#and he has this epiphany that it’s better to be around and heal together. with Tony. than like on the other side of the country | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

softrozene · 3 years

Text

Sacrifice

@luna-hatake-uchiha requested: Hi. First of all, I want to wish you a happy new year. I read on Archiv of your Own that your request box is open... Soo could you please write a scenario where Law and his s/o are having a daughter and after a few years their daughter shows symptoms of the Amber Lead poisoning? And Law doing everything he can to heal her? (This is my first time doing this and I'm sorry if I sound rude somewhere.)

You were perfect in requesting Hon! Apologies for how late this is (I hope you had a good start to the new year!) but omg- That would be so heartbreaking ahhhhh. This came out pretty angsty but I tried to give it a neutral ending! I hope you enjoy it!

This turned into a one-shot oops.

Trafalgar Law x Female Reader

Warnings: Fluff/Angst- Spoilers of Law’s past. Can be considered a good or sad ending! Uhh Post-Pirating au? Law is retired from the pirate life lol, grammar

*Instead of 2nd pov I wrote this in 3rd pov for a change. : )

Also, yeah- I am pretty sure that Law would be able to cure his daughter of this because of his Devil Fruit and it’s “Miraculous” abilities but I went for the more angsty side, so I made it more complicated than that lol. I just love the idea of protective dad Law.

Words: 1983

The smell of coffee is usually a scent that brings the pregnant woman, (Name), a comfort since that means she can sneak a sip from her husband’s cup but right now… It is too early for coffee. He should be in bed with her, but the sun is not even up. With exhaustion evident on her face and the goal of finding Law and bringing him back to bed- She regretfully leaves the warm bed.

The house they have is a decent-sized home. Two bedrooms- The one they share together, and the guest room, a nursery that Law and (Name) have been working on and of course, Law’s office to store his medical books and journals, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a small cozy living room.

It felt like bliss living here.

Even more so with the bun in the oven. Law was in shock when he realized his wife was indeed pregnant, but it made the joy of retiring from piracy to enjoy a domestic life with her all the better. It most certainly eases his thoughts that most of his crew also retired here on this peaceful island.

Things could not have turned out more perfect for them.

Though… That was about to change as (Name) walks into his office- The light from it leaking out into the hallway. The smell of coffee gets stronger, and she smiles upon seeing how serious her husband is looking through some of his books.

No matter what he is doing, he looks so handsome.

Something he got used to arguing with her saying how she is crazy for thinking his eyebags are attractive. It was all jokes sure but (Name) was serious and proud to say he was handsome. His personality definitely that too. She can rely on him and him on her and that is something hard to do for the both of them.

Law is too in the zone in the book so (Name) uses that to her advantage. She sneaks up behind him and is quick to wrap her arms around his neck, planting a kiss on his cheek. His tense body immediately relaxes within her hold and he turns to offer her a tired smile.

“Did I wake you?” He asks softly as a hand comes up to meet her swollen belly.

(Name) laughs and holds his hand to her stomach. “Yes, but it is fine. I just got cold without your warmth. That and the beautiful smell of coffee. I think our daughter wants a sip.”

Law’s face turns into a scolding one immediately making his wife laugh as she continues, “Hey! You said I could have some in moderation! I think a tiny sip is less than that and yes, I know we do not know if our child will be a girl, but I just have this feeling…”

Law sighs but… Then smiles as he just shakes his head. He gives in knowing full well that his wife’s point was mainly about getting her daily sip of coffee in. He pulls away from his wife’s loving hand to reach for his mug of coffee. Being careful of the still-hot contents in it. He hands it to her and watches as she smiles and takes her desired sip. Handing it back to him he puts it on the desk and immediately pulls the pregnant woman onto his lap earning himself a giggle from her.

“Anyway, what are you doing up, my love?” She asks as she nuzzles her face into his neck the best she can.

At this question, Law turns tense. His sigh comes out stressed as he hesitates to speak. He thinks it would be better now to share his concern, especially when it is such a valid one.

“I… Fear that our child may get Amber Lead Poising. It is a hereditary disease,” Law mumbles.

This makes his wife freeze up. She knows his pain with that. The fear of it. He must have been bottling it up until he just could not ignore the possibility. With a gentle sigh, (Name) places a tender kiss on his lips, momentarily distracting him from his painful thoughts.

“My love, please come back to bed. After a few more hours of sleep, you can come back in here… And no matter what happens with our child- I have faith that you will find a cure. Until then, try not to worry. Otherwise, you are going to send yourself into an early grave by putting all that stress on your heart,” (Name) says as a yawn escapes her.

Law can only smile now. She truly is his best friend. His other half. She knows how to ease his worries even if it is temporarily, but what she said… It also rings true. He vows to find a cure in the case that their child will get that stupid disease.

~*~

The rest of the pregnancy goes by quickly and as soon as the baby, a girl, is in their arms it feels like total bliss for them. It is everything they never imagined having but makes their lives totally complete. Her middle name is in memory of Law’s younger sister. The full name being Trafalgar Lami Lin.

“She looks like you already- Look at those wide (eye color) eyes,” Law says with a gentle smile on his face.

He never imagined he could allow himself to be this soft and vulnerable. To share it with (Name). His wife laughs as she leans against his arm as he holds their little girl in his arms. Both (Name) and the baby are exhausted.

“Thank the gods she does not look like a mini sleep-deprived version of you. Well, if she takes my looks, I only hope she gains your intelligence,” (Name) jokes.

Law smirks at the playful tone and as if he remembers sighs- “I forgot to tell you. What is left of the crew will be coming here tomorrow. They were even more excited than us combined.”

“Looks like we got a couple of free babysitters… I trust Bepo with her. Sachi and Penguin might drop her.”

Law sweatdrops at this and wishes he could argue back but… His wife is right. He makes a mental note to have Bepo be their go-to babysitter.

~*~

Days pass by fast when you feel joy and they pass even faster when you feel like the world suddenly has a time limit on it. Law promised his wife to enjoy the days with them and he did, but he spent countless nights trying to find a cure- Getting so close to finding something that can help in the case his daughter gets the disease.

The baby grows quickly into a child, but it was the age of five when Law realizes that she has those stupid white spots on her skin- Meaning she has Amber Lead Poisoning. He felt like he was suffocating. She was not supposed to get it. He paid his dues during his piracy. His loss of Rosinante. His loss of family. He paid whatever the hell life thought he owed it, so she was supposed to be in the clear.

She was not.

He knows that is just wishful thinking. His whole family got it and Amber Lead is a hereditary disease. He was supposed to die at age thirteen. He did not all because he ate a fruit thanks to Rosinante. Just because he ate a fruit and cured himself does not mean he could actually cure Amber Lead with his fruit.

He could try and cure Lin as he did himself. Using the fruit’s "miraculous" properties which is having the ability to cure any kind of illness. However, this requires some extent of medical knowledge in order to be utilized effectively. He has that knowledge, but he does not have the full knowledge to cure others of this disease. He cured himself because he ate the fruit.

He needs a real cure. One to ensure that this disease does not follow into the genes anymore. He wants to ensure that if his daughter wants a family of her own- If she makes it to that age, he wants her to be able to not have to think about her own children having the disease.

He estimated she would only have a few years left. Until those white spots grow big enough to almost devour her. His blissful life turned into a nightmare for him. He always could not stand the thought of losing (Name) and the feeling was deeper with their daughter Lin since she was only a child.

She deserved a long and happy life.

He was going to sacrifice his time to ensure that.

It was during one of these nights when he cursed out life for being cruel that Law had an epiphany. Something in his research began to make sense for a cure- It was uncertain, but it was something and it was this night that his wife was woken up when he got up out of excitement to begin writing on a large board he put together. He accidentally dropped a book nothing too alarming, so he was surprised to see his wife checking on him.

Her large eyes watching the board- Trying to decipher his valid obsession of finding a cure. He could not contain his excitement as he pauses briefly to place a kiss on his wife’s lips.

“Whoa. You are super cheery for once,” She notes.

Law can only smile. “I think I am close to finding something. A cure. It would still be a while before I have something solid but… This is it. It has to be it.”

Hearing this fills (Name) up with excitement too. Only to see Law experience a crash. He is at his limit for tonight since he spent all day shopping with his daughter and wife to go to Penguin’s birthday (definitely an alcohol) party. He should be totally spent after today.

(Name) only hugs him feeling his body immediately relax into hers and he freezes upon remembering something. Pulling back slightly he looks at his darling wife and places a kiss on her forehead.

“Hey… I do need to tell you something. If this lead goes nowhere. I am going to use the Ope Ope no Mi fruit on her,” Law states.

(Name) freezes in his grip. Understanding these words. That means he is going to sacrifice his life for their daughter if he can’t make a cure. He is willing to use the fruit’s powers for what others have wanted it for. Immortality.

He is willing to grant their daughter “eternal youth” if it means she can experience life without the disease affecting her.

His mind is dead set on that backup plan so all (Name) Can do is nod. He smiles at her though as to reassure her.

“That is just a backup plan. We still have a few years left but as of now, I do believe it is time to get in contact with that crazy pirate- Luffy. I need him to bring Chopper here. With Chopper’s help this should work,” Law murmurs more to himself.

He is exhausted.

“Alright Love- I will go get in contact with them. I will send a letter. Though… I think you should head to bed. You did well. You are such a good father,” (Name) murmurs.

Hearing this… Law really feels like he might break. All of these restless nights are going to be worth something. He is going to do what his dad almost did for his younger sister. He will cure his daughter and be able to watch her grow.

“Law… You are getting my hair wet with your snot and tears.”

“Shut up,” He mumbles as he holds his partner.

She laughs and the two stay like that- Content that there is hope for their daughter.

#my writing #one piece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #fanfiction #one shot #one piece fanfiction #one piece one shot #fluff #angst #female reader #mentions of pregnancy

202 notes · View notes

emrysaf · 3 years

Text

A-Z Affection Prompts- Victor Creed

“Marks and nuzzling with Victor Creed? If you're still doing the prompts.”

“A man who has nothing for which he is willing to fight, nothing which is more important than his own personal safety, is a miserable creature and has no chance of being free unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than himself.”

- John Stuart Mill

Your mutation wasn’t the best, so to speak. Genetically, you had a lot in common with feral types of mutants; those with animalistic qualities and high healing factors.

Only, you didn’t heal fast from actual wounds. You had the higher healing factor than a “normal” human like most mutants, but nothing in comparison to Victor, or Logan (whom you’d only met once). Scientists who had done studies of various types of mutants and the subgroupings had said your mutation’s power was all used up in keeping you appearing like you didn’t age. It wasn’t something you could turn on or off and it didn’t come with claws or bone skewers coming out of your body. However, you did have slightly pointed ears and what appeared to be two sets of sharper-than-average canines on the bottom and top rows of teeth along with more strength than would be normal for someone of your size.

Despite how you felt you were weak or a hindrance, Victor kept you around after he had found you in a cage years ago. He was a murder machine even at the best of times, but he was your protector and friend.

In recent years something had changed. The familial love had shifted and grew into something else. But even being with him for years, you weren’t the best at reading his emotions unless it came to rage. That one you saw a lot, never pointed at you though.

After living so long one would suppose you’d had a lot of . . . experience. That wasn’t necessarily true. Yes, you had been with people, even felt love you supposed (though it was nothing compared to how you felt about the large feral mutant), but they were few and far between. Either they began to age and wanted to settle when you knew you couldn’t or you were being hunted as recognition, understanding and acceptance of mutants fluctuated over the years of your long life.

What you did know from experience is that you weren’t some frail, breakable thing. Unless you were to be honest about your love for Creed. Then, yes, you were weak.

But these average, human men in the alley that had clear, albeit disgusting, goals? You were definitely not weaker than them. And you proved it when you beat the absolute shit out of them for their attempted gang assault. After you finished demolishing them and some of the alley walls, you wiped your bloody knuckles on the sides of your jeans. Then you buttoned up your flannel all the way since the tank top underneath had been roughly grabbed and nearly torn from your body to expose what the men were after.

One of the men lightly groaned as he moved his head a bit, and you took a final kick to his temple as you slightly limped from the dark alley. Checking your phone you doubled down on your pace to hurry home. Victor was due home today, and you had wanted to cook something. Now you were running late.

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

Regardless of the fact that you had made it home before him and started on something for dinner, (burgers if his nose was to be believed), Victor was not happy.

Try as he might to not be possessive, Victor Creed was a territorial man. You may not be his partner, but the rule was no sexual partners in the loft apartment. A rule you made, he might add, and he agreed to out of respect for you and the bond you shared.

Now before he even makes it to the door he can smell a man? Men? And the coppery tinge of blood- he knew you hadn’t gotten any in. . . Well, a while. So he factored that as the blood smell, but another male in his home? More than one? You made the FUCKING rule.

So he was already tense as he opened the door and slammed it shut. Ready to berate you into the next life, and inevitably slut shame a bit. He was known for being an asshole after all.

But all thoughts were cut off as you turned with a tight smile to greet him from the kitchen across the open floored apartment. There was a dark bruise that looked suspiciously like a handprint blooming from under your chin and up your cheek a bit. The blood he had smelled could be seen along your hairline and crusted in your hair a bit. Quickly he took in the flannel buttoned up to the absolute top button and a tear in one shoulder seam. Then down to the hand holding the spatula you were using to flip the burgers; split skin and more dark (almost purple-black) bruising.

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

Immediately you saw his angered face contort to something else as his eyes flickered around your prone form. You almost forgot about what happened in your haste to get home and start food. You had wanted to do something nicer, but burgers were always a good go-to for Victor. Burgers and beer.

Now you wished you had taken the time to shower or something before starting on the food since it wasn’t ready when he got home anyway.

Again he wore a look, an emotion settling that you couldn’t read.

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

“What happened?” he grunted.

A relieved look passed over your face as you turned back to the sizzling burgers. Had you already sensed he was angry at you?

“Oh, not much. Got home late so sorry about it being burgers again,” you laughed.

“I meant the blood and shit Y/N.” Gruff as ever.

Back turned to him, he saw your shoulders tense a bit. You weren’t worried about the men who attacked you or what they thought they were going to be able to do to you. You were worried about telling him, and seeing how weak he really thought you were. All marked up and bruised after a fight with some humans? Probably would think you were pathetic.

“Uhm, well…”

A irritated ‘hmph’ came from the stock-still man.

“Some men tried to. . . Attack me. Came at me all together thinking they’d get the upper hand and get- Y’know?..” You lifted the burgers from the skillet to a plate covered in paper towels to catch excess grease.

Behind you Victor had tensed even more. Angry at what happened. Those men. Himself.

Himself for not being there and for intending to come in and rip you a new one earlier. His inner feral growled lowly. Over the years, probably before your feelings had even shifted, he had grown attached to you in a more romantic, loving nature. But he didn’t want to hurt you. He knew what he did to other frails and knew he held you in higher regard than even himself when he realized he never wanted to see you hurt. But his inner animal was raging; some average human men had not only tried to hurt you, but force you to… to..

You were still putting the burgers together, knowing exactly how he liked his, while you talked. “Got a couple good ones in yeah, but I got ‘em all Vic. Really tore into ‘em like you taught me!” You were getting a bit giddy to regale you triumphant tale as you spun around. And he was right there. ‘Holy shit.’

Victor grabbed the plate from your hands and set it on the counter to the side, picking both your hands up in his clawed one while the other smoothed hair away from the side of your face with the bruise.

“You won?” he questioned, but your indignant reply was cut off as he raised your torn knuckles to his mouth and laved at them. Wet tongue softly grazing over the split skin in a comforting and healing gesture reminiscent of his large cat namesake. Your gasp brought his blown gaze to your own wide eyes. “Of course you did.”

“V-Victor?”

He gave a light growl that further warmed your belly as his gaze shifted back to the handprint on your neck and face. “One of them grabbed you here? Marked you up.”

Breath shaky you replied, “Yeah. Tight grip while I was getting some other guys’ paws off my undershirt. They say we’re the animals. But I won! I’m stronger than you think y’know?”

The last bit was supposed to be a tease to hide your own insecurity, but his incredulous gaze met yours like he was having an epiphany. (He was.)

‘She thought I thought she was weak? I mean, I did. But not. . . Not as a negative thing.’

“You really are something Y/N,” he chuckled. “Much stronger than I was giving you credit for. I’m sorry.”

‘An apology? What is going on with him?’ Victor dropped suddenly on his knees gazing up at you. ‘Ahhhh!!!?? What is going on? Why is he- Wait.’

The large man wasn’t looking in you eyes anymore but off to the side with his head craned to expose the thick expanse of his neck. Submitting. To you.

“I was wrong. I’ve seen the way your gaze changed over the years. Practically fucking me with your eyes Y/N.” Your face was bright red now. He gave a low chuckle while his head and eyes were still turned away. “You weren’t as subtle as you thought you were. I told myself it couldn’t happen. That you were too weak-”

Now the salt smell of your tears hit him as he practically felt you stop breathing and he looked up at you in a panic. Tears were welling and slowly teetering the line of falling down your face.

“No. Shit.” he groaned as he wiped his empty clawed hand down his face. “I meant. You’re healing ability. I didn’t want to hurt you. To see you in pain.. I couldn’t live if I hurt you Y/N. But me wanting to protect you like I’ve done for years made me blind the you now. Strong and capable of protecting herself despite a little pain and some cuts and bruises.”

Once he saw the shimmer dissipate a bit he craned his head again. Exposing the column of his throat once more. “I can’t stay marked up. If you tried to it wouldn’t stick. But I am claimed by you. I have been for years now. If-if that’s still what you want?”

Understanding hit you like a freight truck. Slowly you crouched, if you also knelt you would be shorter than him again, to make a point.

“No submitting. You’re Victor Creed. The Sabertooth. These- These feelings are ones we both have right?” At his nod and the curious glint in his eyes you continued. “Then it’s equal. We are equal, bub.”

Then you gave him what he wanted. Lightly you pressed kisses to his brow, his nose, his lips and his jaw. He reciprocated in his own forceful way. Carefully your gazes met again and you gave a slight nod. You ran your nose down from where you kissed his jaw to the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder. He skipped the trailing and harshly pressed his nose to the same spot on your neck, nuzzling, and waited for you to press your open mouth to his skin.

He felt your hot tongue and groaned loudly. Then there was a slight tearing sound as he dug his sharp canines into your neck, and you repressed your scream by biting him back as hard as possible with your duller teeth. When his teeth pulled from your skin he immediately began lapping at your wound in that healing way again as your body collapsed into his.

When you gave a high whine followed by a moan Victor’s arms wrapped tightly around you and he stood to his full height with you in his hold. Sensing a shift in mood from the loving, openness to a more erotic tone, you laughed.

“Got more plans?”

Another grunt but you felt the curve of his smile where his face was still pressed to you.

“What about the burgers?” You joked.

“Fuck that.” he gave a chuckle this time, hearing your joking lilt. “Let’s work up an appetite first, eh?”

Now you giggled as he practically ran to his dark room down the hall. You were certainly up for a long night making up for lost time, and he was ready to mark you up and see your strength first hand.

