else out of Gaz or Ghost, but as they chewed their food, you could tell that they didn’t believe Price for one damn second. It very much was their bloody business.

And maybe it was. Price had certainly made it his business on your walk last night, and it seemed like your relationship with Johnny was slowly becoming everyone’s business. You had tried your best to return to that same old invisibility you were used to, but it wasn’t enough now. You felt like you were on full display.

“Excuse me,” you got up and fled to the bathroom.

When you opened the door, you saw Bekah and Anjali inside, freshening up their makeup.

“Hey!” They said in high-pitched unison.

“Hey,” you replied, inching by them to get into the stall.

“Where’d you disappear to the other night, babe?” Anjali called out to you through the door.

“Just got too drunk. Took a cab,” you told her, hoping that would end the conversation.

“Fuck,” Bekah laughed, “That was me, too. Did Cherise tell you about that bloke at Max’s?”

“No,” you said, captivated like a prisoner.

“Arsehole thought he could put something in my drink. Soap saw him and beat him within an inch of his fuckin’ life! You should’ve seen the man. Needed a damn doctor, so he did,” Bekah confessed.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” you said, genuinely. Bekah was not your friend, but she didn’t deserve to be assaulted.

Anjali laughed,

“Soap had to carry her out! She was stumblin’ all over the road.”

“Wasnae my fault!” Bekah protested, “But, he was a gentleman. Drove me home. Him and Gaz.”

“Oh, that Gaz is fine, no?” Anjali interrupted.

“Aye. I thought Johnny might kiss me back, just this once, but he still didn’t. That lad is harder to wear down than the goddamn Pope, I swear. I’ve given up.”

“Didn’t you sleep together?” You asked, torturing yourself.

“God, no! He won’t have any of us. Pidge thinks he has, but I’ve never slept with him. Definitely would though,” Bekah gushed.

“Hasn’t Cherise?” Anjali asked.

“No! Cannae believe it. All this talk for being a big slut and he’s a choir boy,” you could hear Bekah’s voice get louder with her disbelief.

“Shame,” Anjali lamented.

“Aye, a shame,” Bekah agreed, “Was he a good kisser? He looked it. You were quite a pair up at the altar. Maybe he’d go for you, hen.”

You pulled open the stall door and joined them at the sink. Your hands were trembling.

“Babes,” Bekah noticed, “Are you alright? You havnae seemed well since the hen do. You’re working too hard for this wedding.”

“I’m alright. I think I just need some fresh air,” you smiled, pushing your way out of the door.

When you walked back into the main hall, everyone was standing. A waitress with a tray found you and handed you a glass of champagne. You moved to the side around the crowd to see what all the commotion was, and it was Johnny. He was standing next to Pidge with his glass raised high, clinking it delicately with the side of his fork.

“Alright, alright. Settle down,” he smiled at his sister, “I know Lachlan is the one supposed to be up here haverin’ about Hamish, but he was kind enough to give me his go because I needed to talk to my sister.”

His eyes found you and settled there, no longer scanning the crowd. You watched him take a breath before he continued,

“If you dinnae ken me, I am Johnny MacTavish, Sergeant of His Majesty’s Special Air Service —” he was interrupted by proud applause, “Uh, thank you. And I am the younger brother of our darling Brigette here. While I was away, Pidge has taken care of my life for me. She took care of our ma when she was ill, and she buried our da without me. She managed to keep the wee house from fallin’ into the river, and still she has time to volunteer at Saint Mary’s children’s ward on the odd weekend.”

More applause. He paused and went on,

“All that to say, my sister doesnae need anyone. But, love isnae about need. It’s about choosin’ to be with a person who makes you feel like you can be yourself, that you can confess to all the desires and the wants and the hopes and the fears that you have inside of you, and you know that they understand you. They see you for who you are, and they love you for it anyway.

Love isnae patient, and it certainly isnae bloody kind. It loves to boast! And it falls prey to envy. Love is in a rush, and it eats you alive from the inside out. Love isnae about needing. It’s want, pure and simple. To Hammie and Pidge, may you live a hundred years, and may you want each other endlessly in each of them. Slàinte mhath.”

“Slàinte mhath!”

You drank your champagne, numb and panicking.

Someone shoved a small microphone onto the strap of your dress, clicking it in place, and you stared down at it while everyone else stared at you, waiting.

You breathed into the mic, listening to your breath come through the speakers. You wanted to talk to him, to tell him you’d learned the truth. But, you were surrounded, literally, by all of his friends and family. There was no worse time for your truth-telling. So, you tried to lean on the speech you remember preparing, mashing it together with words that kept pouring from your heart.

“Hello,” you tried out a smile, “I’ve known Brigette for years, and she is the only real family I have. I’m not Scottish. I know the accent gives it away,” some polite laughter, “But, I’m wearing the MacTavish boar around my neck because Pidge welcomed me here with open arms and took me in as if I had been here the whole time. Like it was the most natural thing to do. She’s selfless in all the ways you should be, and she always promised that I would have a home with her. And I love her dearly for that.”

You spoke directly to Johnny, just as he did to you,

“I’ve been thinking about selflessness, and about making promises. I’ve been thinking about the type of man who does the right thing, even when it’s hard. I’ve been thinking about the type of man who breaks a promise when he needs to break one, and I’ve been thinking about the consequences of our actions. But, when you love someone, the consequence is just… more love. There’s really nothing else, is there? You could get a shovel and dig until you reach the bottom of the earth looking for them, but there are no real consequences when you’re in love. It trumps… everything.”

You paused for a long time. Johnny was captivated by your eyes, hanging on every word, and you’d been silent for too long. You said, directly to Pidge,

“So, I hope, when you’re wondering if you’ve done the right thing or not, and you’re digging around for the consequences of that, I hope you just keep pulling out more and more love. Just love all the way down. Forever. Cheers, to Hamish and Pidge.”

“Cheers!”

You finished your champagne and walked over to Pidge. Everyone was applauding and talking loudly again, laughing and sharing their own joys about the happy couple. You were overwhelmed, but you wanted to see her.

Pidge held out her arms and folded them around you, clutching you tightly to her chest, whispering I love yous and thank yous into your skin. You kissed her on the cheek, whispering to her,

“I’m gonna step outside for a moment, are you alright for now?”

“Yes! Go. Take Johnny with you. When he gets sappy, he starts to hover,” she swatted Johnny away as he leaned in to kiss her, fighting through her protests.

She gave in, melting into him and smiling as he planted a kiss to her cheek.

“I love you, Pidge,” he said to her, not letting her go.

“I love you, too, Johnny-boy. And I’m sorry for all the mean things I’ve said. You’ve changed. I dinnae ken what’s gotten into you, but all this…” She looked around at the reception hall, “All this has made me realize that you finally see me, you finally see what I’ve been going through, and I’ve been unfair. Thank you, brother.”

He kissed her forehead, trying to blink away tears as he did so, lingering with his lips on her skin before removing himself from her embrace.

“C’mon,” he nodded at you and took you by the hand, right in front of her, leading you out to the back courtyard.

The distillery was situated right next to its water source, north of the River Clyde, and the waters churned from a pump run by the whisky makers. The flow of the water was invigorating and challenging, but the calmness of the lake itself was still and quiet; a dichotomy. It was the same within you, a roiling, tumbling sea of glass, ready to shatter.

Johnny turned and looked at you like he knew what you would say. As he approached you, slowly, he held up his hands, trying to hide that they were shaking, offering peace, carrying no weapon, for once. You unfolded your arms, still clutching yourself around your waist, waiting for him to prove you wrong, for him to confirm the truth you’d overheard from Bekah.

“Are you willing to hear me now, thief?”

“I already heard,” you said, “From Bekah. And I saw your journal.”

He was speechless. All of the things he’d planned to say to you had dried up, and now he was left chewing on their remains. He put his hands on his hips and looked out at the water,

“I’m so goddamn in love with you, it hurts.”

He pinned you with his gaze, then. Watching you take in his confession. He continued,

“It hurts when I wake up, and it hurts when I go to bed. I dinnae ken how to stop it from hurtin’ like this. Feels like I’m burnin’ up, like I’m on fire inside of me. And when you left me, I…” he had trouble forming the words, “I wasnae… I couldnae ken how bad it would be. It was worse, somehow, and I was prayin’ to whatever god that would hear me for some sort of mercy. And I had none. Until I saw, or I thought I saw…”

He came closer to you, reaching around your neck and pulling out his tags just like Price had done. His eyes shone with unshed tears.

“You made me hope.”

He took your hand in his and held it tightly, as tightly as he dared, and looked you right in the face,

“I didnae sleep with Bekah, nor Cherise, nor Anjali.”

“I know.”

“I didnae want to, either.”

“I know.”

“I’m in love with you, mèirleach.”

“I’m in love with you, too.”

Johnny used his tags around your neck to pull you into him, kissing you harshly, not allowing you to let go. You kissed him back, pressing at him with your tongue, tasting the champagne in his mouth, feeling his shaven face bristle against your smooth cheek. He moaned into you, speaking to you in a low whisper,

“Please, mèirleach, forgive me.”

“Johnny, there’s nothing to forgive.”

He hugged you to him and you rested your head against his neck, finally able to relax into him after days of being on a knife’s edge.

But, you were distracted by the sound of a loud knocking against glass. You turned back toward the distillery and saw Ghost tapping on the huge floor to ceiling window and pointing to a microphone in his hand. You looked down and realized you never handed them back the mic from your speech. You were still wearing it, and the red light was on.

You showed it to Johnny, stunned by your own idiocy. He spun to see Ghost waving slightly, and the rest of the wedding party — hell, the whole distillery — standing behind him in shock

+=+=+=+=+=+=+

Chapter 10 (Ending)

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #john soap mactavish #soap call of duty #johnny mactavish #call of duty #cod #soap x you #soap x reader #soap smut #soap mw2 #soap mctavish #soap cod #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #cod soap #guile and guilt

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duckprintspress · 1 month

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Fandom 101: Getting Started on Fanlore.org

Not long ago, we at Duck Prints Press decided that we’d like the Press to have a page on Fanlore. To accomplish that, Press contributor Shea Sullivan made an account and figured out the nuts and bolts on how to add pages to Fanlore. Turns out, it’s not very hard, and now in this guest blog post, Shea will teach y’all how to do it too!

Making Your First Fanlore Page!

Hello! I am an editor on Fanlore as of a few days ago. Before that, I’d worked with mediawiki (the open source platform Fanlore uses) for unrelated projects, so I had a general understanding of how things worked, but no idea how Fanlore preferred their pages to be formatted or organized or linked.

This is how I got started!

First: What is Fanlore and Why Should You Care?

Fanlore is a wiki specifically dedicated to the fandom experience. It’s not for canon info about a specific fandom; rather, it’s for information about how fans interact with media and each other. Fanlore is run by the OTW, the same organization that brings us our beloved AO3. This context helped me in understanding the focus of Fanlore. It’s about fandom: the ups, the downs, the trends, the drama…all the things that can get lost forever when sites disappear or there’s a purge. And that said…well, you may still not care. But if you do, read on!

Second: You Care. Now What?

(read more)

Get an account. Right now. It’s worth getting the account, because you won’t be able to create new pages for a few hours. So, get the account first, figure out what to do with it later.

Go to fanlore.org and click on “Create Account” in the upper right-hand corner:

Third: You Have the Power (Soon)!

Read up! No need to invent the wheel in this post – they’ve got some great resources for getting started already written on their webpage.

Fanlore Getting Started Page

General Help Pages on Fanlore

Four hours after you create your account, you can create pages! Congrats! There are a ton of help pages out there, but the questions I had initially were:

How do I make sure this page doesn’t exist already?

Search. Search for the page. Search for key phrases associated with the page. A page name is a fiddly thing, so search for significant phrases in a few different ways before you determine it doesn’t exist. Always make sure you check before you set out to create page!

How do I add this page?

If it’s not there, you’ll see it come up in red when you search. Type the page name you want to create in the search bar. Click “Search” to get all the results, and then click on that red link.

How do I format this page?

You now have an empty page. When I was getting started, my big question was: what should my page look like? Well, Fanlore has templates that can help with that! The templates are in a markup language, but do not fear! Copy and paste the template (everything in the blue box on the template page, typically starting with curly braces), make some updates, and click “Preview.” You can repeat those steps indefinitely until you get the hang of the markup. There’s also a ton of information on the Fanlore.org cheatsheet. (If you’re still confused, keep reading, there’s more specifics under the infobox section.)

Once you have the page created and published, you can edit it without the markup language if you prefer – there’s “Edit,” which gives you a non-code-based option, and an “Edit Source” button, which gives you the code-based option.

If your proposed page topic doesn’t have an official template created for that topic, you can look up similar pages and see how they’re structured. If you’re not sure how they managed to make something look a certain way, click the “Edit Source” button and look at the code there to get a sense of what they did. Be sure to cancel out of the edit when you’re done so you don’t make unintentional changes to someone else’s page! Some pages are locked down (like the template pages) so you can’t make edits, but most “normal” pages will have those links at the top so you can dig in and see what’s there and how the people who wrote that page made it look the way it does.

How do I add an infobox?

Those infoboxes on the right of a lot of pages give a quick overview of important information. These are templates, and you can find a list of available infobox templates here.

The templates, when you click into them, have a heading and some info that you can fill in. You can’t remove items from the template without making a new template, which I don’t recommend trying when you’re getting started. Use the template, fill in the information, and mark “N/A” if you don’t have information to insert in a specific field. A sample template for an infobox looks like this, and you fill in information after each “equals” sign. You can add a list, and you can add links to these after the equals sign using the markup for internal and external links on the Cheatsheet.

{{FanProfile |name= |alias(es)= |type= |fandoms= |communities= |other= |url= }}

If you’re still confused, let’s go to Astolat’s fan page and click “Edit Source” and see how the infobox looks behind the scenes:

See how everything that was in the original template is still there, there’s just a list of information after the equals sign?

And here’s how it looks formatted:

How do I categorize this page?

Categories are important because they help Fanlore’s back-end coding group pages together so people can find the page you’ve created and so the page is in the right place in the site map. If you can’t figure it out, though, don’t worry, there are people who will find it and take care of it!

If you have an infobox from a template, this is taken care of.

If you didn’t use an infobox template, you can add a Category to index the page.

Finding a Category can be a little overwhelming. If you have an example page (another page that contains the same type of content as yours), you can scroll to the bottom of that page and see what Category has been assigned to it. You can add that Category to your page by editing the source and adding that category into your page at the bottom with 2 square brackets, like this: [[Category:YourCategory]]

Use “Preview” to make sure you set it up correctly before saving the page.

If you need to find a category and can’t find a good example page, I recommend going to the sitemap, finding what fits your article the best, and clicking into it. Categories are set up in hierarchies, so click through until you find the Category and Subcategory that fits best.

Add it at the very bottom of the page, and it should show up when you preview, at the very bottom of the page.

How do I add those nifty citation references[1]?

Review theFanlore page on citation formatting for details. The basics are:

Add a blank References heading at the bottom of the page.

Add tags and include the source information.

What is the difference between a citation and an external link? Good question! I don’t know for sure, but the way I’ve been using it, if I make a statement about a thing and I want to direct you to the “proof” (article, webpage, etc), I will use a citation. If there is a thing I’m linking to because it is relevant but not as proof of what I’m saying on the wiki, I will add it as an external link.

Fourth: Don’t Worry

You’ll find there are a lot of instances when you might not be sure what the “right” way is to do whatever it is you’re trying to do. Don’t let that stop you! Do a little research, do your best, and be okay with a learning curve.

The thing about wiki editing in general, and this includes Fanlore, is that it’s a community project, and everyone is doing their best. It’s worthwhile to think about trying to make your pages consistent with other pages where you can, because it will help people who are trying to find what you’re providing. So, poke around similar pages first and look for common trends in how they’re organized, and mimic that for your own page.

All that said, there is very little hierarchy in editors and few rules set in stone. It’s a community site put together by volunteers. You may find that you’ve labeled, referenced, cited, categorized, etc, a page incorrectly, or that you added a page that was already there under another name, or you may have put in a canon page when that’s really not what Fanlore is for. No problem! A page can be reverted to a previous version. It can be removed by a “Gardener” (higher-level editor), or edited by someone else who is more familiar with the inner wiki workings, or you can even tweak it yourself when you learn a better ways to code the page.

There is always a path forward, so get in there and get started!

Happy creating, happy fandom, and welcome!

GO VISIT FANLORE NOW!

#duck prints press #resources #tutorials #otw #ao3 #fanlore #fanlore.org #how to #fandom #fandom wiki

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rhoorl · 8 months

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Turbulence | Part One

Pairing: Frankie x reader

Word Count: 3.6k

AO3 Link

Summary: Your fear of flying is quelled when a handsome stranger sits next to you.

Warnings: Fear of flying, mention of a helicopter crash, and turbulence. Mention of CBD use, allusion to a bad past relationship. If there’s something else I need to add here let me know!

A/N: I took some liberties with some of the aviation stuff for the sake of the story. Aside from Delta Landscaping, this is my first time writing a solo Frankie piece, so I'm a little nervous!

"What time do you land?"

"Well, assuming I take off on time, we should land around 4:30. By the time I get off the plane and go to baggage claim and everything it will be like 5 at the earliest. But seriously, I don't mind waiting until you're done with work. Take your time."

"Ok, sweetie. I talked with Jeff and he said I could leave a few minutes early today…I have to say, I love having a millennial as a boss!"

I can't help but roll my eyes when Mom talks like this. Jeff treats her like a human being rather than a cog in the corporate wheel. Honestly, it makes me sad to think about the shit she had to deal with as a working mom when I was younger and the bosses who were less than flexible. I still remember the day I was throwing up at the nurse's office when I was in middle school and her boss wouldn't let her leave because she hadn't requested time off in advance.

"Well, that's nice of Jeff, but honestly I can wait. I'll probably need to hit up the airport bar to deal with the stress of the flight."

"I know you hate flying sweetheart, but luckily it's short. You’ll be here before you know it."

"Yeah, well…I made it to my gate so I'm going to sit here for a bit before we board. I love you."

"Love you too sweetie. Text me when you land!"

Moving to Atlanta was a big step in my career, but it also unfortunately meant I traveled more for work since I was so close to a major airport. I used to be fine with flying when I was little, but ever since that one flight when I was in college I've developed a lot of anxiety around it. I was flying back home when I experienced the worst turbulence of my life. I can still vividly remember coming out of my seat, the seatbelt was the only reason I didn't fly up to the ceiling unlike a few people a couple of rows in front of me. People were filming it, others were trying to frantically call their loved ones, convinced we weren’t going to land safely.

Needless to say, the event was traumatizing and it took me years to fly again. The only reason I do it is because of work - I prefer to drive whenever I can. Unfortunately, this trip was a bit of an exception since I was flying down for my cousin’s wedding. I had an 8 a.m. meeting on Monday, so it was too tight of a window to drive down, thus forcing me to fly.

Because I traveled so much, I started experimenting with various methods to calm my nerves. I recently started dabbling with CBD and it seemed to be working. I had a bit of a ritual when it came to flying. I would arrive at the airport early with plenty of time to check any bags and make it to my gate. I’d buy a SmartWater from one of the shops and grab a People magazine to page through. I’d then take some of my gummies so that they would take their intended effect while I was in the air.

I already had collected my water and magazine and started rifling through my bag to find my gummies. They weren’t in the normal place I packed them, so I started checking a few more pockets.

"Shit," I sighed.

I was in such a rush to get out of the door this morning, I must have left them on my kitchen counter. Knowing that I didn’t have them and I was without my safety net made the anxiety sweep over me like a wave. I suddenly felt helpless and was trying to not panic, despite the fact that I could feel my pulse quicken.

"Is everything okay?"

I look up and see a man looking at me, his big chocolate brown eyes fixed on me, his eyebrows furrowed with concern.

"Uh, yeah…actually no…I'm not the best flyer."

I feel so silly admitting that to anyone, I’m a grown-ass woman who has traveled enough to earn Silver Medallion status on Delta for fuck’s sake. I also feel silly admitting a flaw of mine to a guy like this. If someone asked me to describe my type it’s him. Although he was sitting, he seemed rather tall, with broad shoulders, the kindest eyes, an earnest smile, and the most beautiful curls poking out of his blue baseball cap. On top of his obvious good looks, he also seemed really sweet and intuitive, a combination I rarely encounter.

"Flying is actually safer than driving a car, you know."

"I've heard that, still doesn't help."

"You headed to Tampa?" He nodded over to the gate.

"Yeah, I am."

"Me too," he smiled. "I'm Frankie."

Okay, his smile was adorable too. And the way his eyes crinkled. I need to snap out of it, this guy is just being nice, but I still give him my name and shake his hand.

"Look, ah, I don't mean to be forward or anything, but if you want to sit together…I'm a pilot, so I'd be happy to uh, talk you through it. The turbulence that is."

His eyes flit from my eyes to my lips and back.

I can't tell if it's my imagination or I’m projecting, but I feel like he’s flirting with me…it’s been so long, I honestly forgot what it was like but fuck it, let’s see where this goes.

"Really? You fly planes?"

"Oh ah, well, I actually fly helicopters but I went to flight school and know the general gist of it."

"Oh wow, helicopters. I can't say I've ever been in one of those before. That seems scarier than a plane."

"Not when I'm the one flying," he winked as he rubbed his thumb along his lower lip, leaning forward, resting his forearm on his knee.

Yup, he's definitely flirting with me. This may be a better distraction than any gummy could provide me.

“So ah, what boarding group do you have?”

He pulled out a paper ticket, which was so endearing. “Hmm, looks like I’m in B, B10. Do you fly Southwest a lot? I hardly ever do and it seems stressful,” he laughed.

“No, I typically fly Delta for work. But when I go home I fly Southwest, the flight times are better. I’m in A…A34.”

“Oh fancy. You should save me a seat,” he smirked. “Try going for a row over the wings. You'll like it more, it's where you find the smoothest ride.”

I know he didn’t mean anything by that last phrase but my mind resides in the gutter most of the time, and with a hot guy flirting with me it’s even worse.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we will be boarding flight 3519 with service to Tampa out of gate C21 here shortly. At this time, I’d like to ask all guests in boarding group A to please line up in numerical order.”

“Well, looks like that’s my cue. I’ll hopefully see you in there?”

“Yeah sounds good,” he gave me a smile as I got up. He thought he was being coy, but I caught the way his eyes trailed down my body as I gathered my things.

Boarding was uneventful and as I stepped foot on the plane I did my customary glance into the cockpit to see the pilots. I don’t know what I think I’m accomplishing by doing this, but it gives me some peace of mind to see who has my life in their hands for the next hour or so. I remember what Frankie told me and I head for the middle of the plane, opting for the exit row. I found an empty row that had only two seats so I decided to take it and see what happens. I lay my backpack in the seat next to me hoping it would deter someone from taking it.

I watch more and more people board. The exit rows were popular, only a couple of seats remained open, the one next to me included. I was trying not to get my hopes up, but the thought of sitting next to a handsome stranger, who apparently knew his shit about planes and flying, seemed like a great way to spend the flight.

His hat was the first thing I saw as he turned the corner to board the plane. My eyes found him and he gave me a nod and a smile and I felt butterflies in my stomach. He was getting closer and closer to my row, not taking his eyes off of me.

“Excuse me, is someone sitting there sweetheart?”

I look up and see what I can only describe as a total sleazeball leering at me.

“Um, I-”

“Oh honey, there you are! Hey man, sorry I was hoping I could sit with my wife, she’s terrified of flying. I was a dumbass and didn’t check in on time so we weren’t able to get our boarding numbers close together. Hey baby,” Frankie nodded at me, giving the man a look that was equal parts friendly and threatening.

“Sure man, yeah.” The man seemed annoyed but kept on walking back.

“Thanks, man, I appreciate it,” Frankie bent down to give me a kiss on the cheek to keep the rouse up. I felt my face getting hot, my cheeks had to be turning all sorts of colors from embarrassment. “Sorry about that, I just didn’t think he’d be the best seatmate,” he whispered as he sat down and put his seatbelt on.

“Well I appreciate it, that guy gave me the creeps.”

“I’m sure your uh boyfriend probably wouldn’t be too keen on a random guy giving you a kiss on the cheek,” he smirked.

“Oh, I don’t have a boyfriend…or anyone. I…I’m single.”

Why the fuck am I being so awkward right now?

“Ah, I see. Sorry, when you were on the phone out there I heard you say I love you, so I just figured…”

“That was my mom,” I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yes, I’m in my mid-30’s and I call my mom before I get on a plane.”

“Nothing wrong with that. Hell, if my mom was still alive I’d probably do the same thing,” he smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

The rest of the plane boarded and the flight attendants checked the cabin. As the plane pushed back from the gate I double-checked to make sure my phone was in airplane mode.

“Hello from the flight deck, we’ve been cleared for departure. Once we get in the air, we’ll share more about the weather in Tampa. But in the meantime please sit back, relax, and enjoy your one hour and 25-minute flight down to Tampa.”

I checked the weather forecast this morning and it looked like the typical Florida afternoon storms were going to pop up. The thought of flying during a storm made my anxiety ratchet up, so I started to self-soothe by rubbing my palms up and down my thighs.

“Hey, you alright?” Frankie whispers over to me.

“Uh, yeah…I mean, no. No. I’m not fine. There’s weather down in Tampa, why didn’t he mention that, it’s probably going to mean a bumpy ride, why wouldn’t he warn us about it beforehand-”

“Hey, hey,” Frankie grabbed my hand. “Shh, it’s ok. He’s probably waiting to get the latest from air traffic control and other planes en route. It’ll be fine, I promise. Just breathe. Does taking off make you nervous?”

I was finding it hard to talk, so I just nodded.

“Ok, I get it, take off can be scary. Just keep holding my hand. Squeeze it as hard as you need to, I promise it won’t hurt. Just keep breathing. Do you have any water?”

“Y-yea, in my bag.”

“I’ll grab it for you. I see it, I’m gonna let go of your hand real quick to grab it, okay?” I nod. “Ok, here you go,” he unscrews the bottle and hands it to me, returning his hold on my hand, rubbing his thumb back and forth along the back of my hand.

I take a long drink and do some deep breathing. I have to admit that it’s pretty comforting to not be alone and have someone next to me, holding my hand. My ex used to always make fun of my fear of flying, saying I had to grow up. By this point in the flight he would have either had his AirPods in or he’d be faking that he was asleep.

The plane comes to a stop at the end of the runway and then starts its acceleration. For some reason, I always tried to visualize a gymnast running down toward the vault to try and track the plane’s journey down the runway. I close my eyes and focus on my breathing, I feel Frankie’s hand tighten around mine.

