#and if she had returned to the order instead of leaving she would’ve been a knight

[mrs-jamesbbarnes]

Okay listen I know we’re all unhappy because “Ahsoka was never actually a Jedi Knight” well

1. Yoda was ready to make her a Jedi Knight. She chose to leave instead. So she wasn’t really a Padawan when she left either.

2. Luke Skywalker just made himself a frickin Jedi Knight and then Master so Ahsoka can be whatever the heck she wants to be.

3. Little reminder that most of the people alive in the galaxy don’t really even know who the Jedi were. Now they’re just myths. To them, anyone with a lightsaber could be a Jedi Knight.

4. Ahsoka was more a Jedi Knight than most of the actual Jedi Knights. She lived out the code better than the entire council don’t fight me on this you know I’m right.

[ronwestbreeze]

you're gonna go far | 8

pairing: jake sully x neytiri x tsu'tey x fem!human! reader summary: a scientist arrives on pandora (unwillingly) a year after the exile of the rda. now she must deal with the likes of a clan leader, a great warrior, and a thanator rider. word count: 3.8k

read on AO3

There was blood that sputtered out of your mouth before you lost consciousness. Tsu’tey’s eyes widened and out of instinct—or perhaps his body had a mind of its own at that moment—caught you before your body could hit the ground. He held you up with one arm, his tension gave way to a perplexed emotion clashing with his barely restrained anger

“Take him to the Tsahik!” He shouted toward the warriors who had yet to leave. They had been waiting on his order. But they should’ve been gone by now. They should’ve been rushing back to save his little brother.

“NOW!”

The sounds of the pa’li galloping away did not dissuade his focus on you. Blood roared through his ears, the rain became heavier to where their skin would be slippery to the touch just as the ground became a mess of mud and green. But you never once slipped from his hold. His grip was sure.

His baby brother was lying unconscious, bleeding out. And then there was you. Somehow at the scene. No explanation. No context that could’ve calmed his stormy mind. This Sky Person carrying his injured brother. That very sight would’ve sent him into a violent rage. You would’ve been dead without question.

And yet Tsu’tey didn’t let your limp body go.

There was the anger that stayed but it battled with something else he didn’t want to acknowledge. Distrust wrestling with a flicker of something he couldn’t—wouldn’t place.

He could’ve just left you for dead, making all of this easier.

So why wasn’t he? Why didn’t he just let you go? Why wasn’t this an easy decision for him like it should’ve been? Why was his mind a raging storm of conflict?

It should’ve been easy. It was easy. For his people, for his brother, he would leave you here to die. One less Sky Person on his land would’ve made no difference to him.

But. But.

If he were heartless, if he were a true warrior, a true Olo’eyktan, then he wouldn’t have been so hesitant right now. He wouldn’t have been coming into blows with his sense of morality. He would’ve been able to ignore your unexpected vulnerability and kept to his instincts that Sky People were nothing but soulless demons. Who, themselves, didn’t have a sense of morale. Who wouldn’t have thought twice about destroying his home? If he was a good leader, he wouldn’t have any problem returning the favor. It shouldn’t have mattered to him whether it was wrong or right to leave you here. The People came first.

The forest whispered its ancient secrets to him. Unknown eyes watched him. Pandora was waiting. A delicate balance hanging in the air like an unspoken truth. This heavyweight—this decision—bore down on him. And if anyone were there to witness this, they would not see the stone-faced, sure warrior that was Tsu’tey the Olo’eyktan. But instead, they would see the clash of emotions carved onto his stone-like face. Not of a warrior but of a man.

This simple decision…the hesitation was enough of an answer.

So Tsu’tey called to his pa’li, who had stayed at his side instead of wandering off with the rest of her kin. He heaved your body onto the back of the creature before he got on himself. Your body now slumped against his chest as he yipped at the pa’li to move forward.

He wasn’t a good warrior. He wasn’t a good Olo’eyktan.

His hold tightened around your waist to keep you upright as the pa’li moved.

Yes. That much was so.

This rope of foreboding never loosened from Jake’s chest, even hours later.

Even after the warriors came back with Arvok’s limp and bloodied body—it was worse then. Finding the young warrior pale and at the brink of death, not knowing how this happened or why, it brought a sense of unyielding dread that weighed down on his chest. An unbearable weight. This powerful wave of emotions crashing against Jake relentlessly, hoping to knock him down to his knees.

And he nearly toppled over. He nearly staggered.

But he was now in the Tsahik’s hands. They had gotten him back in time for Mo’at to do her work rather urgently yet precisely. Arvok had been stabbed but after she had gotten a better look at it, it wasn’t fatal. No vital organs were damaged and there wasn’t an exit wound. The problem was just stopping the bleeding.

Which was why Jake’s hands were dried and sticky with red. It took a while to get Arvok to stop bleeding. At some points, Jake, who had his hand pressed against the wound at Mo’at’s orders, could’ve sworn his heart stopped a few times from how much blood he was losing by the hour.

Eventually, Mo’at miraculously got the bleeding to stop. She placed a molding paste against the wound. And once the paste dried she wrapped his waist up with long grass to add pressure against it.

Now there was an eerie quiet that settled in the Tsahik’s hut. Tsu’tey had Arvok’s head resting on his lap, whispering words of comfort to him now and then. Arvok had been awake moments before, whimpering from the pain. But even when he was long asleep, Tsu’tey did not stop his comfort, nor did he let his brother go.

Neytiri, throughout all of this, had helped her mother with Arvok. She grabbed the ingredients, the medicine, the tools, all of it with a barely composed expression. If she were training to be the next Tsahik, then she would have to be level-headed and composed just as her mother was. But even then, Jake could see her mask break whenever Arvok suffered through the hours. He saw the glassiness in her eyes as she handed Mo’at a bowl that was mixed with crushed medicine and the salty waters of her worry.

Perhaps it was different for Neytiri as she practically saw Arvok’s birth and watched him grow up. But for Jake, Tsu’tey’s brother wasn’t just another clan member. He was different from his mother and often sought the approval of his elder brother. He was a kind soul, one that wasn’t as easily swayed by his mother’s bitterness nor his father’s meek will.

Arvok was family. There wasn’t a question about it.

It was a simple mission gone wrong. Arvok had been tasked to meet with some of the warriors from the Tipani clan. The details after that were unknown to Jake, Tsu’tey, and Neytiri. They wouldn’t know what had happened until Arvok woke up and was conscious enough to retell the events leading up to Reeds finding him and bringing him to their warriors.

For all they knew now, the Tipani warriors might’ve attacked Arvok. Which was the worst-case scenario. It could lead to a war between clans. A war that they were trying with all of their power to prevent. Undone by an attack.

Jake prayed it wasn’t the Tipani that did this. He prayed for no war every day. He prayed that his days in battle had finally come to an end.

Then there was you.

Neytiri had been glancing toward your still avatar body that lay a few feet away ever since they entered Mo’at’s hut. Jake knew you would’ve long unlinked from the body but that didn’t mean the avatar didn’t need tending to as well.

After Mo’at had gotten control of Arvok’s bleeding, she identified the deadly poison and made medicine for it to hopefully save your avatar’s body. But the chances were highly unlikely as the poison had already made its way deep into your system. With the sweat coding your pale skin and the tremors in your muscles Jake felt when pressing his ear against the avatar’s chest to listen to the heartbeat, he wasn’t sure it was looking good for your avatar’s body.

There were moments when Jake noticed the subtle glances Tsu’tey shot toward your avatar. An unknown expression fell onto his face every time he did. In those moments, Jake wanted to ask, he wanted to know what troubled him so when it came to you. This reaction wasn’t the usual he had when it came to you. This was different.

But right now, Jake didn’t have time to pick apart Tsu’tey or your interactions. Right now, the focus was Arvok.

And that was all that mattered—

“Jake!”

Norm had suddenly burst into the hut, surprising all four of them from the tense silence they had been sitting in before.

“How dare you, demon!” Tsu’tey snapped, his vicious scowl replacing his previous grim and exhausted expression. “What gives you the right to be in the Tsahik’s hut?! And without my say-so—

“Calm yourself, Olo’eyktan.” Mo’at raised her hand toward him, her eyes never wavering from Norm’s, whom Jake noticed was torn with despair and anguish. Mo’at stood, “Jakesully, there has been a development,” Before Jake could ask how she knew this, she continued, “Go with your friend and listen to his words carefully.”

At that Jake pushed to his feet, and squeezed Tsu’tey’s shoulder before he followed Norm out of the hut.

Hours later, Neytiri finally cried.

A sudden pain struck your body and jolted you awake.

You took in a sharp gasp as someone hissed over you, “Shit!”

Immediately, your body went into defense mode just like when you had woken up on the ship with DeVoe. But before you could gather full control of your body, firm hands restrained you.

You screamed when more pain—a burning sensation—hit your shoulder. There was no rational thought left in your mind as you fought so hard to get out of this iron grip. But whoever had you made an effort for their grip to remain sure.

“Reeds, Reeds—listen to me!” It was Jake’s voice. He was somewhere around you—no, close to you—far away? Was that a comfort then? Your body—which was somewhat relaxed—must’ve thought so. The larger hands moved from your waist to cupping your face, “You’re safe, okay? You’re with the People. Tsu’tey brought you back…”

The People? Did he mean the Omatikaya? How did you get here? What—why were you with Jake?

You were so out of it that you could barely register your surroundings.

“I can’t—why—why am I here?” Slurred words spilled out of your mouth, jaw too tight to speak properly.

“She’s awake!” Jake called out to whoever was there. “Someone get the Tsahik now!” Your body was too heavy but you managed to grab something firm—an arm—and held on as tightly as you could. Like you were trying to grasp onto whatever ground you, stopping you from falling away into the murky waters.

“Sully—what’s happening to me?”

You weren’t even sure if he understood your question. Or if what you said was words at all. They were so slurred together and hard to get out like your body didn’t want to cooperate with you. A whimper left your lips next, tears itching in the corner of your eye sockets.

Thumbs gently wiped away the tears that threatened to roll past your cheek, “You’re gonna be fine, Reeds. You…” He paused as if considering his words. “Arvok said you had taken an arrow to your arm—the tip must’ve been poisoned—Tsahik.”

The last part wasn’t directed toward you but rather someone else. “Hold her down, Jakesully. We do not want her to move for this.”

“Hey, Reeds,” One hand gripped the side of your face as if to bring you back to where you were. To keep you here with him. With them. But the black dots in your eyes worsened and the blur in your vision never went away. “You gotta hold still for me. We’re gonna get the rest of the poison out. I just need you to work with me—”

A scream tore through your throat when your skin suddenly burned again. More hands pressed you down to the ground, keeping you from moving any further.

As time went by—or maybe no time went past—the searing pain wouldn’t stop. You tried swallowing your screams, skin sticky with sweat at this point. The pain stayed but the exhaustion grew heavier. So heavy that it practically knocked you out.

The next time you woke up, Neytiri was holding your hand.

There wasn’t much pain this time but you didn’t feel any better than before. You felt different but sick. A different kind of sickness. You had never felt this awful in your entire short existence.

But there was a sort of comfort in all of this. The warmth from Neytiri’s hands around yours grounded you a bit, but everything else still felt off.

You curled in on yourself with a quiet whimper, her hold on your hand tightened and her other hand gently caressed the curve of your very high-temperature cheek.

There were quiet sniffles next to you, “Ma’ tanhi.”

A part of you the small non-sluggish part of your brain, wondered what tanhi meant. You always meant to ask ever since she started calling you by that. But you just never found the time nor bothered to bring it up.

And why did she call you that with such—adoration? Gentleness?

“—not out of the woods yet.” That was Norm. Wasn’t it? The new voice sounded eerily similar to him. “She’ll have to sweat it off. The poison’s out, now she just has to deal with the—well, the after-effects of—”

You didn't hear the rest, even when you tried willing yourself to stay awake.

At some point, you could’ve sworn you heard a baby crying.

Crying. Crying. Crying.

Why is anyone getting the baby?

Then you saw the tank amid all the darkness. Within the glass, the lights were red. You couldn’t see the avatar inside of it. You couldn’t see the baby.

Where was she? Where was the baby?

Eventually, you woke up. Or maybe you were still asleep.

Frustratingly enough, your body still felt heavy. But you could see a bit of your surroundings better than before. You weren’t at Hell’s Gate, that was the first thing you noticed. But instead in some hut of sorts. The floor underneath you was soft—like a mat. Your skin wasn’t hot or sticky. Instead, you felt the coolness of the air hit your back with the smell of rain brushing against your nose and easing the tension in your tremoring muscles.

Across from you was a hunched figure. It must’ve been Jake.

You forced out your words through your dry throat, “Is the baby…is she okay? Where’s—Where’s Norm—”

“You should worry about yourself, demon.”

“—he was just here…I swear I heard…”

Something shifted within the hut. It wasn’t you, your body wasn’t moving anytime soon. But a sudden shadow loomed over you and there was a slight tug against your arm, where it had been burning before.

Something touched your forehead and then went away in an instant. Then a hand grabbed at your wrist, a thumb pressing just below your palm. The hand stayed there for a moment longer than before and eventually disappeared, leaving cool air brushing along your fingers.

“You should be dead. And yet the Great Mother has favored you, dreamwalker. But you are still not well. The Tsahik wants you to rest. So rest.”

And you did so. You allowed your heavy eyelids to close.

Not even realizing that it wasn’t even Jake’s voice that you had spoken to just then.

Some part of your body moved without you realizing it. A lower part of your body—your right leg. Your ears twitched and your tail swished slightly.

“She’s made progress.” A voice—Mo’at said. Good, you were starting to recognize voices better in this state.

Instead of heaviness, your muscles were sore. Fortunately, you weren’t as hot anymore either. Mo’at’s words were true. Your body was improving, that much was so.

How long have you been out?

You still felt exhausted. A different type of exhaustion than you were used to.

“How long until she’s awake?’ Jake. That was Jake this time.

“Soon,” Mo’at responded. “The poison’s completely out of her system. She should be waking up in the Great Mother allows it.

Your body was still tense. Leg still twitched now and then. Like there were tremors there. You’d have to massage it out once you were fully recovered.

“It would take time for her to adjust since the process was so abrupt—”

Your leg wouldn’t stop twitching. At this point it was uncomfortable.

“Jakesully.” Mo’at must’ve read your mind because you mediately felt a pair of hands on your twitching leg. “Put your hands there—” She said the rest of her orders in Na’vi but seconds later larger hands joined Mo’at’s—which, if you had to guess, was Jake’s.

They both began massaging the leg.

Eventually, you fell back to sleep. Not unconscious.

Sleep.

It took you a while before you opened your eyes and everything kind of fell into place.

You were still in your avatar. Somehow, you managed to stay in this body without unlinking which you sluggishly wondered how that worked.

Slowly, you sat up. Good, you were now in control of your body at least.

And you were still in a hut, not Hell’s Gate.

Jake—he mentioned you were at the new base for the Omatikaya clan. Which surprised you since their Olo’eyktan specifically was adamant to keep you away from their land. But now you were here?

That’s when you remembered everything that had happened before you passed out in the forest.

Arvok. The arrow—you were poisoned. Something about the tip of the arrow.

How long were you out for? Was the baby okay?

There was crying—was that even real? Was everything you saw when you were “awake” real?

You looked down at yourself to find that you were still in your shorts but your shirt was shredded. Your left shoulder—from the palulukan attack—was now wrapped up in green. Your right arm didn’t throb anymore and the slit from the arrow tip was now hidden away by green mush.

But other than that, you did not doubt that you looked particularly rough.

After taking in your surroundings and slowly gathering your senses, you tried to stand next. Albeit wobbly, you managed to balance yourself quite well. Like you were walking for the first time—like you were back in the days when you were training to control your avatar body.

“Whoa, hey!”

You jumped as Norm in his avatar—who practically appeared out of nowhere, rushed into the hut toward you. “Hey, hey, take it easy. Mo’at says you shouldn’t be moving too much yet.”

“I’ve barely moved an inch.” You mumbled as Norm stood at your side to support some of your weight. “And I can walk perfectly fine, thanks. How long was I out anyway?

Norm paused before responding, “Three days.”

You nodded. “Felt longer—how’s the baby? Is she—”

“She’s fine, Doc, could be born any day now. But I need you to listen to me real quick—”

You frowned at him as you finally stood straighter on your own, “My crops better still be alive, Spellman—”

Two more figures suddenly entered the hut. Both you and Norm looked to find Jake and Neytiri staring at the both of you in surprise and relief.

Neytiri rushed toward you and pulled you into a tight hug, “Oh, thank you, Great Mother! Thank you!”

Despite how flattered you felt at her expressive worry, you hugged her back stiffly, still quite surprised by the sudden physical affection from the woman. Over her shoulder, you looked at both Norm and Jake curiously, both holding grim expressions—Norm in particular avoided your quizzical gaze when you tried silently asking him what you had missed.

Neytiri pulled away a bit, analyzing your face with a relieved smile and puffy red eyes. You frowned, “I take it that my being poisoned was rough then.”

Now it was Jake who didn’t say anything and kept his gaze toward the ground.

Norm cleared his throat, “Something like that.”

You hummed, “Sorry for the inconvenience.”

“No, Reeds,” Norm shook his head, his ears lowering. “that’s not…Something happened after the poison set in. After you were brought to the clan…”

Your heart lurched at how serious he sounded. At how serious and grim he appeared. Neytiri now held your hands tightly in hers while Jake watched your reaction carefully.

For some reason, you suddenly felt cornered.

Norm ran a hand over his face before continuing cautiously, “You went into cardiac arrest in the link bed—I don’t know, maybe the sheer shock of the poison caused it—we took you out and we did—we tried…”

You felt like throwing up.

“Ma’ tanhi—”

Neytiri had reached to comfort you. To ease you before you heard the inevitable truth that Norm had yet to reveal.

Instead of sinking into her hold, instead of using her as a way of protection, you flinched out of her hold and backed away from the three of them. Staggering backward, your legs becoming jelly.

“Your human body died, Reeds. When you were brought to the clan—back at Hell’s Gate you were already gone. And when I came back here to get your avatar, they told me you were awake. I don’t know how—”

“Guys, I think we should cool off a bit.” Jake tried reasoning.

“It was Eywa,” Neytiri said firmly. “She saved you. There is a reason—”

You dropped to your knees.

“Whoa, whoa,” Jake rushed to your side. You shook your head, breaths shaky. “Okay, why don’t we slow down with her—it’s a lot to take in right now.”

You just couldn’t breathe.

Your hands trembled and the warm atmosphere of the hut blurred in your vision.

Jake’s hand grasped the back of your neck, “Hey, look at me. Breathe. It’s okay, just breathe, Reeds.” He gently pressed his hand against your chest and began breathing in and out slowly himself. “Just copy me. In and out.”

It started shaky but you copied him. Neytiri knelt next to Jake, watching you steadily as you struggled to get yourself to calm down.