#victor creed #sabertooth #xmen #victor creed x reader #a-z affection prompt oneshot #nuzzling #marked up #marking #claiming #animal qualities #mates #mutant #angst #mention of attempted assault

230 notes · View notes

notnctu · 4 years

Text

nct 127 as cliche quotes❀

『 nct 127 as cliche quotes about love & some more 』 genre - pure fluff member x gender neutral reader (i tried my best ;-;) [a/n] hi yall this is author doie❀ i really ditched watching my lectures to write this so pls leave me feedback if u like dis bc would really appreciate it hehee i am now behind on school work hahaha i love bad decisions!!

➳ MOON TAEIL - ❝ i love you to the moon and back ❞

“sugar”, “my only one”, “bubby”, long phone calls, suffocating hugs, goofy dancing to loud music, jumping on the bed, picnics in the field, regular date nights, goodmorning/night kisses, food adventures, light snores, tiny grins at the mention of you, wherever he goes: the sun follows, you are his stars.

taeil has the whole universe to thank for your simple existence. he’ll take you star gazing and point out everything he loves about you. because if there is anything he loves more in the world, is how his night sky complemented you. His love for you runs deep and stretches far, resonating high in the galaxies. Incomparable lengths of love that cannot be expressed without metaphors. He’s constant reminders of how fitting you two are. he’ll make way for your shining light, even if that meant he disappears during the day. but he’ll always be there for your nights.

➳ LEE TAEYONG - ❝ love is patient ❞

“darling”, “bub”, “angel”, 3am cuddles to calm your nightmares, hours of gentle whispers of sweet nothings, softest touches, nose kisses, quick pecks on the lip, afternoon naps, long walks in the park hand in hand, he is the light in your darkness.

taeyong would wait until the ends of the earth for your healing. for your journey to self love, he’ll be there every step of the way. he’ll make sure every hurt disappears, if that had to mean small sacrifices of himself. because to him, you always come first. he’ll listen to your complains, he’ll understand your burdens, he’ll remember your heavy sighs. he’s the first call you make in the morning. you are his last call he makes at night. he is meaningful talks and supportive words. he’s the reassurance that never falters. he’s the strength at your weakest.

➳ SUH JOHNNY - ❝ i love you, not only for you what you are, but for what i am when i am with you ❞

“hottie”, “tiny” (regardless of height), “babygirl/boy”, most comforting hugs, humbling conversations, piggy back rides, hand on your thigh while driving, comfy hoodies and pj pants, weekend adventures, long road trips, polaroids, subtle matching outfits, he makes you a better version of yourself.

johnny’s big heart had the ability to touch even the coldest of people. he’ll hold you in his lap and tell you to reach beyond the stars. he is your number one supporter in every aspect of life, the world’s best hype man. you complement everything. he’s lucky to have you. he wants absolutely no one else in the world, but you. you are an evolution to be explored. he has an attracting personality that you can’t get enough of. he’ll show you the world through his modest lens, correcting your ignorance in the most respectful way. role model, constantly improving. he is your guide through a complex world.

➳ NAKAMOTO YUTA - ❝ love has no flaws ❞

“cutie”, “love”, “your name”, intense admiring stares, a love that cannot be contained, cheek kisses, kissing to the sunset, happiness at your fingertips, constant teasing, small screams of excitement, honey dripping praises, you are his daydreams.

yuta acknowledges you for who you are, what you make up. there is no effort for change because he genuinely loves you for all of you. to him, you are the perfect human being, where flaws are seen as a part of your beauty. he loves you enough for the both of you. encourages, versus criticism. he has nothing but admiration for your physical attributes and stunning personality. all he needs from you is a simple loving gaze, or a comforting hold. you could do no wrong. you are excellence in your own uniqueness. you are the reasons behind his growing smiles. he never asks for more than needs, though over extends himself to you. he sees you truly for the real you.

➳ KIM DOYOUNG - ❝ actions speak louder than words ❞

“sweetie/heart”, “honey”, always reaching for your hand to hold, flustered compliments, nervous laughter, sweet red cheeks, dainty promise rings, comfortable silences, homemade dinners, reassuring hand on your knee, your favorite book of poems, thick skin, confused funny facial expressions, you are his comfort.

doyoung often times stammers over his thoughts. he is usually a collected person, but you always break his guard down. he is unspoken words, and sweaty hands. he’s tender touches and quiet looks. the mutual atmosphere of knowing you love each other. Sweet talks on your end, and shy, bashful smiles on his. he’s at your will and call. he’s drop everything for you. he’s daily gestures to minimize inconvenience. if his love for you is questioned, he’d respond with a snarky none of your business. because frankly, he didn’t need anyone else to know besides you how much he loves you.

➳ JUNG JAEHYUN - ❝ it was love at first sight ❞

“baby”, “princess/prince”, “my dear”, charming smiles, arm around the waist, bouquet of your favorite flowers just because, the sweetest love you’d ever find, shy gazes, butterflies in your stomach, comfort in his cuddles, blissful sugary kisses, don’t blink! or you’ll miss him: he’s every meticulous, beautiful detail of life.

jaehyun knew the moment he laid eyes on you that he wanted to spend his days with you. on the contrary, he loves your personality the most but never fails to boast about how you are the most beautiful person ever. you take his breath away. he makes your heart race. gets shy at the thought of you, but drones on for hours about how happy you make him. he’s every love language combined into one. he’s sometimes a timid character, a bit shy. you are the center of attention because he loves to see you glow. he knows he’s in love with you. he’s found the only you, who makes him fall in love with life. he’s a happily ever after.

➳ KIM JUNGWOO - ❝��opposites attract ❞

“bud”, “babe”, “pumpkin”, staying up and loving you until dawn, teary eyed uncontrollable laughter, loud confessions of love, a love so random that it keeps you on your toes, love bites that are purposefully hard to cover, gentle hand squeezes when he holds your hand, adorable sound effects, half of a whole: he completes you.

jungwoo loves your differences the most. it gives him another perspective to marvel in. bc it gave you two a stronger bond. he didn’t believe in a perfect love --- no --- he believes in hard work and dedication. he knew the day you two met, he was determined to make things work. because he fell in love with everything you were that he was not. you are the caution to his wind. unknowingly, you fill the rest of who he has always admired and wanted to achieve. and together, you two are unstoppable. you are his missing puzzle piece. he is the acceptance you needed. he’s an one in a million.

➳ LEE MARK - ❝ loving you is too easy ❞

“my person”, “best friend”, “love of my life”, truly a boy next door who falls for the person next door, always thinking of you, secret kisses when no one is looking, playful shared giggles, the widest smiles, never a doubt in mind, late night drives, you are his match made in heaven.

communication is your strongest asset in the relationship. the best parts of mark are his understanding and considerate nature. he gets you better than anyone you’ve ever known. he makes sure you’re seen, appreciated. you are everything he’s been searching for. you are the definition of an ideal partner. there’s never a question of your relationship, he makes sure you are loved. whether that be through grabbing you lunch out of his way. whether that be asking about your day. whether that be forehead kisses in the mornings. whether that be a long speech of why he loves you. he is the true meaning of good vibes. he didn’t have anything to dislike. loving him was the best and easiest decision of your life. he is the best you’ve ever had.

➳ LEE DONGHYUCK - ❝ love comes when you least expect it ❞

“wifey/hubby”, “my everything”, “soulmate”, the emotional 4am thoughts of self worth, a cathartic epiphany, a love that’s always been in front of you, light banter, snarky sly smirks, always holding you in some way, belting notes in the shower, late night serenades, cheek squishing, he’s a wish upon a star.

donghyuck has always been there for you and that is something unchanging. he’s bringing you dinner after long nights of studying. he’s showing at your door step when you need someone to comfort you. he is there for every lost cause of a relationship. the pick up the pieces and mend you back together. when you had given up on love, he never gave up on you. it took one fun drunk night and a lingering touch on your cheek for you to realize that his love for you had always been there. he wanted you more than any person in your life. all it took was him to realize that he was never going to leave you. he is the last person you would expect to be your’s. but you are the first person he wishes happiness for. he is a one true love.

451 notes · View notes

wellhellotragic · 3 years

Text

These Wounds Won't Seem to Heal 2/3

Summary: It’s not her fault. She’s still new and doesn’t know. He’s not flawless. Not anymore. He’s got scars, ones she’s seen first hand. Ones she helped tend to. His body is covered in them. There’s a thin red line where he took a bottle to the face during his early beat cop days. There’s another angry red mark on his torso from where he was stabbed with a knife in his ribs. The one where he had his hand slammed in a locker as a teenager has long since faded, only the barest hint remaining, only visible in just the right lighting.

There’s two oval scars now too. One in his stomach and one on his chest. Those are from the worst day of her life.But none of those scars compare to the ones he carries on the inside. The self-inflicted cuts he makes to his soul never quite healing over. He blames himself. It’s not his fault.

There’s a scar on her soul now too. One he left. A piece of her heart forever missing.

Rating: Mature (mostly for language)

A/N: No, you’re not crazy. The chapter count grew a little. My sincerest apologies guys (especially to @searchingwardrobes.) I have a lot of stuff going on in my personal life that’s taken most of my attention. I really didn’t mean for this next part to be so delayed, and honestly, time has become an illusion at this point and I didn’t even realize that 6 weeks had passed. I was thinking closer to 3, so thank you for staying with me on this little journey, and hope you enjoy.

If AO3 is more your jam...

His jaw is killing him and he’s realized all too late that it was a mistake not taking the ice from Emma. But he couldn’t. He can’t have anything to do with her. He can’t even look at her. It’s just too damn painful in every way fathomable.

Sometimes, his heart aches to be near her, to see her smile and pretend for just a moment that it’s before. That everything is still fine and that they’re going to meet up for drinks later. To imagine that they’ll go back to one of their apartments and put on a movie. That she’ll fall asleep on his shoulder and he’ll move so that they’re spooning each other on the couch. It’s on those days he turns to the bottle.

Other days, the very thought of her sends him into a rage and it’s all he can do not to throw her desk out of the bullpen. He never should have agreed to take the Captain’s position. He should have gone back to the narcotics division, far away from her and the ghost of Liam imprinted into the very fabric of his chair.

He shouldn’t have done a lot of things.

He shouldn’t have gone to the Salty Winch tonight. He knew that it was her birthday, try as hard as he might to forget. And he wasn’t planning on going. But something in his subconscious had him driving there against his own better judgement. He was just going to peer in through the window, just go get a look. To see if she was happy.

And now he’s got a bruise on his face, he’s down a detective, and he’s going to have to call a cab in the morning to take him back to the pub to pick up his car.

He’s also got a text message from Archie telling him he wants to see him tomorrow before lunch.

He goes to bed, but sleep doesn’t come until hours later.

The next morning is a disaster. There’s two empty desks instead of one, paper work is piling up. Everyone is tiptoeing around him and he can see them watching him out of the corner of his eye. He can hear their hushed whispers, and as much as he doesn’t want to have to schlep all the way down to headquarters, he needs the retreat from being the star of his own tragedy.

Archie’s office is on the third floor, and it isn’t lost on him how many offices he has to pass on the way to what should be a private visit. But then again, nothing about his life has been private lately. He knows that everyone still talks about it. For weeks his portrait graced the cover of every newspaper in town, sometimes next to Liam’s departmental photo. The news was there that night to film him being carried to the ambulance on a stretcher. His name was on the tip of everyone’s tongue as the investigation and trial drug on.

His detectives don’t trust him, and he knows it’s a problem, as well that he should care, but most days he just can’t find it within himself to give a damn. He buries it all as deeply within himself as possible, just going through the motions. He’s gotten pretty good at ignoring the ways he feels, most times, but Archie is going to want to drag it all up again, especially after last night.

The office has been redecorated since the last time he was there for his psych evaluation and mandated therapy to determine if he was capable of returning to work. There are more plants in every corner of the room. No doubt the cricket’s way of cheering everyone up while he chirps in their ears. Not that he has anything against Dr. Hopper. The man may very well be the only reason Killian is even still human at this point.

“Killian, thank you for coming. Why don’t you have a seat?” He doesn’t want to, the black leather is worn and cracked in places, pinching the back of his legs even through his thick cotton pants.

The man just watches him, waiting to see if he’ll open up, to make the first move, but Killian’s never been much for spilling his guts. He’s not sure talking would even help at this point. Everything has become so twisted that no emotional epiphanies can untangle his problems anymore.

“So, I think you know why I wanted to see you.”

“Aye.”

“My next appointment called in sick so I have all day to wait for you to say something.

Killian sighs, ready to give in to the inevitable, although he’s not completely sure which part of it Archie wants to get into, and he’s treading water trying to keep as much of his life off limits as possible.

“There’s nothing to say really. One of my detectives was drunk, mouthed off, and hit me. His suspension was well earned. I’m not sure there’s anything more to it.”

Archie watches him for a second, tilting his head as he listens to Killian, and before he even opens his mouth, he knows that the cricket chirping in his ear is about to dissect the evening.

“Killian, I think there’s a lot more to it. Clearly there’s been some resentment and animosity building between the two of you for some time more, or August wouldn’t have brought it up.”

He hates this, the way Dr. Hopper is always trying to poke his way through Killian’s brain, trying to unlock doors with a metaphorical paperclip. A one size fits all therapy tool that with enough finesse can open everything he’s trying to hold back.

“I’ll admit, there’s no love lost between the two of us. We’ve never gotten along, even before. But August has never been one to make smart well thought out choices and last night was just another in a long line of mistakes he’s made.”

“Long line, or tipping point?” This isn’t going to work. He isn’t going to let Archie trip him up. He’s not leaving anymore crumbs to follow. “I know you don’t want to discuss this again, but I can’t help but think all of this stems from your relationship with Emma.”

“I don’t have a relationship with Emma.” He doesn’t mean to spit out the words as harshly as he does, it’s just a gut reaction and it’s too late to play it off. “She’s my subordinate, that’s it.”

“You mean she was your subordinate.”

It pisses him off more than he expects, partly because somehow this man miles away already knows that Emma has transferred when he only found out himself a few hours before, but also because it brings up emotions he doesn’t know how to handle.

“Aye.” All he can do is nod and clinch his jaw, which in turn reminds him of the punch he took last night. He’d give almost anything for some Motrin right now. Better yet, some morphine so he can fall into a sleep where none of this is real.

He’s not really sure what’s happening. He knows he’s in the hospital. He can surmise as much by the beeping machines and the blood pressure cuff that’s about to sever his arm clean off. But his eyes are too heavy to open just now, and he doesn’t remember coming to the hospital. He can’t remember why he’s here.

Until he tries to move, twisting his torso just enough that pain shoots clear up to his eyeballs and he screams out in pain without even realizing it.

There’s a nurse in the room, telling him to relax, and he thinks he hears another voice from the other side of the room, but now his arm is cold and he doesn’t even have time to think before the world goes dark again.

His mouth is dry. He tries to open his lips, but they’ve melding together and his tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth. His body feels so weak and heavy, and it’s a struggle to speak, but even with just a slight moan, he feels his hand squeezed and he knows it’s her just by the way she fits with him. The bed shifts and he hears something new in her voice. She’s timid, like maybe if she speaks too loudly he’ll blow away in the wind. And to be honest, at this point, he very well may.

He forces his eyes open, blinking as much as he can to clear his vision. She’s standing at his side in a Boston PD sweatshirt that’s two sizes too big - pilfered from his closet after a night off of bar hopping turned into a movie at his place - and her hair is pulled up in a messy bun. It might very well be any other Saturday morning, except for her face. It’s puffy and red and she’s clearly been crying.

Emma Swan doesn’t cry. Ever.

He should be worried about himself, but in that moment, he can only think of her and how miserable she looks.

But then the blood pressure cuff goes off again, reminding him of where he is, and everything comes rushing back. The fight with Liam, the sound of shots ringing out, Emma begging him not to die. He told her he loved her, and he’s angry with himself for waiting so long. It shouldn’t have been a death bed confession. He shouldn’t have put so much stock in Liam’s approval.

Liam.

He barely gets his brother’s name out before he sees more tears running down her face, and she’s apologizing over and over again. There’s something about the way she says it, like it’s somehow her fault, like she was the one that fired the fatal shot. The pain returns and so does the morphine.

He wakes again, groggy and weak. His eyes are too heavy to open, but perhaps that’s better. Maybe if he can’t see the world around him, he won’t have to face everything to come. Liam’s always been there, even when everyone left, Liam stayed. He doesn’t know how to continue on in a world without him. He doesn’t know how to do anything now and all he can think about is how it should have been him. How he started the argument, he distracted Liam. How he was the one that raised his voice and alerted the killer to their presence.

He’s in the middle of his downward spiral of self loathing when he hears muffled voices come closer, likely entering his room from the hallway. They speak in hushed whispers as they move around the room, flittering about all around him, lifting his blanket and touching his feet, fumbling with his hand. He still can’t muster the strength to open his eyes, much less his mouth to tell them to leave, so they continue, completely unaware of the way he hears them. Unaware of how they are turning his life upside down.

“Why does this guy look so familiar?”

“Oh, you mean other than the fact that his face is all over the television?”

It’s silent for a bit, and he thinks that maybe they’ve gone finally, but then he hears a tapping noise, like fingers angrily hitting letters on a keyboard.

“It’s really sad actually. Remember Astrid down in the ER?” She waits for the other voice to agree before continuing. “I had lunch with her today and she was telling me how our guy here is cop. Came in with gunshot wounds, along with his brother. They were both in really bad shape. Whale was able to save this one but the brother was too far gone.”

It’s the first time he’s heard the words spoken allowed, and although intrinsically, he knew that Liam was gone, the words are a nail to a coffin.

The voice continues, telling the other one how they were both in shock, having lost so much blood, giving vivid details that tear at him to his very core, but it’s the end of the story that he latches to.

“So there’s nothing they could have done then?”

“I guess we’ll never know. I mean, by the time the ambulance brought him in, he was already gone, but from what Astrid overheard, I guess their back up got there late. One of them ran after the shooter and the other stayed to help and couldn’t save them both.”

“Damn, I can't even imagine. This guy is gonna have some hell of survivor's guilt.”

But it wasn’t guilt that overcame him that night. Instead, it was rage that crept in, filling the hole in his heart.

“So you still blame Emma then?”

He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t even look up from the mark of the coffee table in front of him that he’s been starting at for the last few minutes.

“Killian, the mind is a tricky thing. You were still in shock, heavily medicated, and mourning. Is it possible that maybe you somehow misunderstood what the nurses said that night?”

That has his attention, and not in a good way.

“Are you insinuating that I’m a liar?” He leans forward, voice steady, focused on Dr. Hopper and the way he’s now squirming in his chair. “Or do you simply believe that I’m just crazy?”

He’s off the couch, steady quick strides for the door. He’s had enough judgment for the day, and needs to leave before he crams Archie’s notebook down his throat.

“That’s - Killian! That’s not what I meant.”

He’s halfway out the door, but something in the man’s tremble gives him pause.

“I- I just. I spoke to Emma, to August too, after it happened. I just mean that maybe you all have different accounts of what happened that night, and until you sit down and finally clear the air, none of you will be able to heal.”

That has him barking out a laugh. The very idea of either of them being able to make anything right at this point? It’s absurd.