“You’re doing great, we’re almost in the sky. Hard part is almost over.”

Just like that, I feel the plane lift off the ground, my stomach dropping a bit at the change. Frankie’s firm grasp doesn’t falter, in fact, I feel him bring his other hand to my knee, rubbing circles as I keep my eyes clenched shut as the plane continues its ascent. He continued to talk to me, explaining the different gears and engines, and telling me what certain sounds meant.

It’s hard to keep track of how much time passes, but eventually, I hear a ding and open my eyes to see the fasten seatbelt sign turned off. The flight attendant comes on and tells everyone that we reached our cruising altitude and that we can use any large approved electronic devices.

“I’m sorry, I feel like I probably am cutting off the circulation in your hand,” I laugh as Frankie brings his other hand back to rest in his lap.

“Oh it’s really fine, I don’t mind.”

I reluctantly let go of my grip and he retracts his hand, taking his hat off to run his fingers through his hair before returning the cap to the top of his head. In the brief moment he was sans hat I clocked the luscious curls he was hiding and thought about how it would feel like to run my fingers through his hair.

“Thank you, by the way. You’ve been so sweet this whole time. Don’t feel like you have to babysit me.”

“It’s ok. I’m good with talking if you want to, but I won’t be offended if you want to throw on music or a movie or something.”

Now he was the one who appeared nervous, which was pretty cute.

I turn my body so I’m facing him, “it’s such a short flight, I’d hate to start a movie and not finish it. We can talk, I think that would be nice.”

“Yea?” His face lit up.

We spent the next almost hour talking about all sorts of things. He told me that he used to be in the military, and he has three friends who he served with that he still keeps in contact with. It sounded like Santiago was his best friend in the group, but he spoke fondly of the other two men as well, I think they are brothers.

I told him about my family in Tampa and how I grew up there. He’s lived there for a few years now, he fills me in on some of the new restaurants that have popped up that he likes. I learned that he was actually on a connecting flight, he started his day flying from Dallas to Atlanta. He was in Texas visiting family – he has an older sister who has two children. It was so cute hearing him talk about his niece and nephew. He even showed me a few photos on his phone from his trip.

It also helped that the flight was smooth, there was hardly a bump. I couldn’t believe what an amazing trip this had been from the unlikely encounter with Frankie who turned out to be a super nice and very single man.

I check my watch and see there is about half an hour left.

“Ladies and gentlemen, from the flight deck, we’re going to ask our flight attendants to clean the cabin and prepare it for landing a bit sooner so they can take their seats. We’re expecting a few bumps as we make our descent into the Tampa Bay area. Right now, winds are out of the north at 18 miles per hour, with gusts up to 30 miles an hour. There are some showers in the area, but it looks like a lot of the severe weather is south of us at the moment. We’ll have you on the ground in about half an hour. Flight attendants, please prepare the cabin for arrival.”

As soon as I heard the captain say that the flight attendants were going to need to take their seats sooner than normal, I didn’t hear the rest of his message. I immediately started to panic, flashing back to the turbulence I experienced all of those years ago.

“Hey, it’s going to be ok. I know it may feel like the captain is losing control of the plane, but I promise you turbulence doesn’t cause crashes…I should know.”

“W-what do you mean, you should know?”

Frankie’s hand immediately comes back to mine. “I…uh, I’ve crashed before.”

“I thought you said it wasn’t scary if you were the one flying.”

The bumps were starting to pick up, and I instinctively squeezed my eyes shut, hoping time would speed up so I could get safely on the ground.

“Ah, well…there were some…extenuating circumstances, it wasn’t entirely my fault. Well, actually it was my fault as the pilot I should have known better but …it doesn’t matter. I’m here, right?”

“I know you’re trying to be comforting, but talking about a helicopter crash while we’re experiencing severe turbulence is kind of the opposite of what I need right now.”

“Right, sorry. And uh…not to minimize it, but we’re actually experiencing light turbulence right now.”

I opened my eyes slightly to glare at him, but I couldn’t be mad at him, he was trying to help calm me down and he was giving me these sweet puppy dog eyes.

“Sorry, I…uh…the pilot mentioned the winds. As we descend the wind is one of the reasons we feel the bumps. He’s actually been flying pretty well so far, so I know it will be fine, okay?” He squeezed my hand.

“Mhmm, yeah, sure whatever you say, captain.”

“Just keep breathing, you’re doing great. Only,” he checked his watch, “only about 20 more minutes and we’ll be on the ground.”

“Fuck. Twenty minutes?”

“I’m going to try and distract you, ok? Tell me about this wedding, what are you wearing?”

I opened my eyes enough to give him a narrow sarcastic glare. “You’re really taking advantage of me at my most vulnerable to ask what I’m going to be wearing?”

“I…uh…sorry, I-”

“I’m kidding Frankie,” how I managed to crack a joke amid the continued bumps is a testament to how safe I felt with this man. “I’m not in the bridal party or anything, so I got to pick my own dress. They’re getting married at the aquarium so I picked a blue dress. The color reminds me of the ocean.”

“Well, I’m sure that’s beautiful. What else.”

I continued giving him all of the minute details of the wedding including the drama between my aunts and why it was such a pain in the ass for my cousin to do the seating chart for the reception. I didn’t even realize we were slowly making our descent to the ground. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught trees and buildings coming into view.

“Holy shit, we’re almost there.”

“We are, you’re doing amazing. Just a little longer.”

I laid my head back against the headrest and took some more deep breaths, my hand still enveloped in Frankie’s.

The wheels touch down and I let out an exhale and turn to Frankie.

“I honestly can’t thank you enough for this. I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t here.”

“Well, I’m glad I was here then.” As he smiled at me and I felt a wave of sadness come over me, knowing that our time together was coming to an end.

“So, ah, is Santiago coming to pick you up?”

“That was the plan, but who knows with him, I actually should check my phone to see.” He pulls out his phone from his pocket, takes it off airplane mode, and waits for any messages or missed calls to flood in.

I take that cue to check my phone as well. I shoot off a text to Mom letting her know I landed safely.

Frankie shakes his head as he reads through messages on his phone.

“Everything ok?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, he’s going to be a little late but it’s all good.”

“Well, my ride is going to be a little late too. Wanna grab a drink? I owe you for putting up with me this whole time.”

He smiles at me and takes my hand again, “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, but it was honestly not a bother at all. You helped me get through the flight too. And, yeah, I’ll take you up on that drink.”

A/N: The idea for this popped up because I took a few plane rides this summer, with some turbulence on a couple of them. Hopefully, I did Frankie proud on this one...what do you think happens next?

#frankie x reader #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales fanfiction #francisco catfish morales #pedro pascal fanfic

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lincolndjarin · 10 months

Text

Best Kept Secret

chapter eleven : he loves me not (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 4.6k

summary : something has changed in your relationship with the mandalorian

warnings, etc. : language, angst

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

Something is wrong.

All day it’s been wrong.

He’s different. Distant.

You can’t help but wonder if you went too far last night, he had seemed skeptical at best when you had presented him with the idea, and then the sex.

Sex had always been special with him, no man has ever given you the rush of fire in your veins like Mando. But last night was… somehow even more intense than ever before. Like he had wanted to burn himself into you, permanently.

A small part of you wonders if he did.

But it doesn’t matter because you can’t ask him about it. He won’t even look at you. His helmet faces you but you’ve learned how to tell if he’s really looking at you. There’s a certain chill that runs down your spine, it isn’t there now and you know deep down that he’s looking right past you.

The real giveaway that something is amiss is his voice. There is none of that familiar fondness that you had grown accustomed to. His greeting is short and he makes no attempt to speak to you in the library, so you read. Maybe he just needs space.

At least that’s what you tell yourself as you close your book, not even realizing you’d finished it until you peer out the window, the sun is setting and you realize you’ve spent the entire day in silence. He didn’t read today, he just sat across from the nook like he used to do.

“Is everything okay?” Your voice almost sounds hoarse from not using it all day.

He doesn’t even offer up a verbal response. Just a nod.

Okay so you fucked up. The birthday thing might have been too far, too… personal. That’s fine, you can fix this.

Except you can’t, because when he walks you back to your chambers you lean against the doorway and give him a small smile.

“Hey, you know you seemed pretty stressed today. Maybe I could help with that?” You brought your hand up to his arm in what you had intended to be a comforting gesture but he flinched away like you had burned him. You immediately drop your hand.

You can’t pretend that doesn’t sting.

“Did I do something wrong?” You wish your voice didn’t sound so wounded as you say it.

“No, not at all. You should get some sleep.” His arm gestures inside and that’s when you know he’s lying. Because the helmet isn’t even facing you now. He isn’t even trying. But you don’t argue. Maybe he just needs space.

Tomorrow will be different.

It isn’t of course. He’s the same. If not worse.

Today you only get one word out of him.

“Good morning Mando.”

Nod.

“Library?”

Nod.

“You might like this book, the main character reminds me of you.”

That doesn’t even get any sort of reaction.

“Are you mad at me?”

“No.”

That’s it?

“Okay.”

Nothing.

“I think I want to turn in early…”

Nod.

“Good night Mando.”

Nothing.

And now you can’t sleep.

Because you feel like you’ve done something wrong. Which is stupid, you shouldn’t feel that way, especially regarding your relationship with him. There is no relationship, besides friends. Friends who take care of each other in several ways.

Are you even that anymore? How are you supposed to keep track of the persistently changing status of your friendship with the Mandalorian when he can’t seem to stop being indecisive.

Bodyguard, rival, friend, protector, confidant, lover.

Lover? Is that the right word for what he is? It feels right but at the same time like it shouldn’t be spoken aloud. Something about the intimacy of the word makes it difficult to connect to him. Like you’ve put up barriers to specifically separate him from the word.

Why can’t he just pick one and stick with it? Preferably he would choose to be your friend.

That’s what this is isn’t it?

That’s what you want?

You’ve deliberately been forcing that label on to him, so it has to be true. He is your friend.

Then why do you feel hollow now that he’s suddenly shut you out? Not sad, not angry, just… hollow. Like something is missing. There aren’t a lot of words that can describe the empty ache in your chest.

Today he wasn’t your friend. He wasn’t even your rival, he went a step further than that, separated himself from even that shred of connection you two had built your entire bond on.

Today he was just your bodyguard.

Weeks of slowly built up companionship gone in an instant because what? You threw him a birthday party? Surely that can’t be it. Yet seemingly that is the case. What was it he had said to you that night?

You shuffle through your blankets before finding the book. You were practically using The Smitten Paladin as a diary at this point. You had bookmarked the page with the necklace, scrawled it above a random chapter title in hopes of remembering it.

ner kar’taylir darasuum

It had been branded in your mind the moment he said it. The moment he had dismissed himself you had written it down, something about the way he had said it had made it stand out to you. Most of the time when he spoke to you in Mando’a it always seemed like he couldn’t help himself. Like the words were forcing their way out of him.

But not this.

This was the first time you truly believed he had intended to say those words. They didn’t fumble out clumsily like he couldn’t form sentences in Galactic Basic fast enough. No, he had said this with a reverence that settled deep in your bones, like you were a priestess and he was confessing his sins.

Maybe that’s why he was being so cold. You had previously gotten into an argument when he had called you sarad’ika for the first time, maybe this is like that. That still doesn’t make sense though because the only reason why he got so mad was because you had asked what it meant. You assumed you were past this sort of thing though.

Maybe you had done nothing wrong. Maybe he was just angry for the sake of being angry.

You’ll ask him tomorrow, you’ll put your foot down and make him talk this out.

✩

You don’t even get a chance to chastise him for his frigid demeanor.

You’re already in a bad mood when Elain and Lysa come to dress you in the morning, and your mood only gets worse when they bring an electric blue dress out of the closet and you realize what day it is.

By the time you’re leaving your room you’ve practically got steam coming out of your ears, when you give the Mandalorian a dismissive “good morning” he returns your greeting with an unmistakable sorrow that gives you whiplash. The last two days he had been cold and dismissive at best but this was new.

He sounds miserable.

Your anger dissipates almost instantly when you notice the distinct tilt of his helmet towards the floor. What if you’d been wrong? What if you’d done nothing to upset him and instead he had just been having a rough couple of days. Shame washes over you at the thought and you shoot him a sympathetic look, your immediate reaction is to comfort him.

“We don’t have to go to the library, you know. If you want we can do something else.” You don’t make a move to touch him, even though you want to, you say it almost like you’re trying to comfort a wounded animal, like you don’t want to scare him off.

“I don’t mind the library.” It’s never been easy to read him, not being able to see his face has always put you at a disadvantage with this sort of thing but right now it’s like there isn’t a barrier of steel between you at all. It’s like you can view him clearly, and what you see makes your stomach churn because he’s got the same tone of voice that your parents had the day they told you you were being sent away. Someone who's avoiding delivering bad news.

“Okay.” You lose all the motivation you had to talk to him, consumed by the uneasy feeling in your gut as you make your familiar trek to the library. You sit in the nook, instead of finding a book you lean against the glass of the window. A subtle sadness settles in you as you watch the grounds, occasionally a servant will walk by, or a critter might scamper out past the edge of the forest for a moment before retreating back to the treeline. You stay like that for hours upon hours, you don’t realize how long you’re staring until you feel yourself almost dozing off as the sun sets, you wake up with a start and decide to busy yourself with a task. Abruptly standing up you start wandering through the shelves.

The library is vast. It’s easy to forget how big it is since you usually stay in the same spot. It’s a maze of shelves once you get into it. It’s actually surprising to you how little you’ve actually explored considering how much time you spend in here but your nook is only a few shelves back from the entrance and most of the fiction novels that interest you are kept near the front so now that you’re actually exploring further you’re taken aback by the sheer expanse of dark polished wood and literature.

It probably wouldn’t be noticeable if you weren’t already on edge but he’s standing further back than usual. It’s just a few steps but it pushes him out of your peripheral vision.

All those days you had spent wishing he would just give you some space only for it to finally happen and you can’t even enjoy it. A small part of you misses your steel shadow.

But that’s not important now. Right now you need to stay focused on the task at hand. Your strides get smaller and smaller as you get into linguistic books.

Perfect.

Your fingers trace the spines as you turn your head to the side to better read the titles. Someone must dust at night because your finger is spotless when you pull it back.

One of the few perks of Princess Harand, this library is, for all intents and purposes, completely yours. Kodo certainly doesn’t read, you’ve already discerned that he finds it to be a waste of time, his family seems to share that opinion since you’ve never seen another living soul in here besides you and Mando. That’s why you can’t hold back the look of disbelief when you get to the “M’s” and there is a single empty place where a book should be.

You don’t have to speculate, you know who took it. You turn to stare at the culprit.

“Did you take the Mando’a translation book.” It isn’t a question, it’s a statement, as you cross your arms.

He doesn’t speak for a moment, just staring blankly at the absence of a book.

“Yes.” It’s strained, he sounds worn out.

“When?” You want to take a step towards him but resist, opting to lean against the stacks instead.

“A while ago.” He’s lying. It’s nearly imperceptible but the helmet shifts ever so slightly to the left when he says it, like he’s looking away.

“What day? Was it the night of your birthday?” You shouldn’t be interrogating him, it feels wrong when he sounds so weary but you need to know.

“It wasn’t my birthday.”

“How do you know? You said you didn’t keep track, it very well could have been.” It’s a weak excuse but it’s better than nothing, he doesn’t respond for a beat so you keep going. “Was it? After we had sex did you come here and take this book?” The helmet turns further to the left. “Did you?”

“Stop it.” He’s clenching and unclenching his fist methodically.

“Answer me and I will.”

“I took it before then.” There’s that familiar electricity in his voice. His fist stays closed this time and you can’t help but feel a fleeting sense of relief that he’s showing the faintest bit of emotion.

“We agreed we wouldn’t lie to each other.”

“When?” The helmet finally turns towards you. It’s funny, missing the feeling of cold steel being turned in your direction.

“When we played the game. We said no lying, so tell me the truth.”

“You want to hold that over my head? Some stupid game?”

The game isn’t stupid to you.

It’s one of the few things you’ve found enjoyment in these last few weeks.

But you aren’t here to defend the game, you’re here to get answers.

“You aren’t denying it.”

It only takes two of his long strides for him to tower over you.

“It doesn’t matter when I took the book.”

“It matters to me.” You take one small step forward to press your chest against his, scowling into the thin black line on his helmet. He scoffs.

“A lot of things seem to matter to you that shouldn’t.” He turns on his heel and you find yourself missing the heat of his body, but not for long as his words sink in.

“What the hell does that mean?” You can feel your voice going up at the end of the sentence as your fury starts to boil over but he’s already walking away.

“You’re going to be late for dinner. Come on.” He doesn’t bother turning to see if you're following as you stay hot on his heels.

“Wait a second, we aren’t done with this conversation.” You have to hike up your skirt to keep up with his pace now as he weaves through the shelves, you’re grateful that he remembers the way out though, you can easily see yourself getting lost here.

“We are.”

“Says who?”

“Me.” You walk briskly in furious silence until reaching the large wooden doors. You don’t have any time to argue further because he’s opening them and continuing his beeline towards the dining hall. You can’t help yourself as you grab his arm and pull him to face you. He does but you know it’s of his own volition and if he wanted to he could just keep going so you need to make these next seconds count before he changes his mind.

“What is going on with you? Everything was fine and out of nowhere you got all… weird. It’s like you’re a ghost these last few days, just walking through walls and observing me.” You whisper yell at him, no one is in the corridor but it’s best not to risk it.

“Nothing is wrong with me. Now go, you’re going to be late.” He motions at the ornate doors but you stand your ground.

“Promise me we’ll talk about this tonight.” He doesn’t move, just stares at you as you glare right on back, unwilling to break first until after an eternity he sighs.

“Fine.” The static is low and impatient.

“Say it.”

“What?”

“Say that you promise. I’m pretty sure your creed has something in it that means you can’t break it.” You have no idea if that’s true but you need to hear him say it.

“I promise that we will talk tonight.” He sounds almost defeated but you’re satisfied as you enter the dining room.

The first red flag is that your husband doesn’t immediately greet you. He loves the sound of his own voice, so why is he silent? Kodo raises his glass at you with that unsettling smile plastered on his face as he motions for you to sit. You cautiously take your seat and find comfort in the fact that he doesn’t dismiss Mando this time as he takes his familiar stance behind your chair.

The second red flag is the realization that he’s drinking water. He hadn’t even been sober during your wedding ceremony yet here he was, as steady as you’ve ever seen.

The third red flag is that the first thing he says is a question directed at you as a servant brings you a plate of what appears to be some sort of fowl.

“Did you have a good day my dear wife?” There’s a sickly sweetness to his voice and you can feel the fainest perspiration forming on your skin.

He doesn’t know.

“It was perfectly fine. Just another boring day in the library.” You stare at your plate, picking at a tomato slice with your fork, you suddenly have no appetite despite not eating today.

He simply hums in approval and eats in an eerie silence. It’s the first time in your marriage where you actually wish he would just say something. The only noises in the room as you eat are the scrapes of his knife against his dish and the occasional vulgar chewing noise from him. He always chewed with his mouth open.

Dinner comes and goes.

Plates are taken and you sit staring at him expectantly as he loudly sips at the water in his glass. You’re about to stand and dismiss yourself from this hellishly awkward supper but he clears his throat and you're frozen in place.

“I’ve heard some rumors going around, my sweet wife.” He sets the glass down and stares at you, a glint of something viscous in his eyes.

He doesn’t know.

“Oh? Something about your brothers? Or you cousins?”

“There are rumors that I am cruel to you. Am I cruel to you, wife?”

“No, you are a wonderful husband.” It’s not your most convincing lie.

He couldn’t possibly know.

“Then why am I also hearing rumors that you were seen in the markets with another man.”

For the first time ever, it’s freezing cold in this castle.

“I-I went with Mando, he’s my guard of course he was with me.”

“Arm in arm. I believe this is how it was described.” He finally motions for a servant to bring over a bottle of a sickly brown rum, the thick liquid filling his now empty glass. “He’s the help my dear, sweet wife.” He points at Mando, standing silent as ever behind you, it makes you sick that he talks about him like he isn’t even there. “He is to walk behind you, not next to you. It says things to observers when you allow him to walk beside you.”

“I didn’t mean for it to say things he was just doing his j-”

“People love to talk. And you wouldn’t want people to say that I cannot control what is mine, do you? Of course that can’t be the case because if it was that would mean that I have been humiliated. ” He says the word with a venom you have never heard from a living thing before yet you are certain you will hear it again in your nightmares.

“That was never my intention I only meant to-”

“Do you know, sweet wife, what the most dangerous thing in the galaxy is?”

“...No.”

“A humiliated man.”

You don’t have a response as he takes what you assume to be his first sip of alcohol tonight. You’re waiting for him to drop the bomb. To reveal that he knows but he doesn’t and you find yourself releasing a breath that you didn’t realize you’d been holding in.

He doesn’t know.

He doesn’t even suspect.

He’s just threatened. This is an easy fix. Apologize and just be more careful with Mando.

“I’m sorry my prince.” You put on the most convincing frown you can. “I didn’t realize but I’ll be more careful from now on. The last thing I’d want to do is upset you.” As you wait for his response he downs his entire glass before letting out a satisfied sigh.

“Of course you will. You’re dismissed.” He waves you off and you immediately stand before rushing out of the room, you’d almost forgotten Mando was with you until you catch a glimpse of him as you make your way out. The last thing you hear is Kodo muttering to a servant to find his brothers so they can go out.

The relief you feel once you're out in the hallway is immense. You don’t get to enjoy the small victory for long because Mando is already marching off towards your room. You don’t say anything until you’re in the safety of your room, he walks in first and once you close the door behind the two of you, you turn to face him, ready to crack a joke about how that was a close call, maybe relieve some of the tension that’s been building between the two of you but he speaks first.

“I don’t want to do this anymore.” You find no comfort in the familiar crackle of the modulator as he stares just off to the side of where you’re standing.

“What? It sounds like you’re outraged but you genuinely don’t know what he means.

“I don’t want to do this anymore.” He says each word slower. Enunciating every syllable.

You manage to keep the look of betrayal off your face as you feel something crack deep inside of you.

“Like… be my bodyguard?” You sound like a child. Your voice is small and fragile.

“No. I’ll still be your bodyguard. I just don’t want to… you know.” He gestures slightly with his hands and something about the way he says it ignites that flame inside you.

“Why won’t you say it? Are you ashamed of what we did?” There’s an edge to your tone. A bite. “Because you seemed to be enjoying it quite a bit.”

“You know what I’m talking about. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” He’s already leaning towards the door and you can feel a sense of panic filling your stomach. You can’t just let him leave.

He doesn’t get to do this. Insert himself into your life, make you care about him, fuck you, and then just leave.

“What is your problem?” You snap at him, you mean for it to sound forceful but it comes out more like a plea.

“I just don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Yeah, you keep saying that. What happened? We were fine, I would even argue that we were happy and now suddenly-”

“There is no we. ”

Ouch.

He’s right of course.

“Is this because of the birthday? I told you if you didn’t want to do that we didn’t have to.” You’re starting to sound desperate as you stare at him with wide eyes, wanting an explanation more than anything else.

“No. You didn’t do anything. I just… I don't want to anymore.” He crosses his arms. He sounds tired. Like he hasn’t been sleeping. You sound the same way. He takes a step towards the door but you immediately take a step in front of him.

“Bull shit. You- you said things, you called me those things. Don’t act like you suddenly changed your mind.” It isn’t fair. You know that you sound like a child throwing a tantrum but he can’t just do this to you.

“Stop it.”

“No! You don’t get to do this! To say the things you said and then without warning just decide we aren’t even going to talk to each other anymore.” You shove his chestplate but he doesn’t so much as flinch. “I deserve to know what I did. What made you change your mind?” Tears are pooling in your lash line and you want to scream at yourself for letting him see how worked up you were getting.

You shouldn’t care this much. You’re the one who wanted this to be casual, you know that. This shouldn’t matter. You’re supposed to be just friends. Yet you can’t just let him leave.

“Stop.” You can’t prove it but you’re pretty sure his voice cracks, the modulator seems to catch it.

“Just tell me! You said we were friends, be my friend right now, tell me what’s going on, for Makers sake, just tell me!”

“I don’t want you anymore.” His tone is harsh as the visor burns in your direction.

Oh.

Any response you might have dies on your tongue.

That cracking feeling is back. It threatens to tear you apart.

Just friends.

You knew you were lying to yourself when you said it.

You can’t hide from it anymore.

The pain you feel in your chest can’t be ignored, you can’t keep denying it.

He was never just your friend.

But that doesn’t matter now. Because he doesn’t want you.

You could hear a pin drop in your room. You’re about to say something, you don’t know what but the words are starting to take shape when he speaks again.

“I was… bored. You were entertainment.” There’s no tremor in his voice now. But he won’t look at you anymore. “I just needed something to distract me from how boring the job was and you seemed like the easiest thing.”

That pulls you from your shock.

“ Easiest? ” You practically snarl the word and he starts stuttering as he tries to backtrack.

“You know that isn’t what I meant. You were just, I don’t know, available? You were here. And I was bored. But now I’m not.” He sounds like he’s trying to rationalize the insult to soften the blow but it only serves to drive the knife deeper.

“You’re lying.” You whisper the words at him, the tears are moments from spilling down your face at this point. He lets out an exhausted sigh.

“I don’t want you.” He says it with a finality. “I’ll still be here to protect you, I’m not going anywhere.” Somehow that’s worse than him just leaving entirely.

“You’re a liar. Why would you stay if you don’t want me?” Your voice is starting to pitch up. It’s pathetic, you wish you could hide behind layers of steel like he does. Impenetrable walls to keep those who mean you harm at bay.

“The money.”

That’s really all it takes to convince you. You feel like an idiot. Of course he’d do anything to keep you happy, this was probably the best paying job he’d ever had. He had entertained himself with you and you had let yourself get caught up in a fantasy that it might be more than that. It’s the final nail in the coffin. You blink and the tears finally fall. His voice is cold and unsympathetic when he speaks again.

“I thought you understood what this was.”

“I did. We’re just friends.”

Now you’re the liar.

Even if you don’t let yourself think it, you’ve always known that was a lie.

“We aren’t. This is my job . We were never friends, I was just trying to keep you satisfied but clearly I went too far. You aren’t my friend. You aren’t my anything.”

Ouch.

“I think you should leave.” You wipe your face with the back of your hand as you walk towards the closet, not bothering to watch him leave. As you turn the door handle you hear the faint crackle of the modulator, like he’s going to say something but you close the door behind you before he gets the chance.

You don’t bother taking your dress off as you collapse in a heap onto the blankets and pillows.