She squeezed your arm gently, her heart clenching at the broken sight of you.

Oh, Eywa, she hated seeing you this way.

Eventually, not perfectly, you got your breathing to a steady pace that was far more manageable than before. Jake gave the pack of your neck a little squeeze, “Yeah, you got it. Good girl.” He then looked over his shoulder at Norm, “Let’s give her some room, okay?” At that, he looked at Neytiri who frowned at this. “Let her rest some more.”

Neytiri didn’t like it. But seeing as you were in no condition to receive any comfort nor did she wish to push you any further and hurt you more, she gave in to Jake’s wishes without protest.

You didn’t hear them leave. Nor did you feel Jake’s hand leave your neck.

At some point you were alone.

Alone with your new body.

Your only body.

The bile finally came up and spilled onto the ground next to you.

i felt bad leaving y'all on that cliffhanger last chapter. so what do you know, i went ahead and wrote up chapter eight for y'all. yes it's a lot shorter than all the other chapters but the next chapter is definitely longer so don't worry!

let me know what you think. and thanks for reading!

(i'm not adding any more people anymore!)

taglist: @doggyteam2028 @bigbootahjudy @innercreationflower @n7cje @celi-xxmoon @readerofallthingss @sillyblues @saturnhas82moons @1mawh0re @aprosiacperson @loserwithnofriends @garfieldsladybird @slutforsmut4ever @lik0

[scoobydoodean]

ok so forewarning, i don’t really have a question here, just lots of thoughts.

there’s so many layers to the general *badness* about the mia vallens therapy scene. like to the manipulation (for lack of a better word) that sam rewrites. like it makes such a difference that she thinks jack is their little brother instead of the son of the thing that killed dean’s best friend/loml. not to mention the fact that it’s been what like a week since *everything*

and like yes dean’s being cold towards jack and giving him orders (which, i could argue they weren’t uncalled-for), but tbh he’s only being moderately colder/more direct with him than he’s been with cas at times on hunts (thinking hunteri heroici) and even similar to how *sam* has been with like claire and even dean himself (thinking that episode dean turned into a teenager and all of MOC). like genuinely, how was sam expecting him to act like?

also (half joking) i genuinely think dean would’ve warmed up to jack even quicker than he did (we can already see it in this same episode, like that look he gives jack when he asks mia if buddy hurt her too) if he heard jack say he hates anakin skywalker lol

ok wait i do have a question. do you think jack actually was “terrified” of dean during that therapy scene?

(post linking to some context)

Okay so I rewatched 13.01-13.04 on a plane this past week so it's all extra fresh on my mind rn. The thing about 13.04 is that Dean wasn't comfortable bringing Jack on the hunt, and Jack didn't want to go, but Sam pushed insistently for all of them to go on the hunt together... primarily because Dean's feelings were thwarting Sam's plans for Jack and his own emotional coping mechanisms in a larger sense.

I think Dean's feelings compared to Sam's here are relatively more simple (and yet somehow still intensely misunderstood to a baffling degree). Dean was grieving. He was grieving Cas who died right in front of him, he was grieving Crowley (he pleads with Chuck to bring "even Crowley" back in 13.01!) and he was grieving Mary.

The thing with Dean's grief over Cas is this: instead of viewing it from Dean's perspective, we tend to analyze it as omniscient viewers who know Cas will come back, refusing see how miraculous Cas’s return truly was. We refuse to see Cas's death was different this time and appeared very permanent. There was no uncertainty like there was in season 7 or 8. His wings burned into the ground and his grace extinguished. Dean pleaded and prayed for Cas and Mary and Crowley's return to the only person who ever brought Cas back from certain death (via explosion in 5.01 and 5.22)—the person who told Dean in 11.23 he was leaving and Dean was on his own. Dean didn't hear back. The ONLY reason Cas comes back in 13.05 is that 1) Jack woke him him up unwittingly using powers no one knew he possessed and 2) Cas then annoyed a creature they didn't even know existed into letting him out of a place they 3) didn't even know existed and 4) Cas somehow came back with a body even though he had been burned to ash. All of this is completely miraculous. It was unforeseeable. It doesn’t even make complete sense as a viewer. In other words, Dean has ZERO reason to hope for Cas's return. There was ZERO reason to refuse to acknowledge that grief… but that's exactly what Sam does. He suggests Dean pray for Chuck to bring Cas back in 13.01. As soon as Sam knew Dean already tried that and Cas was DEAD dead, he treated Cas as something Dean needed to reframe and get over:

SAM: You thinking mom is gone and Cas is gone, and that Jack can’t be saved. Dean, after everything we’ve gone through… We just lost people we love, people who have been in our lives for a long time. Everything’s upside-down. I get it. But we’ve been down before. I mean, rock bottom. And we find a way. We fix it because that’s what we do.

This is the "Pull yourself up by your bootstraps" speech in 13.02—like a day after they burned Cas's body. Sam's wording here is cruel too—saying Dean is "thinking" Cas is gone as if he didn't die right in front of him? He refuses to acknowledge Cas's death as something Dean was actively and rightfully mourning. This becomes a major point of contention between the brothers at the end of 13.03.

DEAN: Look, I know you think that you can use [Jack] as some sort of an interdimensional can-opener and that’s fine, but don’t act like you care about him! Because you only care about what he can do for you! So if you want to pretend, that’s fine! But me? I can hardly look at the kid! Because when I do all I see is everybody we’ve lost! SAM: Mom chose to take that shot at Lucifer. That is not on Jack!

Sam will only name Mary—the one person whose death they can’t 100% confirm (the same thing happens in front of Mia in 13.04). The absence of Cas’s name here is pointed. So Dean says:

DEAN: And what about Cas?

And how does Sam respond?

SAM: What about Cas?

Uh... wow. That's what really sets Dean off to full on shouting:

DEAN: [Jack] manipulated him, he made him promises, said, ‘paradise on earth’ and Cas bought it and you know what that got him? It got him dead! Now you might be able to forget about that, but I can’t!

Sam's denial of what Dean literally SAW (Cas died) and how that hurts—his insistence that Dean also halt grieving to hope for the impossible—it's a major sticking point and very revealing of Sam's own coping mechanisms. Sam's chief response to grief is to disassociate himself from it. We see a textbook case in season 8 (see: 8.08), but in most of the series, what this actually looks like for Sam is to keep moving and hunting (ex: 1.02, 2.02, 2.10, 2.11, 2.18 3.11, 4.09, 9.01) which is also why he insists on bringing Dean and Jack on the hunt in 13.04. Sam tries not to think about what they've lost and focuses on what he CAN do. He focuses on hoping Mary can be saved because she's the one person he didn't SEE die.

The thing about Dean’s grief over Mary is this: he convinces himself Lucifer had to have killed her. She's the one person whose death Dean can't be certain of, but he absolutely cannot bear the thought of hoping she’s alive and it turning out he’s wrong. He knows he wouldn’t psychologically survive hoping in that and his beliefs being crushed. It would be like losing his mom all over again (a THIRD time). So he sticks to what is most likely: Lucifer killed her. He can't contend with the hope Sam is clinging to desperately, and that's what makes them such poor companions in grief. Sam feels off balance when Dean won't keep moving and hoping like him—when Dean can't keep up the pace Sam wants to run at in his own grief—and in doing so, Sam keeps pushing Dean to contend with hopes that open Dean up to a WORLD of pain Sam can psychologically convince himself not to feel. Grieving together just really just doesn't work for them because they're never on the same page and deal in such different ways—and this has been hurting them from as early as 2.02!!!

Now to bring Jack into this more fully: Jack represents Sam and Dean's different perspectives on grief and on Mary. Just like Dean despairs over Mary's demise, Dean despairs over the possibility of Jack being good. He can't bear the idea of hoping in that and being wrong. The psychologically safest option for him is to assume the worst and not hope or believe in anything turning out okay.

Sam, on the other hand, pretty much immediately sees a way to use Jack to get Mary back. This is clear when he and Jack get locked up together in the jail cell in 13.01. After establishing that Jack isn't hearing things and (probably) isn't going to murder him imminently, Sam immediately starts down a line of questioning establishing how well Jack understands his powers, and then asks him outright:

SAM: Jack, look, um... before you were born, you -- you opened up a door to another world. Do you remember that? JACK: Yes. SAM: Okay, um, could you do that again?

Shortly after, when Sam arrives, he tells Dean (who is convinced after everything that happened in 12.23 that 12.19 that Jack is evil or will turn evil):

We need him.

Sam repeats this sentiment multiple times with clear meaning, and later in 13.04, he admits to Jack that he wants to use him to open the portal. This doesn't mean he doesn't also grow to see himself in Jack quickly and genuinely believe in his capacity for good, but he isn't fully honest with Jack about his motives until 13.04 where he finally comes clean, and this poisons the well with Jack a little.

@shallowseeker has pointed out before that in 13.03, while trying to figure out how to get Jack's powers to work (and spying on Jack through cameras from another room) Sam is seen reading "The Drama Of The Gifted Child". I wish I could find the post because Shal probably brought it up too, but when I was rewatching this episode, I noticed the chapter Sam had just settled into read before being interrupted was titled,

"Depression and Grandiosity: Two Related Forms of Denial"

Given the accusations flying from Sam toward Dean then from Dean toward Sam about denial in the following episode (13.04), this feels amusingly pointed. Dean is depressed (and about to attempt suicide in 13.05), Sam is depressed and has "grandiose" ideas of using Jack to pop open a portal to another reality while hiding behind the guise of being the most rational person in the room when he... isn't necessarily? And it's easy to argue "Well, Sam turns out to be right even if he didn't ultimately have much of a reason to think he was" but the core problem here is how his beliefs effect how he treats other people's grief. He isn't honest with Jack about his motives (while Dean is somewhat brutally honest) and pushes and watches even while claiming he's giving Jack space (13.03), he refuses to give Dean space to grieve even the family member they know is dead, he inserts a therapist into the situation and criticizes Dean's grief when Dean won't play his game, and in 13.05, after Dean says that he can't believe in anything right now, Sam's clumsy attempts at help involve plying Dean with alcohol he says he doesn't even want and trying to send him off to strip clubs—believing that Dean performing being okay will somehow address his mental state because Sam's idea of coping himself is simply "going through the motions".

As for Jack, I don't think he's scared of Dean. I think he's scared of what Dean believes. He's scared that Dean is right. From 13.01-13.06, Jack is contending with the question of whether he's destined for evil or good, and in his depressed state, Dean believes Jack is destined for evil because hoping in anything is completely beyond him at that moment. Sam tells Jack that he can be good, but he hides ulterior motives as to why he's being nice, and when those ulterior motives are revealed, it leaves Jack thinking Sam is the kind of person who will lie to Jack and tell him he's good just to get what he wants. Meanwhile, Jack knows Dean is being completely honest with him about what he believes. 13.03 and 13.04 clearly demonstrate that Jack understands the difference between beliefs and facts: Dean could be right or he could be wrong. What Jack holds onto like an anchor is that he can trust Dean to tell him the truth about what he believes—even if it hurts.

It's also just so obvious that Jack immediately wants Dean—specifically—to like him (see: Jack mimicking Dean's mannerisms while eating in 13.02, and his clumsy attempts to earn his favor in 13.04). Sam also picks up on this, and encourages Jack to seek Dean's approval in 13.04 to try and change Dean's beliefs. Sam (and to some extent Jack) are thinking in 13.04, that if Jack can prove to Dean that he can be good, and if Dean tells him he did a good job (which Dean does in the end), Jack can believe that. Sam sees that Jack wants Dean's approval and the impression that Dean's beliefs have had on Jack and thinks by pushing them together as soon as possible (when neither of them want to go on the hunt) and treating them as a family and forcing Dean to accept Jack when Dean just isn't ready (including by paralleling Jack with himself in a way that becomes an accusation), he can "fix" Jack so he isn't scared of his powers anymore (13.03) and then he can teach Jack to use his powers and Jack can open a portal to save their mom.

Jack's attempts to earn Dean's favor in 13.04 are clumsy. His first attempt is directly ignoring Dean telling him to wait in the car and sneaking into the crime scene, potentially contaminating it. At Mia's office, Jack's outburst about losing a mother is what allows Sam to set up the whole family therapy trap to begin with, and because Dean knows Sam is going to use that to hurt him, he warns Jack not to make outbursts like that. Dean is not being nice. Point blank. And I do think his tone is a little different than with Cas which in the past felt more like exasperation. I also don’t think it makes him the devil. I think that's understandable when putting in even a tiny amount of effort and it's kind of laughable to me how few people seem to even try because they're so caught up in Sam's happy family narrative and the idea that someone wanting Dean's approval presents an obligation that Dean give it no matter how emotionally impossible—and in a situation where asking him to lie would actually destroy that much more of Jack's trust.

[quizzicalwriter]

omg could u do a fic where dallas has been trying to call y/n all day only to find out that she’s sick and he takes care of her

Fever

Pairing: Dallas Winston x Fem!Reader

Summary: Dallas hasn’t seen you all day, so he drops by uninvited. Don’t worry, he’ll take care of you - the best he can, anyway.

Warnings: None! Fluff and cute Dallas.

A/N: Thank you for the request!

Word Count: 2.5k

It was an agonizingly hot Friday morning, one where you’d spent the better part of your morning resting your cheek against the cool porcelain of your bathroom sink instead of getting ready. The morning whirled on around you, radio softly humming from your bedroom where you’d begrudgingly slapped at your alarm clock, somehow failing to turn it off but being too tired to do anything other than stagger toward the bathroom.

You somehow managed to take care of your necessities while the weatherman droned on about the lovely temperatures, you groaned in response - either he was lying, or you were getting sick. The thought had crossed your mind yesterday when you’d hardly been able to concentrate as an older woman asked for another cup of coffee, too preoccupied with the overwhelming exhaustion settling heavy in your bones and the pounding headache that’d made its home in the back of your skull - neither of which had faded over the night.

Stubbornness ran deep, and it certainly did in you. So you decided to disregard the nausea settling in your stomach as you got yourself dressed, only dry-heaving once as you started the trek to your workplace. Usually, you’d call Dallas to drive you to and fro - not that you needed him to, it was only a fifteen-minute walk, but he insisted and you weren’t one to deny a free ride. But the thought of getting into a car and breathing in cigarette smoke only soured your stomach more, so you walked alone and clocked in for your shift only five minutes late.

The hours passed, time murky as your brain swelled within your skull, pressing against the confines of bone as you scrawled down another order for coffee and eggs. You’d been halfway into your shift before your manager pulled you aside, concern written over his face as he helped you to sit down. Your manager wasn’t normally kind, a rugged older man from an era where surviving wasn’t the easiest, and it showed on the lines across his face and the look in his eyes. For him to show you kindness worried you somewhat, but the sweltering of your skin underneath your uniform pushed away any other feeling besides exhaustion.

He drove you home, talking your non-listening ear off about things you could do to ease your fever, and how he’d have your coworker cover your shift. You tried to listen, you really did, but the bumps along the road and the scent of passing restaurants readying their ovens for the day filled the air with an aroma that would’ve been pleasant to anyone who wasn’t currently battling the urge to void their stomach of its contents. He reached your house in less than five minutes, something you were sure was due to him not wanting to catch whatever the hell you’d caught. You gave him a brief nod and wave, one he returned with a smile before peeling off back toward the diner.

You fumbled with your keys, managing to unlock your front door after two failed attempts. Thankfully the air conditioning in your house had kicked on, keeping it much cooler than you’d left it only hours prior. You kicked your shoes off, not bothering to make the small walk to your bedroom in favor of the living room couch that seemed to be calling your name. You collapsed onto the cool leather with a groan, your eyes squeezing shut as you willed yourself to sleep.

What you’d forgotten to do was call Dallas, leaving him alone and frustrated as he watched everyone pour out of the diner. He noticed some of your coworkers, all smiling and laughing amongst each other as they piled into their cars as the next shift trudged toward the building. He flicked the built-up ash off the end of his cigarette, contemplating if it was worth it to go inside, figuring you were likely in the restroom or gathering your stuff.

That was until your manager spotted him, the older man’s brow furrowing as he made his way outside and toward the thunderbird that revved to life enough to annoy the living hell out of him - much to Dallas’s pleasure. Dallas waved the hand he had draped out the window, exhaling a lungful of smoke toward the man as he approached the driver's side.

“She’s sick. I drove her home earlier.”

Dallas clicked his tongue against his teeth, lifting his hand to place his cigarette between his lips as he started the car back up. Your manager jumped back onto the curb as Dallas peeled out of the parking lot, half pissed that you hadn’t bothered to call and half worried that you were so sick that you hadn’t had the energy to do so. Deciding to play on the side of caution, he dropped by the gas station on the way, snagging a few items he’d heard helped - or at least he hoped helped.

He parked along the street, not bothering the fix his parking as the front tire scraped against the edge of the sidewalk. With a hefty paper bag of everything he could manage to grab he made his way toward your front door, only to find it locked. He sighed, tilting his head back to look toward your neighboring houses, ensuring nobody was looking at him as he snuck around the side. He’d been with you long enough to know you always kept your bedroom window unlatched, it was always a mixup of whether it was going to be sweltering or freezing in Tulsa, so you kept it unlatched in case you needed it cracked in the night.

After a quick peek into the darkness that shrouded your bedroom, he pressed the glass upward, grimacing at the wall of cold air that smacked into him as he ducked into your window. Your radio softly played, older music hits that you’d usually have turned off when you woke up in the morning. Dallas sighed, closing the window gently behind him, taking a second to shut off your radio before moving through the frigid house.

“Doll?” He called, worry settling like a pit in his lower stomach. “Got you some stuff.”

When you didn’t reply to his call his worry grew deeper. He sped up his steps, nearly knocking over the bag of medicinal supplies he’d snagged as he tossed the paper bag onto your kitchen counter. His worry faded as he entered your living room, finding you draped over the expanse of your couch, arm draped over the side, fingers skimming the carpet below as you slept.

With a quiet laugh, he moved toward you, whispering a greeting as he scooped you into his arms. His scent was something you recognized instinctually, even in your fever-ridden mind. Your hands grasped at his jacket, face skewed up in a small grimace as he carried you down the hall toward your bedroom. It wasn’t often that Dallas was soft with you, he tried, but he was always a rugged man and it showed in his actions and thoughts.

“Real sick, huh?” He asked, voice barely above a murmur as he shifted near your bed, bending at the hip to help you lay down. You only mustered a nod in reply, body burning and mind nearly numb from the steady headache that coursed through your brain.

Your half-opened eyes watched as he kicked his shoes off, jeans following suit before he moved toward you, gently pushing you toward the center of your bed. You grumbled, causing him to stifle a laugh as he moved beside you, wrapping an arm around your middle.

“Grumpy.” He stated, words closer to a taunt than anything. You hadn’t the energy to fire back as you normally would, so you sufficed with a quick swat to his arm. One he laughed at after feigning being hurt, relenting in his attitude with a soft kiss to your temple. “Proving my point, y’know.”