Two weeks pass without much fanfare. August’s desk still sits empty, a magnet for other detective’s paperwork piles, but the seat stays cold. Emma’s desk on the other hand is now occupied by a short stodgy old bald man who seems to be compensating for his hair loss with a long salt and pepper beard that covers half of his face. The man has been nothing but surely since his arrival the week before. He’s managed to piss off most of Killian’s bullpen, and it’s almost laughable how quickly his life has gone totally shits-up on him, but then he remembers that Leroy is going to be August’s partner when he comes back and that’s almost enough to satiate Killian’s frustration.

Almost.

Because August isn’t coming back, at least not to his division. There’s an opening in Narcotics, Killian’s old team, and while is not a transfer Killian would ever normally agree to, it's not a typical assignment. Despite his reservations, he knows August is good as his job and the best fit.

That’s the only reason he finds himself walking back into the Salty Winch at 10:29 on a Tuesday morning. August isn’t there yet, which doesn’t surprise him in the least. The truth is, he doesn’t honestly even know if the man will show at all, never having responded to his message.

It’s odd being back in that building, the incident from a few weeks ago notwithstanding. The derelict bar has always been special to him in a way he can’t explain, like an extension of himself. Liam brought him there after his first collar, saying a celebration was in order, and that one night somehow became a long standing tradition. Looking at the scuff marks near the well, he remembers Ruby’s attempts at clogging in 6 inch stilettos and the pub owner nearly crying at the sight of his ruined wood floors. He remembers Lance throwing up in the peanut bucket at the end of the bartop at his bachelors party.

But taking a seat in the booth in the back right corner, all he can see is her face the night they met.

It’s been a damn good day, and each sip of the rum in his glass dances it’s way down his throat, warming him on the way down. He’s buzzed to be certain, but hasn’t had nearly enough to be drunk, and Will intends to remedy that as soon as possible if the third round he just ordered is any indication.

They’d been after a small time dealer for months, and on the day they finally go to bust the guy, they somehow luck into nabbing one of the largest suppliers in the city by sheer dumb luck. But no one needs to know that. Not when he and Scarlett have just received public commendations from the commissioner himself. Not when he’s wearing his medal on his shirt like a goddamn first place science fair ribbon. Not when his name is being floated around as someone to keep an eye on.

And sure as hell not when the most gorgeous creature he’s ever laid eyes on has just walked into his pub and sat herself four bar stools over. To say that he’s gobsmacked is an understatement. It’s dark, but even in the dim pendant lit room he catches a glimpse of her eyes. They’re emeralds, sparkling as the light from a glass bottle being poured reflects in them.

He’s so infatuated with this woman in her tight red leather dress that he’s apparently missed an entire conversation, only his name on repeat is enough to pull his attention back to his mates.

“Oh bloody hell, I think we lost ‘em boys.”

There’s a heat overcoming his face and he’s not quite sure why. He’s left with many a fine lass from this very bar on other, much less eventful nights. His boys are no strangers to the effect he has on women, but perhaps this time it has something to do with the effect she’s having on him. This enchantress that’s beguiling him.

Perhaps the last shot was a mistake.

After some merciless teasing he’s out of his seat, making his way to the empty spot on the other side of her. He waits for a second, casually watching her send an email from the corner of his eye before making his move yelling out to the bartender.

“Robin, can I get my tab? I need to head across the street and file a complaint.”

She’s startled, her eyes flitting between him, the bartender, and her phone.

“Oh, what for?” Robin walks over with a towel and glass in hand, and a coy grin on his face. This may or may not be the first time he’s used this ruse before.

“Well, this woman here has just stole me beating heart right from my chest.”

She groans and rolls her eyes, and while it may not be the first time he’s used the line, it’s certainly the first time it’s ever not been reciprocated.

“Please tell me that line doesn’t actually work on girls.”

He can’t help but smile despite how epically he’s failed. And while she’s clearly not amiable to going back to his place with him tonight, she doesn’t outright reject his offer to buy her drink, or even a second one after that.

Somehow the two of them move to the booth in the back. He learns that she’s from the 42nd, a vice cop just coming from her last shift. The red leather dress is a departing gift of sorts from her supervisor, by way of a prostitution sting. She’s transferring to his precinct tomorrow and just wanted to come get a feel for the area before her first day.

They talk until the bar closes somehow, and when her cab pulls up, he takes his shot one more time. This time she laughs him off and tells him she’ll see him tomorrow. He gets his own cab, and even though he’s going home alone tonight, he’s still got a shit eating grin on his face when he walks through his apartment door, her laugh echoing through his head like music.

August arrives in true fashion, twenty minutes late, and Killian isn’t sure if the man is just being disrespectful or trying to somehow create an illusion of control over the situation. Either way, he’s not happy, although he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit to himself that he’s happy that the man won’t be around for a while.

Boothe has always rubbed him the wrong way. Even before Emma, August had a way of pissing him off, always shooting off his mouth and trying to one up him. In truth, his annoyance turned to hatred when he learned of how close the man was with Emma. They had inside jokes and secret looks, and Killian always felt like an outsider. Eventually he learned that August was practically Emma’s brother, having been raised together in the foster system, but hearing of how Boothe was the one that introduced Emma to her first love, and man that led her down a path of petty crime, it only solidified in Killian’s mind that August Boothe is an arse of a man with no redeeming qualities.

Which is also the exact thing that he needs right now. The two of them sit in that back booth, discussing the matter at hand. The narcotics division has been trying to catch the supplier of pixie dust, a drug that’s recently made its way to Boston from New York. They have a fairly good idea who the importer is, but they haven’t been able to catch him thanks to a mole in their ranks. One of their own has been tipping off Walsh Nikko and their captain is fairly certain it’s Jefferson.

A man by all rights is mad as a hatter. Killian had only dealt with the man a few times, but undercover work had taken its toll on Jefferson and he returned from a botched assignment with demons in his soul.

Killian explains everything to August. How Captain Humbert needs him to come in as a disgruntled cop, how he needs to break rules and make his distaste of the Boston PD known. That it shouldn’t be difficult given their recent encounter and his suspension.

He knows it’s working when snippets of August’s ranting about his character get back to him.

______________________________

His adrenaline is waning and his stomach turns. He barely makes it away from everyone on scene into a back alley before the remainder of his lunch is spilling out of him. He’s never been so terrified in his life, and nothing is right. Nothing makes sense, and he’s still hurling his guts out. There’s blue and red flashes of light coloring the clouds above them as nearly all of Boston has turned out to the scene.

There’s going to be mountains of paperwork, but that’s tomorrow's problem. Right now, he just needs to get out of there, far away from the flashing photography bulb and the interviews. Away from the smell of blood, the screams he swears are still echoing in the building. He just needs to get away.

He’s not sure how he ends up here. He’s not even sure how he knows that address, but his feet have somehow brought him here and he knows that he can’t keep holding everything in. He can only pack it all down so much before the latches break and everything explodes around him.

Dr. Hopper doesn’t even seem surprised to find him standing outside of his brownstone, just motions for him to come inside. Archie goes to get him a towel, which he tries to refuse. It’s only at the man’s instistance that he realizes that he has blood on his jacket, and that’s his breaking point.

There’s blood on his jacket, and despite scrubbing it for the length of the car ride back to the precinct, he’s standing on the steps to the 56th and it’s still there. He’ll likely have to burn the damn thing. As remissed as he is though to discard his favorite article of clothing, it’s not the jacket that causes him pause.

He’s thought about this moment a lot of the last year. Wondering if she will be happy to see him, if she’ll care at all. There was a distance between them before he left, a chasm of his own doing, and when he told her he was leaving, he couldn’t miss the look in her eyes. A flash of betrayal and distrust, and while she’s the only thing that’s carried him through the last eleven months, he knows the chances of her thinking of him in the same way are lower than he cares to admit.

He’s thought of it so many times, playing it out over and over in his mind. How he’s going to find her and finally confess his feelings. Of how he can’t keep pretending that friendship with her is enough from him, that he wants more. How the random kisses they share are like knives to his heart showing him of what could be but isn’t. He’s played it out so many times, but never was he standing before her in a blood stained jacket.

But now that she’s there and in his arms clinging to him just as strongly as he is her, he couldn’t care less. She’s soft and warm and still smells of cinnamon just as he remembered, and her touch soothes the monsters whispering inside him. He felt broken the whole time he was gone, but she’s mending him.

He finally breaks away, he needs to tell her, he needs to just get the words out, but before he can, Liam is behind him ordering him to the bullpen, and now isn’t the time. It’s not a rushed conversation to have with people yelling his name from another room.

“I, we’ll talk later, ya?”

She nods, and it’s only then that he notices the faint tears that have been freshly wiped away.

They never talk about it though.

Liam takes him out to dinner, just the two of them, and by the time he gets home, the monsters are back, reminding him of all the things he’s done. Of what a villain he is now, and he knows that he’s not good enough for her.

His monsters are back, screaming, drowning out anything good and all he sees is the dark. Archie brings him a glass of rum, telling him after the night he’s had, he deserves it. And they talk. For the first time, Killian lets the walls down and tells Archie about all of it. All of the dastardly deeds he did while undercover. About how everything that has happened since is his fault, it’s because people like him don’t deserve happy endings.

Archie rebukes everything he says, but it does little to ease his conscience. He leaves Hopper’s house feeling slightly lighter though having unburdened himself, and possibly hopeful for the first time in years. But he’s still got a lot of work to do, and he knows it’s going to take time.

His suitcase is packed before it ever even occurs to him to call his commander and tell him that he needs a sabbatical. He expects pushback. Hell, he expects the man to tell him he’s fired, but his commander understands and tells him to take whatever time he needs. That they’ll find a place for him whenever he’s ready.

Liam’s boat is still in the harbor just as he remembers it. She’s been neglected the past two years, his own fault to be certain, and she’ll need some work as well, but she’s sea worthy enough, and he can’t be in Boston anymore. The sails are unfurled and he’s just pushing off when he pulls his phone out of his pocket, making one last call.

She doesn’t answer, he knows she won’t, and perhaps that’s why he’s calling her now, when he knows she’s busy. Instead he leaves a message, telling her that he loves her, that he always has and always will, but that he’s broken. That he needs some time to clear his head if he wants to be a man deserving of her heart.

He’s a bastard and a coward.

And then he’s gone.

#these wounds won't seem to heal #cs ff au #captain swan

64 notes · View notes

hhjs · 4 years

Text

rewind, revive. (all that we are.)

pairing. — kim sunwoo x reader.

genre. — angst.

alternatively. — wherein letting go is all but a reminder of why he seemed to hold on.

mystery trope!

word count. — 2.8 k

note. — inspired the nbhd's 'wdywfm' and 'reflections'. (impacting characters exactly in that order of the songs.) this is unedited so bear with me lmao

Regret is a funny thing.

One can feel it approaching light years before the realisation hits. Like squinting at dim headlights in the distance, before the vehicle picks up pace, before the tires skid against wet gravel, before it finally, finally occurs that it's too late, too late to go back and walk away, to stop oneself from facing the impact head on. From having the air knocked right out of one's lungs.

Sunwoo knows for a fact what he is doing fits that criteria.

Something about the prevailing silence that comes after heated arguments is utterly eerie; being an on and off couple for the longest time indicated that you recognised that much.

"I think we should take a break. Figure things out on our own."

He looks at the little scar you'd gotten from accidentally ramming your toe into the doorframe because you were too excited to see him. (It's healing.) No, that's not right. From this position, sat atop the sofa, when he's holding his head in his palms as your tone rises mid syllable, that's all he can see. No, he can't look at you. He can't look at himself in your eyes now, dropped way below all expectations you held to him once, silhouette of his peeved face in them leaves a rancid emotion inside his belly.

"Is that what you really want?" You ask, this time with a slight hint of surrender in your voice.

Sunwoo wants to say he doesn't exactly know what he wants, what he is feeling, perhaps it's the aftermath of working too hard, taking on too much stress, or so Changmin explained to him earlier that week, he doesn't quite perceive himself as someone who could lament his problems easily - however, it's very clear to him that he is pushing you away, sealing himself off suddenly, missing out on dates, calls and falling short in the department of being his usual affectionate self.

Or maybe, Sunwoo doesn't love you anymore.

What if he's never loved you at all? What if whatever you have is all a resultant of mere infatuation and he was too young to differentiate from the start?

Whatever it is, Sunwoo isn't too sure, but you... obviously notice. He's always finding excuses to distance himself and it's changing you, who you used to be when he fell in love with you. In fact, every day is a constant evidence of just how disconnected your relationship is from how it was in the beginning, in the 'honeymoon stage' or whatever. The way he tenses up when you throw an arm around him every night he plops down against your shared bed too late, only entertaining your comforting words with monosyllabic responses; he seems to test your patience, trying to find your breaking point.

And this is it, he thinks.

What you suggested as an innocent movie night with him, trying to get him to talk to you, about anything, anything at all, soon took a bad turn when you reached out to interlock your arms and he found himself brushing you off.

It was just the same little act that piled and piled atop all of his 'little acts' and this final blow sent everything tumbling down, all at once. The way you stared at your spread out, empty palm as you asked him why he was being like this is an image he finds difficult to forget.

Albeit he doesn't hesitate, asking you to stop nagging him, to stop overreacting. To just leave him alone.

Now, with the weight of his words absent inside, all he senses is blatant emptiness taking refuge in its place, an epiphany that he can't take back what he said.

You don't say a word when Sunwoo's reply comes in the form of an affirmative nod and what's worse, he thinks, is that you don't look surprised.

As if you saw it coming all along.

...

When he agrees to put up with one of the double dates Eric set, it's because his friends are convinced that the relationship has reached a dead end. Sunwoo ignores that idea and indulges in what he perceives as newfound freedom.

Even though the excitement of getting to know someone new is momentary, replaced by a strong underlying feeling that nauseates him. Whenever Sunwoo looks over the candlelight and watches his date smile back at him, it feels like he's doing something wrong. Something hypocritical.

Recently, every day feels the same. Every hour melding into the same old routine. This is boredom, Sunwoo tells himself, though he's positive it's anything but.

It's quite a surprise not having chanced upon you by accident, given years of dating has merged your social circles.

Really, when he thinks about it, Sunwoo's known you for the longest time.

Since he was sure he would fail a calculus pop quiz and he kicked your chair to gather correct answers, you were so shy, innocent and how that sparked a sense of adoration in him for the first time ever, since you ended up becoming best friends in spite of your essentially different personalities. Sunwoo tries to remember the exact feeling of snowflakes collecting on his cheeks, in your eyelashes, his cool fingers in his pockets, while a street light buzzed overhead - not every detail is clear - but the sight of your beaming face as he timidly confessed his feelings is unmistakable. As time passes, he tries thinking about it more and more, afraid someday he'll look back and miss out the most essential rudiments of the event. Or worse, forget altogether. It's such a distant, fleeting moment that elicits a bittersweet sensation in him. Sweet because some part of him will always be entwined with some part of you, bitter because you were no longer together.

Sunwoo shakes his head, as though the gesture ought to come in assistance in ridding himself of the aforementioned thoughts. He's the one who wanted this whole break thing, right?

He pushes his trolley around, leans on the handle like he used to as a kid and paces up through empty lanes after looking around to see that the seven eleven store is mostly empty. He successfully breezes through aisles and throws in packaged kimbap, frozen fried rice and crisps to his trolley; and then, suddenly, a juice extract shelf in the distance catches his eye.

Sunwoo focuses his vision and marks his next destination, all the while imitating low humming of a makeshift engine with his mouth.

But of course, much to his dismay, his trolley jams right into another that approached out of the aisle to his side that he hadn't kept an eye on in moving only forward.

He mutters a string of quiet apologies, bowing briefly and hoping to God that the person hadn't heard him swear under his breath. "It's alright."

Sunwoo looks up and blinks curiously recognition washing over him.

It's only been a few weeks but the sight of your face, the real thing, not instagram photos, not the ones in his money bag or photo frames in his drawer, hits him with the force of a bullet train.

Your face is bare, shadows splattered against your forehead and the tip of your nose because you're wearing his - and he only realises now - ridiculously big, pink bucket hat, a hand casually positioned into a jacket pocket, there's something so endearing about this.

"Hey." Sunwoo says.

"Hey."

You stare at him for a good second and then as if realising something, you blink rapidly, fishing out a pear extract juice to dump it in his trolley. "Here."

It is an unspoken gesture, to relay that you still remember what he likes and what he doesn't like, that you've unraveled the likes of Sunwoo, excavated all the little, measly, trivial quirks, secrets and lies buried deep inside the cavity of his chest.

"Thanks." Sunwoo just stares, entranced.

It is only when he's back home, nuzzled into the comfort of his favourite blanket that still smells a little like you, does he realise he misses you.

...

"I don't care."

Sunwoo thinks he means it, like this, when he has a hoodie pulled over his head and balances a controller with great expertise, looking perfectly unfazed by Chanhee's comment about whether or not he should invite you to his party, it almost sounds true. "I just wanna see them." He settles. Time apart only reminded him just how impatient he could be when he wanted something and wasn't getting it immediately. He is seeing clearly, you're the only constant in the overwhelming vicissitudes of his life, the only one who saw him at his worst as you did at his best and stayed. That comfort, that very familiarity, is far better than the infamous honeymoon stage or any stage, for that matter.

Sunwoo realises that now. Even if it's just a little late.

Rolling his eyes, Chanhee pushes a grocery bag containing the former's snack and tears open a packet of honey crisps.

Prior to this confession, no matter how much Sunwoo insisted that he was fine, that his stare didn't linger every time he mistook a stranger for you, that he definitely didn't pretend to do the dishes even though he refused to do the chore under any other circumstances just to overhear his friends talking about a new event in your life, or just... about you, Chanhee doesn't believe him.

In retrospect, no one does. But Chanhee is least discreet about it.

"I don't suppose that's a good idea..." He pauses, swallowing, "What if things go south?"

Beneath an act of trying to untie the grocery bag, Sunwoo contemplates that he doesn't know how to respond to this inquiry, he had pictured your next meeting many a times, prepped himself to do or say very particular things, the way you always made up, time and time again forgiving each other in spite of all obstacles in your way, to a point where you friends got tired of you going back and forth, convinced that you could never really break up... - no, he is sure nothing can change, that's a blatant impossibility, Sunwoo knows you and you know him. No matter how much he fucks up - you know he'll always come back to you.

That's how it has always been.

"Figures, huh?"

Sunwoo scoffs, noting the way his friend's expression morphes to a confused furrowing of brows. He holds the yellow classic salted packet up instead whilst wrinkling his nose more than necessary, knowing the remark would prompt Chanhee to get annoyed and forget all about his own remark. “You got the wrong flavour again.”

The older male crumples a crisp in his palm and flicks it at Sunwoo.

The answer is simple, he'll never know if he never tries. Love is not chance but a decision, love is a choice, isn't it?

Well, Sunwoo chose you, he chooses you. He'll choose you over and over again.

...

"Can we talk?"

You nod slowly, a sigh escaping your parted lips. An expression on your face that Sunwoo can't put a finger on. But he doesn't have to, not when you comply so easily, joining him out into the balcony divorced from the apartment rife with noise and evidence of inebriation.