You shouldn’t let yourself hope that he’ll come to you. Apologize, or even just keep you company. Of course he doesn’t. So instead you bury your head into a pillow and cry until there aren’t any tears left. Then you stare at the ceiling in the darkness. Trapped alone with your own thoughts.

Bodyguard, rival, friend, protector, confidant, lover, nothing.

You aren’t his friend.

You aren’t his sarad’ika.

You aren’t his anything.

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

#lincolndjarin #the mandalorian #best kept secret #bks #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #din dijarin x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #RE UPLOAD

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new-revenant · 1 year

Text

A so Called Tamaranean | Part Two

So, people seem to really like this little story I made, so I guess I’ll continue it! Part 1 if you haven’t read it yet or forgot something from it :) Also I am going to put both parts onto Ao3 in like, a day or two.

Edit : Ao3 Link! Also unsure if I’ll continue this because I don’t want to stress out over it. This was partly inspired by the “Grudge Match” ep from the JLU cartoon(go watch it it’s so good). Don’t ask what continuity this whole fic is set in, because I am making it up as I go. Warning for mentions of blood, I think there’s slight dehumanization, and mild elements of horror. There’s a fight scene. You know, regular superhero stuff.

Tag list since people wanted to be tagged(there are many of you ๑╹ω╹๑):

@spectralstardustandphantomnights - @skulld3mort-1fan - @ballzfrog - @toomanyfandoms11 - @blueflipflops - @everest-nightshade - @terzatheunderscorerima - @thegatorsgoose - @mnemovoid - @ace-aro-as-shit - @pikakaistudios - @phoenixcatch7 - @alice-hazelwood - @idfk-man20 (I can’t tag this person for some reason???) - @keimiwolf - @cankoking - @dxrksong - @learning-to-fly-on-my-own - @chaoticmistake - @ectoplasm024 - @akikkobara - @nerdypaintbrush - @worthlesswall - @stargirl1331 - @treepainting - @that-awkward-fae-nerd - @kawaiikenna - @raspberry-muffin

♥︎♡♥︎

“Alright kid, this is one of my safe houses,” Nightwing said, “We’re going to stay here for a while until I figure out what to do,” they muttered the last part. They both were in a small apartment in an abandoned building. It was stocked with some med kits and rations, with a mattress tucked into a corner. There was a single window that they used to get inside, facing another building.

“Small house,” Danny commented, trying to hide his smirk.

“Yeah it’s supposed to be small-now I need to call Starfire for the first time in a few months,” Nightwing groaned, “Man I’ve been busy.”

Danny sat on the mattress while Nightwing out a phone to call this “Starfire” person. Danny was sweating bullets, because surely she would notice that Danny is definitely not a Tamaranean. Maybe he should just come out and say what he really is…Nah.

He hasn’t even told his own parents that he’s actually…whatever he is, so he certainly isn’t going to be telling this stranger who he is. Maybe once he can find out how to get back home he’ll tell them. He’ll just have to keep his secret to himself, which shouldn’t be toohard. And Danny’s stuck in his ghost form now, for some reason. But that means that it’ll be easier to pretend to a Tamaranean! And he could just say he wasn’t raised wherever Tamaraneans were from, and was experimented on by the people who raised him. Not too bad of an idea from a C-student.

Danny was humming happily as he came up with his plan. He had to ignore what Nightwing was saying because he was pretty sure Tamaraneans weren’t supposed to know English. Honestly he was sure of nothing and probably should’ve eavesdropped on Nightwing. But once he thought of that idea, Nightwing finished their phone call.

“Okay Nightgale, Starfire’s going to be here soon, and you need to eat don’t you-of course you need to eat, what am I talking about?” Nightwing sighed, “Do you have any preferences? Like, sweet or sour foods since you probably don’t know any Earth foods.”

“I will eat anything and everything you give me,” Danny responded, “I have no preferences other than survival.”

“That’s…so sad oh my god. I wish I could give you like, a honey crisp apple or something other than granola bars and military rations.”

“Food is food I guess. Oh, do you have any water my throat’s kind of sore.”

“On it,” Nightwing went and grabbed a couple of granola bars and a bottle of water and nearly tossed it over to Danny before stopping and just handed it to him.

“Thank you,” Danny said as he smiled innocently, before wolfing down the granola bars and chugging down all of the water in less than a minute. Nightwing could only watch in horror as when they tried to make Danny slow down, he tried to bite them.

“So,” Danny made direct eye contact with Nightwing after he finished eating “What’s Starfire like?” He was oddly proud of himself for this rather simple question.

“Oh! Well, she’s the Princess of Tamaran and-“ Nightwing was stopped by a sudden knock at the door. They froze and swiftly went over to the door.

“It’s me! Starfire!” a muffled voice said from behind the door. Nightwing let out a visible but silent sigh of relief before they opened the door.

“Starfire, you got here quickly,” Nightwing commented.

“Of course! There’s a baby Tamaranean here who needs help! Plus, I was nearby already,” Starfire floated a few inches off the ground as she went inside the tiny apartment. Nightwing pointed her over to where Danny was, and she gasped happily with a gleeful shine in her eyes. Danny tried his best to hide his grimace and prepare for whatever was going to happen.

“Hello! Hi there!” Starfire shot over to Danny-which he thankfully expected to happen this time-speaking Tamaranean. Starfire had long, red, fire-like hair, flickering at the ends like a flame. Her skin was an unnatural shade of a bronze-like orange-but it was probably very natural for Tamaraneans. She was also wearing this odd, purple jumpsuit-looking outfit. Not only were her irises were green, but her sclera had a green tint to it. Danny could swear that she was glowing slightly.

“Can you not do any sudden movements Princess?” Danny said, fully grimacing, “Or get too close.”

“Oh! Sorry young one,” Starfire backed a few away from Danny a smile plastered on her face, “What’s your name?”

“I assume that Nightwing already told you but I’m uh, Nightgale. It’s…nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too Nightgale! I’m Princess Starfire of Tameran, but you may just call me Star or Starfire.”

Starfire went over to Nightwing and spoke to them in English. Danny thought this would finally be a good time to eavesdrop.

“He doesn’t know any Earth languages right?” Starfire asked.

“Nope and he seems far too touch-adverse to do…that language acquisition thing,” Nightwing answered, sighing and rubbing their temples, “He’ll shoot anyone who so much as attempts to even reach out a hand to him-I should know, because that’s what happened to me.”

“Oh no! Are you okay?”

“Yeah I just got shot in the face but it only hurt for a moment-actually, it hurt Nightgalemore, his powers seem…unstable.”

“Unstable?”

“His arm was in a lot of pain both times he shot a starbolt at me, so I’m pretty sure his powers are at least somewhat unstable. God how-what are we going to do-WHERE did he even come from?”

“He could’ve come from anywhere I think-but! I think we might need to get him some sort therapy for the touch-adversity. So it’s a good thing that it is just physical touch in general that makes it so we can learn other’s languages, so he could just poke someone and boom! He learns English!” -Starfire spun around a little bit- “I…also think we might need to get the Justice League involved.”

“Yeah, we probably do,” Nightwing leaned up against a wall, probably pondering about what to do next. Danny was also wondering about what to do next. He could probably just punch someone in the face and pass that off as a language-acquisition thing. He looked out the window and right at that moment, a green bird landed on the windowsill.

Danny made direct eye contact with the bird. Its eyes were the normal black void of sparrow’s eyes, but the entire bird was green. It wasn’t glowing so it probably wasn’t a ghost.

“Oh hey! So you’re that Tamaranean-“ the bird said, it spoke, and Danny blasted it on pure instinct, obviously. He screamed, it screamed, but it swiftly dodged and flew inside. Its body shifted and grew, turning into a human-a green skinned human with dark green hair, but human nonetheless.

“WOAH! Never seen a talking bird before?” The green person chuckled.

“Beast Boy, are you okay?” Starfire asked.

“Yeah, but that kid seems jumpy.”

“Of course he’s jumpy, he just fell from the sky not even an hour ago,” Nightwing sighed, “Also why are you here Garfield?”

“Oh, she texted the whole group chat about the little Tamaranean here, didn’t you see it?” Beast Boy-Garfield was probably their real name but Danny could only think about a certain orange cat-pointed over to Starfire.

“Kori why?” Nightwing groaned, “So do just the rest of the Titans know?”

“Yes it’s just the rest of Titans, I’m sorry I was just so excited!” Starfire apologized, “He’s a fellow Tamaranean with powers nonetheless!”

They continued to argue and Danny knew that this was his chance. He had to get out of here. He’ll come back obviously, but he really didn’t want to keep looking at people’s mouth to figure out if they were speaking English or not.

He stood up and placed his hand on the windowsill, looking back for a moment before jumping up and bolting out of of there.

He turned quickly, just barely scraping his arm against the other building. He focused on just going faster and faster, constantly taking wild turns and changing his altitude.

He kept going and going, ignoring everything else, and he felt like he was reaching his limit in no time at all. He shoot high into the sky, spotting docks nearby. Shooting back back down like a lightning bolt, he almost slammed into the ground nearby. He didn’t make a noise or dented the concrete, so it was a win in Danny’s book.

The docks seem unused and abandoned, but oddly enough the warehouses didn’t. There was one warehouse that was bigger than the others, and it had a clearly visible side door on it. Danny looked around both at the sky and the docks. The skies were clear, but he could definitely hear something coming from that big warehouse.

Danny looked at his hands. Yeah, there might be some criminals in here. If not? Well then he’ll just give some poor folks a handshake or something. Taking his gloves off and tying them onto his belt, he noticed his veins were glowing a bright green. Danny did not know if they always were like that, but it was probably for the best to not use his powers, which was completely fine as he could still throw a mean punch.

Walking up towards the door, he had to take a deep, deep breath. What was he doing? Why was he pretending? Why does he always have to be constantly lying? He could go back now, tell them all the truth before things get more and more out of hand.

‘But it’s too late,’ he kept repeating to himself. The same thing he had always repeated to himself whenever he thought about telling his own parents who-what he was.

He gripped the handle of the door, already able to hear fighting coming from the inside. It didn’t fully sound like normal humans fighting, but a bit like ghost fighting. Shooting, burning, the ground being ripped apart and crushed. People with superpowers exist in this world, Danny could see that much from what he’s noticed so far. He felt like he was definitely not ready to fight anyone who can punch as hard as Shulker per say, but he was already here. He had to do something.

Danny looked around for those heroes who helped him out. Seeing no one around, he took in another a deep breath, and opened that side door.

♦︎

Nightwing really did expect the kid to run off at some point. He just did not expect the kid to just be gone after he looked away for a single second. Just one second, he just wanted to talk with Kori and Garfield, but no, now he has to search for a glowing, physically andprobably mentally unstable Tamaranean child. If it was only as easy as it sounded because Nightgale was gone gone. Which meant that everyone was freaking out, obviously.

“Starfire! Do you see anything?” Nightwing called out from a rooftop nearby the safe house. Starfire was high in the sky so she could probably see a glowing person much more easily, and she shouted out ‘NO!’ which did wonders to Nightwing’s sprit.

“Beast Boy, how about you?” Beast Boy swooped down as an eagle and shook his head no. Nightwing sighed, “Well, we’ll need to split up then. Beast Boy you go west, I’ll go north, Starfire will go-“

“Nightwing,” Oracle’s voice had suddenly spoken from Nightwing’s earpiece, interrupting him. He put his hand on his earpiece to answer.

“What’s going on Oracle?” Nightwing responded instantly.

“An illegal meta fighting ring has been reported coming from the abandoned commercial docks in Blüdhaven. Do you think you can check up on it?”

“If I had a nickel for every time a meta fighting ring has happened here-yeah I’ll deal with it quickly.”

“Even with the Tamaranean child?” Batman’s voice interjected.

Nightwing’s face dropped. Of course Batman knows about Nightgale, he’s Batman. God damn it.

“Yep, even with them.”

“Their name?”

“They said their name was Nightgale. Now, I’ll get back to you later goodbye!” Nightwing took his hand away from the eyepiece and groaned.

“So we have to deal with a meta fighting ring as well?” Beast Boy asked, “Oh wait! What if the kid got caught up in the fighting ring?”

“Nightgale got caught up in a fighting ring?!” Starfire had come down and was very concerned.

“No-well,” Nightwing thought of how likely it was that Nightgale could actually get caught up in a fighting ring, “There could be a chance-“

“We have to go! Where is the fighting ring?” Starfire eyes were filled with determination.

“Yeah! Let’s save those metas AND that Tamaranean kid who’s name I can’t remember. Sorry,” Beast Boy nervously chuckled a bit during that last part.

“It’s Nightgale,” Nightwing repeated. Actually, the more he thought about it, the more strange it was that the kid’s name was Nightgale. It was pretty close to Nightwing, and there was also the problem of accidentally mixing the two names up. Maybe he should call them Gale, or Night Jr. Damnit, he was turning into Bruce wasn’t he?

Nightwing shook off that thought process, focusing on the matter at hand, “Now, let’s go to the docks!”

“Yeah!” The other two exclaimed. They all bolted towards the docks, towards Nightgale.

It didn’t take too long to get over to the docks, especially since Nightwing knew the way there by heart and the other two could fly. The trio still looked around for Nightgale on the way there, but had no luck with that. Nightwing really hoped that Nightgale wouldn’t be at the docks. He felt like there was a good chance that they would’ve gotten hurt, or worse.

Once the trio did get to docks, they saw the biggest warehouse had a giant hole in its side. People were running away from it, screaming and tripping over themselves.

As the heroes got over to them, they noticed just how scared the people acted. “P-please take us in, we’ll go to jail, just get us away from here!” One of them shouted. All of them were heavily bruised and bleeding lightly, large, but very shallow claw marks across either their chests.

“So this the illegal meta fighting ring I’ve been hearing about,” Nightwing muttered, “Alright, I’ll cuff these guys real quick, get them to the hospital, and then we’ll-“

“Please get us away from here first! That-that monster in there will-“

“Oh! That might be Nightgale right?” Starfire asked.

“Yeah! They seem strong enough,” Beast Boy added.

“Let’s check it out. You criminals stay here or I’ll get that ‘monster’ to hunt you down.” The threat seemed to be very effective against them, which was very worrying, but right now Nightwing needed to focus at the situation at hand-someone dangerous was inside that warehouse with the metas, and that someone could very well be Nightgale.

As they rushed towards the hole, Starfire caught a criminal being thrown out of it. The criminal also had a large, shallow claw mark across their chest. She placed them down and told them to stay with the other criminals, and they ecstatically did as told. The trio were finally at the hole.

Nightwing now believed the criminals when they said there was a monster here.

He couldn’t focus on anything other than-that thing standing in the center of the warehouse. It was a shadow, fickle and dark, glowing green-bleeding green out of its hands and eyes. Eyes that stared right at him, right into his very soul.

It was pulsating with light, unsteady and bright, drawing Nightwing’s mind to nuclear waste. It’s body seemed to flicker in and out of existence as fast as a blink of an eye, small, almost invisible sparks of electricity jetting out of it.

Its hands looked sharp, fingernails indistinguishable from flesh. They were stained red, blood dripping towards the ground. Blood was splattered at its feet and the ground around it. But he couldn’t see any blood on the rest of it’s shadowy body.

This was it, this was how Nightwing was going to die. He couldn’t move couldn’t think about anything else other than the horrors that awaited him. It was all going to be over and he couldn’t even help that one kid-

“Nightgale!” Starfire exclaimed and flew inside. Suddenly, Nightwing was snapped out of his trance, and the monster disappeared, leaving a tired and trembling Nightgale behind.

Nightwing looked over at Beast Boy, and it was clear that he saw the same thing as Nightwing. Beast Boy looked at him for an answer, but all he could do was shrug slightly. Whatever affected him and Beast Boy didn’t affect Starfire, so he could easily pass this off as some Tamaranean thing, but something in the back of his mind said that he shouldn’t.

Something wasn’t right. Something wasn’t right about Nightgale.

But he’ll think about that more later. Right now, Nightgale and the metas needed help.

“Beast Boy, you look after the metas, I’ll deal with the rest of the criminals,” Nightwing said and then immediately sprang into action.

“R-right!” Beast Boy responded and followed suit.

Nightgale had taken care of most of the criminals involved, but the ringmaster, Roulette, had nearly escaped.

“Roulette! I see that you haven’t changed at all,” Nightwing commented when he caught up to her. He could see that her left arm was bleeding, baring the same shallow claw marks as the other criminals had. “This is what, the second time you’ve set up a meta fighting ring in Blüdhaven? Why’s that?”

“I didn’t expect to get caught so quickly I’ll tell you that much,” she replied, “Much less did I expect to get caught by your son.”

“Okay, Nightgale isn’t my-“ Roulette took this opportunity to kick Nightwing square in the face. In retaliation, Nightwing grabbed her foot and flipped her over, and the fight commenced.

Back in the warehouse, Starfire was checking Nightgale for any injuries. And he had a lot of injuries. No cuts but a lot of bruises had formed already.

“We have to get you to the Watchtower right away-it’s basically the Justice League’s base and they’ll have everything we’ll need to fix you up okay?” Starfire told Nightgale. Only after she finished talking did she realize that she was speaking in English, so she readied herself for having to repeat that whole thing again.

“I’m okay,” Nightgale muttered, back in English.

Starfire gasped, “Did you learn English while punching all those criminals?”

“Uh, yeah, that’s why I took my gloves off, I’m sorry if I wasn’t-“

“No no! It’s okay, it great actually, because now you can communicate easier with everyone else! Good job Nightgale,” Starfire smiled at them and they shyly smiled back.

“Thank you,” Nightgale muttered, “Do we help those people now?”

“I got it!” Beast boy shouted. He had rounded up all the metas and there were a concerning amount of them.

“There’s at least 9 people here,” Nightgale commented, “Or more. I’m not good with counting.”

“That’s okay Nightgale,” Starfire lightly patted Nightgale’s shoulder, and they didn’t even flinch! Which was great, progress was being in one way or another. “Now, how about we check up on Nightwing hm?” Nightgale nodded, and Starfire quickly checked up on the metas before bringing Nightgale with her outside.

Nightwing and Roulette noticed the two immediately, and Roulette’s eye widened in horror.

“That kid-“ Roulette started, before becoming yet another person who got cut off by Nightgale shooting at them. She dodged but Nightwing was quick to knock her unconscious with his Escrima sticks. Nightwing cuffed her while Starfire helped out Nightgale, who was currently doubled over in pain.

“Are you okay Nightgale?” Starfire asked.

“I want and feel like death, but other than that I’m fine,” Nightgale groaned, “At least this blood isn’t mine.”

“Yeah you need to go get help right now,“ Nightwing commented, facing towards the warehouse, “First we just need to take care of metas, the criminals-this criminal, in particular, and then-“ Nightwing suddenly whipped his head around and faced Nightgale, “-did you just speak English???”

“Yeah I punched a bunch of people. No big deal. What’s that shadowy figure over there?” Nightgale pointed over towards their left, and Nightwing immediately knew who it was.

“If I look over and I see it’s Batman I will not be surprised,” Nightwing sighed. He turned around and did not see Batman, so clearly he needed to spin back around and there he was, Batman.

“I’ve notified the League about the Tamaranean child,” Batman had began, quickly getting to the point, “You and Starfire can take him to the Watchtower with the Zeta-Tubes and preform a check-up before any questioning.”

“Doesn’t the Zeta-Tubes only work for registered members?” Starfire asked.

“And what about the bad guys?” Nightgale added. He was looking at Batman with a sense of awe, for some reason.

“Beast Boy and I will take care of it. I was able to collect a DNA sample from the initial crash site and registered Nightgale as a guest,” Everyone noticed how Nightgale very visibly flinched once Batman talked about collect a DNA sample.

Nightwing gently patted Nightgale’s shoulder, and they looked up at him with their tired, scared eyes. Nightwing gave them a little smile, “It’s going to be okay Nightgale.” But Nightgale’s expression stayed the same as the trio made their way towards the nearest Zeta-Tube.

It was going to be fine, Nightwing was sure of it. Yeah, something bad might happen because life, but Nightgale would be okay soon enough. But Nightwing could only think about what he saw before he entered the warehouse. Was Nightgale really a Tamaranean? Starfire wasn’t effected by whatever he and Beast Boy saw, and they were both human.

Nightgale wasn’t a human, that’s for sure. But what if was a human, a meta more likely. But then why did he fall from the sky? A portal could’ve opened-actually, a portal would’ve been the only way they could’ve came here, since they definitely don’t seem to have the energy to fly all the way to Earth from…wherever they were from.

So what was Nightgale? Who was Nightgale?

Nightwing didn’t know what was the truth yet, but it wouldn’t be long until he found out. He was sure of it. But for now, he just wanted to make sure Night Jr. was safe.

#danny phantom #dpxdc #dp x dc #dp fic #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc fanfic #a so called tamaranean #dp crossover #dp x dc au #hehe get adopted idiot #danny fenton #danny phantom crossover #I’m so anxious about this I hope you guys like this “-_-#pacing in stories is not my strong suit #are the characters in character?? I sure hope so #is this part long enough?? I for sure hope so #I tried to not have a “head hopping” problem but I don’t know if it worked #revenant makes fanfics

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homerforsure · 4 months

Note

Buddie first time sharing a bed as a couple? If the inspiration hits?

-@try-set-me-on-fire

Hey! I did this!

It's also inspired by another Six Days of Buddie piece from @andavs (This one!) and it's a little bit... all over the place? But I think it turned out cozy and soft and heaped with love which feels pretty Buddie to me.

sleep safe and warm

2k. Rated T. On AO3 at the link above and also below if you prefer

Mostly Buck takes the golden retriever comments in stride. His teammates find them funnier than he does, but there’s such genuine warmth and fondness in the jokes that he’s perfectly happy to enjoy the metaphorical ear scratches rather than get offended at the comparison.

Tonight though he’s on the verge of a serious case of the zoomies. He wants to bounce around in circles on Eddie’s bed, rolling onto his back and rubbing his body all over the sheets until his scent is as deeply embedded there as Eddie’s own. Maybe if he could bark, he’d have a way to express some of the boundless joy that’s been building all day in his chest.

He’s sleeping with Eddie tonight.

Not like that. They’ve already done that in the twelve weeks since Eddie took Buck’s face in trembling hands and kissed him like it was what he’d want to do if they only had one minute left on Earth. They’ve done it upside down and backwards and sideways and one time at a particular incline that gave Buck a glimpse of God.

Although that did take longer than Buck would have expected. They may have started slow and careful in the beginning, both of them half afraid they’d shatter the dream by grabbing it too tightly, but once they got used to touching each other, it was hard to keep the spark from erupting into flame with each brush of their lips. But keep the inferno at bay they did, ripping away from each other at the last minute even when doing so started feeling like ripping off a part of their own bodies.

Buck’s fear went from familiar–what if he wasn’t good enough, what if he couldn't satisfy Eddie in all the ways he needed to be satisfied–to newer and more terrifying possibilities. What if Eddie didn’t want to have sex with him? What if what Buck had thought of as the beginning of the rest of his life was only the beginning of a failed experiment. That fear built until it was more unbearable than the permanent case of blue balls he’d come down with.

“Why?” he’d asked–pleaded really–with an almost pathetic whine when Eddie ended a scorching kiss by pulling away from Buck on the couch to stare into his eyes while he caught his breath and then said, “I should go.”

His legs tightened around Eddie’s waist almost of their own accord and Buck wasn’t proud of it. He didn’t want any of the things he wanted from Eddie–with Eddie–to come with pressure or ultimatums or anything other than the same longing that was turning his own blood to fire whenever they were alone together. But he wanted. He wanted so badly he couldn’t think straight and he couldn’t keep letting it go this far only to find out they weren’t racing for the same finish line. He had to know what Eddie wanted from him–from them.

Pain flashed across Eddie’s face so close to Buck’s own that he could see every sharp facet of it, but it didn’t give him any more understanding.

“I’m sorry,” they said at the same time.

“No, I am,” Buck insisted. “I want you to stay, but you-you-you should go if- You don’t owe me anything, okay? I just- Am I… Am I doing something wrong? Do you not want-”

It was still a little too vulnerable maybe, a little too needy; his legs still didn’t untangle themselves from around Eddie. It was the best Buck could do.

Eddie didn’t make any move to pull away though. He stayed braced above Buck with that pained, half-tormented look on his face and it gave Buck more hope than it had any right too.

“I want to stay,” he said, finally. “I want everything.”

Carefully, gently, Buck asked, “Okay. So- so why are you talking about leaving?”

Holding Buck’s gaze, Eddie seemed to turn over the question in his head before making a frustrated sound and ducking his head. He kissed over Buck’s bare chest, his collarbone, like he was seeking answers in his skin and Buck dared to bring his hand up to Eddie’s head, not with any pressure to hold him where he was, but with what he hoped was reassurance.

“I love you,” Eddie said.

A shiver coursed through Buck as he answered, “I know. I love you too.”

“And this is it. This is…There’s no going back. And I’m afraid- I’m afraid.”

He sighed heavily and pressed another kiss to Buck’s shoulder, trying to tell him without words that the fear was his own, that it wasn’t about Buck or the ways that Buck might fail. And Buck understood that unspoken reassurance so easily and clearly that it made him smile in spite of it all. “You think we can go back now?” he asked lightly, his fingers scratching on Eddie’s scalp.

Eddie huffed a laugh into Buck’s throat the way Buck was hoping he would and Buck felt the shake of his head.

“Me either,” he said. “And I’m scared too, but I don’t- Eddie, I don’t want to go back. You- You’re already inside me in every way that matters and I’m- Sex is just… more. It’s more of that. It’s more of you. And I can’t really be scared of that.”

“Christ. How can I not fuck you after that?” Eddie asked. As he lifted his head again, his smile was teasing, but his eyes were filled with so much softness and so much love that Buck’s cock throbbed in his jeans against Eddie’s thigh and they both melted into laughter.

It hadn’t happened that night. Laughing gave way to kissing gave way to whispering in the dark, exchanging fears and together transforming them into hope. The next time they fell together, a few days later, they didn’t break apart.

They hadn’t been able to stay in bed that afternoon, however, and since then, their schedules and circumstances had seemed to conspire against them, keeping Buck from the one place he wanted to be more than anything. But tonight it’s happening.

In the bathroom, Eddie is brushing his teeth like Buck did just moments ago and the sound of the running water almost gives him butterflies in his stomach.

With a grin on his face that he can’t suppress, Buck crosses the room to the side of the bed he knows is about to be his and makes sure his phone charger is plugged into the wall behind the side table. He changed his clothes already, soft shorts, soft shirt, warm socks so there’s nothing left to do but pull back the covers.