Despite the nausea souring your stomach, you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled in your chest at his words. You wanted nothing more than to goof around with him as you normally did, but the most you could muster was a nod and a short-lived smile as you tried to quell your pounding brain with the warmth of his touch.

“Here-“ He huffed out, helping you to turn over. You pouted, your signature move whenever you were forced to do something you didn’t want to do, one that made Dallas roll his eyes. “It’ll help, shut up.”

You were about to complain until his hand slunk underneath your shirt, fingernails gently tracing along your spine. The touch was featherlight, goosebumps following wherever his touch went. An involuntary sigh fell from your lips as you sunk into the mattress, eyes fluttering shut, the only sound besides your breathing being a triumphant laugh from Dallas.

“Learned this from a girl.” He mumbled out through a yawn, the words causing you to look over your shoulder toward him with a scowl. He returned the look with a joking scorn of his own. “I was sixteen. So jealous.”

“Shut up.” You chuckled, scooting closer to him. His thumb brushed against the nape of your neck, fingers smoothing over the curve of your shoulder before trailing his fingertips back down your spine. His touch was soft, so incredibly soft. You’d hardly noticed you were falling asleep until you felt the warmth of your bedsheets pulled over you, followed by a chaste kiss to the nape of your neck.

Hours passed before you woke, at least you gathered it’d been hours due to the moonlight pouring in through your bedroom window and the absence of Dallas beside you. While your headache wasn’t as prominent as it had been earlier, nausea still made itself known in your stomach, seemingly exacerbated by your lack of eating. With a groan you pushed the bedsheets off of yourself, hands wiping the sleep from your eyes as your feet found the cool hardwood floor beneath you.

You’d half expected that Dallas had left, but the thought was wiped from your mind when you’d nearly tripped over his shoes that’d been perched at the end of your bed. As much as you wanted to be irritated over having tripped, you only felt relief over the fact that he’d stayed. The house felt warmer than before, a savory aroma wafting through the air - both most likely Dallas’s doing.

The television sounded from your living room, sports scores echoing down to your bedroom as you walked down the hallway, arms wrapped loosely around your middle. It wasn’t loud enough to be burdensome, roughly the volume you’d keep it whenever you were cooking and didn’t want to miss out on anything. As you rounded the corner into your living area you spotted Dallas in the kitchen, face a perfect picture of focus as he cooked something on your stovetop.

“Hey.” You murmured, causing him to jump. You laughed out an apology as you moved behind him, wrapping your arms around his middle as you rested your cheek against his back. He was always so warm, it even seemed to help your subtle headache. He reached his hand behind himself to pat your thigh, wordlessly acknowledging you as he continued cooking.

“Got this from the DX, didn’t realize it needed to be cooked.” His voice sounded almost defeated, but by the way the air smelled you gathered he’d done it right. You hummed in reply, placing a short kiss on his back before moving around to inspect his handy work.

“Most food does.” You chided, earning you a grunted-out laugh from Dallas. “It looks good, thank you.”

He gave you a brief smile, leaning over a fraction to grab the now-empty can before handing it to you. Somehow he’d snagged your favorite kind, or at least the type you tolerated the most. You couldn’t remember ever talking about soup with him, but it’d be on par for Dallas to remember something so small.

As if sensing your confusion, he responded with, “Last time you were sick you mentioned liking it. Figured you’d want it, y’know?”

It was sweet, sweet enough to leave you smiling despite the nausea. You pressed a kiss to his shoulder, not wanting to kiss his cheek or his lips in case what you had was contagious. He waved you off with feigned annoyance, moving over to your cabinet to grab a bowl before pouring out a serving for you. You peeked over his shoulder, soon taking his place as he moved over to your refrigerator to grab himself something to drink.

Before you could grab the porcelain bowl he’d swooped in front of you, shooting you a dirty look for even having considered carrying a bowl while you were sick. You followed beside him with a scoffed-out laugh, the television soon becoming louder as you both moved to sit down on the same couch you’d passed out on when you’d gotten home.

“Here-“ He muttered, giving you a moment to get yourself comfortable before handing over the bowl along with a water bottle. You gave him a brief smile in return, screwing off the top of the water bottle before downing a few mouthfuls.

You scooted closer to him, legs folded beneath yourself as you spooned some of the still-hot broth into your mouth, eyes glued to the television. He didn’t care enough about being sick to push you away, after all, you’d taken care of him when he’d had the stomach flu for nearly a week, so he let you rest against him as you both watched the game.

“Did you want to go to the doctor?” He asked after a moment, gaze flickering down to you. You thought for a moment before shaking your head, cooling off another spoonful of broth. He sighed, eyes rolling as he returned his attention to the television with a quiet, “Stubborn ass.”

“Expensive.” You retorted through a laugh. “Besides, I probably have the flu or a stomach bug. Don’t want to waste money on it.”

He lifted his hips then, freeing his wallet from his back pocket before plopping the leather down into your lap. You leaned forward, placing your bowl onto the coffee table before fumbling with his wallet. Whenever you’d come into financial trouble, Dallas had always been able to help. You’d never questioned it, knowing that he did risky things for money and to simply survive.

“Dallas-“ You started, finding your words quickly cut off with a hush from Dallas. He looked over to you, hand moving to brush back your hair as he responded with a gentle, “I’ve got it, don’t worry about it.”

That was that, you knew him well enough to know there was no use arguing with him. You were both stubborn, especially when it came to each other. You leaned up onto your knees, pressing a gentle kiss to his jaw before retrieving your bowl, and settling back into his side.

“I’ll pay you back.” You replied, words earning you a gruff laugh as Dallas shook his head.

“Just let me take care of you, doll.”

You relented, chewing at the inside of your cheek as you fought back a smile. You’d find a way to pay him back, maybe not with monetary means, but you’d find a way. For now, you’d savor the feeling of being curled into his side, both of you sucked into a sports game, truly comfortable in each other's presence.

A/N: More fluff!! I hope you guys enjoy this one! Thank you so much for the continued support and love you show me and my work, I appreciate you all so so much!! As always, you can find my work over on AO3 under the username, “Unscriptural.” Thank you again!

[otomes-and-tears]

♦ an unsung melody (is mine for safekeeping) (7/7) ♦

► tags/warnings: pregnancy, past character death, angst, childbirth

► words: 3812

► A/N: The long-awaited conclusion!

Part (01)  (02)  (03)  (04) (05) (06)

► Masterlist

“Oh, you’re finally home!”

Erika smiled, her voice carrying a cheerfulness that didn’t quite match the exhaustion in her eyes. It takes effort for her to stand up from their couch, waddling over to Nevra as he stood by the entrance of their little home.

Nevra rushes to close the short distance between them, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. His arms wrap tightly around her shoulders as he breathes her in, and his eyes flutter closed as he ground himself in her presence.

That was how Erika knew his day had been particularly difficult. 

With her due date approaching, and Eldarya’s growing unrest, Nevra more often than not would only creep into their new, shared home at odd hours of the night. If he came in at all.

Those days were usually the worst.  

The ones where she’d wake up in the morning and find the other side of the bed to be too cold. On the nights he did return, she could see how beaten down he seemed to be, carrying alone the weight of unspoken burdens. It has been a source of strife, lately. Nevra was too afraid of something going wrong to burden her with any more stress, and she refused to be so helpless, wanting to do anything to help.

“I would’ve gone over to you,” he murmured into her hair. “You didn’t need to get up.”

“I needed to move anyway,” Erika said lightly, squirming out of his embrace just enough to study his face, her eyes flickering over him to check for any signs of injury. “My back was starting to hurt from sitting so long.”

Nevra frowned, brushing her hair back with a tenderness that still made her heart flip. “I thought your back hurt if you stood too long?”

“That too.” She grimaced “Honestly, my back hurts regardless of what I do. My feet too— But having to rest so much is making me antsy.”

“I can tell.” Nevra locks the door behind him, double-checking all the locks to ensure the door is properly secured. Chrome complains about how often he has to herd you back home. Lately, just seeing you outside makes him nervous.

“You’re not that much better.” 

She chuckled. Despite it bordering on annoying, Nevra’s increasing protectiveness could be, on occasion, terribly endearing.

Karenn had taken some time to explain it: it was a vampire thing. Being this close to the due date, his instincts asked him to make sure she was somewhere safe and familiar when their child was born. He’d be more over-protective in the weeks following the birth, but at the very least his attention would also be focused on their baby instead of just breathing down her neck and stopping her from walking to their kitchen for a glass of water.

Personally, Erika believes Karenn made it up to justify his, and her , bouts of overprotectiveness. 

In truth, everyone around her had been on edge since she hit her third trimester.

The morbid part of Erika’s mind thinks they might be preparing for the possibility of death in childbirth.

Eyes linger on her even more often than before, and friends, old and new, seem a little too willing to stop by to reminisce. 

No one tells her, but she knows. She knows all too well.

Nevra’s hands find the small of her back, as he gently guides her to the couch again. 

He’s exhausted, but winding down with her at night is the best part of his day.

With her pregnancy, he has avoided missions that require too much travel. As Huang Hua’s right-hand man, it’s not like such things are often expected of him anyway. It’s easier to delegate tasks, but now that Erika is on the home stretch, and the baby can come at any moment now, Nevra has been spending long hours getting his affairs in order, ready to go on leave when their child is born.

He has no hope of being able to properly go on leave, but he wants to make sure the amount of work he has is minimal, instead of the mountains of paperwork he usually has to deal with.

“You know I can’t help it. And the closer we get to the date…” He trailed off, his eyes flicking to her rounded belly with a mixture of awe and anxiety. She doesn’t comment on it but could sense a nervous energy to him, simmering just below the surface, just barely suppressed.

“How are you feeling? Have they…”

He starts, the words winding down into nothingness as the hand previously on her back moves underneath her shirt, caressing the taut skin of her belly. Erika cringes slightly at the coldness of his hands. Nevra is likely doing this both to greet their child and as a ploy to warm his hands. He has always been attracted to her warmth, which is especially annoying when her base temperature has been up, she’s feeling unbearably hot all the time, but her beloved partner insists on being all over her like a sentient weighted blanket.

“The usual,” Erika replied, resting a hand over his. “They’re still too cosy in there to want to leave, making me miserable. I swear, If they don’t decide to come out soon, I’ll reach in and pull them out myself.”

Nevra’s lips quirked into a small smile, but his lilac eyes betrayed him, still soft with worry. He didn’t speak for a long moment, his thumb tracing slow, rhythmic circles across her skin, following any tiny movement he could feel in her belly. 

He used to complain about how sombre she could be. About all the what-ifs that tormented her, the dark jokes she made at her own expense as a consequence of her past, and all the terrible misfortune that coloured their time together.

Things got much better after her pregnancy progressed and she got too focused on their move, obsessing over every little detail of their shared home, to concern herself with these things. It felt like a burst of optimism, being allowed to focus on the future for once rather than being tethered to her painful past.

But as her due date approached, it seemed like things became sombre again.

The light dimmed, a heavy fog settling in between them. She could only walk towards the light, hoping that it would lead to something good, rather than more tragedy. 

“I started writing in the baby book again,” Erika said, breaking the silence. Her voice was light, almost casual, but there was a tremor underneath it. Nevra’s hand stills for just a moment before he forces himself to continue tracing shapes in her belly.

The rhythm is broken, however. Too stilted to seem natural.

“Just little things,” she murmured, looking away. “The way you hum when you’re stressed. How you always bring me fruit for breakfast, even though you hate how it smells, the lyrics to lullabies from back home…”

“It sounds like you’re writing a farewell letter,” Nevra said softly, his voice tight.

She swallows, hard, there’s a beat where the conversation dies, too long, too uncomfortable when things around him felt so easy beforehand.

“Maybe I am.”

His grip on her tightened, his fingers curling protectively over her stomach. She distantly recognises the shapes he’s tracing as protective runes.

“You shouldn’t,” Nevra pleas, and she can’t bring herself to look at him. “You’re going to be just fine.”

“I just… want them to know me,” she said, her voice breaking. “In case I don’t—”

“You will,” Nevra interrupted, his voice firm. “You will know them. You’ll be there for everything.  And if you can’t finish that stupid book, I will. I’ll fill every single page... They’ll know you, Erika.”

She nodded, her throat too tight to speak, and leaned into his shoulder. He held her, a little too tightly, as the baby stirred between them, both of them lost in their thoughts.

—

It starts gradually.

She never expected labour to be like this. It doesn’t really matter how many baby books she read, or how many times medics walked her through all the steps of labour, the idea of it that always seemed to come to mind came from all the movies and shows she watched back home.

Things always start suddenly. A sharp pain, then your water breaks, then all hell breaks loose. In a neat twenty-one minutes, you’re holding your perfect, healthy, clean baby.

Reality is much, much more painful than fiction.

For starters, there’s a lot more waiting involved.

Waiting and counting.

Waiting until the contractions get strong enough, waiting until they’re timeable. Waiting until they’re close enough apart and last for long enough. 

Waiting until the water breaks, until her cervix is dilated. Until they can give her something to manage the pain.

Waiting, waiting, waiting .

It’s worse than the nine months that came beforehand. The wait seems far longer, heavier, and more anxiety-inducing.

Nevra was there the whole time. Labour lasted far longer than either expected, but he refused to leave Erika’s side, or their shared home until his firstborn was safe in his arms. He must’ve snapped at Eweleïn three times, begging her to do anything to do anything to mitigate Erika’s pain, before she threatened to kick him out and only let him back inside once it was finished.

He was much more compliant, then.

The early morning hours blurred together as Erika gripped the edge of the bed, her breathing ragged. Each contraction tore through her with an intensity that made the world tilt, and yet it wasn’t the pain that filled her with dread—it was the knowledge that this might be the end of the road.

The room was silent, save for the occasional rustle of fabric and Eweleïn’s hushed instructions. Erika can only barely process the flurry of movement around her as nurses and healers rush into position, getting vials filled with colourful potions into a table and preparing the station where her child is going to be examined. Why they hadn’t bothered to do so in the hours she was waiting for her cervix to dilate enough for her to be able to push was beyond her.

Erika’s laboured breaths filled the air as she clung to Nevra’s hand, her grip tight as she bordered on desperation. The birth had been harder than anyone expected, threaded with extreme caution. Her mind felt too hazy to properly process any words that weren’t “ push” and the vague notion that she had lost a little too much blood. 

She was exhausted and hungry by too many hours of labour and in terrible pain. Nevra whispered soft assurances into her skin, which made her feel a little better, even if she couldn’t understand them.

“Almost there, Erika,” 

Eweleïn said, her voice firm but gentle, though even she looked strained. As exhausted by the experience as they all were.

Erika nodded, her hair plastered to her forehead with sweat. She couldn’t waste energy on words. All she could think about was the fragile life she was bringing into a world that had never shown her mercy.  

“You’re doing amazing,” Nevra said, his voice trembling as he pressed a kiss to her damp forehead. “Just a little longer, sweetheart. I’m right here.”

She nodded, her grip tightening on his hand. 

“Nevra,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “If I don’t—”

“Please,” he cut her off, his voice sharper than he intended. He softened immediately, brushing her hair back, guilt flashing in his eyes. “You’ll be just fine. You’re stronger than anyone I’ve ever known, and you’ve come so far..”

Erika closed her eyes as another contraction hit, her scream muffled against his chest.

Eweleïn’s voice broke through the tension.

“One more push, Erika. You’re almost there.”

Part of her wanted to scream at her old friend. It seemed like she was insisting that it was just one more push for hours. 

With a final, desperate cry, Erika bore down with all the strength she had left, and then there was silence. 

For one agonizing moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, Erika’s heart pounding in her chest as a familiar dread washed over her, until the piercing, shrill, wail of her newborn shattered the stillness.

It’s like they all breathe a sigh of relief. 

Her body slumps back into the pillows, finally allowed to relax after what felt like an interminable effort, but she is still trembling from the aftermath.

Then she cries.

Out of relief they both shared, that the worst was over. That she managed to overcome the biggest hurdle and they both pulled through. All those months of dread, all those nagging thoughts that tainted every happy moment were finally proven wrong.

Nevra let out a choked laugh, his own eyes wet as Eweleïn finally handed the baby to Erika.

Her hold on the newborn is a little awkward, but with her Eweleïn’s assistance, she’s able to hold the baby securely in her weak limbs. Her dear friend wipes away her tears with a proud smile, holding back her own tears through a thin veil of professionalism.

"It's a girl"

The elf announces, her giddiness is as infectious as her smile. Eweleïn lingers around the new parents for a brief moment, the three old friends relishing in the victory of a battle well-fought, before she leaves them, caught up again in the flurry of activity inside of the room. Their time with the newborn right now is limited, before she's weighed, cleaned and thoroughly examined, but Erika is glad to have this little moment of privacy. To be inside of this perfect little bubble with Nevra and the child she finally gets to meet.

The vampire regards them both with awe, his eyes lighting up as he watches their tiny, bloody little baby squirm in her mother’s arms. 

“You did it,” he murmured, his voice raw with relief. “You’re both here. You’re both safe.”

Maybe in a few years, when this is all long past them, Erika will manage to feign being offended at his blatant disbelief, but right now, she echoes the sentiment. 

They’re both there, and safe .

She had grown too used to things being good, too good , and then being ripped away from her.

In her eyes, the past few months, where she got her life back with Nevra, was an anomaly. She lived in fear, waiting for her time to run out, for the inevitable other shoe to drop, for another world-ending event to wipe away all of those she had loved.

But now she holds her baby close. Her precious little girl, with her father’s pointy ears and her mum’s nose, allowing herself to enjoy the moment with no reservations. No catastrophising. Even if it doesn’t last, and the fear of their future crushes her again, she allows herself this one thing.

The weight of her survival was heavy, but for this moment, it was worth it.

For her.

—

The stars were scattered across the night sky as Erika sat on the edge of the cliff overlooking the forest, weeks later. The baby, swaddled and asleep, was cradled safely in her arms. The aengel had insisted on being left alone, though Nevra had hovered like a shadow at the edge of her vision, reluctant to leave her or their daughter’s side for even a moment.

She allows him to walk the familiar path with them, a few steps behind. It’s a little game— He can join, just as long as he stays out of her view. If she spots him directly before they reach their destination, he needs to go home.

There isn’t much one can do with a child this new, but Erika manages. As soon as she could, she started taking her baby on little walks around the HQ, strapped to her chest, covered in soft clothes she hated to wear. Her walks usually happened at night, when the baby couldn’t stop crying and she needed to do something to keep herself sane when everyone else was asleep, and they were both away from prying eyes and well-meaning advice she frankly did not want.

She started by walking to the centenary tree, sitting by her own statue, talking to an old friend who was long gone, hoping the dim lights and her soft voice would soothe her child to rest. Later, when she was strong enough, her feet took her to the same cliffside that had shaped so much of her recent life.

Erika was no longer fragile from the delivery, but she wasn’t whole either.