You lean over the railing, your eyes travelling far off into the impossibly dark scenery, the silence is imbued with a vague sense of eerie, the kind that ensues before something terrible happens.

All Sunwoo can think about is how beautiful you are. Suddenly, he feels guilty - see, he can't remember the last time he appreciated you, showered you with accolades you most certainly deserve. He mimics your position, turning his head slightly to take in every detail. Committing it all to memory. Things are different now. You look different.

Last time he saw you, he could map out the swollen quality of your eyes, nails bitten and chipped, the little characteristics that gave away you weren't doing well. Now, there's an indescribable glow to your face, something under the perfectly dolled up look, the red beret on your head, matched with an utterly fabulous coat that guards you from cool autums.

It's a new outfit. The discomfort is newer.

"You look great." He finally speaks and it's not the best way to start a conversation that's dangling by its last finger, akin to an inexperienced acrobat - he doesn't know what is.

You chuckle. "Is that what you wanted to say?"

"N-no...I just.." he pauses, the words all bundling up on his tongue into one big mess of sentences that don't make any sense. When you finally look at him, leaning back on your elbows now, Sunwoo gulps, this isn't a figment of his imagination, no, this is real. It's now or never. "I'm sorry." He starts, the mere utterance of those words seem to spark no change in your appearance. As if you're waiting for him to continue. Right now, apologies just aren't good enough. "This whole thing was so stupid. Baby I-I know I fucked up but... I love you. Okay? I promise I'll do anything to make it up to you. Whatever you want."

You stare at him for a long second, just letting his words sink in but also just seemingly allowing yourself to think. Then you push yourself up, standing straighter. "You dont have to." You say simply, a hint of finality laced into your tone. All Sunwoo finds himself thinking is how you don't reciprocate, uttering the same I love you like you always did. Out of habit.

He curls his fingers into fists, knuckles whitening and whitening under the strain. His vision is a blurring film against which you look like a faint silhouette, secluded by rivulets of raindrops racing down windows. It's embarrassing, how he feels, all those bubbling emotions reduced to that of a child being denied his favourite candy.

"W-What is that supposed to mean?" He blinks, finding that you're staring at your spread out palms. Like they're evidence for something you've done.

"Sunwoo." You say. It sounds like a warning, like a don't get any closer. "I don't like who I become when I'm with you."

At this point, Sunwoo just listens. In his mind, he hadn't foreseen this. He knew it wouldn't be easy, he knew he had to try his best but...this...losing you... that was out of question. Right?

No, he tells himself, he'll fix it, he'll get it together.

"You know, I was really angry at you for breaking up with me...but it was probably for the best." You produce a garbled laugh, lifting your face skyward, looking up at the glossy layers of pollution, of purplish clouds and the barely there moon behind, like you're reading off sentences from them. Sunwoo stares at you, he wants to reach out and trace the curves of your face without thinking twice, without holding back. "We did need time to think... and it made me realise that I've always loved you more than you've ever loved me. Heck, even more than I loved myself...and... I can't be that version of me again." You sniffle, "That's not love... That's devotion."

"Hey, don't say that!" He drags his fingers up from the railing and reaches out to touch your elbow, "Come on...we-we can work it out. We always do." These words , they come out all choked up and hoarse.

You stiffen up at the sound, "You're not listening to me." You shrug him off, adamantly piloting your gaze to linger away from him, your back's turned away from him but then you pause, just slightly looking over your shoulder and your gaze softens at the sight of him using his sleeve to dab at his cheeks. The gesture makes him feel hopeful, just for a second.

Then you sigh, shaking your head, "Don't you get it?" You say, "We can't fix this...we can't fix each other.

Inexplicably, he thinks of a perfect world, where he could go back just once, where it all started, everything before, holding his head in his hands and the little scar on your toe and is that what you really want?

This time, Sunwoo would mutter a quick no. He'd flick on the television and snuggle into your side, talking mindlessly about something that makes you laugh. To forget all about the stupid argument.

But in reality, he lets your words ricochet off of the walls, listening to the transient beats of music pouring into the balcony when you slide the door open to let yourself out.

It shuts.

Everything goes quiet.

And this soundlessness, this solitude, he knows this, he's heard this, he's seen this, he's felt this, this... this is final,

this is goodbye.

224 notes · View notes

amwritingmeta · 3 years

Text

S15: Dean and Cas

Pardon my lateness. Life is mental at the moment! I haven’t watched 15x17 yet but hope to do so today or tomorrow. Gods preserve me, for then there will be only three more episodes left. *is this real life??*

Okay, leaving that, let’s talk about Dean and Cas, shall we? Yes, we shall!

Dean and Cas’ relationship, or rather, how they relate themselves to each other, has been in focus this season, because it’s been pivotal to both of their arcs in canonically straightforward ways. Ways so straightforward that we haven’t really seen the likes of them since S11, and with the very heavy-duty callbacks to S11 these last two episodes, it all seems quite fitting.

I mean, Jack is a bomb like Dean was a bomb and Dean got to ask Amara why she would bring Mary back, and she got to clarify she meant it as a gift, a thank you at the end of S11, because Dean didn’t blow himself to kingdom come and her along with him, because instead he realised how he could broker peace and allow for light and dark to find balance.

Which is what Dean needs to find right now.

He needs to balance out the light and dark, the masculine and the feminine, the conscious and unconscious, the ego and the shadow. He needs to balance himself out in order to let go of his fury. Why does he need that? Why would the narrative continuously hit on him needing to let go of his anger? Because that’s the reason why he was put on this journey to begin with, this slow and steady coming-of-age-coming-into-his-own progression of finding forgiveness and feeling worthy and having faith that he deserves good things.

How do we know this?

Well, arguably this season through what happens to Dean whenever he gives his fury free range, whenever he allows it to hollow out his faith, his trust, making him one-track minded, suspicious and controlling: he loses something.

He loses Cas.

This season has been all about highlighting what happens when Dean is unable to be even the slightest bit self-aware, when he veers off the path of self-acceptance. This season, Dean has had Cas disappear out of his life twice: first when Cas walked out of the bunker and second in Purgatory, when Cas went with the Leviathan. (to get them away from Dean)

The first time Dean almost lost Cas was really all about highlighting Cas’ independence (thank fuck for that), letting us see how far they’ve come in their relationship, because Dean didn’t dig himself a grave this time, perhaps having faith, in spite of it all, that Cas would come back to him, and Cas went off on his own, feeling like there was nothing left for him at the bunker when there was no forgiveness to be had from Dean.

Except, Cas thought better of it. He realised it wasn’t just on Dean to push for change—it was on him as well. And, knowing Dean, Cas had the epiphany that he would have to lead the way.

Dean, of course, not being able to forgive and forget all that easily, needed a final push, which is why the second time he almost lost Cas was all about Dean. He had to confront his anger. He had to, because naming it and admitting it as the root cause of so many of his actions (and reactions) is a cornerstone for him to begin letting that anger go.

Almost losing Cas brought him to a moment of clarity, brought him to take a knee and admit to being wrong and offering the forgiveness he’d been holding back, because being angry is easier, especially when, it could be argued, you were beginning to feel that trust in good things lasting.

Yeah, speaking of good things lasting, it brings us to this question: Why is Dean so angry?

He doesn’t know why (or so he claims) and he probably does need to have his eyes opened for him, the way Amara tried to open them, the way his conversation with her was a highlighter for the point he’s being pushed to finally reach in his progression: forgiving the past, embracing the present, trusting in the future and in the fact that he deserves to live a long and happy rest of his life.

The fact that she’s completely dressed in pink - hello positive femininity representative who kicks ass and who once almost killed God and then was balanced out so that she instead healed him with her light and they twisted into dark and light smoke and went off together - is just delicious icing on the cake.

Yeah, and that’s the issue, Dean, alright, buddy?

Dean is angry because his mother died and her death meant that he lost his father too, it meant that he didn’t get to have a childhood, it meant that he stopped believing that he could have good things that would last, because of a confused sense of identity and a crippled sense of self-worth—why did bad things happen to him if he didn’t deserve it somehow?— and pushed him to mold himself into what would make him feel strong and brave: the image that his father projected.

The soldier.

The weapon and the shield.

And now it seems Protect Sammy has morphed into Sacrifice Jack, all because Dean’s fury at Chuck’s manipulation isn’t containable, and there’s no way Dean’s going to let Chuck live. Even if it means Jack dies in the process. As Dean said to Sam in 15x16: at least it’s not them this time.

All the while we just sit here and witness Dean morphing into the revenge thirsty spitting image of his father one last time, for one final, big ole push towards the line he’ll have to cross if he’s to finally understand once and for all where it’s actually drawn.

At Cas’ feet.

Remember back in S12, before Cas died, there was that subtle (erm) motif of pointy things going through people’s hearts from behind? Yeah. It happened twice, if I remember correctly, before the pointy end of an angel blade went through Cas’ heart and he died an angel death in the season finale.

Yeah. That.

So.

So now, in S15, we have Cas caught in a motif again, only this time Dean is right there with him, because it involves both of them.

We’ve had anger and loss, and then honesty and forgiveness.

We’re back to anger, we’re back to Dean seeing red, blinded by it, and the only thing—we’ve been shown—that can unblind him is…?

That’s right: losing Cas.

So he will lose Cas again. We’ve been on the precepice of this as fact for a good long while now, haven’t we, my merry macarons? We have indeed! The question becomes how will Dean lose Cas again? Is Cas actually going to die? Again??

I still sincerely doubt it.

I think Cas will find another way, and that other way will equal a sacrifice on his part. His life? I mean, it could be, but what about the Empty? What about allowing himself to be happy? It could add up somehow, I guess I just can’t see it. So I think the sacrifice will somehow involve Heaven, because we know Michael will be back, and I hope it will involve Hell and all of the forces God has brought into being working against him—together.

S p e c.

Now, I’m a sadist. No, not like that -> I’m a sadist when it comes to characters. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a sadist. (Misha Collins is one, as we all know) (I joke!) (down Bessie!) What I’m getting at is that I want Cas having no other recourse but to do whatever it is he’ll have to do to save Jack to, quite literally, break Dean.

We know they’re all teary eyed in 15x18 (feels like it’s Billie whom Dean is glaring at) and we’ve seen Dean crying against a wall and omfg I want it to be explicit and over Cas. Yeah?

We ain’t getting them driving off in the Impala together (which is fine btw because the final episode should focus on the brothers more than anything else) (I mean, a hint that they will be driving around in that Impala post season finale while Sam goes to be with Eileen would be fab, but we can only hope and wish, yeah?) (horses held), so let’s get Dean broken over thinking he’ll never see Cas again.

Let it be done with a big fat black marker in enormous circles around his emotional state. Let him TELL Cas to stay this time, like he should’ve done when Cas walked out the door in 15x03, only for Cas to be unable to comply, because this is all to teach Dean a lesson that this is where his anger gets him, and what he needs to do to save Cas is let that anger go, stop thinking Jack is expendable, and find a better way.

I mean, this is speculation, guys. This is hoping and wishing all over this narrative. But glory effing be if it’s anywhere in the ballpark.

It would be mind-blowing if there was a God intervention of some sort, a talking down off the ledge, as it were, as per end of S11, but I’m not going to hold my breath for *rainbows*…

I’ll hold it for balance, though. :)

Cas has waited for Dean for a long time. Dean being dismissive of Cas in 15x15 can, once again— because whenever he acts like a dick it comes back to bite him on the ass (there’s a visual for you)— be looked at as part of the tapestry that makes Cas feel there’s nothing more for him but being a father to Jack.

Dean did nothing but instill this feeling in Cas after Cas came back from the black hole that is the Empty in S13, Dean being all “You were brought back because we needed you”—Dean saying zero things about how he was basically ripping apart at the seams from the grief of losing Cas just hours before Cas made that phone call.

And of course not. Why would Dean admit that? Even to himself, once Cas was back.

He wouldn’t!

Ignoring how he really feels about stuff and taking Cas for granted is kinda what he does, so back to normal it all went. So normal and so leveled out that something had to happen, right? Because, in Dean’s mind, good things don’t last.

And then Mary happened.

Oh, my heart!

And Dean went off and cried, by himself, because he still couldn’t show emotion that openly, even to the people closest to him. But he went down on his knees and he cried in Cas’ ear during that prayer, and that really was something.

That said, Mary’s death was Dean proven right once again, and this person, who is the source of faith and hope and that budding belief that maybe, this time, everything was going to actually get better and stay that way, became the target of Dean’s anger over the injustice of it all. Because Cas was the root of it. He’s always been the root of Dean’s slow-to-grow hope that could bloom into belief and trust, if he just dared let it, that he deserves to be happy.

I wrote in an ask reply that I doubt we’ll get human!Cas, but then I remembered that Cas is still status quo-ing it. It’s why he almost left the bunker without telling anyone again, that choice of skedaddling without checking in getting interrupted by Dean, and Cas being brought into a situation where he had to divulge the information, not only that he was leaving and might not make it back (Dean’s face though!), but that Jack is going through a trial that will ultimately destroy him, which was a nice shift in this dynamic of theirs.

Now, look it, the writers may end Cas’ journey on him status quo-ing it... but for the Empty.

And I would shrug at the Empty and think, well, maybe that won’t come into play... but for the fact that the deal was brought up just a few episodes back.

So. Happiness.

Somehow something will need to push Cas toward a moment of happiness. And letting himself be happy is such a climactic moment for his entire journey—and look at how it perfectly mirrors what Dean is being pushed toward—that I find it difficult to see how that moment would bring an eternity in the Empty.

But I’ve written a lot of words on why I just can’t make sense of why they would choose to kill him or have his moment of happiness be tied to a narrative punishment so I’m not getting into all that again, but because both Dean and Cas are being pushed toward happiness, I’m curious to see which route the writers have chosen to take with it.

It would be thrilling and satisfying in equal measure if we finally get Dean crying over Cas, and only Cas. No filter of Bobby or Mary to take away focus and allow for an argument that he’s not actually grieving Cas.

It would be thrilling and satisfying for it to be very baseline Just Cas. As it has been just Cas this entire season. Cas at the center of Dean’s anger. Cas at the center of Dean’s push toward healing. Cas having had enough, drawing a line—the one that is still there, at his feet—and doing what he’s always done best: calling Dean out on his bullshit behaviour. Cas making Dean put words to his anger, express forgiveness and say that he’s sorry and all within the same moment to boot.

What all this will amount to, we’ll have to wait and see.

In a few weeks. Or next week. Or maybe there will be strong indicators where the pendulum is actually swinging in 15x17!

Holy. Hell.

But I can’t see it ending somewhere tragic. If it does, it does. And it will be what it will be. And I’ll mourn a little, and accept it and move on. But I do believe it will end somewhere hopeful. Somewhere that leaves things quite tied up, but also open to interpretation, so that we can pick and choose who ends up where and how these men decide to continue on their journeys, now that this enormous leg of their progression is done, and they’ve learned to put the past to rest.

And if S11 is anything to go by, then the echoes of that ending would be a powerful way to tie everything up, as S11 was meant to be the end of the road, until Andrew Dabb picked up the reins with an idea of how to continue the show for a few more seasons. Or so I’ve heard.

11x23 also gave us the most gloriously frustrating exchange ever written for two characters in a car. Omg. Dean we-ing the absolute hell out of his speech when it was him, he was the one, the entire time Cas was possessed by Lucifer, who insisted they make sure Cas came back unscathed. “You’re the best friend we ever had” my ass, Dean!

I wanted to talk about Dean and Sam as well, but there’s too little time at the moment for me to write more. And it’s painful, but I have to concede or hit a wall and hitting walls fucken hurts.

I will mention that Sam telling Dean off at the end of 15x16 still gives me goosebumps just thinking about it.

Finally, Sam. Finally.

As ever, sprinklings of salt all over this meta and speculation, my dearlings, but omfg it’s beautiful.

Right then. I’m off to watch 15x17! Wish me luck! *gah!*

90 notes · View notes

rons-hermiones · 3 years

Text

Come Find Me

by rons-hermiones

Summary: Unplanned, Hermione is forced to spend Christmas at the Burrow due to her grandmother falling very ill. After being ignored by Hermione for weeks, Ron is determined to show her how much she means to him. Just before he gets the chance to tell her, Bellatrix Lestrange shows up with other plans for Hermione. Can Ron get to her before it's too late? (Ron/Hermione Half-Blood Prince AU)

Rating: M for language & dark themes in later chapters.

Chapter Six

“Oh Bill, wonderful to have you, you as well dear!” Molly exclaimed embracing Fleur.

Nearby, Ginny scowled to herself.

“Bill we’re surprised you came so early.” Fred commented.

“What?” The eldest Weasley asked, confused.

“Well, we thought you only came out when the moon did!” George laughed.

“Boys!” Missus Weasley scolded, making a move to lunge at her two sons. However, a loud crack sounded, indicating they had left for work.

“Those two, I swear.” Molly rolled her eyes.

“It’s okay, you got a better welcome from them then I did!” Charlie’s voice sounded from the steps.

Bill’s face brightened instantly as he unashamedly went to embrace his younger brother. They’d written each other any chance they got. They remained close, but it wasn’t the same as being with one another.

“Charlie, I’ve missed you!”

“Not as much as I missed you big brother.” He breathed pulling away, “I haven’t seen you in what a year? And you up and get yourself engaged. It’s like you're a new man.” He teases. Charlie knew about the engagement from their correspondences, but had yet to see the ring on Fleur’s finger in person.

“And you are one brave woman, agreeing to marry a Weasley.” He said turning to the blonde.

“Oui!” She teased back, making the room erupt with laughs, even eliciting a chuckle from Ginny.

“Gin, why don’t you show Fleur around while I talk to Harry?” He asked hopefully. It was his goal to get his fiancé closer with his little sister before the wedding.

With a small grunt, Ginny obliged as she ushered Fleur outside.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you Bill, but what is it you wanted to speak with me about? Things okay with the order?” Harry asked in a whisper once the girls had vanished.

Quickly, he nodded, “everything’s as good as it can be these days, I just was wondering how Ron’s been. He’s written me quite a bit.”

“Oh,” Harry said relieved, “well, he was in a funk for a while there, I reckon he still is, but now he’s realized he’s in a funk, which sort of makes things better, you know?” He tries, never been the best with feelings.

Bill chuckled, “alright I think I know what you mean. He wrote me yesterday, something about he had sort of broken up with Lavender, but made things worse with her.” He didn’t wanna say Hermione’s name in fear she was around somewhere.

“Okay let me fill you in some. It all started two days ago in our dorms...”

After twenty minutes Harry had thoroughly filled in the details Ron left out in his letter. He had also recalled some of the conversation Ron had told Harry he and Ginny had, something the youngest Weasley brother failed to mention to Charlie.

When the chosen one finished, Bill let out a low whistle. He had known Ron’s situation was messed up from the letters, but damn, his little brother, the heartbreaker. Who would’ve thought?

“Speaking of, where is Hermione? I haven’t seen her since we arrived.” Bill asked next.