Sliding into the fresh sheets almost feels like a sigh. They’re cool on his bare legs but the comforter is heavy enough that he knows it’ll start trapping the warmth of his body in a few minutes. The warmth of their bodies. Buck’s been on his own for a while now and he’s never really stopped missing that sensation of having another person beside him. It’s a different kind of pleasure than sex, intimate and vulnerable in its own way, and comforting. The sound of easy breath in the dark and weight of another body settles him like nothing else does.

He can still hear Eddie moving around the house, peeking in on Christopher and checking the locks on the doors, and Buck finds himself, like he does in most moments where he has to wait, with his phone in his hand and a question typed into the search bar.

By the time Eddie appears in the doorway, he’s engrossed and he misses the soft smile that’s sent his way. But as Eddie gets closer, the floor creaks and Buck looks up in time to watch him strip off his shirt and dig around in his drawer for a different one. It brings to mind the first time Buck saw him do that motion, the first time he saw Eddie at all, and he could laugh at what the expression on that Buck’s face would be if he could tell him that the envy and fear he felt in that moment would collapse so quickly into admiration and then grow into love.

That Buck didn’t even know that love could feel like this: as comfortable as an old sweatshirt, stolen just because it’s been loved so thoroughly by the one you love, as safe as a solid platform overlooking a breathtaking view. He’d probably be flexing now, making sure Eddie didn’t regret his invitation, because he couldn’t comprehend that he didn’t need to. Buck was so glad for all the versions of himself that he’d finally brought them here.

Dropping his worn clothes into the hamper and, after a thought, picking up Buck’s from where they’ve been kicked into the corner and dropping them inside too, Eddie asks, “Do you want the other blanket?”

“No, this is good.”

“Good. Cause I left it in the living room and that’s a long walk.”

He slaps the overhead light off as a punctuation to the joke but Buck can feel his teasing smile even before his eyes adjust to the newly dim space. The floor creaks again as Eddie passes over the worn spot and then he’s pulling back the covers on his side of the bed, sending tingles sprinting up and down Buck’s legs.

The bed dips and cooler air sneaks in. Eddie slides in past the invisible center line of the bed and puts a warm hand on Buck’s thigh. “All good?” he whispers against Buck’s throat, mouthing kisses up his neck and down his jaw until Buck finally turns his head away from the article he’s reading and tilts his head to let the kisses land on his lips.

“Perfect.”

“Good,” Eddie smiles against his mouth and kisses him one last time, “Good night.”

“Night.”

Eddie snuggles down onto the mattress, not bothering to scoot back over to the other side of the bed and a contented sigh escapes into the dark.

“Did you know Ben Franklin and John Adams slept together once?” Buck asks.

After a beat, Eddie asks, “Which John Adams?”

“I don’t- Why does that matter?”

“I don’t know. Why are you reading about Ben Franklin’s sex life?”

“They didn’t have sex. I mean, maybe they did, the article doesn’t say. But they slept together like in a hotel because back in the day people didn’t really sleep by themselves as much. Even when beds were invented, you know, the whole family just piled in like, like puppies. The twin bed thing didn’t happen until later.”

“I bet George Washington got his own room,” Eddie mumbles.

“Probably.”

“What about Franklin and Adams? Did one of them get morning wood and make it awkward?”

“Uh, it says they fought about whether to keep the window open or closed all night.”

“If it smelled as bad as the bunkroom in August, I’d vote for open.”

“When Bobby makes that really garlicky sauce,” Buck snorts.

“Oh god. You know he only does that because he gets his own room.”

“Of course he does.”

Buck smiles down at Eddie and then scrolls back through the article. “And did you know that “hit the hay” actually comes from people shoving hay in like a sack and-”

“Buck,” Eddie says. “I love you. And if this is your idea of a bedtime story, it’s very very effective.”

“Right,” Buck laughs. He clicks off his phone, setting it on the side table, and the room goes fully dark.

As he snuggles down into the blankets, Eddie makes room for him, scooting just enough so that Buck has room to lay down and roll over without risking a fall to the floor. Then he throws an arm over Buck’s waist and it’s Buck’s turn to sigh as he snuggles in closer.

“We’re not inviting anyone else in here,” Eddie says. “I don’t care if they are a founding father.”

Eddie’s t-shirt is soft under Buck’s fingers when he says, “No. Not sharing.”

“And we’re not doing twin beds either. You’re going to stay right here.”

His lips brush Buck’s forehead and every part of him that wasn’t already melted into calm settles now. Their bodies are warming the blankets. Eddie’s arm is a comforting weight on his body, like a harness attached to a lifeline. With his hand on Eddie’s chest, Buck can feel the slow, steady beat of his heart and he moves to put his head there instead. Both of them drape over each other and tangle together and Buck is never ever going to be able to sleep as well any other way.

“Even if Bobby makes garlic sauce?” he whispers.

“Well. Maybe we’ll open a window.”

#buddie fic #eddie x buck #911 fic #911 fanfic #eddie diaz #evan buckley #sharing a bed #soft boys in love #allison writes

129 notes · View notes

jeonsweetpea · 4 months

Text

Moonstruck (14)

Werewolf & Vampire Hybrid!AU, Supernatural!AU | Hybrid!Jungkook x Hybrid!Reader | Werewolf!Taehyung x Hybrid!Reader (ft. BTS)

genre: angst, e2l, supernatural, thriller, slow burn

rating: mature

description: Ari wants to see who truly loves you by pitting your lovers against each other.

word count: 6.3k

warnings: contains SPOILERS!!! kidnapping, cussing, fight scenes, betrayals, blood, dark magic, attempted assault, (temporary) deaths,

a/n: The series is almost over! Just one chapter and I hope you’re enjoying reading as much as I am writing. Hope to hear your thoughts. Thanks for sticking around so long and giving my series a chance. <333 It's also on AO3 if you prefer reading over there!

Moonstruck Series Masterlist

“It’s a pity our own granddaughter has to die,” a gentle voice said.

Your eyes slowly opened, revealing the old couple from before. An immediate realization dawned upon you as you noticed the chains, bounding you in the shape of an X to the cold stone wall. These were no ordinary chains—every wriggle, every struggle, intensified the pain. Wolfsbane and vervain were laced into the links, sending stinging sensations to your wrists and ankles. Your body felt groggy, so it was certain you were injected with something beforehand.

Last thing you recalled was falling into the frozen lake. The freezing water filling up your lungs… oh right. Jimin had killed you too. Just your luck.

Looking around, it was evident this wasn’t the lake. But it wasn’t the underground cellar or cave in the mountains. Where exactly were you?

“Don’t get soft on her now. She’s awake,” a gruff voice responded.

“Granddaughter?” The question hung in the air, escaping your lips in a hushed whisper. Another whiff of your mother’s familiar perfume triggered a sudden realization. “You’re…”

“Your grandparents? Yes, dear. It’s sad we had to meet this way, but we had to make sure you died once these stupid 100 days were over,” your grandfather replied. “Frankly, we should take matters into our own hands.”

“We can’t. We don’t have the stake and that witch girl is frightening. They’ll kill her at the end of the day anyway,” your grandmother assured. “Besides, it’s nice not having to get our hands dirty.”

“100 days?” you breathed, unable to form a coherent sentence. It was difficult battling the drowsy state forced on you.

“God, she sounds delirious. Yes. Because you sired that other abomination and Jimin and that Ari girl are so insistent in breaking that bond first before killing you.”

“Honestly, it doesn’t matter,” your grandfather retorted with his arms crossed. “As long as you’re dead in the end, all the hybrids you’ve sired will cease to exist too.”

The weight of this revelation jolted you out of your drowsy trance, and you shot them an alarmed glare.

“What did you say?”

“Oh? You didn’t know? When you create those repulsive hybrids and sire them, you form a sireline. It’s like a family tree that never goes away. So if you die, then all the non-Original hybrids you created will die too. Even if the sire bond is broken.”

“Is that true?”

"We didn't dedicate our lives to learning everything about you just to lie now."

"Then... does Jimin know about this? He'd never let Jungkook die," you questioned, sensing the answer in the subtle withdrawal of their body language.

“Of course he doesn’t know. He’s too hellbent on killing you to realize he’s gonna kill his lover too,” your grandmother sneered. She approached you and bent down eye-level, analyzing your features carefully. “Remarkable. You look just like your mother.”

You spat in her face and she wiped it away immediately, taking a few steps back. She chuckled at your feisty behavior, a dark amusement in her eyes.

“Mom will never forgive you for doing this!” you exclaimed.

“Do you think we care? We disowned her when she eloped. Who would’ve thought she was pregnant with you…”

“You’re my family. Why does it matter so damn much to you?” you asked, your voice teetering between anger and disappointment.

“Blame your mother and father. They were never supposed to fall in love, much less have a child. Your existence is a loop in Mother Nature and unnatural!” your grandpa exclaimed. “It took us an eternity to track you down. Imagine our surprise when Jung Dawon showed up to the hospital where we worked.”

You held your breath. “She was your patient?”

“I think her name is Jiwoo now, honey,” your grandma reminded with a pat on her husband’s shoulder.

“Ah, right, right. What would I do without you?”

The two of them started to snuggle their noses together, their display of affection making you want to vomit.

“Hey! Don’t ignore me! You two treated Jiwoo during her coma?!” you asked.

“Yes. That’s how we crossed paths with Jimin, H.O.P.E.—shame they’ve disbanded now thanks to your professors, no doubt. And then the Jungs had to die or Jimin wouldn’t have upheld his deal in the bargain,” your grandmother informed.

“You killed Hoseok’s parents… You deserve hell.” A past memory suddenly resurfaced to the forefront of your mind. “Years ago, Dad said you reached out. Said you apologized and wanted to meet me. Was that all a lie?”

Her gaze met yours, an expression of feigned pity playing on her face as she nodded, and your grandfather, reveling in your naivety, let out a cynical chuckle.

“You’re lucky your mother was so stubborn and unwilling to meet us. She even went so far as to make you move homes time and time again. It’s like she knew we had cruel intentions,” the old woman remarked.

“Cruel? Is that what you call it? This is diabolical, I deserve to live just as much as you do! You call my existence unnatural, which is hypocritical considering none of us are human!”

“She talks too much,” the old man interjected.

“Yeah, let’s shut her up.”

“No, no! I’m going to reveal everything! You won’t get away with—”

It was futile. Your grandmother held your head still while your grandfather retrieved a ball gag from a nearby table. Your nose picked up wafts of vervain and wolfsbane, causing you to whimper. As the straps secured around your face, your skin ignited with pain, and you couldn't contain the sobs that escaped.

Your relatives walked away from you once the task was complete, heading for the stairs. The last words you heard were from your grandmother.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, darling.”

Meanwhile, back at the dimly lit cellar…

Cage 1: Jungkook, Taehyung, Sunghyun

In the first cage, Jungkook stood tall, his back against the bars. Taehyung was standing on the opposite side, muscles tense, while Sunghyun minded his business and rested on the cot in the middle of the two.

Cage 2: Namjoon and Yoongi

In the adjacent cage, Namjoon lay unconscious, sprawled on the cold floor. Yoongi sat with his back against the cage, observing their surroundings with a calculating gaze.

Cage 3: Jin, Hoseok, Jiwoo

The third cage housed Jin, who gazed through the bars with a mix of determination and worry. Hoseok stood tall with his sister Jiwoo sitting beside him, a protective arm wrapped around her.

No one dared to utter a word. Each person bore the weight of their own struggles in the metallic confines, the atmosphere oppressive and thick with tension. The silence broke when Taehyung got down on all fours.

“What are you doing?” Jungkook questioned.

“I’m getting out of here. [Y/N]’s in danger.” He closed his eyes, narrowing his focus while using his werewolf instincts.

“Turning won’t work. These cages were built to withstand supernaturals,” Jungkook recalled, his arms crossed in a display of frustration. Taehyung, irritated by the diversion of his focus, furrowed his eyebrows and then opened his eyes.

“Well, it worked for Hoseok. Didn’t it?” he declared as he stood up, hands planted firmly on his hips.

“I was set up by you and Jimin! You tainted my food!” Hoseok argued.

“Are you sure it wasn’t your lover over there?” Taehyung smirked, his words a venomous tease.

“Go to hell, Taehyung!” Yoongi exclaimed.

Chaos reigned as accusations flew, each member of the imprisoned group hurling blame and calling out their short-comings. Only did the sound of the creaking cellar door garnered their attention. The unexpected arrival turned out to be Ari, who was descending down the staircase in a frantic scramble.

“Oh my god, what have I done? You all have to get out of here!”

A collective confusion lingered, yet none dared to question Ari's sudden change of heart. Retrieving the keys from her pocket, she approached the nearest cage—Taehyung's. Nervousness interfered with her attempt to unlock the padlock properly.

“Come on, Ari!” Taehyung yelled.

“I’m trying here!”

In an unexpected twist, Ari fell to her knees, clutching her chest and breathing heavily. She let out a pained groan, followed by an unsettling expulsion of water. “Oh… that can’t be good.”

“What the hell is happening to you?” Professor Jin asked, gripping the cage bars for a closer look. “The dark magic is killing you!”

“It’s not that. Jimin’s trapped in the frozen lake. He’s drowning and dying over and over.” Struggling to stand, Ari's focus remained on the stubborn padlock. “I’m running out of time. She’s going to come back soon.”

Moments later, the padlock clicked open. She swung the cage door open, urging the boys to escape.

“Where do you think you’re going?” A dark, menacing voice emanated from Ari's lips, her face contorting as if an evil force sought to break free.

"Let them go!" The familiar, authoritative tone sounded like the Ari they knew, yet beneath the surface, a fierce battle between the light and darkness waged.

“No. You’re too weak to stop me!”

Ari threw up some more water as she collapsed to the floor with a thud. She reached her hand out to the boys and whispered. “Run…”

Her hand dropped and she was unconscious. The shock of it all left everyone frozen when her eyes suddenly fluttered open, pitch black, and she scrambled to her feet at lightning speed.

Taehyung, Jungkook, and Sunghyun rushed upstairs but it was too late. Ari used dark magic to telekinetically rip out Sunghyun’s heart, permanently killing him. His remaining corpse fell down stairs as Jiwoo shrieked. Hoseok shielded his sister away from the sight in a tight embrace, trying his best to calm her down.

“Now… you two. Don’t worry, I won’t kill you. We still have to go talk to your beloved [Y/N].”

She knocked them out with the snap of her fingers before teleporting them to your location.

You gave into exhaustion and surrendered to a nap for however long possible. Nothing mattered anymore. You were trapped and because of your reckless plan, so was everyone else. Your grandparents wanted you dead and at this point, you yearned for an end.

What stirred you from your slumber was the sound of groaning. You slowly opened your eyes and saw Taehyung and Jungkook lying on their stomachs a few feet away. They were chained to the floor like animals.

Jungkook was first to fully regain his senses, sitting up right away at the sight of you. “[Y/N]! You’re alive—oh fuck. What did they do to you?”

The ball gag and restraints didn’t aid in your efforts to communicate as the only sounds you could make were whimpers. Taehyung, driven by desperation, got on his knees and tugged at his chains madly.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you out. It’ll be okay!”

In the heart of the room, Ari manifested from the ceiling and floated down like an angel. A dark one, that is.

“What is it about you, hmm? You have not only one but TWO suitors who are willing to do whatever it takes to save you. To love you. Meanwhile, I can’t even have one…”

She landed gently on the ground as she circled around Jungkook, eyes locked into yours. “You said Jimin never loved me, but what about you? Do you really think Jungkook loves you? He admitted feelings for another.”

You bit your lip to fight back tears. This was too painful to deal with.

“[Y/N], don’t listen to her. Listen to me,” Jungkook begged. The sadness within your gaze caused a pang in his heart. “This is the truth. There were times I spent the night at his dorm because I couldn’t stand watching you with Taehyung. I got to bond with him on a deeper level. He was the first friend I had outside of you that didn’t judge me. Didn’t make me feel like a loser. Like I was weak.”

“So you kiss him,” Taehyung remarked. “A little heart-to-heart and you’re all tongues.”

“He kissed me!” Jungkook snapped at him. He refocused on you. “During the sparring session. I was trying to get information out of him. Promise! Of course I felt something; it was a kiss. It surprised me. But that doesn’t mean he’s the one I love.”

“Excuses, excuses,” the werewolf said with a dismissive hand gesture.

“You don’t get to judge something you don’t understand. The sire bond affects emotions and it’s almost broken. I’ve been living my life through a filter! I don’t know what’s what anymore.”

“It doesn’t matter. You didn’t believe her when it mattered most. Nothing’s worse than not being believed. She must’ve been crushed.”

Taehyung’s right. You were.

“You watch your mouth!”

“Or what? We’re all chained because that bitch of a witch can’t stand the fact her boyfriend is in love with you! This is all your fault!”

Ari cackled and rushed over to Taehyung’s side like a devil whispering in his ear. “That’s right. Rile him up.”

“Get the hell away from me,” Taehyung huffed in disgust. “You killed Sunghyun.”

Your eyes widened, devastated at this information. Professor Jin was right. The Ari you knew was long gone; she would never murder someone in cold blood.

Your ex-best friend paced back and forth and then shrugged. “Oh, please. You don’t care about him.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want you near me.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky you’re not dead. Sunghyun was asking for it by trying to escape. And he showed Jungkook my journal.”

Jungkook’s ears perked up at this. Ari smirked and continued, “Yeah. I know about it. My old self had a tendency to jot everything down and then spelled her drawers, so I wouldn’t be able to see it. That is, until you and Sunghyun used his amulet to bypass it. Thanks for that.”

She snapped her fingers and the journal in question appeared in her hands. She flipped it open and hummed in amusement.

“Hmm… wow, I really did not hold back. Lots of juicy information in here. But,” she closed the book, “she didn’t write everything down. You really want to know the truth, Jungkook? The whole truth?”

“What is your end goal, huh? Where’s Jimin?” Jungkook questioned. Ari replied with nothing but a smirk.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Let me talk to him. I can stop all of this. He can have me as long as he lets [Y/N] go.”

Ari grabbed his neck in a chokehold and he wheezed, powerless against her unexpected strength. “You really are stupid, aren’t you? Jimin is mine and mine only. There was a time when I’d share him, but not anymore.”

She released him with a fierce anger, and he coughed, struggling to regain composure on all fours.

“Turn,” she commanded and Jungkook snapped his neck up to look at her.

“What?”

“It’s the last day of the sire bond. You have to turn one more time, right? So do it.”

“You’re delusional. I’m not doing anything you say.”

“Come on. Amuse me. You might be able to save your precious [Y/N] by turning.”

“No.”

Ari fumed at his response, kicking him in the stomach and forcing him to fall on his back. She stomped on him multiple times, your muffled screams rendered useless. The air was charged with tension as Ari spoke, her voice tinged with frustration and jealousy.

"Do you have any idea how infuriating it is, Jungkook? Watching you and her, with your damned sire bond, risking everything for each other. It's sickening!"

Jungkook grabbed her foot to stop her from crushing his ribs any further. “Ari… this bond is beyond our control. It’s not something we asked for.”

Ari scoffed at his response. “So why won’t you turn? End it. End this stupid connection you have with her. Show everyone your love was conditional, a hoax!”

She left his aching body and went up to you, a clawed hand in front of your face with a malevolent black glow.

“Turn or I’ll kill her,” she threatened, the White Oak Stake presenting herself in her grasp. Panic gripped you at the sight of the weapon. “That’s right, bestie. This is the one and only stake that can kill an original hybrid.”

“Don’t lay a finger on her!” Taehyung roared. She turned around, tapping the stake against her palm in a rhythmic cadence, reminiscent of a stern ruler used for chastising children in the past.

“Ah, yes. The other lover is vying for your affection. God, you just can’t catch a break with these two!”

“This doesn’t have to end this way. We both want the same thing. I’ll talk to Jimin, we’ll figure something out. As long as Jungkook is out of the picture, it’ll be worth it! We can still be a team.”

“Team?” Jungkook questioned.

“We?” She let out a chuckle. “There is no ‘we.’ You and Jimin have dictated everything from the start. He strung me along like a fool. All I wanted was his love. I was willing to risk it all only for him to want someone else and cast me aside entirely!”

She faced Jungkook. “My journal revealed all of Jimin’s plans, but not Taehyung’s. I think you’ll find this interesting.”

Taehyung's gaze narrowed, a subtle intensity flickering in his eyes as he shook his head slowly.

“You’re making a big mistake.”

“Where do I start? Oh. Taehyung is the one that ordered H.O.P.E to attack you that dreaded day. You know, the day that started it all.”

Ari reveled in the chaos she had orchestrated, the atmosphere thick with tension and despair. Jungkook's eyes burned with fury as he faced Taehyung, betrayal and anger intertwining in the lines of his furrowed brow.

“You planned this? The attack, the kidnapping?”

Taehyung, unapologetic, met Jungkook's accusatory gaze with a stoic expression.

“[Y/N] could’ve died! We all could’ve!” Jungkook exclaimed.

“The plan was only for you to die. That way [Y/N] would find comfort in me and only me. But then you survived. Stupid sire bond.”

“Oh yeah, the whole scavenger hunt thing was also Taehyung’s idea. Jimin pretended to be a hunter to kidnap [Y/N],” Ari added. Jungkook’s confusion was blatant.

“What on earth could that possibly accomplish for you, Tae?”

The werewolf shrugged, reluctant to answer. Ari, the puppeteer of chaos, was more than willing.

“He was betting on [Y/N] saving him with her blood. Then he was going to kill himself to become sired to her like you.”

“You crazy bastard!” Jungkook roared, chains rattling as he attempted to pounce on Taehyung but couldn’t. “All of this pain and suffering, all for some twisted desire to be bound to her?" This isn’t love, it’s obsession! You don’t deserve her!”

Taehyung held his ground. “And you do? I actually want to be bound to her for life. All you’ve ever done was taken her for granted! Just turn already!”

“If I do turn, it’s to rip you to shreds!”

“Yes~, yes~!” Ari cried. “Indulge in your anger! Let the beast out!”

She ripped his clothing off with no remorse, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. Seeing him stripped against his will left him vulnerable and the humiliation almost killed him. He punched the ground, the concrete pulverized into tiny pieces and his knuckles bloody.

Clapping eagerly, Ari urged for him to turn. You hated seeing him in such a vulnerable state. When your gazes met, there was nothing but shame and heartbreak. You didn’t know what to expect once the 100th day arrived, but this definitely was not it.

“Maybe one isn’t enough,” Ari remarked, striding over to Taehyung’s side and tearing his clothes to shreds. “You turn too. Fight each other. You want Jungkook dead and [Y/N] all for yourself, right?”

“Fuck you, I’m not some pawn for you to toy with!”

“Aw, come on. I’m actually helping you out here. I know tonight’s not a full moon, so it’ll hurt like a bitch. But don’t you want [Y/N] to see how sexy it is for you to turn anyway? You said you love her.”

She sauntered back over to you, the White Oak Stake dangerously close to your chest.

“Either you guys turn and battle each other or this goes through her heart.”

She casted a spell and had the stake hovering in front of your chest and the boys roared with anger, but had no choice. The air thickened with an impending sense of dread. You, restrained and unable to look away, watched as Taehyung and Jungkook grappled with the impending transformation, a painful struggle that unfolded before your eyes.

The first tremors wracked Taehyung's form as his body contorted with the agony of shifting. Bones cracked and muscles rippled beneath his skin, the visceral sounds of transformation echoing in the confined space. His anguished groans reverberated through the cold, unforgiving walls. Without a full moon, this process was far more difficult to go through, but he persevered thanks to the emotional intensity of his love for you.

Beside him, Jungkook's transformation mirrored Taehyung's torment. The once-human features distorted, replaced by the primal visage of a werewolf emerging from the depths within. Claws unsheathed and black fur sprouted, a physical manifestation of the feral power coursing through him.

You’ve watched countless transformations over the years, but none were as painful as this one. It was as if your heart was being incinerated, the connection between you and Jungkook severed. A part of you cherished the pain because it’d be the last time you two would feel each other’s emotions.

Ari watched with a sadistic smile, leaning close to your ear.

“This is fun, isn’t it? Love versus obsession. Or maybe love and obsession are the same. They’re trying so hard to save your life.”

Your silence earned a “tsk” from her.

“Don’t feel like talking?” she taunted. “Well get this. Remember how my grandmother was the one who taught me magic? She visits me in my dreams sometimes. Do you want to know what she told me?”

Jungkook and Taehyung’s combined screams of agony made it difficult to focus on her voice, but she leaned in even closer, whispering ever so softly.

“My grandma delved into dark magic once. Your father made a deal with her. He paid her to make your mother fertile. With you.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. You clenched your fists in disbelief and whined, not wanting to hear more.

“That’s right. You were conceived with dark magic. You always told me it seemed like the universe was against you and now you know why. Darkness follows you wherever you go; you’re not meant to be happy. That’s how you were able to use my dark potions. That darkness lives inside you. And it’s your father’s fault.”

Tears welled up in your eyes before cascading down your face. She giggled at your suffering, adding salt to the gaping wound in your heart.

“It must hurt to know every single person in your life has betrayed you in some way. You have no one left.”

The transformations were nearing completion. Sounds of bones snapping and muscles contorting filled the basement, a symphony of agony that echoed the torment of Taehyung and Jungkook’s dual existence. Taehyung's body convulsed, his once-human features now obscured by the emerging gray fur, streaked with haunting shades of white. Jungkook's transformation mirrored the shadows, his form engulfed by inky blackness as he fought against the pain that laced every fiber of his being.

As the final moments of the agonizing metamorphosis approached, the chains binding them groaned under the strain, holding firm until the transformation reached its peak.

“One more thing,” Ari whispered. “The stake has been spelled to kill Jungkook once he finishes transforming.”

“No!!!” you screamed, although muffled. “Jungkook stop!!!”

Jungkook, having more experience, finished his transformation before Taehyung’s. Ari turned to you with a wicked smile.

“Enjoy the show, [Y/N].”

You watched in despair as the spelled stake launched through the air straight for Jungkook when Jimin emerged from the shadows, his silhouette cutting through the dim light. His eyes, determined and resolute, locked onto the impending threat aimed at Jungkook. He leaped in the way, the impact of the enchanted stake against Jimin's body resonated through the basement.

His shoulder had been hit, but it was not a fatal wound. In the stunned silence that followed, Jimin's eyes met Jungkook's with an unspoken understanding.

The next few minutes were a blur. Taehyung completed his transformation and was liberated from his chains seconds after Jungkook. Ari, relentless in her pursuit, launched another attack at Jungkook, but Jimin intercepted with a spell of his own. You squinted and recognized the blinding glow of Sunghyun’s amulet around his neck.

The black wolf and Jimin united forces and the two of them battled Ari together.