The same powers that had once healed her so quickly now seemed sluggish, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something about them had changed , evolved, much like everything else in her life.

Her bond with Leiftan still existed, and on the worst nights she could still sense him, sending her comfort in the only way he knew how, but he had mostly blocked her off. Her senses had grown mostly attuned to her child, helping her understand her daughter’s needs without fumbling as much as she feared she would. 

It’s strange to think that she’s a mother, now.

It only feels real now that her baby is in her arms, but it’s still an adjustment to be given this new title, to the way that people now perceive her.

Nevra joined her without a word, sitting close enough that their shoulders touched. He said nothing at first, allowing her a moment of quiet if she wishes, or to tell her what has been bothering her.

He just wanted to be nearby.

“Funny, right?” Erika’s voice cuts through the night, barely above a whisper, not wanting to wake their child. “We were sitting here, seven months ago. In this exact spot. And I told you I was pregnant.”

He smiles, almost despite himself, filled with a sudden nostalgia. She knows he’s just as exhausted as she is.

“The best, most terrifying night of my life.” 

Nevra announces, which makes Erika laugh, almost despite herself.

“You didn’t seem scared .”

“I was.” He admits “I still am.”

Why wouldn’t he be, after all?

Parenthood was scary. The moments leading up to it were, and the reality hit her much worse.

She loved her daughter more than words could say, but sometimes she felt like she had a hard time truly bonding with her. Feeling like herself again.

It’s a strange thought, that defined so much of her time after she woke up from her sacrifice. Others perceived her as a saviour, as a living legend.

The last Aengel.

Her friends regarded her as a long-lost friend, someone they loved but couldn’t quite remember. An echo of a different time.

She was always so lost in the different expectations. In all the titles she was given, and how much they clashed with the reality of who she is. Or at least she perceived herself as being.

The truth, she found, is that she, herself, doesn’t know the definitive answer.

Perhaps it was presumptuous to once think she did.

She’s a mixture of everything and nothing at all. Beyond all the suffocating titles, the weight of expectations, her fears and her story, she’s Erika .

The only way to feel like herself is to be herself. To stop pretending like she’s okay and like she isn’t afraid for the sake of others, to stop acting like the perfect sacrifice. The heroine they all craved.

It’s who she wants her daughter to know her as. It’s something she’d known for a long time, what was harder was to be that person, not just simply write down those words in a journal.

“She deserves more than this,” 

Erika said finally, voice barely above a whisper.

“More than what?”

Nevra tilted his head. 

“More than a mother who will probably leave her before she learns how to walk,” Erika replied, bitterness lacing her words. “More than a father who has to juggle the world’s problems with raising her.”

Nevra didn’t flinch. He had always been steady like that, even when everything else felt like it was crumbling. He was just as scared as she was, she often reminded herself, and only recently had grown comfortable in expressing those fears to her.

“You’ve survived everything thrown at you so far,” he said, his voice firm but kind. “I know you don’t want to be the saviour again, but you’ll do it. Because you’re you.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

She looked at her daughter’s face. As how her plump cheeks are squished against her mother’s chest, deeply asleep, so serene, so full of life, and felt her heart ache. How could she bring herself to love this fiercely again, knowing it could be taken from her in a second?

Nevra rested his hand over hers, where it lay against the baby’s form. 

“She has all she needs, Erika. She has parents who love her, and people from the HQ and beyond who’d lay down their lives for her in a second if asked.” That makes her chuckle. “And most of all, I know that if something were to happen to you, you’d fight like hell to come back to us. You have before, back when you had much less to fight for.”

He said simply, the weight of his sincerity breaking through her walls. He’s right, she knows he is. She just needed to accept it.

She closed her eyes, letting the tears come.

When the sun rose, Erika stood at the edge of the forest, her daughter in Nevra’s arms as he waited nearby, shielding the baby’s eyes from the bright light. The horizon blazed with gold, and for just a moment, it felt like clarity.

It was her lighthouse, her way out of the fog that obscured her vision, out of the darkness and weariness that had once consumed her.

Erika spent so long fearing her death that it was hard to accept that, for once, she was allowed to live.

Things wouldn’t always be easy, and the calm she now knew wouldn’t last forever, but there was no use in suffering for what might be and losing all the joy of the life that she painstakingly built for herself. She had her happy ending all along, but in her fear, she didn’t even realise it.

She was tired of losses and of every single milestone being tarnished by her fear of the future. So, for now, she looked to the present. 

Erika turned back to them, her family , and smiled through her weariness.

“Just a little longer,” 

She whispered, more to herself than anyone else. When she smiles, she finds it to be sincere.

The road behind them was filled with darkness, perhaps, but she looked to the light that guided them. 

For her child. 

For Nevra. 

And most of all, for herself.

[dreamwritersworld]

Tell me. Part 2(Sully brother x reader)

It was quite strange to Y/n. She was still her and yet Neteyam looked different to her. How could he change so much? They were great friends and would’ve been even greater lovers. Yet now as she stood she saw a stranger.

It was early in the afternoon when they had begun hunting. The first task they were given was to clear the area. In which Y/n had no trouble doing but the awkward silence bothered her. Neteyam never bothered to properly pull her aside and apologize. So in return she never threw herself at him to give him a chance. Yet they were forced to work together.

“Tsk! Tsk! Y/n!”

Y/n quickly turned to the unfamiliar voice.

“Oh..Tsu’ti. Hello! How are you?”

“Good! Very good! If you don’t mind, I was if you can be my partner instead of Ou’itan!”

“Is he ok with th-“

“Yes! And im sure Neteyam would be ok with this exchange right Neteyam-“

“We’re here to search and hunt Tsu’ti, not make friends-“ (Neteyam)

“Right! Well I just thought a change of scenery would be good for us soldiers-“

“Get back to work. That’s an ord-“

“Neteyam! Please settle down. No need to throw orders yet as though you are king.” (Y/n)

“Y/n that’s not my intention. I just meant we should be hunting right now-“

“Correct. We should be and I’d be glad to take your offer Tsu’ti!”

“Really?!”

“Yes of course! I’m sure Neteyam would do just fine without me. In fact, I think Ou’itan would make a brilliant partner for him.”

“Wait Y/n. Don’t leave-“

“No worries, Neteyam. You’ll make do without me.”

Neteyam watched as Y/n walked right past him. A knife ripped through his heart the further she went. This was the first time she had accepted any type of courtship from someone besides him or Lo’ak. Sure this was a small gesture but Neteyam understood the intentions of Tsu’ti.

Lo’ak was the only other boy he had allowed to feel this type of betrayal from. His brother was everything to him. He’d guard his feelings for him. Plus, Neteyam foolishly believed Lo’ak knew almost everything about the girl he spent time with every day.

Once hunting was over. Neteyam walked out of the woods to find Y/n riveting over the amount of food they had retrieved. She had practically praised Tsu’ti for being a great hunter beside her and all the young boy and girl could do was laugh at their greatest moments.

The clan were more than full for dinner that night and Jake had noticed the grand meal and approached Y/n about it.

“You guys work fantastic together! I’ve got to say Y/n you and Neteyam have always worked well together but it’s been weeks since you’ve outdone yourself this time!”

“Me and Neteyam? Oh..so sorry sir but this wasn’t me and Neteyam’s doing.”

“Oh..then whose was it?”

“Me and Tsu’ti! He’s great!”

“Wow! You guys definitely focused on being the best hunters then!”

Y/n laughed at Jake’s shock and bid her goodbyes before settling down besides the sully siblings.

There Neteyam’s head hung low and disappointed. He hadn’t expected Y/n to praise Tsu’ti the way she used to with Neteyam.

“Neteyam what’s wrong? Eat.” (Kiri)

“Nothing sister. I’m just tired.”

“What extra training did you guys do?” (Kiri)

“Nothing extra at all today. It was pretty light!” (Y/n)

“Ahh well I’d expect the queen of hunting to be exhausted! Yet here you stand while Neteyam’s falters!” (Lo’ak)

Y/n laughed at his jokes content in the fact that she had done a good job with Tsu’ti.

“Yes well me and Tsu’ti worked great together-“

“Tsu’ti? Wait w-why Tsu’ti?” (Lo’ak)

“He offered! He asked to exchange partners and i agreed!”

“Oh..” (Lo’ak)

The young brother grew silent looking over at his brother frustrated that he hadn’t disagreed to the other young man’s ambitions. It was clear what Tsu’ti tried to do yet Y/n was blind.

“Yea well it can’t happen again.”

The young girls looked at Neteyam shocked.

“Excuse me?” (Y/n)

“Well I just mean that you are my partner and it was assigned like that so it should stay like that.”

Neteyam’s actions threw Kiri over a cliff. She couldn’t understand why Neteyam continued to make himself seem like an idiot. He clearly was trying to guard their young brothers emotions. Had the brothers made a promise ? Had Lo’ak asked Neteyam to help him with Y/n? What a pair of idiots.

“Partners? Yet you haven’t spoken to me in weeks.”

Y/n picked at her food. Clearly uncomfortable with Neteyam’s attitude.

“We do speak. We’re speaking right now Y/n.”

“You’re unbelievable-“

“I am? You’ve ignored me for weeks as well Y/n.”

“Ignored? How about you acknowledge your action first..Now if you excuse me, im not hungry.”

Y/n got up quickly walking amongst the clan in a rush. Again, Neteyam decided to make what feel like a mockery out of Y/n and he had zero shame doing so.

“You better follow her Neteyam. That wasn’t right.” (Kiri)

“You’ve upset her brother. Apologize just say you want to be friends again.”

Kiri noticed how Lo’ak emphasized the friends part as if it was important whether Neteyam wanted more than friends..

“Fine.”

Neteyam rushed to follow Y/n, walking away from his siblings and clan.

“Y/n! Y/n! Please listen to me-“

“Why should I-“

Neteyam grabbed Y/n arm and spun her around to make sure she saw every word he meant.

“I was hurt and I was wrong. And im sorry.”

“I don’t forgive you. You are not forgiven-“

“Y/n please-“

“Don’t. You can’t do this to me. You can’t say those things and act that way with me as if Im nothing.”

“I’m sorry and I need you to understand-“

“You keep saying that like it means something.”

“I’m sorry-“

“I don’t believe you. I don’t believe you anymore.”

Y/n made sure to say each word slowly, ensuring that Neteyam understood her pain.

“I-I don’t know what to do anymore Y/n.”

“Stop denying me.”

“What?”

“Stop avoiding me. It’s not fair to me. You want me to remain your partner yet we don’t speak-“

“Well Y/n it’s work. We don’t speak because we’re hunting-“

“Neteyam stop. Stop saying that as an excuse. We’ve always spoken. You’ve always spoken to me inside and out of training.”

“We just- I just haven’t had time.”

“Spending too much time with Ma’eve perhaps?”

“Yes. But that’s not why.”

“Yes it is. Because slowly but surely you got rid of me. And now that another boy asks to share his time you suddenly need me?”

Y/n stared at him in disbelief. It was clear he was just being stupid. He was hiding something.

“That’s not true because I’ve shared time with Lo’ak!”

“…what?”

“I mean you’ve spent time with all my other siblings so technically this isn’t the case of me being upset when it comes to you sharing time with others!”

Now this was where Y/n was sure Neteyam had lost it.

“I-ok neteyam. I’m done arguing. I’m tired of arguing. Just please stop avoiding me. Whatever you’re hiding just stop.”

“I’m not hiding anything.”

Y/n could see right through him. she knew something was up and she hadn’t known of it.

“Whatever you say. Just stop all of it please.”

“Ok..”

Neteyam watched Y/n closely as she created distance between the two having notice they got incredibly close.

“So what have you been up to..”

That was a start of a very long night. There the two warriors taking a seat closely to each other. It had made Neteyam forget all about his promise with Lo’ak. He had promised to help him with Y/n and to keep distance so that he’d have more of a chance to catch her. Yet being friends still wouldn’t hurt…right? 

Indeed it did. At least on Neteyam’s part. Neteyam couldn’t understand his emotions. He’s always loved, cared and catered to Y/n. There was no one else he had in mind…well all but one..Ma’eve.

*neteyam’s memory*

“The forest tonight is truly beautiful isn’t it?”

“Yes it is Ma’eve it always is.”

Neteyam began laughing at the scenery, recalling old memories as a child.

“Whats so funny Neteyam?”

“It’s just…Y/n, my siblings and I used to run around here as children and I remember once she stupidly slipped on mud-“

“Who?”

“Y/n! The strongest child and yet she faltered! She couldn’t believe she had fallen she stayed in the mud for a full minute just shocked! Then she threw the mud at Lo’ak and spider for making fun of the situation-“

“Sounds pretty bratty to me. I mean isn’t she yk?”

“What? Isn’t she what?”

“Bratty. She thinks because she’s the strongest and quickest female that she can control and question whoever.”

For a moment, Neteyam stared at Ma’eve shocked. How could something so innocent turn into something filthy? It bothered him how easily it was for her to tear Y/n into two.

“No that’s not true. She takes pride in herself and the clan. If she questions it’s because she’s concerned not because she’s degrading someone but because she’s trying to help-“

“Help? Well she’s one pester too much.”

“Ma’eve where is this coming from? Y/n doesn’t bother or care to make you upset.”

“Well she does when she constantly tries to make plans when we have things to attend to”

“We’ve just grown up together and spent every day together so something like that is normal-“

“Normal? Tsk she’s so blind that she doesn’t even see Lo’ak likes her. She doesn’t ask about him as much as she offers to hang out with you.”

“Well we’ve always been closer I guess..”

“Yea? And what do you think Lo’ak will think of that? You think he’d like that his crush is out and about with his brother?”

“I- I don’t know. I don’t think much of it.”

“That’s the issue. When you’re with her you don’t think. I mean she doesn’t even have parents. If she was like anyone else she’d be considered an outsider. A weakling. She has no real guardian or person to guide her-“

“Eywa is there to guide her Ma’eve. Y/n’s always had us.”

Ma’eve brushed the topic right off her and continued to talk about the forest and the livelihood of the clan. Yet Neteyam couldn’t stand her or hear her. It bothered him to his core that Ma’eve disregarded Y/n. She was everything to…him.

That idea terrified him. It meant all the emotions he’s been pushing away were real. And that what Lo’ak had asked of him was true. When Lo’ak asked for Neteyam to step back from Y/n he couldn’t believe it….

“So as you know Y/n and I are friends…”

“Yes as we all are. We grew up with her you idiot!”

Neteyam laughed at his younger brothers awkward statement, not figuring anything of it.

“Yea well as our friendship grew..well as of recently I began to look at her differently.”

Neteyam froze from sharpening his fathers weapons. He prayed to Eywa that whatever Lo’ak said next wouldn’t be that-

“I like her! I really like her and she’s perfect!”

“oh.”

“Oh what? I mean isn’t this good! I finally found someone in the clan who I can relate to and confide-“

“Relate and confide? So you guys have been getting closer? When? I haven’t noticed..”

“For these past two nights she’s been coming with me and Spider at night! We take flights and talk about anything and everything at night!”

“Brother you can’t do that-“

“It’s a secret and we don’t go far trust me. As much as we love exploring, Y/n won’t allow it she mentions how you wouldn’t like it…then that got me thinking. Since you guys are such close friends right?”

“Yes..”

“I was just going to ask if you can you know back off a little-“

“What? That’s-“

“Wait! Let me finish! I was just asking that because I really would like to be closer than just us hanging out in groups. I mean no offense but she always is with you so I just realized we haven’t hung out exclusively.”

“That’s absurd brother. You can’t just ask that of me.“

“Why not I thought you were just friends? Please brother do this for me.”

Neteyam looked at his younger brothers contemplating weather or not to agree. Can’t Y/n just be the one thing he got to himself? But then again this was for his little brother...

“I just don’t like that condition..this is the one time I’m asking you not to ask me of anything-“

“No! No please Neteyam you have to understand! Y/n wouldn’t mind at all. Just do this for me!”

“ok…”

Neteyam’s body language was so obvious. He was clearly disappointed in himself. He couldn’t deny his brother even if it was everything to him. Neteyam felt like there was a fist wrapped around his heart when he was with Y/n. Strangely for him it didn’t feel like hurt it just felt like he needed her and to be separated means she’d feel ripped away

*

As days went on he did let go of Ma’eve slowly. He realized that for him it was easy. As horrible as it sounds it was because she wasn’t Y/n. Of course unfortunately he was too scared and couldn’t voice this.

!🩵!

[im-a-wonderling]

Eyes, Part 5 ~ Anakin Skywalker

Summary: Knowing if she makes the wrong move, her love or her life will end catastrophically, Y/N grapples with the decision before her.

Warnings: unedited

Word count: 3.1k

Eyes masterlist

Vader’s cloak disappeared around the corner, and you sank to your knees, trying to hold the emotion in, to keep yourself from fracturing. But the harder you tried to contain it, the greater the pain grew. 

Finally, a choked sob broke through your lips, and the dam broke. 

All the heartache of the last few months came crashing down. Your whole life had been suspended since Order 66, as if you’d died with all the other Jedi. There were some days where you wondered if you should’ve, if only so that you didn’t have to live on in this way. If you’d died that day, you never would’ve learned what happened to Anakin, and you’d die believing that somehow, the two of you would be reunited. 

But this? 

This was the height of cruelty.

The tears fell like falling stars, and on them, you wished you could rewrite the past. It would have been better to have died than to live through tragedy such as this.

Vader didn’t come back.

You waited in the escape pod bay for a long time, pulling yourself together in preparation for his return. But your only company were the stormtroopers guarding the door.

Is that it then? you wondered as you finally got to your feet and traipsed back to your chambers, the stormtroopers never more than two paces away. Had Vader given up? Was he simply going to turn you over to the Emperor? 

The thought normally would’ve made you seize with fear. Instead, you sat on the bed, staring at nothing. 

If this was the end, then it was the end. What could possibly be the point in fighting it anymore? 

Hope had fluttered away with its fragile wings, probably somewhere where it could be acted upon instead of clung to like an inch of rope in a deep, dark chasm.

You had no lightsaber after Vader sliced it in two, no supplies, nothing of value. Even if you somehow managed to ditch your stormtrooper escort long enough to get to the escape pod bay, it would be naive of you to think Vader wouldn’t send ships after you, or come after you himself.

There was no way out.

In a few hours, you would die at the hands of the Emperor. Your only comfort was to know that you would be freed from this miserable existence and join with the thousands of other Jedi before you. 

The door of your chamber slid open.

You didn’t bother getting up because it wasn’t Vader. You couldn’t feel his darkness through the Force. 

“Food for the prisoner.”

You turned your head just in time to see a stormtrooper set the tray down on the nightstand by your bed.

“I’m not hungry,” you replied, your voice tired and soft. “Take it away.”

The doors shut, leaving you alone with the stormtrooper, who didn’t move. “Didn’t you hear me?” you asked crossly. “I don’t want it!”