The dark haired boy nodded solemnly, “I’m afraid she won’t leave Ginny’s room unless your Mum makes her. She’s pretty bummed out about her Gran, but she also agreed to ‘stay out of Ron’s way,’ whatever that means.” Harry finished with air quotes.

At this, Charlie clicked his tongue, “Ron is hopeless. This isn’t exactly potions with Snape! It’s an easy fix.” He tutted.

“Where is Ron? Surely he’d want to greet his favorite brother.” Bill says next.

“Hey!” Charlie retorts, making Harry laugh.

The oldest rolls his eyes, “all in good fun, but seriously.”

“He’s been working on something all night. I could hear him.” Harry commented.

Charlie nodded, “he had some sort of epiphany last night. He’s doing something for Hermione, all I know is that it involves Hogwarts, A History. He’s mental.”

“Ron wouldn’t pick up that book for anything!” Harry soon points out.

“Well maybe not for anything, but for someone...” Charlie trails off.

Suddenly, Ginny bursts through the door, alone.

“Where’s Fleur?” Bill questioned.

“She’s discussing something about the wedding with Mum, I had to get away,” she shakes her head, “anyone fancy a game of quidditch?”

At this both Charlie and Harry jump at the chance.

“Coming Bill?” Ginny asks as the other two boys disappear to gather their brooms.

He shakes his head, “no, I think I’ll go say hi to Ronnie. Maybe when you're done you should check up on Hermione, yeah?”

At this, his younger sister nods as he treks up to the attic.

Once reaching the door decorated with Chudley Cannon posters and gold and red emblems, he knocks.

“I’m awake Mum!” Ron promises through the door.

“Not Mum.” Bill says opening the door.

“Bill!” He exclaims excitedly, dropping the book to the ground and clambering off the bed, “how are you? How do you feel, wow, the scars have healed some. You look wicked! Like some bloke from those stories Mum reads.”

At this, he laughs, “I feel great actually. Sometimes the full moon drives me a bit mad, but it’s not like I turn or anything like that. Plus, Fleur has done wonders taking care of me, making sure I take my potions and all that.” He assures, circling to sit on the edge of Ron’s bed.

“Yeah I wouldn’t mind if she took care of me either.” He joked.

At this Bill jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow.

“Hey, kidding!” Ron laughed, “plus, I’m rather done with blondes. Forever.” He shivers remembering Lavender Brown.

“Ah,” his brother breathes, “your love life has become quite the topic from what I hear.”

At this Ron groans, “well I’m not to sure how many times ‘Ron is fucking moron,’ can be told but, glad your up to date.”

Knowing Ron’s probably had his fair share of feeling bad, Bill holds off on making him re live anything, for now, “well, rumor is you’re working on something to fix your troubles.”

The youngest Weasley boy blushes madly, “it’s a bit stupid really.”

“Come on just tell me.” Bill encourages.

Ron breathes in defeat, wanting to tell someone, “alright well, Charlie said a gift might do then suddenly, I was reminded of this conversation from back in fifth year...”

Ron sauntered into the common room with a moody Harry by his side. This behavior from the chosen one had become typical since the start of term, he was always so worked up over You-Know-Who and the ministry these days.

And Ron could feel for him, he really did, he just wished Harry would drop the act around him and Hermione, who believed him completely.

“Hermione.” Harry greeted too gruffly for Ron’s liking.

In response, the bushy haired witch just hummed in acknowledgement. Hermione had been engrossed in her favorite book, so Ron knew better then to bother her and simply sat to her right.

It was odd, but he rather liked to see her like this. It was almost adorable to see how invested she could get into something like a book. He admired her for it.

Harry had fallen to her left and rolled his eyes, “are you good for anything but reading Hermione?” He asked viciously.

At this, Hermione’s eyes finally left the pages of Hogwarts, A History and stared at her best friend in shock. Ron had passed shocked and moved entirely to anger. Harry looked as if he regretted what he said right after it left his mouth.

“You say you’re sorry right now!” Ron roared, jumping to his feet.

“Ron, it’s alright,” she began meekly from the velvet sofa.

“Like hell it isn’t Hermione. Just cause stupid blokes like Seamus call you a liar doesn’t mean you get to start on her!” He pointed out.

The dark haired boy sighed sadly, “I know, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, really Hermione”,

“It’s alright Harry.” She amended stiffly, “I think I’ll go for a walk.” The brunette quickly scrambled, grabbing her book before scampering out of the portrait hole.

As soon as she was out of sight, Harry turned apologetically to Ron, “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You shouldn’t have.” The ginger replied softly, “and I know everything that happened with Cedric was really hard, but it’s hard for Hermione too. She thinks she could’ve done more,”

“She couldn’t have.” Harry tells him sadly.

He nods, “I know, but she doesn’t, so when you sound off telling her stuff like that, it just makes her feel bad.”

The Boy-Who-Lived sighed, “I really didn’t mean it. You were right, I was just so done with people like Umbridge and Seamus calling me liars, sometimes I forget not everyone feels that way.” He admitted.

At this, Ron stood as he clapped him on the shoulder, “it’s already done mate, just try to remember that from now on, alright?” He didn’t sound angry anymore, much to Harry’s relief.

Harry nodded as he watched Ron venture out of the common room, no doubt to find Hermione.

“Hey Ron, wait.” He called out, standing and walking to him.

“Yeah?” He asked.

“I know I was upset about you two spending summer at Grimmauld Place together,” Ron opened his mouth to argue, but Harry stopped him, “and I know why you had to do it, I just wanted you to know, I’m happy you had each other. Well, I just, I reckon you two need each other as much as I need the pair of you, does that make sense?” He rambled.

“I think so Harry, you sound a little mental though.” He joked.

“It’s just, I know how you feel about her.” He blurted out.

“Come again?” Ron had gone pale.

Harry’s voice dropped to a whisper, “well I’ve always had some suspicions Ron. We do share a room you know, you mumble her name like every other night.” At this Weasley turned a deep shade of red that rivaled his hair.

Soon after, the green eyed boy pointed to his face, “see that! You blushed like mad whenever she came around first year, just like you are now. I know you were taking my invisibility cloak to go down to the infirmary second year. I heard you tell Neville back in third about how much you enjoyed Hogsmede and you were painfully obvious when she agreed to go to the ball with Viktor Krum, I reckon that’s when I really knew.”

For a few moments Ron opened and closed his mouth like a fish, but in the end, he shockingly, didn’t deny it, “why didn’t you say anything?”

Harry shrugged and thought about it, “well, I suppose I was waiting for you to figure it out as well. It seems to me you have.” He smiles slightly.

Ron nods, “yeah, for a while there I just thought blokes felt like that around their mates who were girls. Probably around third year I realized it was a little different with her then it was with you. Definitely sorted it all out during that ruddy Ball.” He paused, “you’re not, well, you’re not angry?” One of the reasons Ron decided not to confide in Harry was because he didn’t want him to think there was any sort of divide.

“Of course not. If anything I’m relieved I can stop pretending not to notice.” He laughed.

At this, Ron let out an embarrassed chuckle, “well just don’t tell her alright?”

Harry nodded, “will you ever? Tell her I mean.” He asks.

At this the redhead shrugs, “I dunno, I just, it’s hard. I’d rather live my whole life watching her with other blokes then lose her as a friend.”

Potter lets out a whistle, “I can see The Prophet headlines now, ‘Weasley has Feelings!’” He laughs.

They lapse into a brief silence, “you go after her.”

Ron doesn’t need to be told twice and simply nods to his friend.

“If it means anything, I think she feels the same Ron.” Harry says rather vaguely before going to a dark corner of the common room.

For a moment, he considers staying and asking more about this theory, but instead decides to check on Hermione. Harry could wait.

After wandering the dark corridors for a few minutes, he soon feels the urge to slap himself for not thinking sooner. He hadn’t checked the library.

Set out on a new mission, he stalks his way to his new destination. However, halfway to the library he suddenly remembers that it’s probably closing soon, if not already. Inwardly groaning on not setting after her soon, he quickened his pace.

And just as he’s about to reach the proper corridor something catches his eye. In between one of the many narrow hallways leading to nothing but a window, is someone sitting against it, book in hand.

And not just anyone, Hermione.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he slowly makes his way to her, “Mione.” He begins as to not startle her, she hasn’t seemed to notice his presence.

Her brown eyes look up from her book, in the moonlight he can see them slightly glossed over as red rings appear around them.

“Oh hi.” Her voice is croaked and throaty, it makes his heart break.

“I’ve been looking all over for you.” He says softly, sliding down next to her.

“Oh I’m sorry Ron.” She apologizes sincerely, “it’s silly though isn’t it, I’ve run off to read again. Maybe Harry was right.” Her voice cracks.

“It’s not true, you know it isn’t.” Ron fiercely assured.

“If he didn’t mean it why did he say it?” The brunette asked.

He sighs sadly, “Hermione you know what he’s been like lately. As soon as you left he told me how sorry he was.”

“But it’s true isn’t it?” She asks after a beat, leaving no room for him to even protest, “all I do is sit here and read while Harry and you are off actually doing something.”

“Hermione what?” He asks genuinely confused.

“Think Ron, who got rid of that troll first year?”

“Well you were only in the bathroom because of me and you were the one who got me through the spell-”

“Alright and who won the chess game the same year? Who got the philosopher's stone?”

“Hermione we would’ve never even found the-”

She cuts him off again, “and who was lying useless petrified while you were in the chamber of secrets?”

He groans, “again if you hadn’t had the note then Harry and I-”

She leaves no room for him to speak, “and third year you were the one who even spotted Sirius.”

“I was also the one with a broken leg when the two of you-”

“Fourth year as well, you knew about the dragons.”

“Only because Charlie told me, are you done?” He asks.

“Or even this summer. You were the one who knew about the Order, even knew to handle Harry.” She’s now close to tears.

Ron let’s a moment pass before speaking, “are you finally finished?” He whispered hoarsely.

Next to him, she nodded, but didn’t dare meet her eyes with his.

“You’re mental Hermione. Mental. Don’t you know we’d be dead without you? You’re the one who figured out the Nicholas Flamel business. You realized how the Basilisk had been getting around. And who had the time turner that saved Sirius, Lupin, and Buckbeak third year?” He reminded, “not to mention that without you, Harry would’ve never gotten through any of those tasks. Not to mention, him and I wouldn’t even be friends if you hadn’t convinced me to talk to him. And this summer? You’re the one who kept me sane when I was ready to hex everyone there.”

He took a second to catch his breath after the long rant, “sure you read a lot of books, but that’s not why you’re brilliant. You’re brilliant because you know exactly what to say to help your friends. You know exactly how to save the rest of us.” At this, she completely broke down.

Hermione’s head soon found a place atop Ron’s shoulder as she burrowed into it and cried silently. If this had happened a few years back, Ron would probably stiffly pat her head, but now, he knew better.

Instead, he gently laid an arm across her shoulder and pushed her into him with a squeeze. His other hand made its way through her soft hair, letting his finger gently massage her scalp.

“Thank you Ron,” she managed soon after, “I’ve just been feeling so useless, hearing Harry,”

“Sh, Hermione,” he assured soundly, “I know how it feels too, but being here, even making you feel the tiniest bit better, well, it makes me feel not so useless.” He admitted, thankful she couldn’t see his now red cheeks.

At this, Ron felt the witch nod into him, “you do make me feel better Ron. And you’re not useless, if I hadn’t made it clear, I think you’re rather brilliant.”

A small smile grazed his lips as he continued to stroke the expanse of her hair. Her cries had now slowed, but he still felt she was tense.

“You know Mione,” he began, making her hum softly, an indication to continue, “I understand you wanna read all the time, but this old book, again? You’ve been picking it up since first year.” He teased.

Thankfully, a small chuckle bubbles past her lips, making him feel warm.

“It’s rather pleasurable Ron, I’d love it if you read it. You have such an interesting point of view having grown up with this stuff, and well just being you, I’m sure your notes on it would be fascinating.”

“Sorry to disappoint you Mione, as much as I love y,” he pauses, “as much as I love reading,” he amends sarcastically, “I’d need a bloody good reason to pick this thing up. And I mean important, life or death maybe.” He tells her.

Again, a small laugh escapes from where she's nuzzled into his side.

“One day Ron. One day.”

They stayed like that until she fell asleep.

“I thought maybe if I read this damn thing and made notes on what I thought and gave it to her, then it would show her how much she means to me.” He explained after briefly prefacing the significance behind it.

To this, Bill smiled brightly, “I think it’s a wonderful idea Ron. Very thoughtful and personal to the pair of you, plus she’ll go nuts when she’s learned you picked up a book!” He teased, “what section are you on?”

“I’ve gotten past the four founders. Right now I’m in the middle of all the troll business. I mean, sure it sort of feels like a textbook, but part of it reminds me of her, then it’s not so bad, is that mental?” He asks a little flustered.

His older brother shakes his head, “no Ronnie, not mental. It’s almost romantic.” He jokes lightly.

At this Ron rolls his eyes, but blushes nonetheless, “thanks.”

A deep laugh escapes Bill as he stands from the bed, “I’ll be on my way now. You have a lot of reading to do in just three days little brother.”

“Oi! And don’t I know it.” Ron yells as he leaves the room.

#rons-hermiones come find me #ron and hermione #ron weasley #ron x hermione #hermione granger #sixth year #romione fanfic #romione #hp #hp fanfic

16 notes · View notes

themangolorian · 4 years

Text

Both Hunter and Prey (Pt. 5)

Pairing: Mandalorian x Reader

Summary: A game of cat and mouse between you and the Mandalorian.

A/N: Inspired by this post. Part 5 of 7 (extended now). Hope this hasn’t been done. Wanted some fluff/some smut between Mandalorian and someone who won’t leave him alone and who he can’t seem to leave alone.

Warnings: Smut, language, sex (explicit).

You awoke feeling weak and shaky. Your eyes were sore and red rimmed. You untangled your limbs and searched for the button on the inner panel that would let you out. You needed fresh air and you needed to stretch your legs. The door swooshed down, loud in the dead of the quiet in the ship.

Outside, night had fallen and only dim lights on the surrounding panels in the hull were lit. You outstretched your legs painfully, some of your limbs had gone numb. Carefully you lowered yourself out of the bunk but when you straightened, one gloved hand was waiting to take yours.

You gazed up at his dark visor with red eyes you wish he’d never seen this way. It wasn’t vanity; you just didn’t need anyone seeing your vulnerabilities. But...right now...if you had to choose - better that it be him.

You took his hand and straightened up, stretching your weak limbs. He caught you when you faltered, but he didn’t smother you. Most importantly, he didn’t speak. He was getting better and better at reading what you did and didn’t need.

Later, you both sat on the ramp overlooking the dark, windy desert. His cloak was once again draped over your shoulders to protect you from the cold of the desert.

You gazed blankly up at the bright stars, imagining one of them to be one of the planets you’d been on with your mother. Maybe Gavin-4. The forest had been so sweet when you’d walked through it hand-in-hand with her. You’d thought it all a game then; she’d protected you from the worst of everything. Until she couldn’t.

You looked sideways at the Mandalorian. He didn’t stir. You could never see where he was looking but sometimes you liked to think he was looking at you from behind the helmet, even when you couldn’t tell. These thoughts were dangerous, you knew. But so much had changed in so little time, you didn’t know what or how to think anymore.

Suddenly he turned his helmet to look directly at you as if reading your thoughts.

You didn’t turn away. You knew you still looked a mess, but you weren’t sure you cared.

“It was a list of officials in the Empire,” you said, your voice raw. You fought for control of your emotions. If you broke again, if you broke in front of him, you wouldn’t be able to gather yourself together again. “Top secret information.” He tilted his helmet to indicate he was listening; he always knew the right thing to say or do. It gave you confidence. “It’s what she was working on when she- It’s why she-”

A hand found yours in the darkness and held tightly. You took a shaky breath.

“A lot of them...maybe all of them got away with what they did. No one could prove anything. This disc...has all the proof needed to bring them down.”

He squeezed your hand.

You looked away from his blank helmet finally. “I’ve been sitting on this information for years, Mandalorian...I didn’t know...”

He stirred, clearly wanting to contradict you, but how could you when these were facts?

You shook your head before he could speak. “I could have…”

“But you didn’t.”

Not the response you were expecting, but he drew you close to him to take the sting from his words.

“It doesn’t matter. You know now. And now…” He paused, as if mulling over his words, “you can do something about it.”

You gazed up at his visor somewhat in awe. Then you did something you never would have done but for your emotionally vulnerable state and leaned in to embrace him. A true embrace. Your arms went around his broad chest, never mind the impossibly rigid armor. He hesitated at first, from surprise maybe. Then his arms were going around you too.

You reveled in his touch as much as you cursed yourself for succumbing to your weakness for this armored bounty hunter. He was unraveling you in all the worst ways and, worst of all, you didn’t care. At least not right now.

You turned and shifted over until you were nearly straddling his lap, closing the gap between the two of you to nearly nothing. His arms around you tightened pulling you into him. You tilted your head to look directly into his visor; though you could see no part of him, you needed to know you were looking right at him. Instinct took over and your lips found their way to his helmet. His arms trailed up your back to tangle in your hair.

You trailed kisses down the cool metal until you reached the gap between his shoulder and helmet. Then you were placing feather soft kisses to the warm fabric there, just needing to keep the space between him and you to a minimum. Meanwhile, you could feel the Mandalorian’s strong hands rubbing long sensual lines up and down your body, both pulling you further into him and soothing you at the same time.

You could feel him hardening beneath you and moaned as you kissed his chest plate and grinded your hips down into him. You heard the sharp intake of breath from beneath his helmet as his hands came up to your mid-back to hold you in place. You could hear his breathing both quicken and grow shorter as your kisses made their way down his armor plate.

Suddenly in one swift, fluid movement, he was anchoring you securely in his arms and surging to his feet, your knees hooked over his arms. You gasped at the sudden change. He froze.

“Are you alright?” Soft. So soft. He was worried about your back, but you were fully healed now.

You tightened your hold around him and buried your face in his neck, nipping at the fabric over his collarbone in answer. With your ear up to his helmet, you heard his hiss in response clearly. Carrying you this way, he turned and swept into the ship, more clear-headed this time as he closed the ramp behind you using his vambrace. Meanwhile you were nipping along his neck, trying to catch skin from beneath the heavy fabric he wore.

Unlike last time, when he had been pushing you roughly up against his cold ship with his armored body, he leaned over the cot and laid you down gently, at the same time that he removed the clasps keeping his beskar clamped to him. Your fingers were shaking with a nervousness you hadn’t felt before as you tried to help him. You weren’t nervous about the physical act of what you were doing. You were nervous about the tenderness with which the Mandalorian was handling you, tenderness you couldn’t help but return in kind. What with nearly dying and the epiphany of your mother, you couldn’t find it in you to treat him any other way. Not now.

Finally, the last piece of beskar fell to the floor with a clank and you were pulling the Mandalorian by the scruff of his tunic to fall over you. Your mouth found the gap between his shoulder and chin and you sank your lips softly there, searching for the warmth of his skin. With his figure shifting over you, the fabric finally gave and your lips found the smooth heat of his neck. You pressed a kiss to the spot, eliciting a guttural moan from him as he moved sensuously against you.