Meanwhile, Taehyung sprinted to you, using his teeth to pry the chains from your limbs. As the metal links fell away, you fell on top of the beast’s body. Using his agile speed,. Taehyung bolted out of the building as fast as possible, leaving Jungkook, Jimin, and Ari behind to hash things out.

You clung onto his back as he navigated through a common neighborhood with the veil of nighttime, your fingers tightly entangled in his fur. Though a bit groggy, you could feel whatever was in your system was wearing off gradually. It dawned on you that you were held captive in the Jung family’s old house, specifically the secret basement Professor Jin and Yoongi had uncovered months ago.

Taehyung kept running until he reached the secrecy of the woods. As he eased to a stop, you rolled off his back, laying on the forest floor and taking deep breaths. The wolf nudged your cheek with his nose, a comforting gesture, followed by a few licks to your face, as if to ease your worries.

As much as you loved the notion, you couldn’t erase the truth of what he had done. You swiftly got to your feet and shook your head.

“Stop. I know what you’re doing.” He lowered his head and let out a whine. Human or wolf form, he had mastered the puppy dog eyes. He nuzzled his head against your side, desperate for solace, but you rejected him. “Taehyung, no!”

As you retreated, your foot came into contact with something, kicking it further backwards. Turning around, the moonlight revealed the mystery object buried in the snow. The sight pulled an involuntary scream from your lips, causing a startle strong enough to make you fall on the cold snow.

There laid your grandmother’s decapitated head and with little effort, you spotted your grandfather’s nearby.

Taehyung had reverted back to his human form and wrapped his arms around you in a protective embrace.

“Shhh, shh,” he cooed in his deep, soothing voice. “It’s okay.”

You pushed him hard enough that he fell onto the snow. “Did you do this?”

His eyes widened as he stared at you, shocked. “I’ve been spending the last few hours TRAPPED because of you. How the hell would I have time to do this?!”

You sat criss-cross, hands on your head in distress. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

He grunted, rising to his feet, and offered you his hand. You peered up, finally registering he was without clothing in the moonlight. The soft glow accentuated every chiseled feature of his handsome face, rendering you speechless. Staring at his hand, you contemplated taking it.

“No,” you finally said, getting up by yourself. “I don’t even know why I’m apologizing. You brought the hunters here. You were working with Jimin. YOU wanted Jungkook dead.”

“I promise when I conspired with Jimin, he didn’t tell me he was going to kill you. He wanted to be with Jungkook and I wanted to be with you. Believe me, darling. I had no clue of his true intentions.”

You were sick of crying, but that was all you wanted to do. Angry tears were slowly dripping down your face as you used hand gestures to convey your frustration.

“I can’t just forget it all.”

Taehyung cupped your face with both hands, his eyes full of hope and desperation. “But what if you did? Let’s run away together. Start over and forget all this misery.”

“I can’t.”

“You can,” he murmured, placing a chaste kiss on your lips to seal his words. “You and me.”

He continued to kiss you despite your feeble pleas for him to stop. Your tone lacked conviction, perhaps due to exhaustion. Maybe you found a glimmer of belief in his words. Or maybe deep down, you craved his touch to momentarily replace your ache.

The warmth of his lips, the weight of his breath, the hand on the small of your back—you melted for a fleeting moment. In the end, you had to force yourself to pull away.

“Tae—”

“Allow me to tell you my offer before you make a choice.” He placed his hands on your shoulders, staring deep into your eyes. “If you allow it, I will whisk you away to where you will only experience peace and be loved the way you deserve. In the daytime, I will be your loyal companion, a listening ear, anything your heart requires to feel at ease. Soft kisses, warm candlelight, watching your favorite show on repeat,” he said with a chuckle. Then his eyes darkened with lust.

“Later deep into the night, I will be your source of release, making love to you for hours on end until you’re drowning in pleasure that humans wish they could experience. Passionate kisses, lingering touches, our sweaty bodies pressed together.”

He squeezed your shoulders with gentle pressure and brought you closer until your chests were touching.”

“I don’t want nobody else. You are all that matters. Not your fertility, not your history. Just you.”

Your resolve was crumbling. Taehyung knew all the right things to say and knew how to make you feel good. You wished things were different but at the moment, you wanted no one. You just wanted things to end.

“Tae… I can’t. I need… I need to be by myself. This is too much.”

“Too much?” Taehyung’s grip on your shoulders suddenly felt tighter. You didn’t even register how fast he pinned you down, hands held above your head. “Was it too much when I fucked you?“

“Stop! What are you doing?”

“Answer me!” He started to grind his cock against your thigh unashamed, the heavy pants causing chills to go down your spine. “Didn’t it feel good? Didn’t you enjoy it?”

He slipped a knee between your legs, pressing down hard enough to elicit a whimper from your lips.

“Let me take you again. I’ll make sure you feel good.”

He placed searing kisses along your neck much to your dismay. You refused to lay still, squirming around to avoid contact, but you were still too weak to retaliate.

“S-Stop,” you sobbed.

He removed his hands from your own and grabbed onto the column of your throat, admiring your struggle. “You always did like it rough. So beautiful. So sexy…”

To your relief, he didn’t choke you but caressed your neck gently like it was the most beautiful thing in the world. Realizing his true intentions behind that action, you summoned every ounce of strength to act quickly. Planting your feet firmly on the ground, you arched your back, utilizing the leverage to break free from Taehyung's hold. In a swift, well-timed move, you twisted your body and managed to flip the situation.

Now he was the one pinned down and you swung at him once. Twice. Then once more to ensure he was unconscious. You let out screams of rage while doing so, hating everything he’s become.

When he no longer moved, you rose from the cold ground, your steps heavy in the snow. That was when he grabbed at your ankles, forcing you to stumble forward.

“There’s no reason to stand,” he said in a venomous tone, “I like you better on all fours.”

The sounds of your struggles entwined with his grunts as he scrambled to lay on top of you, clawing at your body with his greedy hands, not caring how he was shredding your clothes or how you were getting bloody scratches from his nails. He wrapped his arm around you in a secure chokehold and you began to lose vision.

“You sure pack a punch. I’ll bite.”

Taehyung’s eyes shifted to a fiery goldenrod as he bare his fangs, sinking them into the side of your neck harshly. You let out the most blood-curdling scream as crimson dripped down and tainted the snow. It was like the world stood still, the betrayal amplifying the unimaginable pain.

He finally released you after he got his fill, making an obscene lip-smacking sound after having tasted you.

“You know, you always look so much better when I mark you up. I always claim what’s mine, [Y/N]. And that includes y–”

A sudden blast of magical energy knocked Taehyung off your back and his body landed far away, rolling in the snow until it came into contact with a tree. You’d be sure to thank your savior if you made it out of this alive. All you desired was to fall into a deep slumber, hoping this was a simple nightmare.

You felt someone’s hand rolling you onto your back and you saw the shiny amulet around his neck.

“Jimin… what irony…”

“I’m not saving you,” he said, holding the White Oak Stake above you. Seems like he was going to end you for good. “I just needed him out of my way.”

You didn’t have it in you to explain why you deserved to live. Not even for Jungkook’s sake, considering your lives are linked. You closed your eyes and accepted your fate. Jimin watched you carefully, his hand trembling. He couldn’t do it.

When he was drowning in the lake, the amulet fortunately collided with his body and ended up saving him. He then had an encounter with your grandparents, overhearing them talk about the sire line. He was left in the dark, hating that if he ended you, he’d lose Jungkook too. So he murdered them out of spite for hiding something so crucial.

And now, when his plans were so close to fruition, he just couldn’t risk it. Part of him hoped your grandparents were lying, but what good would that do them now? Their main objective had always been eradicating hybrids. The thought of them going after Jungkook never crossed his mind and he felt incredibly stupid.

You opened your eyes after some time had passed. Jimin was quick to notice, so he raised the stake up high, forcing himself to express determination to kill you. Underneath his facade, you could see the internal struggle raging within him.

“You can’t do it, can you?” you breathed.

“Shut up!”

“You know about it. The sireline. That’s why you’re hesitating, isn’t it?” Your question reignited the conflict burning within him and he snapped, bringing the stake downwards with force, aiming towards your chest.

However, your moonstone necklace blazed with intense light, stopping Jimin in his tracks. You couldn't help but notice the eerie similarity to the glow emanating from his amulet when they were in closer proximity. No matter how hard he pushed, the stake wouldn’t budge any further.

That’s when Taehyung pounced onto Jimin, sinking his teeth into his neck. A struggle unfolded in the snow, but Jimin finally overthrew him. Blood spurted from Jimin’s neck and mouth as he fell to his knees and then collapsed completely.

You stood up, mirroring Jimin by clutching the side of your neck as you walked toward him. There was no way he was going to survive a second werewolf bite. Not this time.

Silence lingered between you and Jimin, an unspoken exchange of emotions, a complex tapestry of anger, sadness, and spite colliding with exhaustion, frustration, and burnout.

But the ordeal was far from over.

Taehyung ran over to you, shaking you by the shoulders.

“Do you fear me? Do you hate me?” His eyes gleamed with madness, a wicked smile on his lips. “Nothing is going to stop us from being together. I want you to do it. Kill me!”

You were tortured by his existence and he knew it, exploiting it to his advantage. But if you ended him, that would be falling right into his twisted trap. With his blood in your system, he’d become a hybrid.

“N-No.”

“Kill me, [Y/N]! I know you want to! Do it!” He roared, forcefully grabbing your hands and pressing them against his neck. “Strangle me! Rip my heart out!”

“You’re being crazy, stop!!!”

A snarl in the distance froze both of you. As Taehyung looked over his shoulder, a black wolf emerged, lunging at him. Taehyung was jovial in his struggle against the wolf, elated to have his wish granted.

“That’s right. Take your anger out on me. She doesn’t love you anymore! Your love was a sham!”

Jungkook growls intensified, clawing him to a gruesome death. You ran over as fast as you could, desperate to stop him.

“Jungkook no! Don’t do it! He bit me!”

As if your words reached him, Jungkook transformed back into his human form, staring at his blood-covered hands in horror. Seeing your neck wound, guilt consumed him, and he fainted.

"What have I done?" he whispered before collapsing. You caught him just in time.

"Jungkook? Jungkook, wake up!" You patted his face urgently. "No, no. What's going on?"

In the distance, you spotted someone crawling through the snow toward Jimin's dying body. Marching over, you grabbed Ari by the collar.

"Ari, what the hell is happening?! Fix it! You're a witch, you're strong. Do something!"

She shook her head. "I can't… I'm dying too. Jimin and I… we're linked."

“What?!”

“The night of the banquet when we took shots of alcohol… I spelled it to link our lives forever.”

“Oh my god… what about Jungkook? He’s not waking up!”

“Why do you think?” she said in a hoarse whisper. “He and Taehyung are linked too.”

#bts series #bts scenarios #jungkook series #jungkook #taehyung #jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #bangtan fanfic #moonstruck #my scenarios #jeon jungkook

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random-introverted-blog · 5 months

Text

No More [Selunite!Shadowheart x F!Reader/Tav]

NOTE: THIS IS A CONTINUATION OF FLICKERS OF LOSS. Yes, I did it, thank AO3 you cowards.

Honestly, I planned more but like where it ended too much to drag it out [sandcastles next time?]

Continuation/Part 3 - Shadows of Shar

Intended Audience: Mature [it gets a teeny bit questionable but that's why the teens will ignore this rating anyway]

Who be smoochin?: Shadowheart x F!Reader/Tav (I got tired of y/n, broke my writing immersion)

The Bit: It's been a month since Selunite!Shadowheart and you escaped DarkJusticiar!Shadowheart. You haven't been sleeping well, and are struggling to adjust. It doesn't help that the wound she left on your hand, binding you to her, still torments you. Or the nightmares you have nearly every time you lay down. Or that you have few memories of your prior life with Selunite!Shadowheart to guide you.

Warnings/Advisories: Fluffy hurt comfort. You're going through it, lingering Stockholm Syndrome is making your thoughts questionable at times, one of your nightmares gets pretty spooky, you're still pretty damn brainwashed and your girlfriend is mega supportive. Mildly graphic detail of a relived memory, a distinct lack of sandcastles (sorry guys it was mostly written by the time it was suggested BUT... maybe next time? NO PROMISES)

Words, all the word (count): 2,583, baebeeeee

Link to the AO3 page if you prefer reading there

MINIMAL EDITING - WE FORGET AND DIE LIKE SHARRANS (AGAIN)

Providing a continuation I didn't think I'd actually write I'm 3...2...1...

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Absentmindedly, your fingertips brushed over the wounds on your hand, staring into the darkness of the night surrounding the cottage. The rough texture of the log you've perched yourself on helped keep your mind from wandering too far while the chirping of crickets and hooting owls provided a beautiful, calming melody.

Dawn would break in two or so hours. You think. It was still odd, having to relearn things that came so simply to others. There was no need to memorize the lights in the sky when you seldom found yourself beneath them.

Twinkling and bright, they soothed something in you. Sure, the moon was beautiful, and you'd always be eternally grateful for everything Selûne has done. After all, it was her amulet around your neck that provided enduring guardianship over you. But sometimes... you just wanted the sparkling freckles scattered along the dark canvas of the night sky.

But your mind always wandered back to where it shouldn't. Or maybe it should. It was still so hard to tell. Even as you trace the shapes scarred into your flesh, something inside you... ached. Was that man hurting her? Does he make sure she has her black velvet tea stuff in the morning? Does she miss you?

Like you miss her...

Gods, how pathetic can you be?

A searing, throbbing burst of pain surges across your nerves from your hand, spreading up your arm and finally subsiding at your elbow. The scars-turned-sigils flickering a brief violet, while you wince and hiss. You were getting better at tolerating the pain...

Familiar footfalls crunched the leaves and twigs leading to your log. The first time, you jumped and darted into the woods. Found only when your wound flared so intensely, you screamed. The times after that, you jumped.

You've started to relearn the feeling of her presence, like a warm embrace that lingers in your memory. Differentiate it from what you were trained to know.

She took a seat beside you, positioning herself on your right. Close enough, you could feel her, distant enough to avoid suffocating you. The soft rustle of her clothing barely registered amidst the ambient songs of the evening. Silence enveloped her but was not unexpected, as she occasionally left you to your own musings. Just by being there, she effortlessly offered endless support. Provide soothing reassurance, an attentive ear or a warm shoulder - Whatever you needed, she would make sure you had it. It was one of the first things she taught you.

Though... recovery was still difficult. Part of you wanted to hear her. Scoot closer until you could feel her warmth. All you had to do was ask. Reach out for her. You weren't sure how to do much of that yet, but you wanted to try... you wanted to so badly. "I... don't want to sleep anymore." The words escape your lips in a hushed murmur, echoing the reason behind your presence in this place, reminding you why you're out here in the first place. And you fought desperately to shut it out.

"I know." She whispers, tone brimming with empathy. As you glance sideways, you can see her eyes locked on you, watching your every move. "But you need to. Running from it won't heal you, my love." Her hand moves closer to you, silently asking for permission.

All you do is return your hand to your side on the log, and Shadowheart does the rest. Her fingers delicately traced the contours of your hand as she slid hers over yours. You hesitantly meet her eyes, feeling a surge of nervous anticipation. All the warmth and happiness you wanted so badly was now laid bare and raw before you. Ready for you to come to your senses, get over yourself and...

Again, but worse this time. Your arm throbbed intensely, the pain spreading from your hand and into your shoulder, igniting a blazing fire pulsating through your entire body. It felt as though invisible knives were mercilessly carving your skin, prompting an involuntary cry of agony for just a fleeting moment before you quickly stifled it by clenching your teeth, your eyes screwed tightly shut.

You're barely aware of Shadowheart's hands clasped around yours, closer to you now, her soft-spoken words of affection and comfort. "Shh," she coos warmly, trying to soothe you. "It'll pass... just breathe. Shh... I'm right here, listen to me and breathe, love..." As your hand relaxes between hers and your breathing finds a steady rhythm, she can't help but smile. "There... See? Already passed." Shadowheart adds, placing a delicate peck to your temple, sending a warm tingle down your spine.

"Mine is bound to..."

"I know..." She cuts you off gently, rubbing soft circles on your hand. "This is the most she can do to you now. And the more you reclaim of yourself, the less this will matter. I promise."

Giving your hand a gentle squeeze before rising to her feet and gently pulling you with her. You don't fight her.

Leading you back inside, she playfully shoos away a dog lingering at the door, giggling quietly as it scampers off. A frown briefly creases your lips, wishing you could recognize the animals as much as they recognized you.

As she led you up the stairs to your bedroom, she made sure to keep your hand in hers, providing a constant sense of comfort until you reached the bed. She lifts a cat from your side of the bed and settles it on the floor before reaching for you to help you in. But she reads the look on your face, smiles almost apologetically and settles for just holding your hand until you sit on the edge of the bed.

Once you appear to relax, she gracefully rounds the bed and climbs in on her side, the mattress sinking slightly beneath her weight. Her eyes burning into your back as you sit there, hesitating. "Love, please..."

Her fingers lightly graze your exposed shoulder, causing you to flinch involuntarily. Shadowheart pauses, and you cringe at the hurt you sense radiating from her now still hand. But she tries, so slowly and timidly. "I'll be right here, sweetheart. Whatever comes, you won't face it alone this time. I swear..."

The tenderness in her voice is so different from the harsh commands you've come to expect. It's like a balm to your wary mind and you carefully ease yourself down to rest your head on the pillow.

For a split second, you're staring at the dark ceiling of that place and your core twitches in anticipation, ready to give everything and anything she wants of you.

A warm hand settles over yours, its touch so gentle that you don't notice your own trembling until she holds them steady. "You're safe here." Shadowheart reassures, voice barely above a whisper beside you. Nights have been difficult for the entire month you've been here, beset by restless sleep and haunting dreams. Surely it was wearing on her, this constant need to comfort and ground you... But here she was, just as patient and present as she was the first night. Not so much as implying a single complaint, passive or otherwise. "Can I hold you?" She asks, voice deliberate and measured, like the very words would startle you into the woods.

You offer a subtle nod, the faint sound of your affirmation barely audible in the room. As you do, you notice her cautious shuffle, the soft rustling of her moving across the bed. The moonlight through the window behind the bed casts a gentle glow, illuminating her hands, which she purposefully positions within your line of sight. You can sense her deliberate awareness, her conscious effort to ensure her actions remain visible. Gradually, she encircles you with her arms, her touch conveying a tender and guarded embrace. The scent of her envelops you - lavender and night orchids - adding a touch of familiarity.

She would never have... your body was hers to suit her whims...

"You're safe here..." Shadowheart whispers into your ear, returning you to the cottage. The present. Her nose gently presses into the crook of your neck, the warmth of her breath a soft caress you fixate on as your eyelids drift closed.

The initial darkness is hushed and welcoming, like a gentle whisper in the night... until it's not.

Until it's frigid and gripping at your limbs so tight, you almost lose feeling in them... Until they're pulling at the seams of you, tearing at you and boils your blood hot enough you swear your skin is melting off your bones like wax off a wick. You would scream if your mouth were allowed to open. "You've strayed, pet..." the icy voice scolds, her tone low. From the depths of the darkness, a faint silhouette emerges, steadily approaching you. "And we both know deep down that's not your honest desire."

Closing the distance between you, She emerges and looms above, her presence dominating. You realize now you're on your knees, with a sense of vulnerability washing over you.. Wearing her black robe you could still vividly envision even without seeing it. "Recall your prayer of contrition, when you first came to the Nightsingers' embrace."

You do, and the sharp pang of unmitigated anguish shoots through you. "When you wavered at the altar, when you turned away from her and hesitated to send Nyxara to her endless dark." It's as if a floodgate opens, and the memory of your first friend in the cloister rushes in. And your first act of wickedness to earn your place in it.

How She had to take your hand and drive the blade into her chest. The ghostly touch of tears streaming down your face lingers, as if they were shed just moments ago. You could almost still feel her heart beating its last into your palm through the dagger, as if you were still holding it. Could nearly feel the warmth of her life ebbing away in your hand.

You were permitted a pass only because She needed you initiated as soon as possible. But you had to pray for hours, the soft murmurs of your pleas mingling with the soft rustle of her robe as She circled you. Watched over you. Ensured your prayers were offered with utmost deference and reverence. Punishing you with your wound if you slipped in fervor.

Before you were called again to sacrifice Umbric, your only other friend. Your last one. Both a second chance to do it properly, and to repent of your failure... No more attachments. Only Shar. Only Her.

You knew better than to make friends after that.

Her slow crouch brought her eyes, icy green and intense, to meet yours, leaving you feeling completely powerless, entranced and held captive by her gaze. "Recite it. Recite it and repent for forswearing your faith to Lady Shar." The demand feels impossible to ignore, your mouth returning to you and an expectant glare follows.

"Mistress Shar, in the shadow of loss, I beseech your forgiveness. Forgive my faltering..."

"Tav!"

Your body lurches forward, drawing in a deep breath that fills your starving lungs. You feel your entire body trembling until warm, comforting arms encircle you. Offering a sense of security and safety. "I've got you, you're okay..."

"F-forgive my faltering faith, Mistress Shar—"

"Tav, no," Shadowheart says firmly, "come back to me, my love, I know you're stronger than her..." the stifled tremor is enough to clear the fog in your mind. "You're more than a puppet for her amusement. You always have been..." pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head before nestling her nose in your hair. Drawing you deeper into her arms.

Recite it.

"I... don't want to..." Finally you break, the intensity of your training and your hunger for this new way of life conflicting so fiercely it overwhelms you.

Without further clarification, she amazingly understands. "No, my love, you don't have to. Not anymore... Never again." Shadowheart mutters into your hair. Holding you tighter when she feels the wet warmth you're bathing her shirt in. "Gods, I'm so sorry," she mutters, her voice filled with a self-reproach. "I should have done more, planned better, gotten to you sooner..."

You don't think, not really. You just act. Like you know already. The motions are a blur, but you know you pull back just enough... then your lips are on hers. She takes a moment to gather herself, but eventually eases into the moment and reciprocates. And it's unbelievably amazing.

The way she kisses you is sweet and tender, as if she wants to savor every moment with you. How she touched you, looked at you, now kissing you, like you were the most cherished and adored person in the world. Her lips against yours is so soft and electrifying that it sends wonderful shivers down your spine, and your body tingles in bliss.

There's no teeth, no pain, no blood. Only the warmth of her mouth moving slowly with yours like a delicate caress. Her hands are soft on your back, maintaining the security her arms provide you. It's everything beautiful that your stunted memory can recall of her kisses, and more... and you never want her to stop, craving for more. How have you gone this long without realizing how indescribably incredible she is?

But surely she does, if ever slightly. Neither of you seems ready to fully disconnect from each other. Your eyes remaining closed. "No more..." you whisper quietly.

"No more..." Shadowheart echoes just as quietly. Her lips twitching slightly, one hand brushing away a few lingering tears from your cheek. "Not anymore." Pressing a small kiss to your lips. "Never again." And another before her smile spreads wider.

Shadowheart gracefully maneuvers you both again to lie down in bed. This time you're practically on top of her, your face nuzzled into her shoulder. You gently weave your fingers through her smooth, flowing white hair, which partially cascades over her other shoulder, eliciting both a smile and a small sigh of appreciation from her. Mesmerized by her beauty, you can't help gawk in awe. Bathed in the ethereal glow of the moonlight streaming through the window, she looks absolutely radiant.

Her hand, still playing with the hair behind your head, guides you to rest on her shoulder. Securing you against her with her arm.

The memory crosses your mind and though you tense a moment; it doesn't... hurt as much as you've come to expect. Shadowheart gently tightens her arms in silent reassurance, and you respond by wiggling impossibly closer to her. The last thing you want is for her to think you feel or appreciate nothing she's done.

Instead, you gently drape your arm over her waist, feeling a sense of belonging and protection, as your mind wanders to Shadowheart... Your Shadowheart, savoring how your body melds so perfectly with hers. The adventures you must have shared. Wondering if there's a way to get those memories back.

Shadowheart fills all the dark corners of your thoughts, leaving no room for her to overrun your peace of mind. Before long, the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, her steady breathing, has created a soothing lullaby that lulls you back to sleep.

This time, you're welcomed by a soft radiance and a soothing warmth.

In your fragmented memory, you can't recall a time when you've slept as soundly as you do now, peacefully drifting into a deep slumber.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-

A/N: Wowowow okay hi. I didn't honestly expect to write anything beyond where it ended. Nothing public anyways. But AO3 asked very nicely (thanks!) for a continuation. I honestly intended this to be a beefy one but really liked the vibe and way it ended. Ya get what ya get. Quality over quantity, yeah?

Thanks again to everyone who likes, reblogs, replies, supports this little project in anyway you deem worth your time! And with that... Unpopular writer, awayyyy...

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate #bg3 #shadowheart #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate shadowheart #baldurs gate fanfiction #shadowheart x tav #bg3 shadowheart #dark justiciar shadowheart #dark justiciar shadow heart #dark justiciar #ao3 baldurs gate #baldurs gate #baldurs gate romance #baldurs gate tav #baldur's gate romance #i will let the rot consume me #i am the goddess queen of rot

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r-2-peepoo · 1 year

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Do you have any good Codywan fics to recommend? Preferably on AO3, preferably not too spicy, and preferably ones that will leave me happy inside and not drowning in a post-Order 66 pit of despair. If you don’t feel like answering this, that’s fine, I hope you have a good day! :)

First of all, I am so sorry for not replying to this sooner. I didn’t see the notification and also I really wanted to make sure I gave you a good list. I love getting asked this so thank you for giving me an excuse to make another one of these posts. Here is a link to the first one I made.

These are all masterpieces in my mind. I have like twenty bookmarks in total even though I read fics all the time so here are some of my holy grails:

AUs

Oh, the weather outside is frightful by Celaestis (Christmas fluff modern au)

I wish there were more Christmas fics because I just love them and it certainly doesn’t hurt that the writing quality of this one is nothing short of breathtaking. This is ever so slightly spicy but its mostly fluff. Just a line or two of spice and it’s implied too. This writer has a way of describing things that is so intricate and intimate and I am just obsessed with their writing style.

love me long, be my sunlight by ricken (love island au)

I have never been able to sit through an entire episode of Love Island but when I tell you I screamed when I first saw this au. It is the most fun I have had with a fic in so long but it’s also actually incredibly heartwarming too. And what a creative idea as well. This is one of the fics I reread a lot and if you give it a go, you’ll understand why. It’s positively delightful and is such an original concept too.