“In twenty minutes,” the stormtrooper said quietly, “right when this ship passes Asmall, the Rebel Alliance is going to attack.”

You leapt to your feet, staring at him. 

“You’ve already found the escape pod bay. I’ll incapacitate the guards outside your door. Get yourself to the bay and off the ship, and the Rebels will take care of the rest.” He gave a quick nod before opening your door.

You almost called after him, but the sight of the two troopers outside your door made you stop. 

The door slid closed, and you sat on your bed, heart thumping and your hands shaking in response to the sudden rush of hope. Was this a trick? Or was it real? Even if it was a trick, you decided, dying while trying to get away was better than dying for the Emperor’s amusement. 

You felt the darkness a mere moment before the door slid open again. You stayed seated where you were, staring up at Vader.

Taking his time, Vader stepped into the room. 

The door remained open, allowing the two stormtroopers outside to follow him in. 

Your heart picked up. Vader always seemed to want privacy for your conversations before…so what did it mean if he no longer did now? 

“This is…your last chance.” 

The unasked question hung in the air, as if Vader already knew your answer and wanted to draw out the time before he received it. 

You eyed the stormtroopers warily. For all you knew, if you refused, they were prepared to drag you off and throw you in an actual cell again. If you said yes, did you have a better chance of still getting away whenever the Rebel Alliance started attacking the ship? If you said yes, even just as a way of stalling until you got away, would you be able to stomach it? 

Even your heart aflame with the hope of getting away, you knew your answer. “I won’t.”

Vader took a long, rattling breath. “Why not?”

“You know why.” You got to your feet and walked to the other side of the bed, putting more distance in between you and them. 

“You don’t want to take part…in any more loss of life.” Vader stepped closer. “But you were willing…to kill me…when we fought.” 

Blindsided, you took a step back. “I–”

“I felt it…you cannot deny…the darkness.”

“It’s different. The galaxy would be better off if I killed you.” 

One of the stormtroopers behind Vader shifted slightly. Vader addressed them without turning: “Stand guard over the door.”

The stormtroopers scurried away. Fear started wafting through the room as you held your breath, waiting for what Vader would do. 

Vader hit the button for the door with his fist, and it slid closed. 

He remained where he was, with his back to you. “Y/N…I…”

Silence fell, but you knew it wasn’t because he was trying to catch his breath. It was because he didn’t know what to say. You blinked, and Vader was suddenly in front of you, without so much as a whisper of his boots across the floor. Your breath caught in your chest, for you’d never seen Vader move that quickly. “If you do not…join the Empire–”

“I will be killed,” you whispered. The Force inside you pulsed in response to the fear that rushed through you. But fear had never been a stranger. “So be it.”

“Does our history…mean nothing?” Even though his voice hadn’t changed, you felt the current of desperation in the words.

“If you are not Anakin, then why should our history mean anything?” you argued. “Why should I trust you? If you’re not Anakin, why would I have any reason to join you?”

It was disturbing to know from Vader’s silence that he was struggling to compose himself yet being completely unable to see it. “Because…I love you.”

“Anakin is the only man who ever loved me, and you say he is dead.”

“Anakin died…when this body burned.”

“Oh, I think the true Anakin died long before that body burned.” Your soft words fell like bombs, and you could’ve sworn the room darkened. “It doesn’t matter if you’re him or you’re not.” You swallowed hard, trying to keep your nerve. “Anakin was a sith. Darth Vader is a sith. Nothing changes.” 

Silence fell once more. 

Vader remained still, and while the Force seemed to be swarming around him, your head was clear and your heart was resolute. 

Then his arms were moving, and you shut your eyes, convinced you were finally going to feel the famed chokehold around your neck. And in spite of yourself, you were so grateful that it would end at his hands and not the Emperor’s. 

But instead of a pressure on your throat, you felt two arms wrap around you. There was no warmth or softness to this body, and when the arms pulled you into Vader’s chest, the electronic panel there dug into your torso. You’d never been held by a droid, but you imagined this is what it would feel like. You were about to pull away from his embrace when you heard it.

Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump.

You squeezed your eyes shut, and a solitary tear fell down your cheek as you sucked in a ragged breath. You could hear Anakin’s…Vader’s heart. The heart you’d once longed for, received, and then lost. 

One of Vader’s hands came to the back of your neck, cradling you just like Anakin used to do. “Does my love…mean nothing?”

You drew away from him, not bothering to hide the tears. “Attachment isn’t love,” you said, your voice shaking. “But I guess Anakin Skywalker always struggled with that.” 

Vader cocked his head, and you braced yourself for the vehement response that he wasn’t Anakin. But when he spoke, his voice was strangely soft.

“You’ve lost everything…but your life…and you are willing…to give it away?”

“My life is not the only thing I have left,” you breathed.

You felt it then, radiating off of Vader so powerfully, it almost stripped you of semblance.

Hope.

He thought you talked of him.

Your heart screamed in agony, but you shoved it aside as you had always been taught. “I am a Jedi.” You held your head high. “And to lose that would be a fate worse than death.”

Through the Force, a surge of darkness rippled through the space between you. Vader shifted, a long distorted exhale escaping the mask. “If you don’t want…to be with me…that’s fine. Just don’t make…a rash decision.”

“It’s not rash.” You tightened your grip on the lightsaber you held behind your back, the lightsaber you’d grabbed from his belt when he hugged you. “Believe me, I’ve thought this through.”

“Why don’t you–” The ship around you shuddered slightly, and Vader twisted to look at the door.

There wouldn’t be a better moment: it was now or never. 

You almost brought out the lightsaber when the doors slid open, revealing a stormtrooper. “Sir, we’re under attack!”

Vader stormed over to the door, and the stormtrooper lowered his head. “Stay here…watch the prisoner.”

With that, Vader swept away. 

You eyed the stormtrooper. Was this the same trooper who’d delivered the message or was this a different one? If it wasn’t, was this still the best opportunity you were going to get? You had Vader’s lightsaber, but you didn’t want to raise it against any stormtroopers if you could help it. 

The stormtrooper standing guard poked their head in. “What are you–”

In a flash, the first stormtrooper knocked the butt of his blaster against his partner’s head, and his partner crumbled. “Go!” 

No sooner had he uttered the word, you burst out of the room, sprinting down the hallway for the escape pods.

A pair of patrolling stormtroopers turned as you caught up to them. Taking a leaf out of your unknown hero’s book, you brought Vader’s lightsaber down on their heads, sending them to the floor in unconscious heaps. Grabbing one of their fallen blasters, you tucked it into the waistband of your pants. 

When you caught sight of another pair headed towards you, you ducked into a closet, waited until they’d passed, and quickly continued on. 

Running towards the final corner to turn before you reached your escape, you scoffed at the engineer who’d designed this ship for designing your temporary bedroom’s proximity to the escape pod bay. Heart pounding and lungs fighting for breath, you rounded the corner, ready to run into one and get off the ship.

Except the bay wasn’t empty. 

“Where do you…think you’re going?”

Vader stood in between you and the pods. 

The ship shuddered again, and you wondered what conflict Vader was willfully missing to be here. “I’m leaving,” you said shortly, seeing no point in being subtle. Anyone with half a brain would be able to figure out what you were up to, and Vader wasn’t that dim-witted. 

“Stay.” 

You breathed against the stab of pain. 

If there was ever a moment to fight, to devote everything you had and everything you were to combat, it was now. Your life depended on it. 

You ignited his lightsaber, cringing at the red but holding tight. “No.”

Vader didn’t move at first, the red light throwing harsh shadows onto his black armor. Then, he slowly raised his hand, not outward as if to strangle you, but to brandish something. 

Your heart leapt into your throat.

“My lightsaber,” you whispered. 

The lightsaber he’d made for you what felt like ages ago, in another life. The one he’d split in half a few days ago. And the one he’d apparently fixed for you.

“Y/N…please…stay.”

You lifted your eyes to the ceiling, keeping the tears and fears at bay and clutching onto every shred of strength and self-respect you possessed. “If I have nightmares for the rest of my life, so be it.” You looked back at Vader, and a tear finally fell. “But I need to be able to live with myself when I wake.” 

The moment the final word left you, you pulled out the blaster and fired.

The harsh sound of the blast leaving the chamber barely reached your ears before Vader ignited your blue lightsaber and deflected it. 

Less than a breath and he was upon you. The red and blue light flashing through the bay with the exchanged lightning quick strikes made your eyesight a little blurry. Every clash of the lightsabers was like a slice to the heart, but your life was on the line, and you knew it. 

Vader lifted your saber above his head, and you were almost too late in lifting his to meet it. 

The two of you grappled, his might pushing against you, forcing you backwards until you hit one of the power stations. You were trapped between cold metal and Vader, moments left before you lost. 

So you did the only thing you could think of. 

You hooked your leg around his knee. 

Vader went down to the floor with a thud, and your lightsaber flew from his hand, the blue light disappearing as it deactivated. You stood above him, holding his red saber aloft as you gazed down at him. 

You could deal the fatal blow. 

You could rid the galaxy of the evil which you might’ve had a hand in creating. 

But did you have the strength to strike him down?

In your hesitation, you knew the answer to that. 

“Y/N…” Vader’s voice was pleading. Did he plead for mercy? For death? Or for you? 

Your hesitation lasted too long. Vader slowly got to his feet. You held his lightsaber out, urging him to stay back, but his helmet didn’t so much as dip to look at his own weapon pointed at his gut.  “Y/N, please.” 

Before your hesitation could cost you your life and freedom, you turned off the lightsaber and hurled it. With the power of the Force behind it, the lightsaber flew through the air like a miniature torpedo, colliding with his helmet. 

Vader stumbled, and you leapt into action before he could recover. 

Sprinting faster than you ever had in your life, you reached the pod. Heart beating wildly, you slammed your hand onto the button to close the hatch. As the doors slid closed, Vader reached out towards you. “Y/N!”

The pod ejected, and the momentum threw you to the floor.

For a moment, you just lay there, mind whirling with the events that just occurred. But then your mind caught up with the present, and you scrambled to your feet, sitting in the seat to put your hands on the controls.

-

Vader burst onto the flight deck. “The rebels.”

The general heard the unspoken question. “We’re holding them off, sir, but it would be unwise to linger without back-up.”

“We must–” Vader started to say.

“Sir!” one of the navigators called to the general. “One of our escape pods was launched!”

“Any life forms aboard?” the general asked.

“One, sir, but the authentication was hijacked!”

“The prisoner!” the general said, turning to Vader. “Sir, we’ll go after her. Dispatch the TIE–”

“No.”

The general paused, giving Vader a strange look. “Sir?”

Vader gripped Y/N’s lightsaber, the one he made for her. The one he fixed for her. The last remnant of her he possessed. “Get us to Coruscant…before the rebels…finish us off.”

“But sir–” Vader advanced on the general, who wisely backed away. “Yes, sir, of course, sir.” The general turned back to the pilot, his throat rippling as he swallowed. “Prepare for the jump to lightspeed!”

Vader left the deck. 

His body ached and burned as usual, but somehow, the pain felt new.

He found himself, standing in front of the window in the escape pod bay again. He watched the escape pod grow smaller and smaller. The ship whined, signaling the jump to lightspeed was near, but he kept his eyes fixed on the pod until the Star Destroyer lurched forward and the stars blurred.

-

There must’ve been some reason the Star Destroyer wasn’t firing at you, but you didn’t have time to wonder. You needed to put as much distance between you and the ship as possible. The sooner you reached the surface of Asmall, the more time you had to find a decent hiding spot.

You’d reached the planet’s atmosphere before you dared to look at the radar. To your astonishment, no TIE fighters pursued you. You twisted in your seat to look out the window in the back of the cramped pod. 

The Star Destroyer was gone.

Your hands shook on the controls as you swiveled back to face the planet. 

You kept glancing back, certain the Star Destroyer would come back, but it stayed gone. 

You’d lost all your supplies, including both Vader’s lightsaber and your own. All you had were the clothes on your back and the near worthless escape pod. 

And your life.

Darth Vader had killed countless people, even people on his own side. But he’d let you go, perhaps in more ways than one. Perhaps…perhaps he was still alive. Perhaps, in the heart of Vader, there still lived a remnant of Anakin Skywalker.

But even if there was, you knew that you would never see either one of them again, and the last memory you would have was of him reaching out for you.

-

And Eyes is officially complete! If you enjoyed this, check out my Obi-Wan fanfic Rescue Me.

Overall taglist:

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Eyes taglist:

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[camywamycam]

what was left behind in the rubble P.2

1,150 words

soon to be harry x reader 

summary: you moved in with your father Sirius Black from California two months ago and he completely ignores you when Harry arrives for your birthday your adoptive father visits you and hell breaks loose.

Sirius Black had many questions, as did everyone else. Harry had been talking with Sirius about something, but at this point, he couldn't remember because of how often the subject would change. that's when he heard a knock on the door and the hushed voice of Remus who was practically interrogating him. "who are you? how did you find this place" Remus said harshly. As the man was about to answer both men heard a loud gasp coming from the hallway. Harry and Sirius both watched as y/n practically jumped off the staircase into the grasp of the strange man. "I can't believe you're here!" "Of course I'm here it's not like I would've missed your birthday," Joel said in a sarcastic voice. Joel was a large man. standing 6'5 (taller than Sirius by 8 inches) and he had a scowl embedded permanently on his stubble-covered face. he was quite intimidating to put it shortly, although Harry could tell that wouldn't stop Sirius and his stupidity from picking a fight with the man. Joel smiled as he put down the strange object he was holding and spun y/n around. Harry looked at Sirius with wide eyes as Sirius stood up and walked cockily toward the much bigger man.

I'm sorry, and you are? Sirius said in a rude tone as Remus just stood back in shock. he and Molly had been trying to get you to open up to them for months. you never smiled or left your room. they would invite you to partake in activities with them but you would always refuse and opt to stay in your room with your muggle cassette tapes and guitar. seeing you switch up your demeanor and so easily jump into the arms of this random man made him reflect upon himself. maybe he should've tried harder. maybe he should try to bond with you over your interests. he felt as if he failed to be your godfather. Sirius despite having ignored you during all the time you had been staying in his house had a random rush of a fatherly authority. who was this strange man holding his daughter? Who the hell did he think he is? instead of wondering why you didn't act that way with him, he chose to ignore how happy you were with him and focus on getting this guy out of his house. "oh um Im Joel, her muggle guardian, that's what they call us right y/n? muggle?" "yeah Dad" Sirius felt his heart drop. all of a sudden his reality dawned on him. you never called him that. he never gave you the father-daughter relationship he was supposed to give you, instead he pushed you away just as he did your mother before she passed. though, he was much too prideful to let his self-reflection show in the presence of all these people. he was much too prideful to admit he had fucked up, it was a talent he carried throughout his life. his blissful ignorance. "I'm sorry but this home is being used by the order, you can't be here," he said in an attempt to get him to leave. Harry just watched as the other nosey children of the home started filling in the room silently as if they could smell conflict. Joel having picked up on the negative vibes Sirius sent his way instantly began returning the same hostility. "actually I was just about to leave" Joel said giving Sirius a fake smile "I just wanted to drop off y/ns gift before I take her out for the day" Sirius ignored the new information. he didn't know it was your birthday, he never bothered to ask. "what makes you think you can take out my daughter?" he said making a point to exaggerate the "my" "I'm not your daughter and I never will be" y/n said in a closed off tone. who the hell did he think he is? For the past month, he acted as if you didn't exist while he treated that Potter kid as if he was god himself. Joel noticed you're now closed-off manner and your fidgeting hands as he reached out to put his arm around you to calm you down. Sirius being the ignorant dumb child man he is ignored how uncomfortable you were and instead of backing down he chose to provoke Joel into arguing with her "I'm not letting some junkie take my daughter" "Oh please look at yourself you reek of cigarettes"

before Sirius could get the crap beaten out of him Remus stepped in and made him step down as you and Joel left. Remus had always wanted a family but he ignored the small one in front of him. having seen your beautiful platonic relationship with Joel Remus was now determined to make you feel more included even if he had to drag you out of your room. he was jealous and disappointed in himself.

you didn't come back for a long while. you showed Joel around the area that you were now somewhat knowledgeable about although you pretended as if you were an expert to make him impressed. Joel took you shopping in the muggle side of town, somewhere you haven't been allowed to go to. he even took you to the movies! Joel felt bad for the scene that Sirius he had caused. when you walked into the dining room the tension thickened. the children in the room looked between the adults anticipating drama. "so, how was your day with your drug dealer?" "Sirius that's eno-" "What the fuck is your problem? You never cared about me until now, stop trying to act like your my dad because you never will be!" the table went silent. "I am your father, you are my blood!" Sirius squared like a segal on drugs as Molly ushered the children up the stairs. all left but Harry since he was so entitled to push himself into your problems. "Sirius does everything for you and you treat him like shit!" Harry said ignorantly. "oh I'm treating him like shit? I've talked to him twice in the 4 months I've been here!" you retreated up to your room pushing the other teens who were eavesdropping from the staircase. you flopped on your bed as you curled up into a ball and cried.

Remus felt terrible. even if he had treated you kindly he still sat back and allowed you to be treated as if you were nothing. he should've intervened earlier but now all he can do is hope you are willing to forgive him.

Remus knocked on the door "May I come in?" Remus said wearily "Yeah sure..." Remus walked into the room that was dimly lit by your muggle "led" lights. he didn't speak. he engaged you in his warm hugs and held you as you cried. "shh it's okay, let it out."

tag list 

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[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

The Phoenix and the Crow

part fourteen

pairing: kaz brekker x fem!reader

genre: neutral

el's thoughts: i'm picking this back up!! who's excited? i'm excited! i hope y'all like it as much as i've had fun writing it again!

series masterlist

Y/N stood in front of her floor length mirror and tugged at the waistband of her skirt. The purple fabric hung heavily on her shoulders and midsection where her hoopskirt hugged her waist. She hummed to herself and walked to her double doors, pushing them open and continued down the hall to Alina’s room. She heard Genya and Zoya’s voices around the cornner. The three grisha women smiled at each other and kept walking down the hallway.

The tailor and squaller pushed the heavy doors open and paused in their steps when they saw Nikolai standing in front of Alina.

“Oh. Genya, Zoya and Y/N are my escorts.” The sun summoner said with a smile.

The soon to be king smiled with her and nodded to the three ladies as they made their way further into the room. “Well, I shall leave you to it.” He nodded to the redhead and suli before stopping before the inferni. “Thank you again for staying. I know you probably would’ve preferred going back to Ketterdam with…”

Y/N shook her head and smiled softly at the young man, “Ravka is my home just as much as it is your’s, moi tsar. Plus I can always visit my friends.” 

“Of course.” He bowed his head in respect and walked out of the room, closing the doors behind him.

“Well, that one’s a mess.” Zoya spoke as her eyes trailed behind Nikolai. “But I could fix him.” Her words pulled a chuckle from the sun summoner and inferni.