His hands moved over your body with urgency, his fingers squeezing your breasts before sliding down to lightly brush over your core. Your breath was growing short and your head was getting light. You needed more. More than he’d ever given you before, more than you’d yet given him.

You cried out when his fingers pressed down over your center, short circles of bursting pleasure. It was too much; it was not enough. You needed him inside you, needed to feel more. Your hands went to your own pants, trying to push them off with his weight still on top of you. He paused when he realized what you were doing, then helped you slide them down and off of you. Then you were both fumbling at his belt and the clasp of his pants.

You gasped when you felt him, long, thick and smooth, against your inner thigh. Your fist bunched the fabric of his tunic, trying to keep control as you waited impatiently. But the Mandalorian was in no rush. He brushed your hand aside gently, the hand that had been reaching down to put him inside of you. Then you felt his cool, calloused fingers on your clit and your back arched of its own accord as you saw bright flashes behind your eyelids.

He truly was unraveling you. His fingers languished on your clit before sinking down into your wet warmth. You cried out and buried your face into the crook of his neck. He froze and groaned when you sank your teeth into the exposed skin of his neck. But then his fingers started a delicious, delirious rhythm. You were coming undone. But this was not how you wanted to-

“Wait.” You begged, pushing at his wrist between him and your mound. He pumped once, twice more then took his fingers out with a slick sound. You peeked down to see him rubbing your wetness onto the tip of his cock and your eyes rolled back in your head. Then he was shifting his weight fully over you again, and you felt the hard, blunt tip of him nudging at your entrance. You wrapped your legs around his middle and let out a hoarse cry as he sunk into you. Finally, finally, finally.

The sound you let out as he buried his length fully within you surprised even you. It was raw and wanting and it echoed in the small space but you couldn’t find it in you to care. He was so big, so filling. You’d never felt so...complete. Your hands surged upwards to wrap around his neck, jostling his helmet. But you didn’t care.

He let out a sharp rasp when you lifted your hips so you could wrap your legs more tightly around him. Then he was moving, pulling back out of you, eliciting a desperate cry from your lips. His elbows, resting on the sleep pad on either side of your head, shifted over so that you were nestled tightly between his arms. He pulled out almost all the way before thrusting back in more urgently than before. Your legs around him clenched tighter.

He began a steady, fast rhythm. The sounds your bodies were making...the slap of skin on skin every time he plunged into you...the soft wet noises...the grunts coming from beneath the helmet...were making you feverish.

“Please,” you begged, but you didn’t know what it was you were asking him for.

Still he seemed to know...one arm flew back and knocked your legs away and then he was sitting up, still deep inside of you, and folding your legs back toward your head. This new position allowed him to sink even deeper and your resulting cry was primal. He began to move faster over you until the entire sleep cot was vibrating with your movements. His cock began to hit a spot deep inside of you that left you breathless. The moans and gasps from beneath the helmet reverberated within you. You threw your head back roughly against the pillow, beginning to see stars burst behind your eyelids.

Though his rhythm did not slow, one hand found its way roughly under your head, holding you still, cushioning your neck even as he continued to ram into you. You couldn’t control your own body which began surging upwards to meet his. You felt the waves forming in your core, growing exponentially as he plunged into you over and over. You let out a short, terse scream and buried your head as far into his neck as you could.

Then-

He shifted over you again so that he was entering at a blisteringly sweet angle...his cock thrust against your walls in just the right spot and the waves within you broke. You found yourself losing control of your limbs, going completely taut but still trembling uncontrollably. You cried loudly out into the skin of his neck, biting down in your pleasure.

He let out a sharp groan as your walls clenched and pulsed around him. His arms tightened around you as he gave one last hoarse grunt before he stilled. You could feel his cock twitching within your walls, could feel his warm, wet seed fill you.

Still trembling, you tightened your grip around him. He began to fall toward you but stopped himself with his arms.

“I’ll hurt you.” His voice was hoarse, nearly gone, thinking his full weight on top of you would harm you.

You yanked at him again until he was laying flush against you. You let out a content sigh and his hands wound their way around your back, pulling you further into his neck. Never...never had you felt this...you could not even think of a word for it. Something wet trailed down your face, and you startled, thinking something had fallen from the ceiling.

“Are you-” The Mandalorian pulled far back enough to lift his head but stopped talking when he saw your face. You realized at the same moment as him that the wetness was coming from your eyes. He said nothing but wiped the tears dry and pulled your head back into the crook of his neck and settled down over you again.

More tears came but you only held him to you tighter, as if you could join your bodies in a way that didn’t involve sex. This feeling building within you was going to be the death of you. You fell asleep, a heavy pressure building in your chest that had nothing to do with the Mandalorian’s weight on top of you.

You awoke just before dawn, cradled between the Mandalorian’s arms, at his side now. Your head was resting on his chest just below his helmet, from below which you could hear his soft snoring. Bleary eyed, you stirred, lifting your head from his chest to stare at his visor, more blank now that he wasn’t awake to give any indication as to his thoughts.

This felt wrong. Too good. Too perfect. You were...happy. You hated it. If only because you knew you could lose that feeling at any second; the universe seemed meant to punish you. You couldn’t remain there a moment longer.

You slid out of the Mandalorian’s grip. He stirred but you didn’t think he’d woken up. You let the blanket fall over him before opening the ramp and slipping out into the cold dawning morning.

The ramp closing behind you, you watched as the ugnaught approached his home from the direction of the blurgs’ enclosure, the empty bucket in his hands telling you that he’d been feeding them. He nodded your way; you only stared back, but you took the nod as welcome and followed him through the doorway and into his home.

You didn't know why but you knew there were things that he knew. Maybe about you.

You spotted the droid, powered down in the corner of the hut when you entered.

“Please,” the ugnaught gestured to a chair at his table, a cup of Tarine tea awaiting you, as if he’d known you would seek him out.

You said nothing but sat down and took the cup between your palms for warmth. He sat across from you with his own cup of Tarine.

You broke the silence first; the ugnaught was too knowing by half, but there was something comforting about that. The Mandalorian trusted him. That was enough for you. You briefly explained the contents of the disc without going into detail about you or your mother.

Nothing seemed to surprise the ugnaught. “You already knew,” you murmured, suspicious, your hands itching for the blaster that you’d left on the ship.

He finally met your gaze head on; his own was chiding and you lowered your eyes. “No,” he rasped, “ but I’d surmised much.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Like what?” You raised the cup to your lips and took a short draw.

“Who your mother is. Who you are.”

You were equally surprised and not. From what you’d garnered so far, the ugnaught had been forced into servitude by the Empire at its height. Depending on his position there, he would have been privy to certain knowledge. Those in charge tended to forget about and undermine those in service to them, especially if they didn’t consider them their equals.

“Did you know her?” The words were tight in your mouth, strung high.

“No.” The blunt one-worded response stung, and you struggled not to show it. “I knew of her. The work she accomplished.”

You swallowed, the gesture difficult. “I didn’t know…” You palmed the disc hanging safely around your neck again.

“Don’t you wonder why your mother left the information to you? Do you think she didn’t know you’d carry on her legacy?”

The words hurt because even if your mother had thought you were the right person to finish what she’d started, you hadn’t lived up to it. “But...I’ve done nothing...I’m nobody.”

The ugnaught chuckled, surprising you. “In the grand scheme of things, little one, we are all nobody. And we all matter.”

You blinked at the contradiction.

He smiled knowingly. “Your mother died to retrieve the information you now hold in your palm, yet to the universe at large, who is she? Nobody.” You flinched, but he wasn’t done. “Yet, she made you and she raised you. The thievery you think so little of, that makes you think so little of yourself…what has it accomplished?”

You felt ashamed now. Truly. What? Petty thievery meant to harm the Imperials one by one, yet you’d accomplished nothing.

But the ugnaught continued, not giving you a chance to respond, though you didn’t know what to say. “The rotoblade you took from Corporal Santtion. He spent more time searching for you out of a need to nurse his ego than it warranted when he could have easily replaced the blade. Time he could have spent imprisoning and torturing more. Surely at least a handful of innocents escaped his wrath thanks to you.”

You blinked dazedly again. How did he know any of this? How could he know?

He tapped the subspace transceiver beside him. “I may not look like much, nor my surroundings. But I have as much interest as you and the Mandalorian in the downfall of the Imperials.”

You smiled lightly, feeling lost yet somehow found all at the same time.

He listed more things you had taken, small as they were, along with the disruption they had caused to the Imperials and a list of what those thefts had prevented.

Your throat felt tight. “You can’t know it’s all true. That I truly accomplished all that…from…petty theft.”

It blew your mind...that others, those on the same side of the war, knew who you were and what you did. That you hadn’t truly been alone all this time. That your actions, as petty as they’d seemed when done, had actually mattered.

The ugnaught reached over and tapped your head lightly. “You haven’t been listening, little one. One person’s actions, small as they may seem, can result in a far reaching chain of events unforeseen but meaningful. You haven’t brought down the Imperials by your actions alone, but you have impeded them…and now…you hold in your hand the results of your mother’s sacrifice. Greater power than some of those whom the Imperials consider their greatest enemies.”

He tapped the knuckles under which was clenched your mother’s necklace. “Because of your mother, nobody, and because of you, nobody, the Imperials will suffer greatly.”

You swallowed hard, fighting the tears. This ugnaught annoyed you with his ability to tear right through your hard facade and down to your heart. “How do I do that?” You asked sarcastically, willing your emotions away.

The ugnaught smiled warmly, too knowingly, he saw right through your attitude. “You expose the list. You and your Mandalorian take them down one by one.” Your Mandalorian?

“Why would he help me?” Confusion colored your tone. Kuill was wrong. The Mandalorian had greater things at stake. A child to worry about. You were the last thing he had on his mind. Unless he was thinking with his dick.

The Ugnaught stared at you now as if you were stupid and you squirmed under his gaze. Finally, with a sigh, he spoke. “If you refuse to see the real reason for his willingness to help you…” you were going to ignore that and you were going to ignore that hard. “The more Imperials the two of you take down, the safer that Child will be. Your list contains very high ranking members, all likely to have attaining the child high on their list of goals. You must prevent that too.”

You groaned in annoyance. There were so many layers to all of this. And you’d never asked for any of it. Your goal had been to disrupt the Imperials’ lives for the worse. But you’d never been arrogant enough to presume you had the power to truly make a difference, to change things. And more recently, you’d just been trying to get into the Mandalorian’s pants.

“You have everything and everyone you need to accomplish what your mother started. The task itself is up to you. I have spoken.” The Ugnaught said with finality just as a heavy set of footsteps sounded from the doorway alerting you to the Mandalorian’s presence.

It was time to finally go to Lothal, except this time, the ugnaught and the droid would be accompanying you. The question of your next move had never been broached and you had quite intentionally avoided the issue, though your initial thought had been to steal the first ship you saw on Lothal and get to a place of peace alone so you could begin thinking straight again. Later, as you helped prepare to leave, for lack of something better to do, you realized the Mandalorian had heard more than he’d let on that morning.

“What you and Kuill were talking about earlier…”

You grunted as you tried to fit a particular difficult part of the child’s new floating bassinet into the frame as per Kuill’s instructions. “Didn’t realize eavesdropping was a part of the Mandalorian creed.” Your voice dripped with sarcasm.

He made a noise under the helmet you were 75% sure was a chuckle, 25% sure was a cough. He ignored that otherwise though. “What Kuill said...he was right.”

Frustrated, you tried using your fist against the part that was refusing to cooperate in order to attach it to the frame, but it was no use. Then his hand was stopping yours, taking the part and with one swift, strong movement, fitting it into the frame precisely.

You groaned and rolled your eyes. “Kriffing show off.” But then he was taking your shoulders in his hands and turning you to face his dumb, blank helmet.

“You’re someone whether you take down even one Imperial or not.”

You jerked your chin out of his palm and swooped under his arm to escape behind him.

“Shows what you know, Mandalorian,” you threw over your shoulder at him with a cheeky grin as you left the hut. “I’m going to take down the whole damn Empire.”

Hours later, you were in hyperspace. You’d watched from the sleep cot as the Mandalorian put the child to sleep, watched him watching the baby fall into a deep, peaceful slumber. Kuill and IG manned the cockpit. Something told you they knew better than to leave the cockpit.

The Mandalorian turned and you were sure your face said everything that your voice didn’t need to. This time the sex was slow, languishing, torturous. He took his time, slow long strokes that undid you one by one. With the ship now inhabited, you both had to keep it down, but neither of you could stop the way your breaths came out ragged and fast.

He began pulling out all the way, leaving you gasping into the palm of his glove. You would arch your back, lifting your hips, to get him to enter you again. But he would push your hips down roughly before thrusting into you again. He did this so many times...your orgasm was building but you couldn’t seem to reach it and your body was burning. You fought back sobs of pleasure when finally, gasping, he sunk into you again and couldn’t seem to pull back out again. He fucked you with short quick thrusts that brought you both to quick orgasms. You panted your orgasm loudly into his neck again.

Both sweaty and weak, you held each other, and for once, you could think of no quick, sarcastic words to battle the feelings threatening to envelope you again. So you stayed quiet and let him hold you.

Later, you sat on the floor in front of the sleep cot between his knees. He was caressing your head, running ungloved fingers absently over the planes of your face, neck and chest. You had never felt anything so exquisite.

But he was distracted, bothered. “Why don’t you ever ask me my name?”

You leaned your head back in his lap and furrowed your brow up at him, and his hands slowed to a stop at your temple. You stared up at his visor, searching. He was expressive, even with the helmet on. His body language was telling, especially to you after the time you’d spent together.

His gloved fingers moved up to trace your brows. “Or ask to see under my helmet?”

You closed your eyes as his fingers traced the lines of your face and thought about your answer, though you knew already what it was.

“For the same reason you never asked me my name?” It was a question, but you knew he understood. “Or that you never asked my story?”

His fingers paused on your forehead where he’d been drawing soothing lines along it. “No,” he stated. “That’s not it.”

Your forehead wrinkled again under the touch of his fingers as you opened one eye to look curiously up at him.

“Why didn’t you ever ask me my name? Or my story?” A question for an answer. You knew he expected nothing less from you.

“At first,” his tone was stunted, faltering. “I didn’t think there was much to know,” he admitted, and you could tell he was ashamed, though it didn’t bother you, so you reached a hand up to clasp and squeeze his fingers reassuringly. He squeezed back. “But,” here he paused again, and his finger went to your lips, tracing them softly. “Then I did start asking.” He prompted your memory. He wasn’t wrong.

You smiled against his finger. “Only once I was drugged, you piece of bantha fodder.” The memory pained you now only a little. He’d gotten so much out of you then, all of it voluntary and only some of it at the prompt of his questions.

He sighed deeply, and intuitively you realized you’d struck a nerve you hadn’t meant to. “I shouldn’t have-” He started.

You shifted between his legs so you were half-turned. “I don’t regret it, Mandalorian.” The words were sharp but heartfelt.

He gazed at you through the visor and brushed his fingers absently along your spine. He said a word so softly in his helmet that you couldn’t tell what it was.

“What?”

“Din.” He breathed. It took you a long moment to process what that meant.

Your heart started beating, too fast for you to handle. You let go of his hand slowly and sat back on your heels, away from him.

He sighed but didn’t try to touch you.

“You shouldn’t be telling me that,” you whispered. “It’s sacred.”

“I know it is.” The Mandalorian responded, as if irritated you were quoting Mandalorian creed at him. He ran a knuckle along your chin then pulled away.

“You don’t ask because you’re scared.” He answered his own question from earlier, angering you immediately. Now you pushed backwards so you were sitting on the floor a few feet from him. “Of opening up to someone. Of losing someone.”

“Don’t tell me about myself as if you know.” You said through clenched teeth.

He froze in place, watching you mutely.

“That’s rich coming from you. You’re like a wall. You hate droids so much but you function like one.” You said the nastiest things you could think to say because his words were sinking beneath the armor you usually kept up to protect yourself.

He flinched but didn’t move towards you. “That’s not true, and you know it.” His voice had gone flat. He was angry with you now, but only just. The worst part was - he was right: you did know it. Long before you’d even realized you felt anything for the Mandalorian beyond lust, he had already been protecting you, treating you tenderly and you hadn’t even deserved it then. You didn’t deserve it now either. You saw the way he interacted with other people and creatures. His armor was deceiving; he made more friends in one interaction with strangers than you had in your entire life.

“I didn’t ask for your name,” you finally huffed, crossing your arms and sitting back so your back was against the cold ship. You had nothing better to say in retaliation and you both knew it.

“But it’s mine to tell you.” He said in a tone of finality. You glared at him.

He stood finally and stalked past you to the ladder. “And I don’t want you to do anything else stupid like take your helmet off either,” you called after him.

He grunted in recognition of your words. You knew he wouldn’t be joining you anytime soon, and you certainly wouldn’t be joining him in the cockpit either.

A soft coo startled you out of your thoughts. The child must have woken at some point during your quiet argument. He was staring at you curiously from his perch in the pod; you hadn’t even heard the bunk door slide open. You turned your head, evading his stare, adamant not to further foster any more personal connections you didn’t need.

You heard the soft bump anyway and hmphed quietly, knowing the child had dropped to the floor. You heard the small pitter patter of his steps as he approached you and now you pretended to sleep. But he knew better and so did you.

When he reached out to grasp your arms, he only succeeded in tickling your side. You tried to hold your breath but ended up letting out a soft giggle. You swatted his tiny hands away from your side gently as you finally turned to face him. His ears perked up and he cooed louder, reaching out to you again, his eyes shining brightly with hope.

You rolled your eyes. “Fine,” you said, as you reached out to scoop him up and rest him in your lap. “But I don’t like you. And I don’t want to know your name either.” The child cooed happily, and it was your turn to sigh. You leaned back against the ship to rest your eyes finally. “If it’s between you and him, I’d rather spend time with you anyway,” you muttered. Absently, without realizing it, as you began to doze off, your fingers slowly caressed the child’s ear.

When you awoke, you were splayed out in the cot, covered fully by the one blanket on board. The child was laid out beside your waist on top of the blanket. That meant the Mandalorian had found you both and relocated you. You blinked your eyes blearily and looked around.

He was sitting on a stool across the way, cleaning his blaster.

You sat up very slowly, careful not to jostle the child. Though he must have noted your movement, the Mandalorian did not turn in your direction nor acknowledge you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. Your voice was raspy with sleep. Now he paused his movement around the blaster.

“You don’t have to apologize.” His modulated voice was soft. So soft. What he had to understand was that you didn’t deserve his tenderness. “I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

You shook your head. “I just-” You stopped yourself unsure of what you even meant to say. “I need time.” You finished hoarsely.

He looked finally your way, putting the blaster down. As you swept your legs softly from under the blanket, he took the few steps that separated you from him. You rested your head against his middle, and his hands came up to cradle your head and hold you against him softly.

“You won’t lose me.” He said so quietly you almost weren’t sure that’s what he’d said. But you didn’t want to hear it again. Your mother had said the exact same thing. And you didn’t feel like crying. So, instead, you flexed your fingers against him, and he gave a sharp intake of breath, tightening his hold in your hair.