Probably the spiciest fic on the list but there’s nothing crazy. It’s mostly just dialogue and references (it is a dating show after all) and the spiciest scene is interrupted. I had such a blast with this one and I really wish more fics were like this.

hunger + dreams by catboydogma (hockey/figure skating au)

Tell me why Codywan suit every genre. The very concept of a Codywan figure skating au is enough to make me screech but this one!!! It’s just so cute. Truly the most adorable little getting together fic and it does such a good job characterising everyone too. The interactions Obi Wan has with Anakin and Ahsoka are so much fun and Codywan deserve to be happy above all else and this fic absolutely delivers that. I would read a thousand chapters of this if I could.

Silver Lining by Wixiany (skiing au)

This fic!!!! Oh my god!!!! I have always believed that Codywan have suffered too much in canon that every au they are place in should be a romcom and that is precisely what this fic is. The sweetest little romcom ever. This fic has everything. A ski-slope accident meet cute. A Cody’s scar origin story. An Omega cameo (if you know me, you know that my opinion of any Codywan fic skyrockets if my fave Star Wars girl makes an appearance). Basically no angst!!!! I think this fic cured all of my problems ngl. I cannot recommend it enough. I genuinely just found this like thirty minutes ago and it has instantly become one of my favourite Codywan fics ever.

An Officer and a Gentleman by jimmytiberius (regency au)

I read this one last year and I’ve been thinking about it ever since. This is a Codywan regency au and regency era literature may be the only thing I love as much as Codywan so naturally the being combined is immaculate. This fic does a fantastic job of capturing the delicate romanticism of the time period and it’s a style that suits Codywan down to the ground. It just makes sense for them. I mean a Sense and Sensibility au??? Are you serious??? What an amazing concept. If you’re familiar with Jane Austen at all, you’ll feel right at home with this fic because it is just so incredibly sweet.

Rhapsody in Blue by KCKenobi (orchestra/mystery au)

Now I know I mentioned it on my last post but I have vowed to always recommend this fic whenever anyone asks. It is truly my favourite fic of all time and I’ve read it multiple times now. How many fanfics can you say have their own soundtrack? I think this is the third time I have recommended this fic in a post but it really is that good. This is a warning for some angst but I would never recommend a fic with an unhappy ending unless specifically asked so you can rest easy knowing that everything resolves well in this story.

What I also adore about this fic is that it does brilliantly what so few others do, which is that it doesn’t ignore its side characters. They are not just props in Obi Wan’s story. Each person, no matter how small their appearance, feels like a real person. They’re so believable and every relationship, platonic, romantic or otherwise, is completely fleshed out.

There's also a very sweet Codywan oneshot here but it is set during the pandemic and is a bit of a heavy read depending on how much that topic affects so be careful.

I would also like to say that, while this author doesn’t generally write Codywan, first of all when she does it is magical. Secondly, she is absolutely fantastic if you like platonic fics. There’s so many to read and every single one I have read so far has been wonderful.

Canonverse fics

Incognizant by marshMeister (5+1 fic)

It wouldn’t be a true list of recommendations if I didn’t mention a fic by one of my favourite humans @legobenkenobi. When I say he is one of my favourite writers ever, I am not just saying it because I talk to him basically everyday. I cannot think of a single other person I would trust more to characterise both Cody and Obi Wan. It’s perfect every single time, whether its just in a post or in a full fanfiction, and this fic is such a good example. It’s that classic 5+1 format but it’s so sweet and so in character.

What’s the one thing that could improve a Codywan fic though? Anakin being completely oblivious and (lovingly) made fun of for it. He has absolutely no clue how Codywan feel about each other even though basically the rest of the galaxy knows so this fic is him figuring that out and it is joy to read (and then reread like six times).

Also if I could make it required by law to read everything Ben has ever written, I would. So definitely check out literally all of his other fics.

if i don’t make it back from where i’ve gone (just know i’ve loved you all along) by thebitterbeast (featuring art from thegreencarousel) (time travel, non linear fic)

This fic does have some angst but rest assured everything works out eventually. It’s such a unique take on the events in canon and I already enjoy a time loop/ time travel fic. But the part I love the most about this fic is that it’s pro-Jedi. Too many Codywan fics find it necessary to disparage or misrepresent the Jedi and their beliefs in order to make the relationship work but Jedi are allowed to love! And this fic is such a beautiful reminder of that. It also captures the gentleness that Cody and Obi Wan have in their relationship with each other in such a lovely way. I fully accept this as the new canon.

Ghosts of the Dead by Just_Here_To_Procrastinate (zombie au)

This is definitely the heaviest fic on the list but trust me. It’s a masterpiece. Also happy ending too, so don’t worry. Just be cautious for mentions of blood and gore if that isn’t your thing. It doesn’t go overboard with it at all but better safe than sorry.

This is a zombie au and I understand that genre isn’t for everyone, but when people say that they’ve read fanfictions that are better than traditionally published novels, this is the kind of this they’re talking about. There’s a section of this fic which is maybe one of the most beautifully written things I’ve ever read. I wish I could give more context but it happens to be at the most pivotal moment of the entire story and I don’t want to spoil anything so you’re going to have to trust me. This fic is insanely good. It’s quite a long one and worth every single second you spend reading it. I love the narrative style and how it fits into the actual plot of TCW too. The characterization is fantastic too.

#codywan #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #clone wars #star wars prequels

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dianneking · 1 year

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The Set-Up - Miranda/Reader (Top of the Lake: China Girl)

Crossposted on AO3 - if you prefer to read it there, follow this link!

Summary: Reader is crushing hard on Miranda, and yet somehow ends up on a date with Robin organized by none other than Miranda herself. Light angst, mostly Miranda being a hot mess tbh.

Tags: Mutual pining, jealousy, fake relationship, spying on people, Miranda being a clueless hot mess (as per canon), lil’ bit of angst, matchmaker!Robin, height difference, smoking, present tense, second person pov, ungendered reader. Words: 3767

The Set-Up

You watch as Miranda enthusiastically waves goodbye at Detective Griffin before coming to lean against the wall by your side. Wordlessly you offer her a cigarette out of your pack, and she accepts with a muttered Thank you, sticking it immediately between her lips and lighting it up. Maybe it’s because you are somewhat more tired, maybe it’s because today she looks particularly happy and it tugs at something deep within you, but today’s the day where you throw caution to the wind and ask her what you have been ruminating on for quite some time.

"So, what's the deal with you and Griffin, huh?"

"We're on another case together. It's a good one."

"Only that?"

"What else?"

"Come on, Hilmarson, are you really going to make me ask?"

"I... I don't understand what you mean."

"You two seem pretty close, that is all."

"We sorted out our differences."

"Isn't that just great?"

"What's wrong with you today? You are being more waspish than usual. Didn’t take enough smoke breaks?"

"Don’t try to change the subject. Are congratulations in order? Are you two an item now?"

"What? No!"

"...if you say so."

"We really aren't! She's like my sister or something. Is that what was pissing you off?"

"Of course not! Why would I care if you and Griffin were hitting it off?"

"Oh my god, it is. You are jealous."

"No I'm not"

"You so are!"

"Am not"

"Are too!"

"Piss off!"

You shove her playfully, but doing so makes you painfully aware of your height difference, and you feel suddenly very small and nervous. If your crush for Miranda is so evident that even herself can call you out on it, you are worse off than you thought you were.

You try to sneak a glance up at her, and you see her beautiful face corrugated in a frown, as if trying to piece together a puzzle. Has she already figured out everything? Maybe you should consider making a tactical retreat before you dig yourself too deep into a hole. But at the same time, you are not willing to give up any time the two of you spend together.

Damn. She's so out of your league it's not even funny, you think, watching how the warm glow of the afternoon sun shines through her blonde eyelashes. You should probably have been more careful in letting your feelings known, you think as the silence stretches on uncomfortably. Now there's going to be that embarrassed little dance of her trying to let you down and you telling her that it's okay (it's not), you understand (you do), and that you hope you two can still be friends (you really, really do). You are not ready to give up your smoke breaks spent together, all the laughter, the jokes, the heart to heart talks. Miranda is the brightest part of your day, and you'll be damned if you'll do anything to hurt your friendship.

"Hey I... I think you might have a chance, you know?"

"What?" You barely manage to choke out. Is she…

"Yeah, Robin is single you know. And you are witty and smart like her, you two would get on like a house on fire."

Oh no.

The implications of that sentence hit you like a cold shower. Is she really that clueless or is it some sort of joke? She's not the person to purposefully try to hurt you by mocking your crush, you know her well enough for that. You know she means well, and yet your heart sinks as surely as a rock in cold water. She's totally misunderstood, but that in itself is an answer.

"Miranda, that's not..."

"You know what? I can set you two up for a date!" She whips her phone out before you can try to get in a word, her tongue peeking out of her lips in a show of concentration as she types away. You try your best not to stare at her mouth as she does so, but you are entranced. So much so that you miss your only occasion to stop her.

"There you go!" she announces with a satisfied smile as the phone pings with Griffin's answer "She says she's up for grabbing lunch with you at Tony's tomorrow if you pay for it."

You try to swallow your disappointment, but it stays as a bitter knot in your throat. She might not be dating her detective partner, but she for sure isn't interested in you, if she's so quick to try set you up with her. She looks down at you, with so much excitement shining on her face that for a moment you get lost in those sparkling blue eyes. She's so gorgeous, and sunny, and kind. You really cannot be blamed for falling for her. It's just your usual rotten luck that she only sees you as a friend. So much so as to play matchmaker for you.

And you are so desperately in love with her that you cannot bring yourself to burst her bubble, to be the reason that her infectious smile drops from her lips, and so you don’t say anything. You don’t tell her that when the two of them storm through the station on their way to another case, or when they lean together, their heads close as they look at the computer screen together, it is not Griffin that you can’t take your eyes off from.

"So, what do you say?"

"Uhm…sure, I guess…"

“But of course, that’s what friends are for, isn’t it? You go get your girl!”

You shrug, trying to squash down the hurt that the word friend carries. You might as well go to this lunch with Griffin, hopefully you might be able to pull out of her whether Miranda is seeing someone else. Not that that would change much, would it? You should start trying to resign yourself to the fact that you really have no chance with her.

Also, Miranda looks positively giddy with excitement at having set the two of you up. Not when she has so resolutely stated that she only thinks of you as a friend. You are not going to make a fool of yourself confessing feelings that won’t be welcome and would only make your interactions awkward. Grabbing a bite with Griffin is for sure the lesser embarrassment of the two. Or at least the least damaging for your friendship. Because even if you can't have Miranda as your girlfriend, you are going to fight tooth and nail not to lose her as a friend.

You only hope that Griffin won't be an arse about it.

“Why are we even here? Didn't you have a huge crush on Miranda?”

Obviously, it had been too much to ask for.

“...”

“I’ll take that as a yes. So why let her set you up with me?”

“If you knew that already, why did you agree to this date?”

“I wanted some free lunch.”

“Oh wow. Way to make someone feel appreciated, Griffin.”

“And I was curious.”

“Were you?”

“Yeah, I wanted to see what she sees in you.”

“Nothing much, probably, if she tried to peddle me to you at the first chance she got.”

You try to keep the bitterness out of your tone, but you still bite viciously into your sourdough sandwich, and you can hear Griffin scoff.

“Oh please, it's obvious that she's pining for you just as much as you are for her.” You can feel yourself burning with embarrassment. Still better than the alternative, you remind yourself. It's just a lunch.

“I might even believe you if she hadn’t just put me firmly in the friendzone, so please, Griffin, can you drop this and just enjoy your free food?"

Miranda tries not to feel guilty as she peeks beyond the wall corner to watch her two colleagues through the window of the café. She just wants to see how the date goes, that's all. Since she's the one who made it possible and all of that, she feels somewhat responsible for it. Like a fairy godmother for your budding relationship. Her friend and her work partner hitting it off…that has to be a good match, right?

Everybody agrees that Robin is the absolute best detective in the station. And you...well, you deserve nothing but the best. And if you two work it out, she won't have to share her free time between the two of you, right? The three of you will be able to hang out together all the time, and all will be just grand. One big happy family.

She can see the two of you in conversation, and cannot help the nervous tapping of her fingers on the wall she's hiding behind. She can see you shrug, an embarrassed grimace on your face. She can see how red your ears have turned - she can't get over how cute you are when you blush. For all of your tough talk, she thinks affectionately, you really are just a big softie. Have you already told Robin of your crush for her?

What will her reaction be?

Maybe Robin will reject you, and of course Miranda will be there to help you through your heartbreak, to comfort you as you had done for her when her affair – it’s a relationship, babe – with Adrian had crumbled like a sandcastle built too close to the ocean. Because that’s what friends do for each other, right? And Miranda is very happy to be your friend.

She absolutely is.

Really.

It's just that…

It's just that sometimes she allows her mind to run free, and she finds herself wondering how it would feel for once to hold your hand as you lean against the wall outside the station side by side, how your hair would feel if she buried her hands in it, how your lips would taste if she were to… No. She really shouldn’t. You're her friend, and she's pretty sure normal people don’t think about kissing their friend.

Unless they have romantic feelings for their friend. And she surely doesn't. Does she?

…

Fuck.

She totally has romantic feelings for you.

How hasn't she noticed? How long has she been feeling this way towards you and mistaking it for friendship? Suddenly she feels like bashing her head against the rough brick wall. How could she have been so dumb? She has even helped to set you up with Robin! Wow, good job, Hilmarson. Great. Couldn't she have realised it like two days ago? Even for her standards - she's the first to admit that she has messed up multiple times in her life - that's one major cock-up.

“See? She's totally into you as well, she's even spying on our date.”

“That might just be because she is curious. If she wanted me, why would she try to set me up with you? Come on, Griffin, you must be smarter than this. Aren't you supposed to be the best detective in Australia or something?”

“Ha-ha, such a flatterer. Look, I know what I’m seeing. And lucky for you, I’ve got an idea.”

“Lord help us all.”

“What if I pretended to go along with it?”

“Griffin, I am flattered, but I thought we had already been over how I'm not interested in you.”

“That's why I said pretended, genius. She’ll see us together, get jealous and realize her feelings for you.”

“She won't. You might be a decent detective, but you suck at relationship advice. Oi! Remove your hand from mine, this is ridiculous.”

She shouldn't still be here, Miranda thinks, and yet she can't seem to be able to rip her eyes away from the way Robin has grasped your hand above the coffee table, her face opening in a lopsided smile.

This isn't fun anymore. Not since she's realised how badly she has fucked up in helping you two out. Miranda swallows, her eyes never leaving Robin as she slides out of her side of the booth and moves to sit beside you. She's never seen that sort of playful grin on Robin's face, unless she was totally hammered, and to see it when she's sober, and on a date with you of all people… Robin wants you too, doesn't she?

Well, of course she does. I mean, look at you, you are lively, smart, funny, attractive, and Robin might be many things, but she for sure isn’t blind or stupid. She has to know how much of a catch you are.

Miranda can only watch helplessly as Robin - the same Robin who refuses all sort of affectionate contact, struggling to even hug her own daughter - is leaning into you, nuzzling your neck, and whispering something in your ear. You jolt up as if electrocuted, and turn towards her, shock clear on your face. What has she said to you? Miranda feels like she's going insane, stuck on the outside looking in.

And then Robin chooses that moment to plant a kiss square on your lips.

Miranda turns tail and flees.

“What the fuck, Griffin?”

“It's gonna work, trust me. I know Miranda.”

Miranda leans against the wall next to the station, in what over the years she has come to think of as your spot. If she closes her eyes, she can almost fool herself into thinking you’re by her side, as you always are, cigarette dangling from your lips, always ready with a sarcastic quip, or a funny retort. Except you're not there. You're still on your stupid happy date, that she had pushed you into, like the moron she is.

She's been chainsmoking since she came back from spying on you, and the longer it takes for you to come back, the more harshly she pulls in the smoke between her teeth, trying to lessen her stress. Trying not to picture what you and Robin could be doing that's taking the both of you so damn long.

She tries to ignore the painful constriction of her heart at what her traitorous mind conjures up. The mere thought of Robin's small hands safely ensconced in your bigger ones, of her mouth exploring yours as Miranda had been dreaming of doing even before she recognized her feelings for you, of the two of you hugging or worse, makes her want to scream at the top of her lungs and hit something.

But she can't.

You're her friend, she should want you to be happy, shouldn't she? And if that means stepping aside and supporting you in your relationship with Robin, of course she'll do just that. Because Robin is the one you're interested in and there's nobody on earth Miranda can think is more different from her than Detective Griffin. Robin simply is everything Miranda has never been: petite, professional, smart, careful and precise. It's no wonder you like her and not big, clumsy, helpless Miranda.

Miranda, who's a terrible friend and cannot even support you wholeheartedly in your new budding relationship.

Miranda shakes her head, dropping the butt of her cigarette to the ground and moodily stepping on it. She should be happy for you, should be grateful to be allowed to be your friend, it's not like she has a whole lot of those anyways. The sooner she starts to accept the fact that there's no hope for anything more between you two, the better it'll be for her poor heart.

She just didn't expect it to hurt so much.

But what's taking you so long? Is that how it's going to be from now on? You and Robin, so wrapped in each other that you forget about Miranda, leaving her alone once again, cast aside, begging for scraps of affection from her friends?

She can feel the tears filling her eyes at the mere thought.

"You're back! How…how did it go?"

Miranda’s smile is too big, her eyes too watery for it to be sincere. For the first time you allow yourself to hope against all hopes that maybe, maybe Robin has a point.

But maybe you are just seeing what you want to see.

“Are you alright, Miranda?" Her laugh is high, nervous and ends up in a sort of hiccup as she clumsily claps you on the shoulder, rocking you with the strength of the impact.

"Of course I am! Why wouldn’t I be, there’s a new, blooming romance in the station! And between my best friend and my partner, to boot! Isn't that just grand? Are you gonna tell all the others about it, or should I tell them and save you the pain?”

Her happy-go-lucky voice is so fake it twists your heart and almost makes you miss what she has said.

“Nonono, there will be no telling anything to the others!”

The last thing you need is for the whole fucking station to think you and Griffin are an item. You wouldn’t hear the end of it. It’s already bad that Miranda thinks that. And hopefully you can somehow clear that up.

“Is that something Robin asked you? Does she want to keep you as her dirty little secret? You shouldn’t settle for that! You deserve more!” She gesticulates wildly at this, her hands cutting the air with agitated gestures, as she defends your honor against imaginary slights.

“That’s not it, Miranda. It’s just-“ But she cuts you off before you can get a word in.

“You shouldn't hide your feelings! You two are totally made for each other. Go be unapologetically together!”

"Why are you so adamant in pushing us together?" You finally snap, irritatedly. She's not making any sort of sense. She's trying so hard to get the two of you together even if it's obvious that she's not happy in the least about it. And even though you are starting to think more and more that this might all be a huge misunderstanding, it cuts to hear the woman you love trying so hard to set you up with someone else. What if Robin wasn’t right? What if Miranda really only saw you as a friend and nothing more?

"What do you mean? Didn't the date go well? You sure looked like you were hitting it off pretty well, and you took your sweet time, too." She mutters the second part softly, as if it has come out of her mouth without her really wanting to, then promptly blushes a deep red.

You always found her adorable when she blushed.

"Miranda, I need to know it, why were you spying on us?"

"Oh god, you saw me? I… Uhm I…I just happened to drop by Tony's, I had totally forgotten that the two of you were there. So I uhm hid, because I didn’t want to make it uncomfortable for you. Hehe, that’s all."

"Is… Is it possible that you might like me?" You throw all caution to the wind because really, at this point you need a clear answer.

"No!" She answers too quickly "Of course not! You are my friend. I like you as a friend!" Hope stirs once again, but you don't dare to believe it quite yet. Not while she keeps denying everything.

"Miranda, you are many good things, but you are a terrible liar."

She suddenly rights herself from where she was leaning against the wall and makes as if to move towards the station.

"Well, I…I need to go. I just realized that my lunchbreak was over like five minutes ago and I-"

You stop her, a hand on her wrist, and a pleading tone to your voice.

"No, please. Stay. I…"

She stops, but she stays with her back to you. When she speaks, her voice wavers ever so slightly.

“You don’t have to spare my feelings, I know what you want to say.”

“You…do? ‘Cause it seems to me that this is all a huge misunderstanding.”

“Of course. A misunderstanding. Sure, that’s one way to put it. Just another big clumsy mess, made by big clumsy Miranda. I guess we’re used to it by now, aren’t we?”

She turns now, and you are shocked to see tears streaking down her face.

“That’s not what-“

“It's OK,” she interrupts you once again, angrily wiping the wetness off her face as she looks at you with a solemn, sad look into those beautiful big blue eyes of hers, “I know that you like Robin, I would never do anything to ruin your chance with her. You really make a perfect couple, I am serious about it. I just need a little time to adjust.” Her voice is picking up speed, as if it's impossible to stop now that she's started, “I am so grateful to have you as a friend, it's not like I expected you to return my feelings. Hell, I didn't recognise them for what they are until I saw the two of you together. And I would never let something like that ruin our friendship. Everything can stay perfectly the same, even if you are with Robin and…and I know I am a terrible friend that has fallen for you after setting you up with your crush but I want you to be happy and please don't hate me."

You blink under the onslaught of words she's unleashed on you, and when she abruptly stops, all that can be heard in the small alley to the side of the station is her heavy breathing, as if she had just run a marathon. Her shoulders are shaking and you can't see her face, dipped as it is into her collarbone in shame.

Your heart breaks at seeing her like this, at the sheer thought that Miranda could believe even for one second that you hate her.

You stand right in front of her, cradling her red, downturned face in your hands, tilting it ever so slightly up from where it was staring at the pavement, so you can once again look directly into her beautiful blue eyes, now swimming with tears and swirling emotions.

She's such a mess, you think affectionately. But she's a lovely mess with the biggest of hearts, and you wouldn’t want her any other way.

"Miranda, I could never ever hate you. In fact, it's quite the opposite. I… I think I love you."

"As…as a friend?"

"No, dearest, no, not as a friend."

And you hope there's no mistaking your intentions now as you press your lips to hers in a kiss that the both of you have been daydreaming about for way too long to admit.

Liked it? You can find more of my fanfiction on my masterlist!

#miranda hilmarson fanfiction #miranda hilmarson/reader #miranda hilmarson x reader #miranda (top of the lake)#miranda hilmarson #miranda hilmarson/you #miranda hilmarson x you #gwendoline christie characters #gwendoline christie fanfiction #miranda x reader #top of the lake: china girl #tol #dianneking fanfiction #dianneking writes #dragonmist fanfiction #crossposted on ao3 #angst fairy collection #top of the lake china girl fanfiction #top of the lake fanfiction

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infinite-riches · 2 months

Text

The Collapse

Summary: He did his best to remember. Gaz had been right behind him when the call came through from Price for backup. Soap let Gaz go, insisting he could clear the, reportedly, empty building on his own.

Everything was going fine until Soap entered the office on the second floor. The door had been attached to a trigger.

Or: Soap gets caught in the blast and things only go downhill from there.

Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x Simon "Ghost" Riley

Word Count: 1622

Warnings: MCD, Mild mentions of blood

A/N: This lovely one-shot was inspired by this prompt from a member of the CoD babygirls server, much love to them!! <3

Also, I cried writing this. :')

And as always feel free to leave feedback/constructive criticism <3

AO3 Link (if you prefer): The Collapse

5. Oh fuck.

4. He has to run.

3. A straight shot down the hallway.

2. The stairs would be his best bet.

1. Almost there.

Soap struggled to gain his bearings.

He remembered hearing the beeping. Then running. Then an explosion but there was still a gap in his memories.

For a moment everything was silent and still before his body processed everything.

Blinding white-hot pain tore through his body, lighting up every nerve. He screamed so loud it made his ears ring even more.

He could feel something warm sliding down the side of his face. Blood. Confirmed to be an uncomfortably deep gash when his fingers landed where skin should have been and only met more blood.

His throat felt raw, caked thick with dust that made each breath agony. Calling for help felt like swallowing shards of glass.

He tried to pull himself into a sitting position but was left immobile, a broken slab of concrete laid across his lower body, at least 10 meters long and 3 meters wide. He did his best to take stock of his situation. There was a deep gash on his head and he almost positively had a concussion from the blast. His heart sank as he tried to assess his legs. As much as he tried, they wouldn’t move. Not an inch.

Fear rose in his chest, tendrils of panic wrapping around his throat as it became harder and harder to breathe.

“-oap? How copy?” Price’s voice brought him back to the present. He fumbled about, adrenaline only going so far as to hold back the fear and anxiety. Eventually, his fingers made contact with his mic.

“Price, I–” he choked back a sob as he finally let himself take full stock of his situation.

“John? What is it, son?” Soap could hear the panic in his Captain’s voice and tried not to focus on the guilt he felt because of it.

“I… you… I won’t make it to exfil-” The words had barely left his mouth when Ghost cut in.

“Johnny? What happened? Give me your location.” Soap bit down on his lip, trying to hold back the wounded cry trying to force itself from his throat.

“No need, LT.” He tried to keep his tone light. He wasn’t successful.

“Johnny. Tell me what happened. We can get you ou-”

“No! No, you can’t, Ghost! You can’t get me out because there’s got to be a couple fucking tons of concrete pinning me to the floor and I can’t feel my legs anyways!” His voice was more raw than he realized. Panic was beginning to set in, his chest beginning to rise and fall rapidly as he pushed against the slab of concrete. He knew he was being irrational but suddenly the space was too small and there wasn’t any air left for him to breathe and he was gonna die this way all alone and-

“-nny! JOHNNY! I need you to focus. Give me your location. Now.” Soap always hated that tone of voice, it was so similar to the one he would use during interrogations.

“The West building… I… I was on the second floor… I don’t know where I am now…” His words came out broken, small hiccups and cries interrupting his speech.

“Good, Johnny, that’s good. We’re on our way to you, I want you to tell me what happened.” In all the time he had known Ghost, he had never heard fear like this in his voice, until now.

He did his best to remember. Gaz had been right behind him when the call came through from Price for backup. Soap let Gaz go, insisting he could clear the, reportedly, empty building on his own.

Everything was going fine until Soap entered the office on the second floor. The door had been attached to a trigger.

“It was a trap LT. As soon as I opened the door…” Soap made another futile attempt at moving the concrete, not able to get any leverage without the use of his legs. “It was rigged to start a timer. I had maybe five seconds.”

He could taste salt and iron on his lips, a mix of his blood and tears, no doubt leaving his face a ghoulish sight.

It was dark too, with only a few, faint, rays of light penetrating the mass of broken concrete and twisted steel. It was almost too dark to make any shapes out and everything was quiet.

“-oap? Tav? Where are you mate?”

Soap startled, the voice pulling him from unconsciousness.

“Kyle?” His voice was softer now, throat thoroughly worn raw from the mix of dust and screaming.