Genya walked up to Alina and held her face in her hands. “You really could have asked for my help instead of whatever team Nikolai sent. I miss pulling straw from your hair after scraping with this one.”

“Uh-” Alina’s hands moved to her hair in a sudden self awareness. “We’re on the same side now.”

“I mean as much as that might be boring, I’m actually rather pleased about it.” Zoya smiled.

Y/N nodded her agreement as she sat next to the squaller on the sofa. 

“And Ravka is next.” Alina held Genya’s hand, “I think the four of us can begin to fix what’s been broken.”

The tailor’ jaw fell slack, “You’re asking for our help?”

“Of course she is. We’re fantastic.” The suli smirked at Y/N.

The redhead rolled her eye and tried to hide her smile, “Where do we start?”

“I’d like you to oversee things here at the palace.” Alina told Genya. “I’d like it to be a refuge for anyone, grisha or otkazat’sya, who needs a safe haven. Like the Spinning Wheel. And you,” She turned her attention to Y/N. “I’d like for you to resume your post and continue to be in charge of grisha training. With Zoya’s help, if you don’t mind.” 

The two who shared the seat smiled at each other. “I don’t mind at all.”

“I think I can whip them into shape.” Zoya stood and held out her hand for the inferni before walking over to Alina.

“As long as no actual whips are involved.” Genya fretted as she too stood to her feet.

“I make no promises.” 

Alina chuckled before an idea flitted across her mind. “And I don’t want grisha to be defined by their orders. No more colored keftas.” Her hands moved as she spoke. 

“That’s a lovely idea.” Y/N said.

“But I look amazing in blue.” Zoya argued. 

The other three shot her a look at which she took a deep breath and gave in.

“And as for me.” Alina continued. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for my friends. And I think Ravka could do with some, too. I have a very important blade I have to return to Shu Han and I’m hoping to make some alliance while I’m there.” They each held each other’s hands. “We’ve been estranged long enough.”

“The four of us can do a lot of good together.” Genya said. 

Y/N nodded but her mind drifted to a special group of four who still resided in Ketterdam. It had only been a few weeks since they had departed but she missed them with her whole heart. How can someone feel so attached to people who they’ve only just met… She didn’t know, but she knew that their connection was strong. Was it the life threatening and tramatizing events that took place during their time together? She had no doubt, but she wouldn’t have changed it for anything. 

~

“You three…” Kaz’s voice rang through the room, drawing Jesper, Wylan and Nina’s attention. “An  opportunity has presented itself.” The three crows shared a look. “The most lucrative job we’ve ever taken.” 

Kaz leanded on the wooden rail in front of him. “There’s a new weapon about to hit the market. If it does, it could make the destruction of the Shadow Fold seem like a spring picnic. Every corner of the world would feel the effects.” Jesper’s eyes widened slightly as the raven haired man continued his speech. “It’s a drug called jurda parem. Highly addictive. And if grisha take it, their power is amplified a thousand times over.” 

He turned to face the window behind him, leaning again on his cane. “The chemist who created it fled to Kerch once he realized what he’d done, but the Fjerdans caught him. He now awaits trial. If the Fjerdans weaponize this drug, the consequences would be unimaginable. Everything we’ve ever known, every strength we’ve relied upon, shattered. Any questions?” 

Silence rang through the room as he turned his head to look over the others. Wylan scratched behind his ear nervously as Nina looked like her mind was running a million miles per hour and Jesper just stood silently as if waiting for something. 

“At least you won't be alone.” 

The three crows perked up at the echoing sound of the familiar voice. 

“Yeah, thanks for leaving me to find my way in.” Y/N closed the door behind her as her leather bag bounced against her back. She tried to muffle her cough as she walked into the room, “Didn’t miss the air quality, that’s for sure.” Her smile was strained as she looked at the people she had missed so much. “I had wished we would meet again under better circumstances.”

No one said anything. Kaz looked over Y/N, allowing himself to give into a moment to indulge himself at the sight of her before driving his attention back to the crows. “Let’s get to work shall we?”

[lisbeth-kk]

December moments

Prompt used in this chapter: Boxing Day

It’s time to go home, but the train doesn’t meet Sherlock’s demands when it comes to speed. For quite some time he wishes he lived in Japan and could rely on the Shinkansen to get him home and into bed with John in minutes instead of hours.

December 26

There had been some blurry eyes at breakfast on Christmas Day when John told the other Holmes’s about the engagement. Mycroft just lifted an eyebrow and gave them both a knowing look that suggested they hadn’t been that silent in the shower after all. John was too euphoric to care and didn’t even blush. Sherlock on the other hand got a tinge of pink on his cheekbones, which John ached to kiss, but he stayed decent, just squeezing Sherlock’s hand and interlacing their fingers. 

John had urged Sherlock to tell his family about the upcoming trip to the north, to get the attention away from innuendos about their passionate encounter. 

Sherlock’s parents eagerly told them about their honeymoon to the Norwegian city of Tromsø, where Mrs. Holmes also was to give a few lectures at the university. 

“Of course, she was,” Sherlock muttered under his breath. 

“We married on New Years Eve and left for the north two days later. It was -25 degrees for the entire week, and we saw the northern lights every day,” Mr. Holmes said dreamily. 

“Did you know this?” John asked Sherlock when they’d eaten. 

“I did not,” Sherlock admits, still awed and puzzled by this new insight about his parents. 

After a late breakfast on Boxing Day, Sherlock and John packed their bags to return home to London. The former was taught as a violin string, eager to experience what awaited him once they got inside 221B. Just thinking back to John’s promise on Christmas Eve, of what he would do to his fiancé, made Sherlock’s brain buzz and his body sing. 

***

“Do you regret leaving your family home?” John asks after they’ve found their seats on the train. 

Sherlock looks at John like he’d asked him if he wants Anderson to be his best man, and it must show on his face, if John’s chuckle is any indicator. 

“You just seem anxious and a bit agitated,” John explains. 

Sherlock huffs and rolls his eyes. 

“This train stops at every station, John! It will take us ages to get home.”

“I see,” John purrs and lets his eyes roam over Sherlock’s body, lingering on his groin. 

Sherlock growls in frustration and squirms in his seat. His trousers are getting uncomfortably tight around aforementioned area. He can’t decide if he’s pleased or irritated that the train is so crowded, but in the end sets on the former. It would’ve been far too tempting to crowd in on John if there were more space around them. 

For the remainder of the train ride, John has an amused look on his face. He has obviously observed Sherlock’s discomfort, and Sherlock’s unable to tell if John’s in a similar state. John’s so good at hiding his expressions and bodily impulses when they’re in public. 

John leans forward, placing his hand on Sherlock’s knee and murmurs something under his breath. At first, Sherlock’s not able to decipher the words, because his senses are distracted by the warm and tingling sensation John’s hand on his knee has on him. John repeats himself, and squeezes his knee for emphasis, which gets Sherlock’s brain working again. 

“Deep breaths, love.”

Sherlock inhales and exhales like his doctor ordered and feels some of the tension subsides. He lets his hand rest atop of John’s for a few seconds before he leans back in his seat and gazes out of the window, realising that London Bridge is the next stop. 

***

Sherlock tosses their bags haphazardly to the floor and shrugs out of his coat in seconds, before turning to face John who stands at parade’s rest looking expectantly at him. Sherlock’s mouth is dry, and he feels tension building in every limb and nerve ending. 

“What do you want, love?” John asks so softly it contradicts his stance.

Sherlock closes his eyes relieved that John lets him choose. 

“Just you, John,” he whispers, anxiously searching John’s face for any displeasure. 

“Come here, fiancé.”

John opens his arms and Sherlock stumbles toward him, burying his face in John’s neck, inhaling the scent there, which always grounds him. 

“I was hoping you’d say that,” John tells him. “Captain Watson can wait. Tonight, I just want us to be Sherlock and John.”

“How did I get this lucky, John?” Sherlock mumbles into John’s skin, placing warm kisses wherever he can reach without moving away. 

John pets his hair and Sherlock relaxes completely with just a hint of arousal tingling in the outskirts of his consciousness. 

“Let me take you to bed, Sherlock,” John whispers in Sherlock’s ear. 

“Yes, fiancé,” Sherlock retorts, and follows John down the hallway with blushing cheeks. 

Read it on AO3

@totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884 @safedistancefrombeingsmart @raina-at @gregorovitchworld @topsyturvy-turtely @sabsi221b @helloliriels

[tagthescullion]

The Undead Diary of Luke Castellan

Fandom(s): Percy Jackson and the Olympians

Rating: T

Summary: It's not Luke's fault the Underworld is understaffed and some of its doors connecting with the living world are left unattended.

Chapter 1 - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four

AO3 link

Chapter Five

“Right,” Maria said. “Not as bad as one would’ve expected.”

I wasn’t up for debating my issues with my father, so instead, I studied the bouncy balls. Only Hermes could be as immature as to suggest a thing of the sort as a travel method. Either that, or he truly intended to pretend they were some random crap I found on my way to make a new mess of things if Maria and I were apprehended by an irate Lord of the Dead.

After an awkward minute in silence, Maria suggested we wait until tomorrow to travel.

“You’ve had enough excitement for a day,” she told me. “Better rest before returning to the US, yes?”

I considered, then shook my head. “The sooner we get back, the better.”

It was pointless to postpone the inevitable. Besides, I knew Maria wanted to see her son; I’d never really appreciated my mother’s affections —she was, and still remained, a source of discomfort to me—, but it was cruel to keep Maria from Nico. 

Maria shrugged. “All right, then. But let us pack some things, just in case.”

I’d had enough experience with quests, official or not, to know whatever provisions we took would end up destroyed, lost, eaten by monsters, or simply pointless, but if it made her feel better, I wouldn’t mind some sandwiches for the way.

Our source of food was a small shop in the little town twenty-five minutes away walking. I guessed that’s where Maria had got the stuff she’d been feeding us these past few days, but that left me with more questions than answers. 

“Wasn’t money different back when you…?” I left the question open. Back when she’d died.

“We used a different currency,” she said. Her steps were swift despite wearing uncomfortable-looking shoes and the terrain being uneven next to the road. “But when I woke up, and got to the house, the safe had Euros. It must’ve been the tenants who look after the house. They must’ve converted whatever money was there in case a family member visited.”

She seemed all too sure that tenants wouldn’t just run off with whatever fancy shit they saw on a  marquess’ safe. I was a bit baffled by that theory, though. I doubted greatly that the tenants even knew how to get to the safe, and had access to it, but that left few other options.

Her family was mostly gone, and her parents had died long before Euros were a thing. Had Hades been responsible for the money switch? Had it even been an exchange of currency or had the King of the Underworld just decided to leave a budget for his former lover out of some kind of affection? 

Was that even allowed? He was supposed to keep order in the Underworld, looking the other way was one thing, but helping Maria out?

It took tripping over a rock to make him realize he was making a face.

Who cared, right? Either way, the money was enough to get them food, new clothes —his were gross, and Maria’s looked way too old-fashioned—, and, despite Luke's eye-roll, sunscreen.

“I hate the sun,” Maria admitted. “I burn easily.” 

Back in the house, Maria found two travelling bags, not too big, and divided their things. 

“Now,” she said, as she refolded a blouse —not very tidily, house chores weren’t her thing—. “How do these bouncy-things work?”

“The instructions were…” I thought of a good description for my father’s words. “Not too clear. Think of where you want to go, so I guess we just think of Long Island, or in your case, think of Nico, he should be in Camp. That way, we’ll land nearby.”

I twisted one of the bouncy-balls in my palm. It was pink, green and blue —hideous— and surprisingly cool to the touch.

I was still trying to come to terms with Hermes having helped —if reluctantly—, and about having to face the consequences of my past choices.

I hoped even if Maria thought about her son as strongly as possible, if I thought about a place a little way off Camp, I’d have some time to mull over how to approach anybody, were we to run into other demigods. 

I really did hope I could just drop Maria off and walk off to think of a better plan, but while not full-on summer season, it was already close enough to it to assume a satyr or two might be making their slow approaches with new demigods in tow.

While I was musing the best way to get close to Camp but not too close, Maria finished packing. 

“I can’t fold this properly,” she complained, frowning at a shirt she was trying to fit in her bag.

“Trust me, with the amount of monsters lurking in the US,” I reassured her. “Wrinkles in clothes are the least of our worries.”

She didn’t look too pleased about that —whether about being swarmed by monsters or the fact that ironed clothes weren’t a priority to modern society, who knew—.

“Okay,” she said, grabbing her bag and testing its weight. “Let’s go.”

A shiver ran down my spine. I felt both determined to be done with the whole ordeal, and terrified of what could happen.

“Let me carry your bag,” I offered as we crossed out into the yard once more. 

“Thank you, but there’s no need.” She shook her head. “If we run into these monsters, you’ll have to fight them. I can’t use anything other than a rifle, and I haven’t found a single one of them here. Somebody must’ve taken them away.”

We stood in front of the wall while I considered that this seemingly delicate woman could shoot rifles. I was mildly annoyed at whoever had taken them from the house, it would’ve been helpful to have a weapon on us.

“So we think of…” she said, bringing back our focus to the task at hand.

“You think of your son.” I replied. “I’ll think of Long Island, let’s hope that’s enough to get us close.”

I twisted the bouncing-ball on my hand, thinking hard of the hills and farms near Camp Half-Blood.

I glanced at Maria who was staring at the wall in front of us with fierceness, her hands clutched on her bag’s handles.

Home, I thought, turning my head to the wall too. I want to go home.

I threw the ball against the off-white paint.

It was as if the wall had swallowed it. From the place it had disappeared, glowing threads started spreading, connecting each other.

Between the threads, the luminosity filled the paint until we were staring into a blurry, ever-changing image on the other side. 

I held his hand out to Maria, who took it softly.

Together, we walked into the passage. 

I hoped I could do so assuredly, but the uneasiness of coming face to face with my old enemies again loosened my determination.

Right as I was about to step into the passage, half a step before Maria, the hills and farms in my mind were replaced by the image of a young, curly-haired girl. Innocent, cheerful, hands sticky with cheap ice-cream that had melted during a hot summer day.

There was one enemy I did need to see.

I opened my eyes to a sloped terrain, overflowing with oaks. I took a step back into a laurel plant.

“It smells like…” Maria tried to place the perfume. “Eucalyptus.” 

I frowned.

I walked forward until I found a better viewpoint.

The hills were taller than they’d have been in New York. I could see a highway somewhere in the distance. The sun was too high in the sky, we’d gone off much further West than we should’ve.

“Where exactly are we?” Maria asked, having followed me.

“This isn’t Long Island.” I turned to look at her. “We’re in Northern California.”

[temozarela]

-> schoolgirl

GETO SUGURU CHARACTER STUDY murder, angst, established relationship, implied geto suguru/ gojo satoru, use of oc, spiralling thoughts, heavy gore

geto started killing long before he was found out

WORD COUNT: 4.6k

ao3 version

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It has been ten years since the massacre of 112 innocent people, of which was instantaneous with Suguru’s deflection. It has been six hours since he returned, hair outgrown and body drowning in robes fit for a monk. Satoru is sitting on the windowsill of an empty classroom, legs stretched out in front of him. His blindfolded eyes are focused on the sun setting behind the mountains, the crystalline sky blushing more with each inch the sun lowers. After a few troubled moments, a gloomy purple haze begins to taint the horizon, spreading upwards like ink in water. His fingers tap against the wooden beams anxiously as darkness rolls in. Somewhere, Suguru is watching the exact same sunset. Somewhere. It never bothered him before, but now he can’t stop thinking about it. Satoru hadn’t spoken to him for years and now it won’t leave his mind. That face he had almost forgotten, now fresh in his mind, each detail as sharp as a needle. Somewhere, somewhere, he hopes that at least Suguru will spare him a thought.

The massacre had come as an icy shock to Satoru, causing his childhood to shatter into a million pieces, breaking it beyond repair. Things had been different after that. The corridors were emptier, lessons were quieter. Silent, in fact. They were out of sync with each other. Once, everything had played out in a perfected routine, but it wasn’t the same anymore.

Nowadays, the same question comes to his mind again and again.

If things had been different, would Suguru do it all again?

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The streets of Shinjuku bustled with the humble beginnings of nightlife. Suguru wandered down the paths aimlessly, shivering as the autumn frost started to sink through his pores and into his bones. In his distracted state, he’d forgotten to wear a jacket, instead he was wearing a white t-shirt and baggy black trousers. It was better than nothing. The breeze felt like a slap on the face as it carded through his hair like gentle talons. Despite the weather, Shinjuku was never really cold, the constant flow of people as well as the radiating heat of shops made it bearable. It was still uncomfortable though, so he ambled into a café. It was quiet compared to the outside, there were only a handful of people there, idly sipping coffee and reading. Soft jazz played through the speakers, filling what would’ve otherwise been an awkward silence. A few people turned to look at him as he hovered in the doorway. Their gazes lingered for a while before they returned to their drinks. Suguru wasn’t dumb, he knew what he looked like. His hair was a mess from the wind and general lack of care. He knew it needed oiling and he knew he had split ends. He also knew that his roots were greasy, and it was causing the hair that framed his face to lay flat and curl pitifully. The t-shirt he wore drowned him since he had lost weight. It showed on his face too through his sunken cheeks. His under-eyelids had become purple from countless sleepless nights spent on the streets of Tokyo. Suguru reached into his pocket for his pocketknife, relishing in the small comfort it brought him. Logically speaking, he could cause far more damage alone than anyone else with a pocketknife could, but for that reason it supplied him some sort of solace. It felt more animalistic to wield a knife, more human . Recently, he avoided his cursed technique when he could due to the creeping fear that to others, it was all he was worth. From across the room he spotted a girl, presumably around his age. She was tucked into the corner of the room, a glass of what he assumed was iced tea in front of her as she slowly flicked through a book, a bag resting against her thigh. With nothing better to do, Suguru ordered himself chamomile tea before approaching her.

Incredulously, she looked up at him as he sat next to her. “Yo.” Suguru drawled, setting his cup down in front of him. The girl frowned.

“Hey.” She muttered, glancing down at her book before her dark eyes returned to him.

“Don’t let me stop you from reading.” He added smoothly, taking a sip of his tea.

She nodded, adjusting herself as she propped the book up in her lap.

“What are you reading?” Suguru asked wittingly.

She looked up at him, dubiously. “ Schoolgirl .” The girl replied.

“ Osamu Dazai .” Suguru murmured, sagely. “‘You enjoy his works?” He pushed.

The girl looked thoughtful. “As much as I enjoy picking dirt from my fingernails.”

“It’s complicated?”

She hummed affirmingly.

“You?”

Suguru looked at her with scrutiny. “He complains about the wrong stuff.” He muttered after a heartbeat.

Silence settled over them again as she returned to her book. Swirling the steaming cup in his hands gently, Suguru observed her. His eyes settled on her wild, raven curls and her pale olive skin. The girl’s lips were bitten, and she had acne on her forehead which was poorly hidden behind her thick fringe. She wasn’t anything unusual. What was unusual, however, was the sickening pit of dread and disgust in Suguru’s gut.