At the same time, you used your mouth to nip softly at the fabric covering his groin. He hissed, bucking his hips once. Then he was pulling you up, careful not to jostle the sleep cot. He put a finger to your lips meant to silence you, but you held it there and took the digit in your mouth while staring at the visor, hoping his eyes were on yours as you sucked his glove.

“Fuck,” you heard whispered, restrained, from beneath the helmet. He pulled you behind him, and you wondered where you could possibly be going considering the cockpit was occupied.

Your eyes widened in surprise when the Mandalorian backed himself up into the bunk, bending his legs to fit. Your surprise did not faze him. He pulled you in after him, shutting the bunk door just as your legs passed through. You were cramped in the small space against him, straddling him. You could feel his erection growing against your waist.

He didn’t wait for you to guess what he wanted. He reached down and undid your pants, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband. You had to lift your hips so he could reach your cunt. You gasped when his fingers found your clit and deftly began rubbing tantalizing circles. Then he was pinching your clit softly between his fingers and you gasped louder now, the top of your head hitting the ceiling of the bunk. But he didn’t stop and you found yourself unable to catch your breath. You caught his hand and yanked it out of your pants.

As you pushed your pants down to your ankles, a task made difficult by your position above him, he was unclasping his own. Your lips formed an o of surprise when he took himself in hand and pumped his fist up and down his cock.

“Fuck,” you breathed. You’d never felt so turned on with so little foreplay. You knocked his hand aside, spit into your hand and spread the spit over his tip.

His turn to groan, his hips reflexively bucking upwards. Then he was gripping your waist tightly, moving you toward him. You had to fold your body awkwardly over his in order to sink down over him, but once you did, you stopped thinking about the cramped space and could only focus on the hiss the Mandalorian was letting out as you impaled yourself on his length. You couldn’t catch your breath and your hands slapped against his chest, so you could slow your descent onto him.

You felt him going deeper than even before, sure he was hitting your cervix, but the feeling of fullness was so intense you didn’t care. You let out a tiny scream when he bucked his hips up into you. His hand flew to your mouth, but he didn’t stop. He bucked his hips up again and you saw stars exploding behind your eyes again. Your head hit the ceiling again, and then he was pulling your torso down, smashing your head against his shoulder. This only provided another different, delicious angle for him to penetrate you.

He stilled your hips from riding him, grabbed your waist and began to thrust up into you. You couldn’t stop the moans that he was eliciting and tried to bury them in the fabric at his throat.

“Fuck,” he groaned from beneath the helmet. He was so much more vocal this time; you liked it. Your pussy clenched tightly around him. “Fuck,” he rasped again.

You clenched tighter around him again and he stilled. “Stop,” he wheezed, his grip on your waist tightening as if he could control your grip around his cock that way. He thrust up again with a gasp and your pussy gripped him tightly again. You smiled wickedly at his visor now.

He tilted his helmet at you, then his hand was pulling you roughly down.

“What-”

Suddenly, he was wrapping both arms vice-like around your back, holding you down flush against him and thrusting hard up into you. You yelped in equal measures pleasure and surprise into his neck. He didn’t let up. You knew the bunk was rattling, metallic bangs echoing across the ship, but you weren’t sure either of you cared.

You couldn’t control your cunt anymore either. He was building you up and breaking you apart again. Your moans into his neck grew louder until he thrust one last time, so hard and fast that you were sure you’d lost your vision briefly. Then you were both coming. Together. You seized up over him, clenching his clothes in your fists as you shook with the power of your orgasm. At the same time, he was frozen, his hips lifted above the bunk, and you could feel his seed beginning to ooze out of you when finally his hips dropped. You were both paralyzed; your body gave short seizure-like movements. You couldn’t move, could barely breathe.

“What the- fuck...Mandalorian” you gasped. “If you…” You stopped to take a shuddering breath. “If you don’t fuck me like that- every time from now on...I’ll…”

But you lost your train of thought. His hips jerked again and your pussy was seizing up around him again even as he softened within you.

“I’ll fuck you every way…” He was out of breath too still. Finally his arms came up and around to hold you to him, though you still could not move. “I’ll fuck you every way you want me to,” he promised, gasping when you clenched around him again at his words.

“Fuck,” you echoed again, your brain still unable to formulate anything more eloquent than that.

You didn’t know how you were going to get through any ensuing mission at all without being able to fuck the Mandalorian at every given moment. Your heart clenched when he pulled you tight to him, his thoughts now on holding you instead of on fucking you.

Kriff, you thought. You were fucked in more way than one. Slowly the Mandalorian was consuming you in every way that mattered. Before, you’d seen an exit, a way to back out of what was happening. Now...you were no longer sure that out existed.

Tag List: @disn3yfreak @cosmo-bear @rintheemolion @readsalot73 @space-princesssss @crushingonmando @kinkywitchy @imaginebeinlovedbyme @scintilla-morningstar @creamysacrilege @abesottedlass @persephonehemingway @doubtedbus409 @satans-tongues @retrofaek @mando--daddo @random066 @pascalisthepunkest @fruitsaladtree @snokesthrussy @groovinomicon @brooklymw @bithepowerofthegay @blue-tidal-wave @mrsparknuts @skeletongrudge @kateb013 @earthtokace

masterlist

569 notes · View notes

openheartfanfics · 2 years

Text

Newly Added Fics

Dec 4 - 10

Bryce x F!MC

An Evening in December - @utterlyinevitable ❄☁Ⓜ📅 They run into one another at a bar a few years later. This takes place some time after What If. [Meet Again; Pining; FWB]

Last Christmas - @kat-tia801 🎄☁📅 Last Christmas, Bryce was still coming to terms with his bruised heart. Now, he realizes things might have worked out better than he thought.

Last Christmas I Gave You My Heart - @peonierose 🎄📚 [mini: wip] It’s the most wonderful time of the year. Bryce, Keiki and Luna bought a ”real tree“ and now it’s time to get it in the apartment. A lot of fun times begin.

Chapter 1: It’s getting green and merry in here

Ethan x F!MC

A Valentine Holiday - @liaromancewriter 🎄☁📱📷 The Valentine Twins and their loved ones come together for an unforgettable holiday season, celebrating family traditions and making new memories.

First Christmas With You - @utterlyinevitable 🎄☁📅 Ethan and Becca’s first Christmas together as a couple. This takes place in OHSY. [Hurt/Comfort]

Moving On - @liaromancewriter ☁📷📱 Cassie gets ready to finally move in with Ethan, but her friends aren’t ready to let her go yet. [Domestic]

Not Ready to Make Nice - @liaromancewriter ☁ When Ethan gets hurt, he’s not surprised to find that Cassie isn’t quite as understanding of his predicament. [Hurt/Comfort]

One Step Forward (And then Another) - @gryffindordaughterofathena☁ First vs Last Relationship Epiphany. Their’s has been a love that came with tentative steps and pounding hearts. [Cooks]

Project Christmas Wish - @liaromancewriter 🎄☁📅 Cassie Valentine celebrates her first Christmas in a new city and finds that even a grinch has his weakness. Set in Book 1.

Risk and Reward - @josiesopenheart ♥ After Ethan’s initial rejection in Miami, Josie decides to take matters into her own hands and join him in the shower. [Water; Miami; 1.10]

The forecast for today is 100% chance of sweater weather - @queencarb ☁Ⓜ🎄📱📅 Ethan puts his Chief skills to the test to negotiate his way out of an ugly sweater. Little does he know that all his sweaters fit the theme.

Tis the Season - @potionsprefect 🎄📚 [mini: wip] It’s the most wonderful time of the year in Boston.

1. Festivity Upon Us

2. Heartache and Healing

Walk Above the City - @anonymousrookie 🎄📚 [mini: wip] They find themselves in the same city three years after he left for the Amazon and she left Edenbrook. When truths are revealed, will it be too late for a Christmas miracle? [Amazon; Left Town; Meet Again]

2. Once Again as in Olden Days

Love Triangle

Delaying the Inevitable - @jerzwriter 📚 [extended: wip] Ethan x F!MC x Tobias

Chapter 28A Long Overdue

Sienna x M!OC

Family Traditions - @liaromancewriter 🎄☁📅 Max and Sienna introduce their son to family traditions and make new memories during the holiday season.

Tobias x F!MC

The Hangover - @lucy-268 ☁ Samantha doesn’t feel well and Tobias takes care of her. [Illness]

When Christmas Comes Around - @lucy-268 🎄☁ Tobias and Samantha spend some time together leading up to the holidays. During this time, they aren’t together as a couple; they are friends still trying to decide what they want to be. This takes place during Book 2 after the attack.

SUBMIT OPEN HEART FICS & WRITERS HERE

#NAF #open heart #open heart fanfic #open heart fanfiction #choices open heart #open heart fanfics #ethan ramsey #bryce lahela #tobias carrick #sienna trinh #newly added fics

5 notes · View notes

popatochisssp · 3 years

Note

i might be reading too much into something that nemo didn't take to heart but i really don't get how nemo had more responsibility to apologize since from what i read pitch was way more in the wrong, like nemo's comments were hurtful and he absolutely had to apologize for them but they were a careless outburst in an overcooked conversation, while pitches comments felt more like precise jabs at nemo's insecurities (1/2)

i guess ultimately what i'm wondering is, if nemo Did take that to heart (maybe not feeling like pitch should apologize first but just not figuring out how to address things after All That), what would pitch do to try and mend that rift? (2/2)

also i hope i don't come across as weird for sending all these asks, i genuinely thought the intention was for pitch not being willing/able to address things until after nemo took the first step to be a flaw that he'd have to work through and grow from, and i was genuinely surprised that wasn't the case

I don’t think it’s unfair of Pitch to want an apology for a jab at his disability first-- yes, they were arguing, and both said some very unfair things, but ultimately, what Pitch went after (while not unintentional and definitely low-blows, I’m not saying they weren’t) were behavioral things, fears and insecurities, but things that Nemo can work on.

Pitch cannot become un-blind. That’s what makes it a lower blow, whatever Nemo’s intentions were, and why the responsibility to reopen communication lines is on him here. It’s not something that Pitch can work on or change about himself, that’s physical and permanent.

And I personally don’t think of that as a flaw of Pitch’s to want/need the first apology, I really don’t. He is willing to take responsibility and apologize for his part in things-- things that were said in the argument, and the dysfunctions of their relationship as it was before--but I don’t think of it as a failing that he might want some kind of assurance from Nemo that his brother doesn’t think of him as fundamentally broken first, because really, nobody can work on anything relationship-wise if both parties don’t have basic respect for each other.

Especially since literally their entire lives, Pitch has always been the one to cave and apologize first when something went wrong in their dynamic. Asking Nemo to do it once, for a fight he definitely started, doesn’t strike me, personally, as unfair.

Because once Nemo takes that first step, Pitch is off the defensive and he very much does work on mending the rift. He’s not just sitting around, waiting for Nemo to ‘fix’ himself and everything else. He helps Nemo with his agoraphobia therapy, and goes out on his behalf when he can’t go out himself, and generally actively supporting him however he can, including emotionally by talking about what happened.

Nemo technically didn’t even apologize, but he came to Pitch and asked for his help and Pitch understood the implication of that: i want to work on this, i’m taking the first step, please meet me halfway.

And Pitch did!

They start hanging out again, for therapy purposes but also just the way they used to, having casual brotherly time together. They talk, about whatever, but also about deeper things that are on their mind--like the hurt they both dealt each other, in the argument but for things years past too, just to get it out. Explicit apologies are made, on both sides, which means yes! Pitch apologizes too! Like Nemo, he owns what he said and they talk about it to try and understand why it came out the way it did and how they can be better going forward: that’s how Pitch is working on mending the rift.

I think you might be expecting that both of them need to have an arc in this scenario, but the fact is that Pitch’s big epiphany of growth and change has already happened, when he was lying blinded, bedridden, and half-dead Underground.

Nemo looked after him and kept things running, with a few stumbles here and there, but he did it, without Pitch’s help-- and that was Pitch’s moment, realizing that his baby brother was maybe more capable than he’d given him credit for, and that the arrangement they had going and the way he’d been trying to do everything for both of them was neither necessary nor working. By the time he’s healed, he’s already resolved to working out a new normal with Nemo, embracing the change and figuring out how to just be brothers together, on the Surface.

Pitch’s arc is over and he’s where he should be: coping well with his blindness, learning who he is as a person outside of his responsibilities and what he likes when allows himself to like things, committing to doing and being better for his brother instead of perpetuating their semi-dysfunctional (at best) relationship.

But Pitch’s moment just happened to be part of Nemo’s trauma, so Nemo is a couple steps behind.

And that’s okay!

It doesn’t mean Pitch has to change even more, or go backwards in his own journey just because Nemo isn’t quite there yet and is still struggling with things.

As a visual metaphor, think of Pitch walking fast and several steps ahead and Nemo is trying to grab onto him to keep him from going because he can’t walk that fast. (The fight)

Pitch shakes his hold loose and Nemo is sat where he is for a long while, with Pitch still facing forward, with his back turned. (After the fight, the stalemate)

But all Nemo has to do is ask for help, and Pitch turns right around with his hand outstretched. (The olive branch)

He’s immediately willing, after that, to support his brother; or to slow down or even stop to accommodate Nemo’s pace and help him catch up, and then they’ll be able to go forward, both of them. (Communicating with each other, repairing their relationship, apologizing for the ways they’ve hurt each other in the past and committing to do better)

And... I think that’s as in-depth as I know how to explain these characters and their arc as I see them, so if that doesn’t clear things up even a little bit, I’m sorry--I promise I tried!

#weia-yo

42 notes · View notes

howlermemes · 4 years

Text

𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐤𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐭 l y r i c s t a r t e r s

✽ long post ahead bc i have no self control ! ✽ change pronouns / punctuation as needed . ✽ some lyrics are explicit. ✽ some themes are slightly darker. ✽ alteratively, send ♫ 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚔𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚎 to have a lyric automatically generated & said to your muse instead .

[ track 01 ] the 1 ❛ I'm doing good! I'm on some new shit. ❜ ❛ I thought I saw you at the bus stop. ❜ ❛ I hit the ground running each night. ❜ ❛ You know, the greatest films of all time were never made. ❜ ❛ If you wanted me, you really should have showed. ❜ ❛ If you never bleed, you're never gonna grow. ❜ ❛ It's alright now. ❜ ❛ We were something, don't you think so? ❜ ❛ If my wishes came true, it would have been you. ❜ ❛ In my defense — I have none for never leaving well enough alone. ❜ ❛ It would have been fun if you would have been the one. ❜ ❛ I had this dream you're doing cool shit, having adventures on your own. ❜ ❛ We never painted by the numbers, baby. ❜ ❛ We were making it count. ❜ ❛ You know the greatest loves of all time are over now. ❜ ❛ I guess you never know. ❜ ❛ It's another day of waking up alone. ❜ ❛ If one thing had been different, would everything be different today? ❜ ❛ It would have been sweet if it could've been me. ❜ ❛ In my defense, I have none for digging up the grave another time. ❜

[ track 02 ] cardigan ❛ When you are young, they assume you know nothing. ❜ ❛ Baby, kiss it better. ❜ ❛ I was your favorite. ❜ ❛ A friend to all is a friend to none. ❜ ❛ Chase two girls, lose the one. ❜ ❛ To kiss in cars and downtown bars was all we needed. ❜ ❛ You drew stars around my scars and now I'm bleeding. ❜ ❛ I knew you tried to change the ending. ❜ ❛ I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss. ❜ ❛ I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs. ❜ ❛ I knew everything when I was young. ❜ ❛ I knew I'd curse you for the longest time. ❜ ❛ I knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired, and you'd be standing in my front porch light. ❜ ❛ I knew you'd come back to me. ❜

[ track 03 ] the last great american dynasty ❛ How did a middle-class divorcee do it? ❜ ❛ The wedding was a charming, if a little gauche. ❜ ❛ There's only so far new money goes. ❜ ❛ Their parties were tasteful, if a little loud. ❜ ❛ It must have been her fault his heart gave out. ❜ ❛ There goes the last great American dynasty. ❜ ❛ Who knows, if she never showed up, what could have been. ❜ ❛ There goes the maddest woman this town has ever seen. ❜ ❛ They say she was seen on occasion, pacing the rocks, staring out the sea. ❜ ❛ In a feud with her neighbor, she stole his dog and dyed it key lime green. ❜ ❛ Fifty years is a long time. ❜ ❛ Who knows, if I never showed up, what could've been. ❜ ❛ I had a marvelous time ruining everything. ❜ ❛ I had a marvelous time. ❜

[ track 04 ] exile ❛ I can see you standing, honey, with his arms around your body. ❜ ❛ I think I've seen this film before, and I didn't like the ending. ❜ ❛ You're not my homeland anymore. ❜ ❛ What am I defending now? ❜ ❛ You were my town. Now I'm in exile, seeing you out. ❜ ❛ I can see you staring, honey, like he's just your understudy, like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me. ❜ ❛ You'd get your knuckles bloody for me. ❜ ❛ Those eyes add insult to injury. ❜ ❛ I'm not your problem anymore. ❜ ❛ Who am I offending now? ❜ ❛ You were my crown. Now I'm in exile, seeing you out. ❜ ❛ I'm leaving out the side door. ❜ ❛ There is no amount of crying I can do for you. ❜ ❛ All this time, we always walked a very thin line. ❜ ❛ You didn't even hear me out. ❜ ❛ You never gave a warning sign. ❜ ❛ I gave so many signs. ❜ ❛ All this time, I never learned to read your mind. ❜ ❛ I couldn't turn things around. ❜ ❛ You never turned things around. ❜ ❛ You didn't even see the signs. ❜

[ track 05 ] my tears ricochet ❛ If I'm on fire, you'll be made of ashes, too. ❜ ❛ Even on my worst day, did I deserve, babe — all the hell you gave me? ❜ ❛ I loved you, I swear I loved you, until my dying day. ❜ ❛ I didn't have it in myself to go with grace. ❜ ❛ You're the hero flying around, saving face. ❜ ❛ If I'm dead to you, why were you at the wake? ❜ ❛ Look at how my tears ricochet. ❜ ❛ We gather stones, never knowing what they'll mean. ❜ ❛ You know I didn't want to have to haunt you. ❜ ❛ What a ghostly scene. ❜ ❛ You used to tell me I was brave. ❜ ❛ I can go anywhere I want. Anywhere I want, just not home. ❜ ❛ You can aim for my heart — go for blood. ❜ ❛ You would still miss me in your bones. ❜ ❛ I still talk to you when I'm screaming at the sky. ❜ ❛ You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same. ❜ ❛ You turned into your worst fears. ❜ ❛ You're tossing out blame, drunk on this pain, crossing out the good years. ❜

[ track 06 ] mirrorball ❛ I'll show you every version of yourself tonight. ❜ ❛ When I break, it's a million pieces. ❜ ❛ Hush. ❜ ❛ You'll find me on my tallest tip-toes, spinning in my highest heels, love — shining just for you. ❜ ❛ I know they said the end is near. ❜ ❛ I can change everything about me to fit in. ❜ ❛ You're not like the regulars. ❜ ❛ I'm still on that tightrope. ❜ ❛ I'm still trying everything to get you laughing at me. ❜ ❛ I'm still a believer, but I don't know why. ❜ ❛ I've never been a natural. ❜ ❛ All I do is try, try, try. ❜ ❛ I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me. ❜