“Soap? You there mate?”

“Gaz!” Soap forced himself to call out louder, ignoring the way his throat ached.

“Price! Ghost! I can hear him! Keep talking, Soap!” He could hear Gaz shuffling closer, moving smaller pieces of concrete out of his way.

“I’m here!” He tried to move the slab again, desperately pushing at concrete, fingers leaving small trails of red in their wake.

“Johnny?” Soap couldn’t stop the sob that escaped him at the sound of Ghost’s voice. He sounded scared. Ghost never sounded scared. Not like this. Not since Las Almas.

“Simon-” another sob. “I’m here, Si. Please, please-” his breaths were becoming more and more shallow, his head spinning more than it already was.

“I’m coming, Johnny. Keep talkin’ to me, love.” The shifting of concrete grew louder and louder as the men picked their way through the debris.

For once in his life, Soap had nothing to say.

“C’mon, son. You gotta talk to us.” It was Price this time. Ever the leader, he seemed calm but there was the faintest edge of worry in his voice.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry, Cap-”

“None of that son.” More light filled the space. It made Soap’s head swim more.

A gloved hand pulled the piece of concrete next to his head away.

“Johnny?”

“I’m here-” he sobbed again, desperately reaching for Ghost’s hand. His fingers brushed the rough fabric, Ghost’s hand closing around his own. “I can’t feel my legs, Si. I don’t- I don’t know what to do.”

“We’re gonna get you out of here, Johnny. You just focus on taking deep, slow breaths for me, yeah? You can do that for me, can’t you baby?” Soap didn’t realize how quickly he had been breathing, his heart seeming to race a thousand miles a minute.

“Price and I- When we- You pull him out- Copy?” Soap only caught bits and pieces, his ability to multitask slipping away as he dedicated his focus to his breathing.

“I’ve got you, mate.” He could hear Gaz behind him, feel him grasping at his bitch strap. “Gonna get you out of here.”

“3… 2… 1… Lift!” At the same time that Ghost and Price lifted the concrete, Gaz pulled Soap backward by the strap.

A blood-curdling scream escaped Soap’s throat. White-hot pain bloomed in Soap’s abdomen.

“STOP! PLEASE! Please fucking stop!” He swiped behind him, trying to break Gaz’s hold on his vest.

Gaz relented, carefully letting Soap drop back against the pavement.

It was quiet, all except for Soap’s pained sobs that ebbed into whimpers.

“-ohn. Johnny! Stay with me, baby.” Simon’s face swam into view, blond hair backlit by the last light of day. Worry was etched into his face, a warm hand cupping Johnny’s cheek.

“What-?” Soap tried to push himself upright, whipping tears from his eyes as he took in the scene around him.

Rebar. There wasn’t supposed to be rebar there. Rebar wasn’t supposed to stick out of him like that.

“No, Johnny. Look at me.” Simon gently redirected his gaze, letting his head rest in his lap.

“I’m gonna die…” Soap’s voice was barely a whisper.

“No, dove. We’re gonna get you out of here. Nik is already on the wa-”

“Simon, I don’t want to die in your arms. I don’t want you to see me take my last breath.” It was the steadiest Soap’s voice had been all night.

“Johnny. I’m not lea-”

“Simon, go-”

“John MacTavish, I am not leaving you-”

“Please,” Soap hiccuped as he cried. “Please, Simon. I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t important to me. I… I don’t want your last memory of me to be my last breath.”

It was silent for a moment, even Soap’s sobs going quiet as he waited for Simon to answer.

Carefully, reverently, Simon cupped Soap’s face, leaning down to gently kiss him. His tears were salty on Soap’s lips.

“I will always love you, John MacTavish.” His voice was deep, thick with tears as he tried to maintain some semblance of composure for Soap’s sake.

“I’ll always love you, Simon Riley. And I’ll wait for you.” Soap gave him a small smile, swallowing back another wave of pain that made his head swim.

When Soap came to again Price was above him.

“John?” The sound of his name on Soap’s lips gutted Price. Never had his sergeant sounded so small. “I’m scared.”

“None of that now, lad. Just focus on your breathing.” His hand was resting over Soap’s heart, feeling each breath the Scot took. “The pain will go away soon.”

“Cap, I need you to promise me that you’ll take care of Simon.” Soap forced his eyes to focus on Price above him, even as it got harder and harder to keep his eyes open.

“Of course, son. Just close your eyes and relax.”

Soap nodded, looking up at the first swath of navy that had overtaken the sky. Soon enough he couldn’t tell the difference between the twinkling of the stars and the fluttering of his eyelids.

Soon enough it didn’t matter.

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #ghost x soap #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #simon riley x john mactavish

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ofstormsandfire · 19 days

Note

Do you have any good BotW/TotK fic recs? Yours or other people’s!

Boy howdy DO I.

Going to preface this by saying that I have preferences, and those preferences tend to veer towards gay shit and people who don't initially get along ending up ride or die, and as such a high proportion of these are going to be Revalink.

Anyway. The fic that got me into that ship, changed my brain chemistry, and is a large part of why I go !!!! about ghosts (literal and nonliteral) haunting the narrative, characters with amnesia who are supposed to be dead, and the Rito as a whole, is Pinesong by aperplexingpuzzle and that is the fic that makes me go "if you read NOTHING else in this fandom read THIS holy fuck."

(But also you should be reading other things too, because there is so much good shit and I adore it greatly I go back to reread my favorites regularly. Also check out the authors I mention apart from just the fics I link there is so much good fic I'm forcing myself to just pick one per author or else I will be here literally all day.)

Next up: Moonlight (every single night) by Heleentje. Do you like time loops? Do you like characters slowly, painstakingly figuring out how to get it right? Did you get very attached to Revalink from the last fic? how about some ~queerplatonic Zelink~ in this trying time?

Frankly, it is very hard to pick just one fic by Ginneke, they've got so many good ones but I'm going to have to settle on Flowers from your Beloathed, which is another Revalink fic set before the Calamity where, y'know, Revali is getting flowers from a secret admirer. Except he's Revali. Hilarity ensues and I enjoyed the hell out of this one ^-^

Also also. Come Morning Light by misscoconi. Post-Calamity, they are both idiots (affectionate) and I am starting to realize that I have a bit of a pattern in my taste in Revalink fics. Huh. I'll unpack that later actually.

Skybound Wishes by Baddrummer is unfinished (unlike most of the fics I've recommended here) but y'all. Y'all it makes me lose my shit in so many ways because I am a SLUT for creative fix-it fics and gratuitous weaving-in of references to other games in ways that still respect the established canon but respect all of it, y'know, not just doing the TOTK thing of "actually nothing pre-BOTW matters anymore and neither does BOTW lol."

...I am starting to realize there may be a reason why I don't have a lot of TOTK recs. Also if this post is starting to sound unhinged and disconnected that's probably because I'm bouncing between Tumblr and studying for one of my finals like a ping pong ball.

But I do have one really, really big fic rec for TOTK. Y'all should check out Show Me the World Outside by IllusionOfDeath. The Sages get to do things, the Divine Beasts don't just vanish without a word, the Champions get actual recognition, and you can tell that the author is the Linguistics Georg (affectionate) of the fanfic world.

Anyway I think I will shill myself a bit too since you gave me permission to anon! If you read no other Zelda fics by me, may I recommend no one ever mentions fear, a fic that... it really was, in a lot of ways, a love letter to the fics in the fandom that I'd read and loved before. You've got the Champions getting to live and have nice things, you've got Revali being a dumbass (affectionate), you've got gay shit, you've got Problems Being Caused by the Yiga Clan in the background.

...Oh god this post is getting. A little longer than I meant for it to I've realized. Um. I love fanfic and tbh if you end up reading everything I've recced and still want more, my bookmarks on AO3 are public and I tend to bookmark just about everything I've read and liked enough to want to find again.

......I should probably get back to studying now but thank you for the ask! I like rambling lol

#hopeposting #askbox #anonymous #fanfic things

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gothgril69 · 11 months

Text

Levi Ackerman/Fem!Reader Royalty!AU

Summary: You dream of another life, a simpler one under the rays of the warm sun, where you find love and your brothers live happily.

But you're destined to serve, to be the black sheep of the family and married off to whoever your father pleases because your parents can't seem to harbor any love for you. Your brothers will serve in the war, side by side with their Chevaliers, and you'll be left to pick up the pieces or die trying.

And the one you thought always hated you, will be right by your side to catch you when you fall.

Overall Warnings: themes of sexism, minor character death, angst, depression, minor character death, smut (please check ao3 for all tags)

Chapter warnings: graphic violence

Chapter Length: 10.6k

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

ao3 link

Auguste lifts you up from the ground, arms wrapped around your torso as he hugs you. It’s not until he sets you down that Theo joins in, creating a group hug just like when the three of you were younger.

Todays the day. The day they all set off to the frontlines.

You’re only slightly less worried than you initially were. Your brothers (Levi and Furlan too) have assured you that it should be a short trip due to your engagement with Zeke, allowing both of the armies to fall back and finally come home. It was supposed to be a joyous occasion, your brothers and father would be going to personally tell the Mirlenas army on the Northern coast that their time serving would be put on pause for now; the war against Kaslogon would be over.

But you still had tears streaming down your face, sobs shaking your body even as Auguste and Theo attempted to make you laugh – and they did, it just wasn’t without tears. Furlan had even given you a giant hug, along with Isabel who was crying right next to you. Levi only ruffled her hair affectionately, earning a goofy grin from her that made you smile.

“The voyage is a month long,” Auguste addressed you. “So give us at least three to see you again.” You nodded with a sniffle.

“I’ll play that song for you when I get back, Aeron,” Theo beamed at you. You let out a small, but genuine, laugh and gave him his own hug. You were going to miss your brothers dearly.

You step back to finally let them get into the carriage, watching as the group climbs into one of the two carriages that awaited them in front of the castle grounds that would take them to a rendezvous point. Levi was the last to go in, pausing for a moment. He turns around and meets your gaze, giving you a small nod – a promise, to do everything he could to get your brothers home safely. You nod back at him in thanks.

Your mother had already gone inside the moment she said goodbye, not waiting to see the carriages off. Honestly, you were grateful that she wasn’t still there because when they were finally out of sight, you fully broke down. Your sobs shook your whole body and if it wasn’t for Isabel next to you to hold onto, you would’ve surely fell to the ground. She cried with you as you embraced each other.

War was always a frightening thing, even if it was ending. There was no way of knowing that the group you just sent off would make it back to you and you’re not quite sure what you would do if they didn’t. You would just have to trust them, just like Auguste and Levi told you.

—

Time seems to move differently when you get lost in your own thoughts. Sometimes it moves slow to savor the torturous hours it provides you. Sometimes it moves too fast and one day you’re waking up wondering where all of it went.

You were experiencing both – in a limbo of sorts.

Time seems to move fast when you have Isabel’s company, often talking about your novels or enjoying the quiet air on morning walks. She usually brings you tea, sitting at your balcony table while the two of you share a pot before going on your walk. You’ve switched the time, now preferring the cool morning air opposed to the sunsets at dusk to avoid the summer heat. You no longer felt warm inside – not that you ever really did – now that you were typically alone. It didn’t feel right to have the sun warm your skin. The cold air would do just fine.

Time seems to move slow when you’re alone, sitting on your bed and simply staring out your balcony doors and curtainless windows. The castle is quiet without your brothers and half of the guards gone and you’re not sure what to do with the missing sensation of noise throughout the halls. Your mother does not come out of her room, choosing to have her mealtimes in her bedroom – not that you mind. You could no longer hear Theo and Furlan in the distance as he brushed up on his battle skills, Theo’s voice echoing through the castle gardens. You could no longer walk the halls and hear Auguste and your father in his study, discussing anything Auguste could possibly need to know about being a king. You no longer had Levi’s company throughout your days, even if it was just filled with bickering most of the time. It seemed as though even the birds had left, quietude filling their space.

Though you weren’t quite calm either. It felt odd – lonely. At first you thought it was nice to have the time to yourself, even if you missed your brothers dearly, but you soon found out it wasn’t quite living up to your expectations. You found yourself sitting up late at night most of the time, sitting, staring, at nothing. Your inspiration to paint had left you – although it wasn’t due to lack of ideas. You had the creativity in your mind, but it was being held captive by a force unknown to you.

You would look at your canvases across your bedroom, wanting to create the picture in your head and make it tangible; real. It just never seemed worth it to pull yourself up, to cross that invisible barrier your mind had laid out and just pick up the paint brush. You would let the ideas fester in your mind until temporarily forgotten when you picked up a book instead. It was easier to just lie there and read the words on the pages than create something from your own mind.

And then soon it would be evening, Isabel would bring you dinner, and you’d stay up late into the hours of the night until you woke up the next morning and did it all over again.

Perhaps it was because no one was really in the castle that your mind had turned against you in this way, but you had always made an effort to keep yourself busy before. Even when your brothers were busy with their own chores or duties, or your parents were too occupied by anything else to give you an ounce of attention, you still kept yourself busy. It feels as though you’ve never had as much time as you do now, just sitting and waiting. You suppose that’s really what you’re doing, waiting, and you’re getting quite impatient.

It’s been four months – Auguste said three. But you’ll trust them, because that’s what they told you to do.

—

Levi has never felt as uncertain as he does now. Erwin reassures him that there’s a plan – he always has a plan – but he cannot help but feel lost. He wishes they never left the Southern coast of Mirlenas, where the lavender grows in fields and the ocean is a stone skip away, the mountains bordering the town and protecting the mainland from their enemies. Levi has never been a man with a lot of comforts in his life, but anything has to be better than the bloody fields he’s walked across.

He has seen his fair share of bloodshed, rotten men behaving like animals, his own mother being abused by the men that frequented the brothel he was born in, but nothing could have prepared him for this. The Kaslogon soldiers were brutal, practically committing war crimes as they slaughtered the Mirlenas army. Bullet holes would be in the center of men’s foreheads, even if they were about to bleed out from wounds puncturing their abdomens or legs. Levi knows the Kaslogon soldiers had made their rounds, finding anyone still alive and killing them off rather than tending to their wounds.

Your brother had cried the first time he saw them, excusing himself back to the camp they had set up with the rest of the men accompanying them. Levi had watched as Erwin brought a comforting hand to his shoulder, guiding him into the tent and never leaving until the next morning. If your father noticed he did not say anything and Levi would not dare to point out the glaringly obvious affection the two share for each other.

He would remain strong for your brothers, two men that have never seen this side of a war. It was good that they were getting experience, but Levi knew if his own hardened façade cracked then your brothers would have no one to look to – they would feel like no one could protect them. Theo seemed worse off than Auguste, often stealing Furlan’s time just to talk about anything but their surroundings and leaving Levi alone.

He was used to it, sitting alone during the night and having his insomnia get in the way of finding a restful night sleep. It would be impossible even if he tried, the images of what he’s seen on their journey so far haunting him already. The aftermath of battle was not a scene he was fond of.

It had been four months – a month longer than what they had told you. Levi hopes you still trust them to make it back to you, but the longer he travels the more he feels as though they shouldn’t have given you anything to hold onto. They should have told you to expect the worst and if everything turned out to be okay then you would feel relieved.

Levi looks up at the stars, trying to find the one his mother always told him would guide him – the Northern Star. He thought it was silly to look for such a thing when he was just a small boy, laughing at his mother for her foolishness, but now it’s the first thing he looks for after the sun is gone over the horizon. He wishes he could go back and tell her that she was right, that it did always seem to guide him, but he likes to think that she already knows. That she’s simply the Northern Star’s neighbor, looking down on him.

She did everything she could to give him a good life, selling her body to put food in his belly even if Madame Elise, who ran the brothel, would have never let him go hungry. He would pickpocket in exchange for the wellbeing of his mother and his own, giving her his earnings when he was done for the night. He would give anything now just to hear his mother’s voice, the one that spoke to him so softly at bedtime before she fell ill and passed.

He startles when he hears the sound of a branch snapping behind him, alerting him to someone’s presence in the surrounding forest they had chosen to settle in for the night. He doesn’t make any sudden movements, eyes and ears alert for any motion around him until he hears a footstep right behind him.

He swivels on his seat – a small stump – and swings at the man behind him, knocking him out cold. He’s wearing simple clothing, but Levi sees the glint of the man’s broche under the starlight – the Kaslogon emblem, a golden crown, staring back at him. His eyes go wide in recognition, immediately scrambling to run back to camp that resides only twenty-five meters away.

He’s met with chaos upon his return, tents being ransacked and men fighting each other with knives or just their fists with only the soft glow of the torches aiding their sight.

Levi doesn’t spare a moment, jumping into action to save Theo from an oncoming knife as Furlan protects one of his other comrades. He swings at a man in front of him, buying enough time to pull a dagger from his belt and slicing the Kaslogon soldier across the neck, causing blood to splatter. He quickly takes in his surroundings, spotting Auguste being protected by and fighting alongside Erwin – he’ll be okay. Levi doesn’t have time to look for the king further when he’s unable to find him at first glance, focusing his energy on protecting your brothers and Furlan.

He sees Furlan kill a man in front of him, not realizing the threat coming from behind as Levi struggles to fight off the three men in front of him by himself. He has no choice but to watch as Furlan is shot in the back of the head from a man that had pulled out a musket as Levi knocks out one more man. It feels as though time slows in that moment, his best friend’s body collapsing to the ground with empty eyes and limp limbs. It takes all of Levi’s strength to keep fighting, to protect himself instead of running to Furlan’s body.

He doesn’t cry – he can’t. The grief hasn’t caught up with him enough to allow for it, the adrenaline pumping through his veins at too rapid a pace. His mind is telling him that safety comes first, that somehow Furlan might be okay when he walks over to him after he’s done, but Levi knows better. He’s seen men die before and he can only take comfort in the fact that his dearest friend died instantly and most likely without recognition of what was going on.

Theo’s scream rips him from the sight as he tries to locate your brother from the sound of his voice, only to see him staring down at his hand that clutches his abdomen before he pulls it away and reveals the crimson that seems to continuously gush out of him. The wound is brutal, too deep to stop any blood from coming out as Theo presses his hands to it. There’s nothing Levi can do, still immobile from the men that attack him now and he has no choice but to let Theo die in front of his eyes. He told himself he would give his all to protect your brothers, and he has. There was simply no way for him to break free from his struggle now, the sight of Furlan dying right before him breaking him enough to the point where it feels like he’s losing his strength even though he wants to help Theo so desperately.

Levi watches as Theo falls to his knees, before falling to the side in pain. Their eyes meet for the very last time as the light leaves his viridian eyes, a look of fear being the last thing he sees in them.

Levi’s heart feels like it stops.

And then it soon feels as though it might beat out of his chest, breaking free of the confines of his ribcage to allow him to fully feel the fury flowing through him without any inhibitions. He stabs the third man in the heart, walking away before he’s even fallen to the ground, and coming up behind the man that had pulled out the musket. Levi stabs the man in the neck, watching as blood spurts from his carotid artery and grabbing the musket from his hand as he falls to the ground.

Levi reloads it in record time, spending a precious ten seconds rather than the standard thirty, and fires it into the head of a man that was about to ambush Auguste. He looks at Erwin, simply nodding and ignoring the blood that drips off of his clothes as the two of them make a silent agreement to give their all to protect Auguste.

They quickly fire rounds off and kill anyone that comes close to them, protecting Auguste with their own lives. Levi is numb to the dull ache in his heart as he fights the rest of the Kaslogon soldiers off, focusing on killing the men as quickly as possible so they can be safe again – so your brother can be safe again.

When the last man is killed he finally takes a breath, his heart rate beginning to slow to a normal speed. He doesn’t notice the tears that have started to fall down his face despite the lack of emotion on his features, and he doesn’t notice the conscious Kaslogon soldier on the ground a few meters away from Erwin and Auguste. The man that he had rendered unconscious earlier as Furlan was shot was now reaching for the musket that laid next to him.

Levi only notices when it’s too late, turning around and throwing his dagger into the man’s skull just to watch Auguste get shot in the back and the musket ball travel through him, out the front of his chest at the same time. Auguste lurches forwards, falling straight towards the ground if it weren’t for Erwin’s arms wrapping around the man’s torso and supporting all of his bodyweight.

“Auguste, amour,” Erwin chokes out. Levi remains still, eyes wide in shock as he watches his Commander tear up at the sight of his lover dying in his arms. He can feel the clench of his heart, the loss of his best friends finally coming to the surface as Auguste fights for a breath.

“It’s,” Auguste offers a lazy smile, “okay, Erwin.”

“You stubborn man,” Erwin scolds through his tears with a humorless chuckle.

Auguste frowns and glances at Levi. “Protect A-Aeron.” Auguste’s eyebrows furrow as he grimaces in pain. “Front pocket,” he coughs, blood coming out onto Erwin’s chest. “For her.” Auguste looks back at Erwin, adoration and fear in his eyes. Levi can’t look at the brown eyes that had comforted you many times before, the ones that made you laugh for the first time in front of him.

He looks away, giving the two men their moment of privacy and allowing Auguste the comfort of seeing Erwin before he passes on. He can’t bear the sight of it, choosing to distract his mind by scanning the camp, ensuring the last of the Kaslogon soldiers are dead or gone. He checks inside each tent, coming to a stop when he sees the king’s body lying outside of the furthest tent, bloodied and broken next to two guards that shared the same fate.

A note is left on his torso, partly covered in blood, and sealed with gold wax that’s been stamped with the emblem of Kaslogon. Levi picks it up in his own sullied hands, opting to open it when he and Erwin have a moment.

He stands still, staring down at the body of the king. He doesn’t think you’ll be overly sorrowful over the loss of your father, but he hopes your mother does not retaliate or take it out on you. He tries not to think about all of the responsibilities you are going to have now that your brothers no longer walk the earth, the ones you never wanted in the first place. His mind briefly wonders what will happen with Zeke and how he cannot fathom letting the man take you.

“He’s gone,” Erwin’s voice sounds from behind him. Levi turns to face him, watching as one of his closest friends lets his tears drip down onto the cold earth below them.

He’s never seen the man shed a tear before and he’s surely never been one to have a way with words. “I’m sorry,” Levi frowns. “I should have seen the man on the ground before it was too late.”

Erwin gives Levi a sad smile. “No. You acted as swift as you could. I am sorry I failed at protecting them, but we both shall live without regrets of tonight, knowing we did everything we could.”

Levi doesn’t argue with him – he doesn’t bother explaining how he could have done more, how if he had just killed the man instead of knocking him unconscious then at least one brother would be coming home to you and Erwin would not be a shell of himself in front of him.

Erwin looks past Levi at the king that lies on the ground before his eyes find Levi’s again. They’re hardened, the tears no longer spilling over and instead the blue has turned as cold as ice. Levi simply lifts the letter in his hand to give to Erwin, allowing the man to take it from his hand with ease and letting his arm fall to his side. He feels drained, weak and frail, but he needs to collect the bodies of his friends – of your brothers.

He tries not to focus on the ache in his heart that now feels like it’s going to burn him alive, and he tries not to think of how he’s going to tell you that your brothers are dead, or how he’s going to tell Isabel that Furlan is gone.

Erwin’s arm stops him before he can walk to Furlan’s body. “I think you should be the one to give this to her,” Erwin tells Levi softly, holding out the letter from Auguste’s breast pocket in front of him. He looks up at him, wondering why the hell this man would make him go through something so torturous. He doesn’t wish to see the face you’re going to make when Levi finds the strength to hand you a letter written by your dead brother.

He doesn’t want to go home anymore. He doesn’t want to see the woman that reminds him of the very same lavender fields he trekked through to get here. He knows you’ll never forgive him for losing the only two people who ever truly understood you.

All Levi does is nod, accepting the letter anyway and promising Auguste and Theo’s souls that still roam the earth that he’ll do everything in his power to protect you.

—

Six months.

Six months have passed when Mrs. Kirstein rapidly knocks on your bedroom door, shouting about how a carriage has pulled up in front of the castle grounds.

You run as fast as you can out of your bedroom, pushing open the front doors and hurtling down the front steps of the castle so fast you almost fall down at least sixty of them with Jean and Marco yelling behind you to be careful. Your brothers were finally home, Furlan was finally home, Levi was finally home. You would no longer fill your days with nothing. Isabel would have Furlan’s company again and you could finally find your peace in Auguste’s kind words. Theo would finally play you that song. You don’t think you’ve ever been more excited for Levi’s attitude and bickering than you are now.

You skip the bottom step, jumping onto the gravel pathway that leads out to the dirt road in front of the gates that are already open. You’re grateful you had worn trousers today, usually foregoing them as of late in favor of a light dress and robe that was more comfortable, but Isabel had suggested going foraging in the nearby woods that bordered the castle. Your boots had already been tightly laced in anticipation of your day out.

You run as fast as you can, hoping that Auguste will be waiting for you with open arms and lift you into the sky just like he did before he left. Six months has been too long; the summer months had gone by in the blink of an eye and you assumed it would have made their travel easier – you didn’t think about the logistics as to why they would be months late now. The autumn air makes you feel more alive, ready to train your combat skills with Auguste and Theo, or take evening walks again with Levi and force him to accompany you while you read.

But when you reach the gates of the castle grounds you still only see one carriage when there should be two, and you only see Levi stepping out onto the dirt road. His eyes meet yours, but he looks different; he looks empty. You slowly walk up to him, the small smile not faltering still.

“Is the other carriage almost here as well? I expected all of you to arrive at once, but I suppose Auguste could have needed to stop in town before his arrival,” you ask, peering down the dirt road to see if you can spot the second carriage coming around the corner.

Levi doesn’t say anything, still staring at you when you look back at him. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“What?” You tilt your head at him, that same stupid, oblivious, smile still on your face.

“Aeron…” His voice trails off, eyes looking at you with misery practically pooling out of their grey.

“Levi…” Your smile falls, realization rearing it’s head.

“Aeron, they’re gone,” he states plainly, as if it’s the easiest thing he could have said to you.

Your heart palpitates, all of your senses becoming numb for a moment. They’re gone. Your brothers that you sent off to end a war, were now gone and would never return to you. It was supposed to be an easy mission, a simple voyage to tell the frontlines that the war was over. They would rejoice and praise their king and return home shortly after, giving Auguste the experience he needed as king and Theo the experience he needed as the Prince of Mirlenas.

Auguste was supposed to lift you into his arms and set you back down so Theo could wrap his arms around the two of you and crush your ribs with a teasing smile. Theo was supposed to come back and play his song for you, the one he had written just for you. He had finally told you he loved you, something he was never good at doing when the two of you were growing up as brother and sister even though you knew he did.