“You haven’t touched your drink since I arrived.”

The girl looked up at him again, her stare bordering on irritable.

“Is that why you didn’t order a hot drink?”

She pulled an expression of dumbfounded weariness. “Excuse me?”

He smiled at her, sickeningly sweet. “You forget to drink quickly, so when you order hot drinks, they end up going cold.” He said, his voice measured.

“I don’t like hot drinks.” She replied, tediously.

“You like tea.” Suguru lightly offered, gesturing towards the glass in front of her.

The girl shrugged, “I only like it cold.”

“Is that so?” Suguru hummed, sitting back.

Moments ticked by as the girl read, Suguru drinking next to her, slowly savouring the bitterness of the tea. It must’ve been half an hour before he turned to her once more.

“Want to get some fresh air?” He asked, mustering a gentle smile.

“I’d hardly call the city air fresh.” The girl looked at him carefully, “Plus, I don’t know you.” She added.

“Please forgive me, I’m Geto Suguru.” He introduced himself pleasantly. Hesitantly, she looked around herself before swallowing, agreeing with a subtle nod of her head.

“Ok.”

They stood, the girl abandoning her full glass and picking up her shoulder bag as she followed Suguru out of the door. Once they were outside, he turned to her. “What’s your name?”

She raised an eyebrow.

“I told you mine.” He prodded.

She clutched her book to her chest. “Amano Yuuka.”

“Heaven.”

“Huh?” Yuuka shot him a strange look. Suguru smiled politely.

“Yuuka. ” He repeated patiently, “You use the kanji for heaven, don’t you?”

Yuuka nodded, slowly. “How did you know?” She asked, her voice laced with curiosity.

Suguru looked thoughtful. “I could tell.”

“Oh… Ok.” She frowned. “What kanji do you use?”

“Guess.”

Yuuka paused, looking perplexed. “Vitality?” She guessed, watching Suguru expectantly.

His smile thinned. “Wrong.”

“Huh? What is it then?” she implored, looking a little downtrodden.

“Excellence.” Suguru said, eyes narrowed.

Yuuka frowned, posture stiffening marginally. “Oh.”

“Can I show you something, Amano?” Suguru asked. Yuuka cocked her head, eyebrows furrowed.

“What is it?” She pouted, brushing a few stray curls from her face.

“A little place.” He mused, “Just beyond the high streets.”

Visibly, a shiver ran down Yuuka’s spine as she glanced in the direction Suguru was referring to, the cold obviously hitting her. “What’s there?” She insisted.

Suguru hummed, his hand resting against his chin as if deep in thought. “There’s a pretty view of Mount Fuji. A lot of stray cats live around there too.”

“Oh.” Yuuka mumbled, her eyes widening with wholesome curiosity. “Cats...”

“You like cats.” Suguru commented, his eyes glistening with intensity as he looked at her.

She nodded, smiling softly, “I do.”

He gestured for Yuuka to follow him as he turned away, pushing through the crowds on the high street. As soon as his face was out of her view, his smile dropped almost instantly. Suguru shoved his hands in his pockets, subtly feeling for the cold metal of his pocketknife. He didn’t check to see if Yuuka was actually following him, he had a hunch she would be though. Truthfully, the spot that had instantly come to mind was where he and Satoru used to go in the summer. Suguru had a feeling that it would hurt somewhat to see the trees withered and bare this time round. It was a clearing at the very edge of the city, usually covered in long, green grass and small, milky daisies that swayed in the soft breeze. Suguru didn’t lie about the cats. He and Satoru bumped into a small group of them on their last visit before Satoru had scared them away with… well, being him. They had stayed there for hours the previous summer, watching the sunset hand-in-hand, strawberry popsicles melting in their grasp. It was undeniably a precious place to Suguru. He didn’t know why he was taking Yuuka there.

When it got quieter, he cast a glance behind him.

“Tell me about yourself, Amano.” He raised his voice to ask Yuuka, who was still tailing him. He heard an alert ‘huh?’ from behind him as Yuuka realised he was addressing her.

“I like music.” She replied.

Suguru rolled his eyes. How generic.

“What music?”

“Uhhhhh…” Yuuka mumbled something under her breath, “I like David Bowie and Fleetwood Mac .” She told him. Could be worse.

“Western music.” Suguru stated.

Yuuka hummed, “Yep. What about you?”

Suguru thinned his lips.

“I don’t really listen to music anymore.”

“Oh.” Yuuka’s tone indicated that she must have cocked her head, “What did you used to listen to?”

Suguru’s hands clenched in his pockets, his shoulders tensed. “If we’re speaking Western artists… Joy Division .”

“Oh!” Yuuka brightened up, evident from her voice which had become too loud, “I like them!”

Discomfort and a deep sickness swirled in Suguru’s stomach. No you don’t, not like I did.

In that moment, the voice at the back of his head was loud and clear.

I don’t want to be associated with you.

Soon, the streets almost completely cleared and the light footsteps behind him sped up as Yuuka joined him. The familiar dread and disgust weighed down heavier inside of him. “Are we close?” She asked, still clutching her book to her chest.

Suguru nodded, “Not too far now.”

His answer seemed to satisfy her as she walked beside him quietly, matching his pace despite being barely less than a foot shorter than him. After a while, the shops thinned out. Suguru didn’t lie about the cats, but he did lie about Mount Fuji, and he wasn’t entirely sure why. Sure, it was visible from some areas of Shinjuku, but mostly high-rise buildings and skyscrapers. From his spot, the city skyline littered the view, but the sunset disappearing behind the buildings wasn’t any less beautiful.

Soon, their surroundings became greener and it wasn’t long until he located his spot. It was odd, seeing it at this time of year. It added to the perpetual voice at the back of his brain which told him ‘ something’s wrong’ . Yuuka jogged up to him, carelessly throwing her bag down before spinning around to look back at the city.

“Oh.” She gasped, shivering slightly. “It’s so pretty.”

Suguru nodded, “It’s a shame Mount Fuji isn’t visible at this time of night, I didn’t realise.” He muttered, lying through his teeth.

“That’s ok.” Yuuka grinned, “Thank you for showing me this place, Geto.”

“No problem.” He drawled, watching her warily. “You should see it in the summer.” Why did I say that?

She visibly perked up, “Is it much better in the summer?”

“Yes.” He replied through gritted teeth, “It’s prettier than you could imagine.”

For a while, they stood in silence, watching the twinkling lights of the city. Restlessly, Suguru ran his finger up and down his pocketknife, feeling each ridge and screw. It was only a 3 inch blade, nothing extravagant, but with the average human only having a flesh thickness of around 0.28 inches, he knew it was far from useless. Had it been a year ago, he probably would’ve thought Yuuka was rather attractive. As in this light, he began to notice the hollowness of her eyes, revealing a similar lingering fatigue that Suguru had felt for a while. It was a sinister beauty. In a way which made Suguru’s gut twist unpleasantly, she reminded him somewhat of himself. Currently, she was staring at the view, feet rooted to the ground, and that book still pressed to her chest. If he hadn’t said anything, the moment probably would’ve lasted for hours. Suguru couldn’t shake the disgust he felt, it was all too familiar. It had happened before though. Again and again. The same stench of artificial perfumes and chemical products. Every time it ended the same. How many times? Three ? Four ? Suguru’s hands clenched in his pockets, it felt like the most unpleasant and gruelling deja vu he’d ever experienced. He started when he realised Yuuka had moved from her previous spot, now pacing around the clearing, a pensive frown on her face.

“What is it?” He asked, sharply.

Yuuka looked up from where she had been peering into a bush, knelt. “I’m looking for the cats.”

Suguru scorned her, silently. “It’s late, they’re probably not here.” He sighed.

She hummed in acknowledgment, sounding a little disappointed. “Oh, worth a look I guess.”

It really wasn’t. His mouth twitched. “Sure.”

“What school do you go to?” Yuuka asked, looking up at him with wide eyes.

Suguru raised an eyebrow as she watched him, expectantly.

“A Buddhist private school in the mountains.”

“Oh.” Yuuka cocked her head, “I didn’t even know there was one in Tokyo.”

He hummed. “Now you do.”

“I guess so.” She nodded absentmindedly.

Suguru’s eyes narrowed, critically. “What are your parents like?” Yuuka stilled.

“They’re ok.” She mumbled.

“Ok?” He sneered.

“Mhm.”

“You should be more grateful, they raised you after all.” Suguru said coolly, malice lacing his tone.

Yuuka shuffled, looking uncomfortable.

“I guess you’re right.”

“I am.” He replied, bluntly.

She nodded again, staring at the ground.

“You should keep eye contact when you talk to someone, it’s disrespectful if you don’t.” He chided. Yuuka stood, visibly bewildered. She stepped back slowly, her back to the glowing horizon. “What’s your problem?” Her voice harshened.

Suguru’s lip curled, “Nothing.”

“Nothing.” Yuuka parroted, skeptically.

“I’m just tired,” he shrugged, “that’s all.”

Yuuka looked unsure, her book creasing as her grasp on it tightened, “Oh.”

With Yuuka’s useless awkwardness, Suguru became increasingly impatient. He looked around himself, observing the startling emptiness of the area. There was nothing unexpected. The trees rocked and groaned in the wind, the last leaves- the colour of dried blood- fluttered to the ground, and the grass looked anaemic- lacking the richness it always had when Satoru was there. His hands had become clad with cold sweat as the outline of the pocketknife imprinted onto his palm, his fingers blotchy and white where he was exerting the most pressure on the handle. The fake smile he’d been baring was long lost, replaced with a conflicted grimace before a sneer took its place. He couldn’t help it. They’re disgusting. They all are.

The breeze picked up, whipping his skin with a prominent iciness. “I think I’ll head off…” The girl, Yuuka’s nervous voice interrupted his musings.

He tried to smile, but he was under the impression that it was more threatening than comforting, “Are you, now?”

Yuuka nodded, turning around, “Thank you for showing me this, Geto.”

“You’re welcome, Amano.” Her name felt like venom on his tongue as he spat it, his weak façade crumbling.

In a flash, he removed his hands from his pockets, the pocketknife in his grasp. The moonlight reflected off the blade as he snapped it open, the metal dotted with coppery splatters from previous use. Yuuka seemed to hesitate as she looked across the clearing.

She’s probably lost. A lone girl will never make it through Shinjuku without interference. She probably won’t let me walk her home, anyway.

Yuuka turned back to look at Suguru helplessly.

A rapid heartbeat was all it took for her eyes to flicker down to the blade in Suguru’s hand, and back to his poisonous glare. She stumbled backwards. It was unclear who moved first. In her terror, Yuuka dropped her book before running. Stupid, stupid. A split second later, Suguru was on her heels. Stupid fucking monkey. One slash- to her shoulder. Yuuka cried out, her hand instantly moving to grasp at her wound. Blood gushed through the cracks between her fingers, running through the crevices of her cuticles and knuckles like a waterfall. It looks black in the moonlight. Impatiently, Suguru slapped her hand from her shoulder, replacing it with his own, cruel grip. Ignoring her sobs, he forced her around. She trembled, tearfully staring up at him with trepidation, eyes puffy and red. Suguru’s lip twitched as he studied the dripping blade. “Please.” Yuuka whispered.

Suguru’s attention returned to her as he studied her pitiful expression. “What are you begging for, Amano?” He asked, voice inappropriately soft.

She swallowed, tears tumbling down her flushed cheeks, “…My life.”

“Why do you want to live, Amano?”

“I…” Yuuka sobbed, “I don’t-”

“Right! You don’t know.” Suguru laughed, humourlessly. She squirmed in his hold, choking on her cries of pain.

“Answer me this, Amano.” Suguru continued, “Should someone be allowed to live if their presence is ruining the lives of others?”

Yuuka shook her head, “I- I don’t know!”

“Answer it.” He snapped, raising the blade. “Should someone be allowed to live if their presence is ruining the lives of others?” He repeated, agonisingly.

“No- no?”

“No?” Suguru mimicked, “They shouldn’t?”

A sobbing mess, Yuuka could only shiver weakly as he taunted her.

“What about you?” Suguru pushed.

“M- me?”

“Your negativity, the burden you cause others… Who do you think has been cleaning up the mess you’ve been making.” Suguru raised an eyebrow, “Hm? You don’t know?” Yuuka shook her head, her bottom lip trembling. “Of course you don’t, you’re ungrateful.”

“Ok, I am! Just let me go!” She wailed, struggling against his hold. However, he ignored her, instead digging his fingers deeper into her wound, earning a shrill scream.

“I’ll give it to you, Amano.” Suguru droned on, glaring into her terrified eyes. “You’re not the only one. In fact, it’s all of you. Filthy, filthy, monkeys. You should worship me, you know? Do you realise how much we do for you? No, you don’t, that’s the issue. And despite that, you still treat us like shit. So fucking ungrateful.”

“I- I d- don’t know what you’re talking about!” She sobbed, fingernails weakly scratching Suguru’s arm, leaving fresh, pink lines on his tanned skin.

“Of course you don’t, you take everything for granted, Amano.” Suguru jeered, his grip tightening. “Oh, but Amano… this wouldn’t be happening if you didn’t. If you behaved like a useful monkey would, you wouldn’t be here.” The pocketknife in Suguru’s hand plunged into Yuuka’s stomach. Her howls echoed throughout the clearing as she doubled over, arms wrapped around her midsection. Relentlessly, he kicked her down, leaving her gasping through choked tears on her back. He could see it then, clearly. Blood erupted and bubbled as the fluid seeped into her clothing, each white fibre plunged into hot, sticky gore, turning it deep crimson. She yelped hoarsely as he kneeled, his muscular thighs bracketing her hips as he gripped the knife with both hands and forced it into her chest. Expertly, he dragged it downwards, watching Yuuka descend further into pain-consumed hysteria with each new inch torn into her organs. Suguru hissed as a particularly strong spurt of blood splattered onto his face as the knife hit what he assumed was her large intestine. The silence was almost deafening as Yuuka passed out, the drenched knife still sticking out from her lower stomach. Only the ambience of cicadas sounded out, alongside the rustling of the trees waving in the wind.

If Suguru listened carefully, he was still able to hear her agonised cries bawling ringing out. Yuuka’s blood and guts had stained the precious grass of his holy land. He couldn’t forgive her for that. Carelessly, he pulled the pocketknife from her flesh, and finished her off with a direct stab to her heart. Warily, he stood and shuffled back, glaring at the puddle of guts which imminently spread towards his shoes. Delicately, he wiped the knife on his dirtied t-shirt. He never bothered to dispose of the bodies. They could have his DNA for all he cared, he could kill them all in a heartbeat anyway. However, he usually took care to decapitate them. He wasn’t entirely sure why. Suguru crouched by Yuuka’s head, bringing the knife to her neck before sawing through her flesh and tendons. The bone was always the trickiest part, and his pocketknife was usually a poor match. Instead he pressed a hand to Yuuka’s drenched collar bone, and another to her chin, and with a nauseating crack , snapped her neck with a twisting and pulling motion. Once the job was done, he tucked the pocketknife back in his trousers before peeling his shirt off. Suguru knew it wasn't normal to walk around nighttime Shinjuku shirtless in early September-time, albeit it was more acceptable than walking around covered in the guts of a girl he only knew for around 2 hours- so he decided to embrace the former option. He’d rather avoid causing more fuss. Suguru was somewhat grateful that Yuuka had at least left him a bag, which he could use to discreetly carry her head. He grasped her hair, matted with blood, lifting it to eye-level. Her eyes were hazy and half-lidded, splatters of darkened blood dripping from where it had struck against her eyeballs. Her mouth was lax, peeling lips parted in a silent scream. Mud and blood caked the side of her face. Suguru grimaced, tucking it carefully into Yuuka’s leather shoulderbag.

The shirt ended up in a random litter bin after Suguru had used it as a wash rag. The walk home was haunting. His skin crawled and he told himself it was because of the overcrowded streets of Shinjuku. He’d meet up with Satoru later, maybe he’d mention that he visited their little stop too. He released a hefty sigh when he reached the mountains. The trek always filled Suguru with indescribable relief, the air always felt so much fresher, the ground untouched by monkeys , and impossibly closer to Satoru. When he arrived back at the school, his first order of business was dealing with Yuuka. Or at least, what he had of Yuuka.

Notably, the air was icier than before.

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Flames licked at the piles of wood, puffs of grey smoke drifting into the air. Suguru was sitting a safe distance away, dressed in a fresh hoodie.

“Yo! Suguuuurruuuuu!” Two large hands squeezed Suguru’s shoulders. “Guess who.”

Suguru laughed, “I couldn’t possibly.” He smiled, looking up to see Satoru’s grinning face surrounded by a halo of white hair.

“Where were you?” Satoru whined, sitting down next to him, “I couldn’t find you anywhere! I tried to phone you too but you left your phone behind.”

“I must have forgotten it…” Suguru shrugged, feigning surprise.

“Hang on…”

“Hm?” Satoru blinked at him, obliviously.

Suguru narrowed his eyes as the dots connected, “What were you doing in my room?”

Satoru grinned weakly, “Nothin’!”

For a moment, Suguru studied him carefully before shrugging, sighing fondly, “Honestly…”

They watched the fire for a while, leaning into each other’s sides. The fire was impressive, tall and blaring. Satoru cocked his head, looking pensive.

“What is it, Satoru?” Suguru nudged him, gently.

“I think…” Satoru muttered, “…there’s something in the fire.”

Suguru’s lip twitched, “Oh?”

“Yeah, look!” Satoru pointed at a spherical silhouette engulfed in the flames. “I wonder if an animal had been hiding in the wood…” He frowned.

Suguru stared at him for a moment.

“It’s the fire starter.”

“Huh? Really?”

“Yeah, I put it in there to help the flames out.” He said, shortly.

“Oh.”

Suguru hummed, his leg bouncing.

“It smells.” Satoru grimaced, “Almost like…”

“We should go inside.” Suguru interrupted.

“Huh?” Satoru wrinkled his nose. “Why?”

“It’s getting late.” Came his matter-of-fact reply, a bluff of course.

Nodding, Satoru frowned, “I guess so.”

They both stood, and Suguru spared the fire a final glance. As they wandered indoors, Suguru turned to Satoru.

“If a stranger introduced themselves to you as Yuuka, what kanji would you assume they used?”

Satoru stopped to look at him. Suguru raised an eyebrow.

“You’ve been asking a lot of these questions recently.” Satoru said, inquisitively. Suguru shrugged.

“Just answer the question.”

After a moment, Satoru clicked his fingers as if a genius idea had come to him, “Fragrance and beauty!”

“Really?”

“Mhm! What about you?”

“Probably heaven.” Suguru glanced at Satoru.

“Heaven, hm?” Satoru pondered.

“Yeah, ‘just seems right.”