[ track 07 ] seven ❛ Please picture me in the trees. ❜ ❛ I hit my peak at seven, feet in the swing over the creek. ❜ ❛ I was too scared to jump in, but I was high in the sky. ❜ ❛ Are there still beautiful things? ❜ ❛ Cross your heart. ❜ ❛ Though I can't recall your face, I still got love for you. ❜ ❛ Love you to the moon and to Saturn. ❜ ❛ The love lasts so long. ❜ ❛ I've been meaning to tell you, I think your house is haunted. ❜ ❛ Your dad is always mad. ❜ ❛ I think you should come live with me. ❜ ❛ We can be pirates! ❜ ❛ You won't have to cry or hide in the closet. ❜ ❛ Our love will be passed on. ❜ ❛ I used to scream ferociously any time I wanted. ❜ ❛ Pack your dolls and a sweater. ❜

[ track 08 ] august ❛ Salt air and the rust on your door — I never needed anything more. ❜ ❛ I can see us lost in the memory. ❜ ❛ August slipped away into a moment in time, because it was never mine. ❜ ❛ I was see us twisted in bedsheets. ❜ ❛ August sipped away like a bottle of wine, because you were never mine. ❜ ❛ Will you call me when you're back at school? ❜ ❛ I remember thinking I had you. ❜ ❛ It was never mine. ❜ ❛ You were never mine. ❜ ❛ For me, it was enough to live for the hope of it all. ❜ ❛ I canceled plans just in case you'd call. ❜ ❛ Meet me behind the mall. ❜ ❛ So much for summer love and saying "us". ❜ ❛ You weren't mine to lose. ❜ ❛ Do you remember? ❜ ❛ Remember when I pulled up and said "Get in the car." ❛ I was living for the hope of it all. ❜

[ track 09 ] this is me trying ❛ I've been having a hard time adjusting. ❜ ❛ I didn't know if you'd care if I came back. ❜ ❛ I have a lot of regrets about that. ❜ ❛ Maybe I don't quite know what to say. ❜ ❛ I'm here in your doorway. ❜ ❛ I just wanted you to know this is me trying. ❜ ❛ I got wasted like all my potential. ❜ ❛ My words shoot to kill when I'm mad. I have a lot of regrets about that. ❜ ❛ I was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere. ❜ ❛ I ended up here, pouring my heart out to a stranger. ❜ ❛ I didn't pour the whiskey. ❜ ❛ At least I'm trying. ❜ ❛ It's hard to be at a party when I feel like an open wound. ❜ ❛ It's hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you. ❜ ❛ You're a flashback in a film reel on the one screen in my town. ❜

[ track 10 ] illicit affairs ❛ Make sure nobody sees you leave. ❜ ❛ Tell your friends you're out for a run. ❜ ❛ You'll be flushed when you return. ❜ ❛ Take the road less traveled by. ❜ ❛ Tell yourself you can always stop. ❜ ❛ What started in beautiful rooms, ends with meeting in parking lots. ❜ ❛ That's the thing about illicit affairs — and clandestine meetings and longing stares. ❜ ❛ It's born from just one single glance, but it dies and it dies and it dies a million little times. ❜ ❛ You leave no trace behind. ❜ ❛ Take the words for what they are — a dwindling mercurial high, a drug that only worked the first few hundred times. ❜ ❛ They show their truth one single time, but they lie and they lie and they lie. A million little times. ❜ ❛ Don't call me "kid". ❜ ❛ Don't call me "baby". ❜ ❛ Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me. ❜ ❛ You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else. ❜ ❛ Look at this idiotic fool that you made me. ❜ ❛ You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else. ❜ ❛ You know damn well, for you, I would ruin myself a million little times. ❜

[ track 11 ] invisible string ❛ I used to think I would meet somebody there. ❜ ❛ Teal was the color of your shirt when you were sixteen at the yogurt shop. ❜ ❛ Time, curious time. ❜ ❛ Were there clues I didn't see? ❜ ❛ Isn't it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string tying you to me? ❜ ❛ You ate at my favorite spot for dinner. ❜ ❛ She said I looked like an American singer. ❜ ❛ Time, mystical time — cutting me open, then healing me fine. ❜ ❛ Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire. ❜ ❛ One single thread of gold tied me to you. ❜ ❛ Gold was the color of the leaves when you around Centennial Park. ❜ ❛ Hell was the journey, but it brought me to heaven. ❜ ❛ Time, wondrous time, gave me the blues and then purple-pink skies. ❜ ❛ It's cool, baby, with me. ❜

[ track 12 ] mad woman ❛ What did you think I'd say to that? ❜ ❛ Does a scorpion sting when fighting back? ❜ ❛ They strike to kill, and you know I will. ❜ ❛ What do you sing on your drive home? ❜ ❛ Do you see my face in the neighbors lawn? ❜ ❛ Fuck you forever. ❜ ❛ Every time you call me crazy, I get more crazy. ❜ ❛ When you say I seem angry, I get more angry. ❜ ❛ There's nothing like a mad woman. ❜ ❛ What a shame she went mad. ❜ ❛ No one likes a mad woman. You made her like that. ❜ ❛ You'll poke that bear 'till her claws come out and you find something to wrap your noose around. ❜ ❛ I breathe flames each time I talk. ❜ ❛ They say "Move On," but you know I won't. ❜ ❛ Women like hunting witches too, doing your dirtiest work for you. ❜ ❛ It's obvious that wanting me dead has really brought you two together. ❜ ❛ I'm taking my time. ❜ ❛ You took everything from me. ❜ ❛ She should be mad, should be scathing like me. ❜

[ track 13 ] epiphany ❛ I think he's bleeding out. ❜ ❛ Some things you just can't speak about. ❜ ❛ With you, I serve. With you, I fall down. ❜ ❛ I think she's crashing out. ❜ ❛ Only twenty minutes to sleep. ❛ You dream of some epiphany — just one single glimpse of relief. ❜

[ track 14 ] betty ❛ I won't make assumptions. ❜ ❛ I think it's because of me. ❜ ❛ One time, I was riding on my skateboard when I passed your house. ❜ ❛ It's like I couldn't breathe. ❜ ❛ You heard the rumors. ❜ ❛ You can't believe a word she says most times. But this time, it was true. ❜ ❛ The worst thing that I ever did was what I did to you. ❜ ❛ If I just showed up at your party, would you have me? ❜ ❛ Would you want me? ❜ ❛ Would you tell me to go fuck myself? ❜ ❛ In the garden, would you trust me if I told you it was a just a summer thing? ❜ ❛ I'm only seventeen. I don't know anything. ❜ ❛ I don't know anything, but I know I miss you. ❜ ❛ I know where it all went wrong. ❜ ❛ I was nowhere to be found. ❜ ❛ I hate crowds. You know that. ❜ ❛ I saw you dance with him. ❜ ❛ I was walking home on broken cobblestones, just thinking of you. ❛ She pulled up like a figment of my worst intentions. ❜ ❛ Get in. Let's drive. ❜ ❛ I dreamt of you all summer long. ❜ ❛ I planned it out for weeks now. ❜ ❛ It's finally sinking in. ❜ ❛ Right now is the last time. ❜ ❛ I can dream about what happens when you can see my face again. ❜ ❛ The only thing I wanna do is make it up to you. ❜ ❛ Will you have me? ❜ ❛ Will you love me? ❜ ❛ Will you kiss me on the porch in front of all your stupid friends? ❜ ❛ If you kiss me, will it be just like I dreamed it? ❜ ❛ I don't know anything. ❜

[ track 15 ] peace ❛ Our coming-of-age has come and gone. ❜ ❛ I never had the courage of my convictions, as long as danger is near. ❜ ❛ It's just around the corner, darlin. ❜ ❛ I could never give you peace. ❜ ❛ I'm a fire and I'll keep your brittle heart warm. ❜ ❛ All these people think love's for show, but I would die for you in secret. ❜ ❛ The devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me. ❜ ❛ Would it be enough if I could never give you peace? ❜ ❛ Your integrity makes me seem small. ❜ ❛ I talk shit with my friends. It's like I'm wasting your honor. ❜ ❛ Is it enough? ❜ ❛ I'd give you my sunshine, give you my best. ❜ ❛ The rain is always gonna come if you're standing with me. ❜

[ track 16 ] hoax ❛ This has broken me down. ❜ ❛ This has frozen my ground. ❜ ❛ Give me a reason. ❜ ❛ Your faithless love's the only hoax I believe in. ❜ ❛ Don't want no other shade of blue, but you. ❜ ❛ No other sadness in the world would do. ❜ ❛ I am ash from your fire. ❜ ❛ You know I left a part of me back in New York. ❜ ❛ You knew the hero died, so what's the movie for? ❜ ❛ You knew it still hurts underneath my scars. ❜ ❛ You knew you won, so what's the point of keeping score? ❜ ❛ It still hurts underneath my scars. ❜ ❛ What you did was just as dark. ❜ ❛ Darling, this was just as hard as when they pulled me apart. ❜

#rp starters #sentence starters #rp memes #rp meme #lyric starters

131 notes · View notes

rosalies-rage · 4 years

Text

folklore x Twilight: An Analysis

folklore's lyrics match Twilight uncannily well and here’s proof!

my tears ricochet - Rosalie

We gather here, we line up, weepin' in a sunlit room And if I'm on fire, you'll be made of ashes, too Even on my worst day, did I deserve, babe All the hell you gave me? 'Cause I loved you, I swear I loved you 'Til my dying day I didn't have it in myself to go with grace And you're the hero flying around, saving face And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake? Cursing my name, wishing I stayed Look at how my tears ricochet We gather stones, never knowing what they'll mean Some to throw, some to make a diamond ring You know I didn't want to have to haunt you But what a ghostly scene You wear the same jewels that I gave you As you bury me

And I can go anywhere I want Anywhere I want, just not home And you can aim for my heart, go for blood But you would still miss me in your bones And I still talk to you (When I'm screaming at the sky) And when you can't sleep at night (You hear my stolen lullabies)

Rosalie would sing this to her murderer/fiancé at her funeral as he goes around being the ‘hero’ and ‘saving face’. She’s ‘screaming at the sky’ because he has stolen the one thing she really wanted from her ‘anywhere I want, just not home’. Even though she loved him ‘til [her] dying day’, she can never forgive and has no choice but to haunt him.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

exile - Edward in New Moon

I think I’ve seen this film before And I didn’t like the ending You’re not my homeland anymore So what am I defending now? You were my town, now I’m in exile seein’ you out We always walked a very thin line You didn’t even hear me out (You didn’t even hear me out) You never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs) All this time I never learned to read your mind (Never learned to read my mind)

Edward leaves in New Moon because he believes he and his world are too dangerous for Bella, exiling himself indefinitely. They had ‘always walked a very thin line’ as he tried to be with her without harming her, and he literally ‘never learned to read [her] mind’. Now he’s left and can’t do what he wanted to do, i.e protect her (’what am I defending now?’).

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

august - Jacob

Salt air, and the rust on your door I never needed anything more Whispers of “Are you sure?” “Never have I ever before”

Back when we were still changin' for the better Wanting was enough For me, it was enough To live for the hope of it all Canceled plans just in case you'd call And say, "Meet me behind the mall" So much for summer love and saying "us" 'Cause you weren't mine to lose You weren't mine to lose, no

Your back beneath the sun Wishin' I could write my name on it Will you call when you're back at school? I remember thinkin' I had you

Bella and Jacob start spending time together in the ‘salt air’ by La Push beach fixing beaten-up motorbikes (’rust’). Jacob knows Bella isn’t interested in him but lives in hope (’to live for the hope of it all’) and by the time the Cullens come back he’s convinced he could win Bella’s loyalties (’I remember thinkin’ I had you’). It doesn’t take place in summer, but it is a brief, intense fling that lifts Bella from her Edward-induced winter, and Bella calls Jacob her personal ‘sun’. In the end, though, Bella tells Jacob that there was never really a choice between him and Edward; it was always going to be Edward (’You weren’t mine to lose’).

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

invisible string - Alice & Jasper

And isn't it just so pretty to think All along there was some Invisible string Tying you to me?

Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire Chains around my demons Wool to brave the seasons One single thread of gold Tied me to you

Alice woke up as a vampire with no memory of her past - all she had was her psychic abilities, which were an ‘invisible string’ leading her directly to Jasper. On Jasper’s side, he was living a brutal life training newborn armies until Alice found him and ‘wrapped all of [his] past mistakes in barbed wire’, putting ‘chains around his demons’ and leading him to a better life. You could also interpret it as his journey to chaining his inner monster that wants to kill humans when he goes to live with the Cullens.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

epiphany - Carlisle

Something med school did not cover Someone's daughter, someone's mother Holds your hand through plastic now "Doc, I think she's crashing out" And some things you just can't speak about

Only twenty minutes to sleep But you dream of some epiphany Just one single glimpse of relief To make some sense of what you've seen

This song describes the experience of medical staff during the COVID-19 pandemic, and Carlisle was a doctor during the last major pandemic (Spanish Flu in 1918), which is where he turned Edward. A religious man, he searches for an ‘epiphany’ from God while he grapples with the decision to consign another person to a life of vampirism and tries to understand whether or not he still has a soul.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

mad woman - Rosalie

Do you see my face in the neighbor's lawn? Does she smile? Or does she mouth, "Fuck you forever"? And there's nothing like a mad woman What a shame she went mad No one likes a mad woman You made her like that And you'll poke that bear 'til her claws come out And you find something to wrap your noose around

They say “move on” but you know I won’t

I'm taking my time, taking my time 'Cause you took everything from me

Rosalie is filled with anger and bitterness over her murder. She’s cast in a bad light particularly because she’s an angry, ‘mad woman’ but she explains that her murderers ‘made her like that’ when they ‘took everything from [her]’, and in return she ‘[took her] time’ when killing them to make sure they knew she was coming.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

cardigan - Bella on Jacob

And when I felt like I was an old cardigan, under someone’s bed You put me on and said I was your favorite You drew stars around my scars But now I’m bleedin’

Bella was destroyed after Edward left, feeling that he’d taken most of her with him and was just discarded like an unwanted toy (’I felt like I was an old cardigan, under someone’s bed’). Then she started hanging out with Jacob and his friendship (’I was your favorite’) started to heal - or at least disguise - the hole in her chest (’You drew stars around my scars’). But then he left, too, when the werewolf transformation happened, which left her ‘bleeding’. It turned out she wasn’t really healed, she’d just been papering over the gap with Jacob’s love.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

illicit affairs - Edward & Bella as tragic fated lovers

Tell yourself you can always stop What started in beautiful rooms Ends in meetings in parking lots It’s born from just one single glance but it dies and it dies and it dies A million little times

Leave no trace behind, like they don’t even exist

When Edward first becomes enamored with Bella and wants to get closer to her, he convinces himself he can always stop - but he can’t. The more time he spends with her, the more doomed he is. When Bella gets hurt because of him, first in Twilight and then in New Moon, he disappears in hopes of keeping her safe and hides all the presents he gave her (’leave no trace behind’).

And you wanna scream Don't call me "kid," don't call me "baby" Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else Don't call me "kid," don't call me "baby" Look at this idiotic fool that you made me You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else

A dwindling mercurial high A drug that only worked the first few hundred times

And you know damn well For you, I would ruin myself A million little times

This part is Bella’s response. When he left, he took away this entire paranormal world he’d introduced her to (‘You taught me a secret language I can’t speak with anyone else’), leaving her to think she’s gone insane because not only has she lost the love of her life, all traces of an entire extra world have disappeared. She wants him to stop patronising her by saying she’ll move on like mortals do (’Don’t call me kid, don’t call me baby, look at this godforsaken mess that you made me’). Desperate to get some sense that he’s still there, she starts doing risky stunts like motorbike racing and jumping off a cliff (’A dwindling mercurial high’). Like she told him in the meadow scene in the first book, she is willing to die for him, and we see in New Moon that he feels the same way (‘you know damn well / For you I would ruin myself, a million little times’). The only way for them to stay apart would’ve been to never meet in the first place.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

seven - Rosalie on her childhood friend Vera

Please picture me in the trees I hit my peak at seven Feet in the swing over the creek I was too scared to jump in But I, I was high in the sky With Pennsylvania under me Are there still beautiful things? Sweet tea in the summer Cross your heart, won't tell no other And though I can't recall your face I still got love for you Your braids like a pattern Love you to the Moon and to Saturn Passed down like folk songs The love lasts so long

Before I learned civility I used to scream ferociously Any time I wanted

Rosalie fondly recalls her human life and her best friend Vera, who had the normal life she never got. This ‘love lasts so long’ even though Vera is dead by now because Rosalie still remembers her, even if her human memories are fuzzy and she can’t necessarily ‘recall [her] face’. Also, Rosalie was always valued only for her beauty, but maybe she ‘hit [her] peak at seven’ because her beauty hadn’t yet started overshadowing her personhood and she was still able to ‘scream ferociously’ at that age instead of being the girl and young woman who had to learn ‘civility’ and be married off to a rich man.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

hoax - Bella in New Moon

My only one My smoking gun My eclipsed sun This has broken me down My twisted knife My sleepless night My winless fight This has frozen my ground Stood on the cliffside screaming, "Give me a reason" Your faithless love's the only hoax I believe in Don't want no other shade of blue but you No other sadness in the world would do My best laid plan Your sleight of hand My barren land I am ash from your fire You know I left a part of me back in New York You knew the hero died so what's the movie for? You knew it still hurts underneath my scars From when they pulled me apart

Bella’s ‘eclipsed sun’ has disappeared and left her ‘broken’, ‘sleepless’ and believing she has no way to win him back. She literally goes and stands on a ‘cliffside’ before jumping off just to see a hallucination of his face - Edward, a mythical creature, is the ‘only hoax she believes in’. Even though he’s hurt her and broken her heart, she ‘don’t want no other shade of blue but you’. He thinks he’s saving her from harm by leaving, but the scar from James still bothers her, i.e. his leaving cannot protect her as the damage has been done (’You know it still hurts underneath my scars’) and now Edward has just added emotional scars that ‘pulled [her] apart’ and left a gaping hole in her chest.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

peace - Edward & Bella in Breaking Dawn

I never had the courage of my convictions As long as danger is near And it’s just around the corner darlin Coz it lives in me No, I could never give you peace

Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

Throughout the series, Edward has been afraid to get too close to Bella for fear of hurting her (’danger is near’, ‘it lives in me’). Now he finally has to accept that she’s not going anywhere and value her choice. Even after he’s no longer a threat to her directly, their life is full of challenges like the Volturi. It’s impossible to guarantee her safety, and she doesn’t want him to - she wants to be in his world as an equal. He comes to terms with the fact that it’s okay if he can ‘never give [her] peace’.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

#twilight #the twilight saga #twilight renaissance #Edward cullen #jasper hale #Alice cullen #Rosalie hale #carlisle cullen #Taylor swift #folklore #ts8 #tslyrics

68 notes · View notes