But now, all you can do is stare at Levi, eyes and soul empty as you feel yourself collapse to the ground. Your knees dig into the dirt and you watch as water droplets fall to the soil as your tears overflow. You feel as though you’ve been ripped apart at the seams, only Auguste and Theo being the ones able to pull you back together and stitch your heart with such precision that it heals with minimal scarring. There was no mending you now – you were destined to be broken forever.

It’s when you stare down at the ground that your breathing becomes heavier, sadness immediately overcome by rage inside you.

You look up, a scowl on your features and absolute resentment in your eyes. “You promised,” you spit out at Levi, venom dripping from your words. You stand up just so you can stomp your way in front of him. “You promised!” you yell into his face. Your voice cracks with anguish, but you don’t even notice. “You told me you would protect them, but you let them die!” Your tears haven’t stopped, your voice continuing to falter as you yell at him. Your emotions feel like they’re boiling over, ripping your heart in two as it explodes against your ribcage. “I hate you, Levi. I hate you for letting the only two people that cared about me die!”

Levi is looking at you, a blank expression on his face as he takes you in and it only makes you more angry. You look into his eyes, seeing the same lifeless features mixed with an overwhelming amount of sorrow in the depths of the grey that stare back at you. Your heavy breaths and tears are the only sounds around you.

Levi watches you in front of him, feeling every word you spat at him pierce his heart. He wants to tell you how sorry he is, how much he truly tried to protect your brothers and Furlan, but he knows you wouldn’t hear any of it. He wants to tell you how he was the one to watch helplessly as Furlan was shot in the back of the head, or that he was the one that saw the utter fear in your brother’s eyes as he lied on the ground, helplessly bleeding from his abdomen so quickly that he was gone in mere seconds. He wants to scream for his friends, for their meaningless deaths that could have been avoided. He wants to be there for Erwin, to comfort the man who’s guided him through so much of his life on his path to becoming a Chevalier where he met Furlan in the first place. He wants to tell you about how there was so much love in Auguste’s eyes when he passed, some of his last words regarding your protection – he’s not even sure Auguste knew that Theo died.

But he would never reveal any of this to you – to protect you just like your brother told him to do.

He can see the fury in your eyes, your pupils blown out with rage as you look at him so scrutinizingly. He doesn’t even flinch when you pound your fist into his chest, sobs wracking your whole body as you now cry into his chest. You’re punching him, taking your anger and sadness out on him and he stands there, allowing you to do as you please if it will make you feel better at all. He wants to wrap his arms around your frame to hold you steady, to tell you it’ll be okay, but he can’t bring himself to touch you in such a fragile state. He’s afraid you would just push him off even if an embrace is what you need.

Whether you get too tired to continue assaulting his chest, or you know that it won’t do you any good, you stop and look at him. He stares back with furrowed brows and sad eyes, apologies and meaningful words on the tip of his tongue that he just can’t seem to speak aloud to you.

He stands still and watches as Mrs. Kirstein arrives with Isabel behind you. She grabs your shoulders and spins your fragile body away from him, guiding you past Isabel and into the castle walls – you don’t even look up at her as you pass. Once you’ve gotten at least twenty meters away his eyes focus back on Isabel who’s looking up at him with big doe eyes that are brimmed with tears. He has to fight back his own at the sight.

“Is,” Levi mutters, not knowing how to approach her. “I’m so sorry.” He knows she knows what he’s talking about, the obviously empty carriage behind him that carried no one but him home, leaving Erwin in town to drink away his sorrows for now.

Tears stream down Isabel’s face as she walks towards him. “I’m glad you’re okay, Levi.” Her voice is small and she gives him a sad smile before her arms are wrapped around him, pulling him into a much needed embrace. He wishes he could have provided this for you, but even now as Isabel pulls him close he can’t help but be especially aware of the foreign contact with someone else.

Levi and Isabel walk back to the castle grounds together, arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders in support as her silent tears continue to stream down her face. He’s never been more grateful that neither of you were allowed to go on that mission with them. He doesn’t think he would have made it with no one left.

—

You realize now that you never truly knew what loneliness felt like.

You’ve locked yourself in your room for a month now, never unlocking the door even when there was a knock that announced your meal times. You didn’t leave your bed – not until your kidney started to pierce your side with pain from not relieving your bladder. It was just so much easier to cover yourself with your blankets and stare at the patterns in the walls, the intricate detailings on the borders allowing you to focus on just the white wood. You wouldn’t even realize the day had passed until the sun was setting, or when the moon had shown it’s face and the sun was kissing it goodbye with it’s rising. You wouldn’t even know what day it was had you left your curtains hanging – you almost wish you had just left them alone when you were seventeen so you could be absorbed in the darkness now.

But all the while you simply chose to ignore your surroundings enough to disassociate, you were made painfully aware of the presence outside your door when you would hear the familiar footsteps, the sound being recognizable to you even after he was gone for those six long months. Levi has been standing outside your door since he arrived, never leaving except for what you would assume is sleeping or eating – although the man hardly does either it seems. You’re not sure why he has decided to stay near and you don’t bother telling him to go away. It’s too much effort.

You haven’t seen Isabel since that day, only Mrs. Kirstein has been delivering you food and tea regardless of how little you’re able to choke down. You feel guilty for not being there for the young girl, knowing shes suffering from grief about Furlan just the same as you are for your brothers. You’re only grateful for Levi in those moments when you think too hard about how you’re not the one there for her, but he is. At least she has someone to comfort her.

Your dreams and nightmares are the worst they’ve ever been in your life. Happy memories of Auguste cleaning the dirt off your cheeks after Theo pushed you into the ground, or repeats of Theo telling you he loves you and that he always has, he was just never good with words in that way. You wake up, ready to face the world and a smile gracing your lips for once until you remember that it’s not a reality – your brothers are dead.

Other nights are worse as you cry yourself to sleep just when you thought you didn’t have the tears to spare anymore. Visuals of what you imagine their deaths to be like and how gruesome they probably were float through your mind; images of Theo looking so helplessly into your eyes and Auguste’s own flickering with fear you’ve never seen before in him. You always wake up in a cold sweat, the coming winter air chilling you down to your bones, but somehow your skin is so sticky and uncomfortable you have to throw the blankets off your body in the middle of your panic.

You always try to calm yourself down, eyes wide with fear and breathing so labored you’re moments away from hyperventilating. Your cheeks are always stained with tears and they’ve fallen onto the nightgown you wear to bed that’s now sticking to every curve of your body in the worst way possible.

It feels like you’re drowning, lungs burning as you take deep inhales to make sure you don’t pass out again – the last thing you need is to succumb to any kind of slumber for fear that you’ll just wake up in a panic again. The only reason you let yourself fall asleep is because of the hope you’ll have a happy memory instead of the grueling nightmares, that maybe your mind can have a moment of reprieve from the harsh reality.

—

Levi always hears your struggles every night. If you’re not whimpering in your sleep, crying for Theo and Auguste to just be okay or that you’ll be there to save them, then he hears the unusual quietness of the night followed by soft cries and whimpers as you wake up from an undoubtedly happy memory since you’re not screaming. He wants to break down the door and run to your side, hold you until you feel normal because he knows you just feel alone – he’s familiar with the feeling. He doesn’t want anyone else to feel the pain of loss, to feel what it’s like to lose your sun that brightens your day for the moon cannot shine without it, and he can feel your light dimming everyday.

You would hate him more if he burst into your room uninvited, you would punch your fists into his chest as he tried to hold you, but at least he could be there for you. Levi misses your brothers dearly and doesn’t have to imagine what it feels like to feel such loss after watching Furlan die right in front of him – his own brother. Instead he stands guard by your door every day and night, only taking breaks to give him the nourishment his body requires and to check up on Isabel and make sure that Mrs. Kirstein and Mrs. Springer are looking after her with the utmost care.

It’s now, as he stands in the candle-lit hallways of the castle outside your door, that Erwin makes his way down the parquet flooring. Your distant soft whimpers of pain are coming through the door and Levi has to pull his mind away just to focus on Erwin’s presence in front of him.

“I’ve read the letter,” he states, leaning against the wall next to Levi. His voice is hardly above a whisper as he steals a glance at your door – he can hear you too. “She has a duty to fulfill.”

“Her brothers just died,” Levi scoffs, trying to be mindful of his volume.

“It’s been a month,” Erwin states plainly. “I’d like to have a meeting with her and I’m afraid you’re the only one that can ensure her attendance.” He pauses, glancing over at Levi before his gaze finds the flickering sconce on the opposite wall. “Have you given her–”

“No.”

“Levi. Auguste wanted her to read it.”

“It would break her even more,” Levi sighs and looks over at Erwin’s profile. His eyes are sharp, seemingly focused on the flame across from them, but Levi knows better. He can see the flickers of pain in the sea of blue, drops of anguish falling into their ocean, as the two broach the topic of your brothers’ deaths.

“She’s already broken, Levi.” His voice comes out harsh, probably harsher than he meant to, but Levi feels it all the same. “It would be something for her to hold onto. I think it could provide some closure.”

He pushes himself off the wall and a hand lands on Levi’s shoulder, causing his gaze to look up at the strong blond man in front of him. Levi can’t help but notice he looks anything but.

“Be there for her.” Erwin gives him a small smile, one that doesn’t even come close to reaching his eyes. “She’s angry, and grieving, but she’s strong. Give her something to fight for and she’ll succeed.” Levi can only nod, his voice is lost as Erwin removes his hand from his shoulder and takes a step back. “I need her presence in the meeting hall tomorrow at noon. Read this.”

He grabs Levi’s paralyzed wrist and flips his palm upwards before placing an envelope in his hand; the same one he saw on your father’s chest, but now with the Kaslogon emblem wax seal broken.

He doesn’t want to read it. He wants to throw it in a fire and watch the edges of the paper turn black and fall into ash as the wax melts down, sizzling as it lands on the burning embers below. Levi doesn’t realize Erwin has walked away already as he silently sits in his anger; he can practically feel the heat radiating from him. He unfolds the paper, uncaring whether or not the paper gets torn while his eyebrows furrow in simultaneous frustration and concentration. He watches the black ink reveal itself to him, blurry words exposing to Levi that he has tears in his eyes that he didn’t realize were about to fall.

He roughly swipes at his face with one hand and sniffles, clearing his face of any emotion before fully unfolding the paper and reading the messy scrawl in front of him. It’s addressed to you, and his heart palpitates.

Levi is seething with anger by the time he finishes reading the letter. If he didn’t want to murder the man before, he does now, and he can see images behind his eyes of the man perishing by his own hand. The hand that does not hold the letter is clenched into a fist by his side, the other one almost doing the same and wrinkling the paper in front of him. He has to take deep breaths just to stop himself from punching the wall next to your bedroom door – he can’t wake you and you would be furious with him for damaging the carvings you admire so much. He can’t let you read this, but knowing Erwin it’s inevitable with your presence being requested tomorrow.

You’ve gone quiet now, the stark silence almost startling Levi now that his breathing has slowed and he is no longer seeing red. Good. That means you’re either sleeping with no nightmares or you’re awake and no longer suffering from your dreams. He takes this moment of your peace to walk away from your door to find Mrs. Kirstein so she is prepared to take care of you tomorrow morning and ensure your presence at the meeting. He’ll have to knock on your door to inform you before she arrives so you are not mentally unprepared for what Mrs. Kirstein has in store for you.

—

You watched your brothers be buried two weeks ago, a large ceremony to honor them and commend them for their bravery. You attended only so you could say goodbye to them and caress both Auguste’s and Theo’s features one last time, but they were so cold; their skin like ice. Auguste’s curly brown locks had turned dull and Theo no longer held his boyish charm that you loved so much. You had asked to see their wounds and Levi had stepped in to refuse, putting a hand in front of the priest that offered to assist in pulling back the lower half of the casket and the soft fabric that covered the rest of their bodies. Although you had given him a glare, you knew he was right – why would you want to see how much pain your brothers suffered through? You had watched as they lowered the caskets into the ground and left as soon as the first shovel of dirt was thrown on top of the three people you had ever cared about. You had demanded for Furlan to be buried next to them because he had no living relatives – his mother had already died from sickness before he became a Chevalier.

You didn’t want to linger and receive the small words of pity people would throw towards you in hopes of making the pain lessen in your heart. Walking away was the easiest thing you could do at the time instead of listening to empty promises of a better future and apologies that never meant anything as soon as they left the person’s mouth. All you had ensured beforehand was that Erwin Smith knew his presence was welcome and encouraged so he could mourn your brother properly – you don’t want to think about what it would be like to lose your soulmate.

Levi had followed you wordlessly inside, remaining a decent distance behind in what you would assume was fear of being lashed out on again, but that was far too much effort for you. The one thing that you could be grateful for was that he remained silent as the two of you walked and he was never one for empty words. He meant everything he said despite his broken promise of protecting your brothers. You were internally working on forgiving the man for something he could not control, but it was easier to find someone else to blame for your loss. Mrs. Kirstein has been trying to convince you otherwise, to let God into your soul and find it in your heart to forgive, but you were never really a friend of His.

You now sit in your bed, staring at the blank canvases that litter your room, but not truly as your mind stays focused on recalling the events of the funeral and images of your brothers flash through your mind. Even then, your mind seems to be barely focused on that as you simply lose yourself in just existing, sitting here with no real motivation to move or take care of yourself. You feel like a hollow shell of yourself. You briefly wonder if Levi feels the same way, if he grieves the same way you do or if he is able to push through it. He hasn’t left your door since the day he came back and you can’t help but wonder why the man would do such a thing when he’s likely heart broken of the loss of Furlan and your brothers.

“Aeron,” His voice sounds from the other side of your door, pulling your gaze towards it as you blink away your dissociative state of mind. “Erwin requests your presence in the meeting hall.”

“Go away,” you yell back at him so he can hear through the door. You know your voice sounds empty, no malice lacing your tone, just exhaustion.

You hear him sigh through the door. “It’s urgent and your mother refuses to see him.”

“I don’t want to either.” You stare blankly at the carvings in the molding that surrounds your ceiling.

“Great,” he scoffs, “I’m sending Mrs. Kirstein in, she’ll help you get ready.”

You don’t get a chance to refuse before you hear the sound of his footsteps receding. You sit up in your bed, the thin nightgown covering your body practically falling off your shoulders and the loose tie in front threatening to come undone. Your hair is a disaster, having not been washed in at least three days – you’re not really sure – and you know the inevitable dark circles under your eyes will give away the amount of sleep you’ve been getting. You can’t bring yourself to care, simply sitting here as if you were dead already with a lifeless stare directed towards your bedroom door. You know you won’t have to get up to unlock it – Mrs. Kirstein has access to the master key of the castle. You are at least grateful that you’ve had your privacy thus far, knowing at any moment she could have come marching into your bedroom.

You hear the sound of a key being inserted into your doorknob before the door is slowly opened, only Mrs. Kirstein peeking her head through before she walks in fully. You look down, not wanting to meet her gaze just like every other morning, but today it’s worse – you finally have to leave the safety of your bedroom.

“Oh dear,” you hear her sigh. “Come here, sweet.” You feel the bed shift under her weight, her legs coming into view as she sits next to you on the mattress.

When you look up at her the tears have already started streaming down your cheeks – you thought you were done crying. She pulls you into her embrace, arms wrapped around you in the most comforting way possible, like a true mother’s hug. You briefly wonder if this is what your own mother’s arms would feel like and it only makes you cry harder when you remember what it felt like to be embraced by Auguste and Theo. You’re staining the fabric on her shoulder, but she doesn’t seem to mind as she squeezes you tighter, trying to calm down your fragile frame as your sobs shake your body.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, hm?” she mutters softly to you, arms still protectively embracing your body.

You simply nod, the tears still flowing but without any violent sobs that shake your body. She gently guides you off of the bed and holds your fragile frame so your knees don’t give out on you, straightening your nightgown so it stays on your shoulders enough to make it to the bathroom. You let her undress you, too weak to care about her seeing your body – you know you need the help. Her gentle hands untie your nightgown to let it fall off your body, her eyes meeting yours in a silent question of your consent. You simply nod, allowing her to hold your hand and guide you into the tub that she seemed to have already prepped before sitting down on the edge of your bed. Your concept of time and awareness of your surroundings are severely lacking.

You sniffle as you settle into the water, the subtle smell of lavender floating towards your face as you try to inhale. You spot the sachet of oats and lavender she had placed in the water to nourish your skin. You look up at her to find her already looking at your eyes, wrinkled eyes practically begging for you to let her help you and eyebrows furrowed with sympathy. You would hate that look being directed towards you if it wasn’t Mrs. Kirstein or Mrs. Springer. You nod again, wordlessly giving her your permission for help to bathe you because you’re so exhausted, limbs weak despite lying in your bed for what feels like eternity.

She takes the softest washing cloth you own and gently swipes it across your skin after lathering it with your lavender scented soap, the suds feeling heavenly against your once sweaty skin. Your nightmares haven’t gotten any better with last night plaguing your mind of dark and gruesome images of your brothers dying right before you. You’re suddenly very grateful for Levi’s interference at the funeral as you stare down into the water at your toes that scrunch against the cast iron edge of your clawfoot tub.

Mrs. Kirstein helps you out of the tub with a towel ready to wrap around your body after she finishes washing you – you barely felt her touch. You’re quietly dressed in simple attire to meet with the Commander with a loose dress and a hardly tightened corset around your waist. She leaves your hair down, allowing it’s natural texture to flow with minimal product to tame any wild strands and leaves your face bare. You stare at yourself in the mirror, imagining Auguste walking through your door and meeting your gaze in the mirror like so many nights ago. He would ask for your wrists and gently drop lavender oil so you could spread the scent onto your skin and he would tell you how beautiful you look before you had to leave your room.

You sigh, blinking to prevent any tears from forming, and turn to Mrs. Kirstein. “Thank you.” Your voice is soft, slightly hoarse from not being used and the constant choking you force upon yourself to prevent yourself from crying.

“I’ll send Levi in, madame.”

You don’t bother telling her no, knowing Levi will refuse regardless and appear whether you want him to or not. You nod instead, taking a seat on the bench at the foot of your bed to wait for him after hearing the door close.

There’s a short knock, followed by the creak of your door hinges and the sound of it opening and closing. You don’t need to look up to know it’s him.

“Are you ready?” his voice cuts through the silent air, unusually tense.

You look up, finding that steel grey gaze that seems to follow you everywhere now. “Do I have a choice?”

He clears his throat. “I’m afraid not.” He pauses, watching you as you sit on your bench and look at him. “I have a letter for you, from Auguste.”

Your breath hitches, your eyes burning from tears already forming. You refuse to cry – you won’t shed another tear. You look down at your lap to steel yourself in front of Levi and wait as your heart rate slows down to the point where you feel like you can breathe again. You don’t question why he waited so long to give you the letter or why Levi is even the one that has it in the first place. Perhaps it’s good that you didn’t have it right away. Despite feeling so heart breakingly empty everyday, you know that if you received the letter any earlier you wouldn’t have been able to handle it. You can barely handle the concept of reading Auguste’s perfectly written calligraphy on the stationary he kept neatly on his desk, a pristine capital A that would inevitably be written at the bottom of the page to begin his signature.

You swipe a hand over your face and stand up to place yourself in front of him. He reaches into the breast pocket of his tailcoat and holds out the folded piece of paper with your kingdom's emblem on the wax seal. It’s unbroken, and you ignore the small spot of blood next to the deep blue wax that seems to contrast so harshly. You take a deep breath, calming yourself down in order not to beat your fists into Levi’s chest from how much anger you feel towards the world that brews inside of you. He cannot be blamed for everything, and you try to will yourself to believe he has your best intentions in mind with delaying the delivery of the letter.

You take the folded paper from his hand. “I’m working on it,” you state, looking down at your fingers as you fidget with the edges of the letter, being careful not to ruin the paper. “Mrs. Kirstein believes I should forgive you, so – I’m working on it.”

You look up at Levi to see him blink at you, facial features giving nothing away, but you can tell he’s thinking about your words. After a moment, he nods and you take that as your sign to move on – that the two of you have come to some kind of understanding, but he knows your feelings are conflicted and full of anger still. You place the letter down on the edge of your bed and walk past him to exit your bedroom.

“Do you know what this is about?” you ask as he walks through your doorframe and you stand in the hallway to wait for him. He takes your conversational tone as an invitation to walk beside you instead of behind you. You don’t mind, you’ve always hated that feeling of him lingering behind you.

“Of course,” he states, eyes trained forward.

“No clues for me again?” you inquire, eyes focused on the stretch of hallway before you.

He seems to think about it for a moment, briefly glancing over at you before he speaks. “Erwin is better with words than I could ever be.”

You scoff. “Hm. That seemed to have worked out well last time.”

He says nothing, continuing his rigid stroll to the meeting hall by your side. You leave it at that, wanting to get the meeting ahead of you over with so you can return to your bedroom and wear your thin nightgown instead of the dress that feels like a bear has sat on your chest from the weight. Politics were never your area of expertise, always something that was left up to Auguste while you remained the artist of the family, the black sheep that didn’t have those kinds of responsibilities.

You turn the corner of the hall and Levi opens the second door to your left, gesturing with a hand for you to enter first. You’re met with Erwin and Hange’s presence upon entering, Erwin’s form slightly bent over the dark stained cypress table as he studies multiple sheets of paper. You spot gold wax on one of them, the broken Kaslogon emblem staring back at you, and you freeze in your steps. Levi bumps into you from closely following you, his hands ghosting the sides of your waist to stabilize you so you don’t fall forward. His presence is gone in an instant and your eyes are too focused on the contents of the table to even spare him a glance.

Erwin looks up at your paralyzed form. “Ah, your grace,” he greets with a slight bow. You grimace. “Thank you for coming. There are a few things I believe you should be aware of.”

You blink, continuing forward a few steps to stand by the rectangular table directly across from him. “If I’m doing this, do not bother with formalities,” you state bluntly. You hardly wanted your title of princess as it is.

“Right,” he softly smiles at you. “I’m not sure if Levi has briefed you at all–”

You humorlessly laugh. “No, why would he do such a thing.”

“Of course,” Erwin clears his throat as Levi makes his way to his side, in between him and Hange. “We’ve received a letter from Kaslogon, as I’m sure you’ve seen. Your mother refuses to be involved in foreign affairs and I have, unfortunately, been left to consult you instead. I think it’s quite imperative for you to read the letter and I can elaborate on a plan of action once we are all on the same page.”

“Who is this letter addressed to?” you ask, reaching forward to grasp the paper in your hand.

Erwin doesn’t miss a beat. “You, Aeron.” You look up at him instead of studying the broken golden wax seal, lips parted in surprise. “I suggest you sit down before you begin.”

You give him a curt nod and sit in the chair in front of you, still on the opposite side of the table, and flip the paper so the messy scrawl of ink is visible to you.

My Darling Aeron,

Your heart feels like it’s in your throat. You don’t have to check the signature at the bottom of the page to know the owner of the sloppy ink words in front of you. You look up at Levi, his eyes already staring at you with something you’ve never seen before; sympathy, pity even. You look back down to avoid it.

I hope this letter finds you well. Hopefully, everything has succeeded and you are reading this while your beloved brothers rot in the ground. It would simply be the cherry on top if that guard dog of yours joined them.

You can’t do this. Tears are pricking at your eyes, a lump already forming in your throat as you try to push yourself forward to read the paper. It was his doing. Zeke. He’s the one that caused your brothers’ deaths, Furlan’s death, your father’s death, and almost Levi’s death. You feel a tear escape your eye and you quickly wipe it away, knowing three pairs of eyes are staring at you now, and look up at Levi. You never wanted him to die, you’re not sure if you truly hate the man either.

He’s the only one you have left.

Zeke is to blame.

You swallow and look back down to keep reading.

Do not fret, darling, for I have a plan that will ensure you will be by my side for as long as we live regardless of your family’s death. Soon, my own shall follow and you and I will rule our kingdoms together in a peaceful harmony without anyone else in the way. I will always be there for you and I want you to know that I never wanted your brothers to perish, it was simply a necessary action to ensure your safety in my arms.

“A plan?” you choke out, looking up at Erwin with a bewildered expression. What could this man possibly have in store for the future of both your kingdoms? You want to laugh at his false claims of sympathy for your brothers deaths – they meant nothing to him. Erwin simply gestures for you to continue.

I’m sure this letter has the possibility of falling into the wrong hands before reaching you, but I assure whoever is reading this that my plan is unflawed. I will have your hand in marriage and there is no possible way for my own family to know of my planned actions before it is too late.

I look forward to seeing you again, my darling, and properly seeing your supple figure underneath my own without your guard dog to stand in the way of you returning to my chambers.

I love you with my whole heart,

Zeke Jaeger

You throw the letter onto the table and stand up from your chair, pushing it back as you begin to pace the room. You now understand why Levi hasn’t left your bedroom door – he’s protecting you. You’re the only thing he has left to protect. You can’t marry this cruel man and it makes you ill just thinking about the possessive way he writes about you, his promise of claiming you making you nauseous.

Levi has stepped away from Erwin and Hange, hesitantly reaching for you, but not being close enough to even come close to coming in contact with you. “Aeron,” he hesitantly mutters, unsure of how to approach you.

“He–” you choke on your words, “he’s going to- to–”

“He won’t,” Levi interrupts you, a scowl on his face as you whip your head towards him.

The tears in your eyes have inevitably fallen down your cheeks – fuck, you’re so tired of crying. “Levi,” you choke out, uncaring of how desperate you sound. “You can’t– can’t let him take me.” You’re pleading, begging, to be saved. There has to be a way out of this, a way to save yourself and the two kingdoms without sacrificing your own sanity and safety; your body.

Levi walks up to you and for the first time you welcome his presence, crave it even – something familiar to comfort you. Once he’s within arms reach you all but collapse into his arms as he wraps them around you, supporting you as sobs wrack your body. “He won’t,” he repeats, gently muttering into your hair as you let your tears soak the fabric covering his torso. You’re so tired. So tired of fighting that you’ve completely let yourself go and find comfort in the same man’s arms you claimed to hate your whole life.

“We’ve come up with a plan,” Erwin intervenes from behind and you lift your head to look at his blurry figure by the table. “I need you to be ready for it.”

You reluctantly let go of Levi, keeping your gaze fixed on the papers littering the table out of embarrassment of meeting his eyes. His arms fall to his sides as you make your way to stand next to Hange, a new sense of vengeance overtaking your surge of emotions – you’ll kill Zeke if you have to.

“Your mother will simply receive a letter to inform her of your involvement,” Hange joins the conversation, “We’ve been told by Mrs. Springer that she’s rather compliant and uncaring as to what the kingdom’s future holds. As far as she’s concerned the people are now under military rule.” They pause, seemingly gauging your reaction. “As far as the people are concerned…

You are their new Queen.”

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