Silence settled over them briefly as Satoru appeared deep in thought. Then, he turned to Suguru.

“You’re so decisive, Suguru.” he grinned.

Suguru laughed, charmingly, “I am?”

“Yeah! It’s why I love you.” Satoru chirped.

“That’s why?” Suguru teased.

“Ha!” Satoru chuckled, “Beggars can’t be choosers, Suguru.”

He scoffed, “Beggar?”

“Mhm, beggar.”

Their banter bounced back and forth easily as they walked, hips bumping. When they reached Satoru’s room, the television was on, but Suguru hardly paid attention to the news anchor rambling about car crashes and politics. See, Satoru and Suguru had a routine, and it felt like muscle memory to him as he climbed onto the right of Satoru’s bed, kicking his legs out in front of him. Satoru joined him on the left, resting his head on Suguru’s shoulder. The news anchor continued talking, her monotonous voice jarring him.

“ …Two dead bodies were found in Shinjuku, both beheaded. This is believed to be the work of one person…”

Only two?

Satoru yawned, curling up into Suguru’s side. “Would you kill for me, Suguru?” He mumbled, poking his arm.

Suguru made a disapproving sound at the back of his throat as he swatted Satoru’s arm away, “I shouldn’t be murdering anyone, Satoru.”

I already did.

He could tell that Satoru was rolling his eyes.

“Boring .”

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Suguru stares at the sunset from his balcony. The meeting with Satoru was messy. If he hates me this much because of the village, imagine what he’d think about the others before. A shiver prickled down his spine. They did end up finding the other bodies, but they never connected it to him. Satoru never did either. Suguru had been tempted to tell him, but he couldn’t find a reason to. Life now is pleasant. It’s all Suguru has ever wanted for himself. He has daughters who love him, crowds of monkeys who worship him for the work he does, a family who notice him, and employers who respect his personal boundaries. The girls don’t know about the murders either, and Suguru is reluctant to tell them.

Often recently, he’s taken back to one girl, 11 years ago. She must have been a similar age to the age Mimiko and Nanako are now. Thinking about it, she looked similar to Mimiko. Round, deep eyes and dark, dark hair. It threw him off when the girls had found his copy of Schoolgirl. Initially, he had wanted to take it off them and burn it, but something had stopped him. A self control that he’s never had before. Suguru has never forgotten the faces of those he killed, but he’s never felt bad about it either.

If Amano stood in front of me in any timeline, I’d probably do it again.

That’s what he tells himself.

[jinngonjin]

I haven’t even thought of a title yet 😭 but here’s a blurb of an OC x Hunter x crosshair fic I mean to write. This is basically my first time writing and posting here so I have no clue what i’m doing :(

This fic is pretty much in a made up time line, basically no order 66, it’ll start off slightly angsty but i really mean to take this in a fun direction. Imagine a cheesy shore leave, parties, everyone’s drunk and happy, Anakin’s safe and happy, etc… ‼️

WARNINGS: Even if I don’t plan on writing smut, i’m planning on having suggestive themes, slight NSFW, and heavy language. For this, MINORS DNI! I also won’t be writing any cloncest or padawan x master because it makes me uncomfortable ‼️

~anyways~

Prompt/summary:

Prologue of when Jyn, a strange Jedi, makes her way to clone force 99. Jyn once confided in hunter and revealed her troubled past to him, only to unexpectedly spark tension between the walls of their newly acquired marauder.

Prologue: Part 1

hunter had always taken a particular interest in Jyn. It wasn’t just for her mysterious scent, or smooth accent, but her overall demeanor and pride.

ever since Grandmaster yoda stationed the young jedi as the general to clone force 99, since their very first meeting on the landing pad back in coruscant, hunter had noticed that she carries herself with pride, a cocky attitude along with a cold, unbreakable surface. she almost reminded him of crosshair, except, when she warmed up to the batch, her ice cold defense melted, revealing a poised, but wild assassin.

She had never been like the other jedi, though she rarely talked about her past, hunter couldn’t help but notice how the other generals seemed to act around her. Kenobi, in particular, would walk on eggshells, very careful with his words but watchful with his eyes. the others seemed to tense up ever so slightly, but just enough for hunter to notice.

It wasn’t until Jyn finally spoke, “it has you wondering, sergeant? hm?”

hunter was taken out of his trance, “sir? what do you mean?”

Jyn chuckled, and gave her sergeant a rare smile, she knew he was curious about her background and instead of opting for her usual mysterious demeanor, she chose to confide in the handsome broody clone.

in her own words, she described the bloodlines in coruscant to rarely ever intertwine… “you see, with a population of a trillion could you even think of the chances that i’ll end up with these… genes?” she laughed again, hunter only deepened his gaze, as he could only wonder what she was getting at. “one could say i’m just so unlucky” she began to describe a family tree ever so unfamiliar to Hunter, who could barely follow, until he heard a familiar name. “And who would’ve thought the qui gon Jyn to intertwine a young, noble woman?” Hunter cleared his throat, that he knew. He had always assumed that Jyn’s apparent exile was due to the nature of her father’s affair, but as it seemed there was more to the rumors he picked up from other clones. Jyn continued, “there was no attachment of course…” but then she began to describe her mother, a noble woman from the topside of coruscant who wore an ancient ring only qui gon noticed to be none other than Revan’s. As he grew curious he found himself bewitched, unknown to him, he had released an ancient sith curse meant to taunt Revan’s bloodline. Hunter’s eyes widened, “you mean to say-“ only to be quickly interrupted by Jyn, “Oh yes, what a beautiful coincidence” Jyn tapped her fingers, nervously narrating the abomination that lead Qui Gon to return to the temple, that rainy day, that same damned day he had to wrap his daughter in his capes, running to seek counsel from his Grandmaster, who couldn’t help but be horrified. “A curse, that is” with his boney green finger, he pointed at the child “a midichlorian that is” Qui gon was horrified, only ever hearing tales of such children born to destroy, unbalanced beings with so much turmoil, they reek of destruction and malice. He couldn’t even help but feel remorse at the little child wrapped in his hands. Even at her arrival a life was taken, her mother perished as she birthed the forsaken child. Qui Gon couldn’t even bare to raise such a monster, but a willingness rose through the force, a vision he could only seem to see. “I must raise this child, I must train her… Jyn, I must make her one of us”

Coruscant had never seen such a rainy day, thunder blazed through the cityscape, echoing especially loud in quiet halls of the Jedi temple. The council had gathered in an effort to make a decision, yet none could be found. reluctantly Yoda agreed to raise this Jyn, finding it safer than to cast her away, fearing what such power could mean to the council.

And it was until her father succumbed to Darth Maul’s crimson blade, Jyn was following her father around like a lost puppy, clinging on to his teachings, shying away from the younglings that stopped to stare as she made her way through the halls.

soon she was under the mercy of the council, she saw how they accepted younger skywalker, despite his turmoil. she could only hope to have the same fate. But as she watched the flames devour what was left of Qui Gon Jyn, not much hope was left for the young girl.

it wasn’t the only time she was in the presence of the council as they debated her fate, multiple times she clung behind her fathers robes listening to their careless remarks about her nature. but now she was alone, trembling under the eyes of watchful jedi, it seemed as yoda’s eyes pierced into her soul as he announced her organized exile.

she couldn’t help but feel sorrow, as the guards escorted her to the B’tshan Jeddai temple, an old temple where jedi went to retire.

There Jyn was alone, until finally Mace Windu decided to train the little girl…. a vision that compelled him to take her under his wing, he handed her her two amethyst lighsabers back, and harshly molded her into a pious soldier.

The brothers welcomed home an even larger ship with Jyn’s arrival. The marauder 2.0 was a large vessel, equipped with a medbay, multiple quarters rather than bunks, a kitchen, lounging area, and per jyn’s request a large meditation chamber.

That had become their little shared home, a dysfunctional family of six, each with their own little quirks and problems.

but Jyn. Jyn was hunter’s biggest puzzle. He hated how much attention he sought from her, and when she chose to confide in him, he let it all get into his head. The sergeant occupied his mind with her image, he was perplexed… hell? why does he even care if she gets along with crosshair? why does he care when she bonds with tech over little trinkets, and jokes along with Wrecker and Echo? Hunter couldn’t make sense of it himself, brushing it off every time it slightly bubbled.

“What’s this?!” boomed wrecker.

“Honeycombs from Alderaan, wanna taste?”

“Uh, sure thing Jyn!” Wrecker was grinning at the opportunity to try some of Jyn’s precious delicacies.

“what… can’t seem to pass the opportunity to eat, wrecker?” Spoke Crosshair with his signature cold tone.

“What the- EW! that’s gross” Wrecker was now gagging and coughing “what do you even call this crap? sour? bitter? eugh!”

“it’s both” crosshair said lazily as he fiddled with his toothpick

They didn’t notice hunter was already sitting at the barstool, observing them looking rather amused. He didn’t even notice himself staring until Jyn moved to look in his direction.

“yeah? she seems to like bitter… and sour things” Hunter shoots a glare at crosshair, and before he can even intervene, Jyn interrupts. “What’s that supposed to mean Sergeant?” Now this was all too amusing for crosshair, tech perked up, and wrecker was busy repeatedly washing his mouth… still cursing the taste of that.. thing.

Hunter was the first to slam his fists into the table and turn to leave the room.

the door hissed, and as echo made his way in, he was shoved by a rather angry Hunter.

“What’s the matter with him?” Crosshair scoffs still twisting and turning his toothpick around between his lips, he shrugs and then makes his way out the room.

This wasn’t the first time Hunter has such an outburst, Jyn began to think he hated being bossed around. Perhaps her new commanding presence bothered him, after all he was used to being the boss around here.

PART 2!

[ahsokathegray]

Pent Up in the Skywalker Penthouse || Part One

Pairings: Rexsoka, Anidala

Prompt: Rexsoka Monthly Oct. ‘23 - Body Heat

Summary: The war is won and the holidays have arrived. Ahsoka's plans for the solstice have fallen through, but Anakin's made it his business to make sure she isn't spending them alone while house sitting.

Tags: 18+, language, explicit sexual content, accidental voyeurism(?), accidental drug use, angst

Word Count: 6,313

A/N: If you haven’t already, go give @rexsoka-monthly a follow and join us in supporting and creating prompt-based Rexsoka content! 🫶

read on ao3! / masterlist

The wrinkles between Ahsoka’s brow markings deepened, the lines staying longer than they used to. Anakin tried not to notice. 

She glanced between him and Padmé, swallowing any words her younger self would’ve blurted without second thought. “Of course,” she settled on, forcing a smile upon her cracked lips and attempting to appear opposite than how she felt. 

Typically, on the annual Winter Solstice, they were side by side on the battlefield. War never halted for special occasions, birthdays, or even holidays, but Master and Padawan always found a moment to celebrate — even if it was sat atop a heap of clankers and splitting one more ration bar than they ought to have. 

But the war had ended, Ahsoka had returned to the Jedi Order as a Knight, and Anakin had stepped down to be a husband and father. Naturally, he’d want to spend the holidays with his real family. 

It was rare now that they even saw one another. There was no more passing by him in the Temple or finding him arguing with Master Kenobi in the war room. They had been actively mending that absence these last several months over a series of dinners. Though strained, their relationship was improving. Ahsoka had even watched the twins for him and Padmé a few times while on leave so that they might have a date night to themselves. 

She had assumed that she’d get to spend the solstice with the Skywalker family — this time at an actual table rather than a makeshift one made from a still-smoking spider droid, sharing a tender roast nuna instead of stale rations. 

Except the galaxy had changed and, with it, their pitiful tradition. Ahsoka recalled the previous year’s Winter Solstice. She’d spent it in a hungry, teeth chattering, loneliness in the Coruscant Underworld — save for the orange tooka that found its holiday feast in the trash bins beside her. 

This year was supposed to be different, warm, stable. Instead, she would be spending it alone again, house sitting in the Skywalker penthouse. 

“It’ll be nice to get away. Luke and Leia can’t miss their first Festival of Light,” she added, trying not to dote on her collapsed plans and instead recalling how brilliant the Naboo festival had been while the war still waged. The first one after the execution of Chancellor Palpatine was sure to be a monumental event. 

“Thank you, Ahsoka. We’ll be back in just a few days,” Padmé smiled softly, her comforting eyes empathetic and reassuring. It was impossible to fight off her contagious, radiant positivity. 

Anakin nodded at his wife’s words. “I’m sorry. I'll make it up to you, I promise. When we get back, we’ll have you and Obi-Wan over for dinner. Even Rex… and Cody too if he’s around. It’ll be just like old times,” he grinned, crossing his arms and donning his signature smirk. 

He noticed how the lines in Ahsoka’s face softened at the Captain’s name, followed by a flash of pain behind the blue of her eyes as the lines redrew themselves. 

Padmé had kicked her husband’s foot under the table on countless occasions, warning him not to speak too long on the subject of Rex. Each time the good Captain had come up in casual conversation, Ahsoka’s responses became curt. It was always the same dance:

“Have you seen Rex lately?”

“Not really.”

“He was over here a few nights ago for dinner and asked about you.”

“Oh? I’ll have to catch up with him then.”

Ahsoka noticed how the tired Senator leaned into Anakin and gave him a discreet nudge with her elbow. “We’ll return the day after the celebrations and not a moment later,” Padmé said, walking over to a (surely priceless) bowl to retrieve the passkey to the apartment and placing it in Ahsoka’s open palm, squeezing it with her own before she let go. “Don’t worry about watering Ani’s Felucia fern. It’s long dead. He’s a much better parent to the kids than he is to plants. We’ve got a stocked kitchen and the guest bedroom has already been prepared for you. Please, make yourself at home, Ahsoka. Comm us if you need anything at all.”

“Oh and Snips, don’t clean me out of candied bofa fruits this time,” Anakin teased, knowing she wasn’t the culprit that one time and also that she was too old for that nickname now — but using it anyway to lighten the mood. 

It worked. Briefly. 

Staying in a penthouse was wildly different than staying in the Jedi Temple. Ahsoka knew well that this didn’t account for even half of the luxuries to be had in the galaxy, but it was still something that left her stunned when opening something as simple as the utensil drawer. 

What was previously Padmé’s apartment, was now the family apartment. Ahsoka couldn’t comprehend how one person could have a need for so much space. Even with the addition of her husband and two kids, the home still seemed to have a faint echo lingering about. 

She found quickly that said echo could be somewhat muffled inside the master refresher — which was its own overly large area, shimmering in gold and encrusted with precious gems. The walls were painted to resemble the lake country of Naboo, frescoes depicting waterfalls, boats, and springtime flora in full bloom. If Ahsoka had to guess, Padmé spent much of her time in this room. 

A glance to the sonic told her that the water cascaded from the multiple shower heads in a mock waterfall style. Of course it did. Spending the solstice on Naboo made more sense now. Coruscant was not Padmé’s home — it was Anakin’s and his wife was homesick. 

She looked at the claw-foot bathtub in the center of the room. It was so large that it could’ve fit two people comfortably. Ahsoka pressed her cracked lips together and the ache in her muscles felt as though it had doubled. This wasn’t the case, however, it only felt like it at the proximity of such promised relaxation. 

Massaging the knot in her back, Ahsoka decided on her plans for the night. 

Back in the guest’s quarters, she’d found that Anakin had a hand in making sure that her stay would be as comfortable as possible. The heat was on, her favorite snack food was stacked on the nightstand, and a Shilian holo drama was on the big screen. She smiled to herself. 

The other nightstand had a different selection available — snacks she recognized but didn’t reach for often. Perhaps Anakin just wanted to give her more than enough variety during her stay. He really was serious about the bofa fruit, then. 

Her own refresher wasn’t nearly as decadent as the master, but still just as impressive. Fluffy towels were stacked on the counter space and Ahsoka clutched one to her chest before padding back across the apartment to the massive claw-foot tub surrounded by murals of the lake country. 

Her right montral soon cradled the lip of the tub and her eyes grew heavy with the warmth. The combination of the candles, the dark, and the pink bath crystals were working to whisk her off to sleep, making each moment lasting longer than was supposed to. Ahsoka sank deeper and the soapy water lapped at her skin, swallowing more of her the longer she was in there. All that stuck out above the surface now was her shoulders and head. Her lekku swayed in the water and grazed the hardened peaks of her nipples, pulling a gasp from her cracked lips. 

Her eyes opened long enough to see that it was now snowing on Coruscant. Flurries danced downward through the floor length windows, looking like stars in a light polluted sky. 

Stars were never visible from the surface of Coruscant. 

Ahsoka’s breathing picked up just a little bit, briefly forgetting that the windows were made of one-way glass. She sank back down beneath the bubbles anyway and had more peace of mind for when she did eventually decide to exit the bath. 

She was so relaxed and so… alone. She was never really alone like this anymore — not since she’d walked away from the Order. This level of solitude and comfort didn’t exist in the Jedi Temple. Maybe house sitting wasn’t all as bad as she’d predicted. Maybe some types of loneliness weren’t so bad. 

One of her hands drifted downward to the bone of her hip, the contact making her jolt. It had been quite a while since this kind of touch had been there. She sighed. Ahsoka was reminded of the fingers that last touched her like this — fingers that hadn’t been her own. 

Rex had delicately taken hold of her here, his other hand on her left hip, as he’d thrusted into her aching center and pressed hot kisses to her neck. She remembered the way small bruises had peppered her skin the next morning and the sounds he’d made in her montrals.

A soft moan vibrated on her lips and she gave a breathy laugh at herself. 

Her core fluttered, squeezing around nothing but a memory. Everything that had transpired between them on Mandalore, the journey there, the journey back… all of it had led to a stolen rendezvous in the Tribunal after it had been stationed back on Coruscant. 

They’d delivered Maul to the Temple and stopped by the barracks to check on the men. Rex had insisted on accompanying her to the Venator shipyard to do a round of inspection after the inspection team had finished — after the lights had half gone out and suspiciously way after hours. 

For what seemed like a split second of a rip in the seam of time, neither one of them had a responsibility to their titles. 

She was a citizen and so was Rex. 

There was no rank, there was no war, there was no Captain, or Commander, or Jedi, or advisor — there was only what they had for one another. There was only the resolution of so much charged banter. There were only them in the General’s quarters on the Tribunal. Only them on Coruscant. Only them in the galaxy. 

Ahsoka felt the sting on her lips as a gasp escaped her lungs, ragged as she circled her clit in the same, slow and torturous pace Rex had done. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth before letting it go with a moan. The water around her had begun to ripple, now a product of the movements below the bubbles. She sank further into the water and threw her head back, recalling the drag of Rex’s thick cock between her thighs. 

The sensation felt impossibly heightened. 

Choking out another moan, Ahsoka bravely lifted one leg out of the bath and hooked it on the edge of the tub, giving herself more room to move and allowing her fingers to drift lower.

Rex fished the passkey to his former General’s apartment out of his pocket and waited for the light to flash green. The doors parted for him and closed softly as he stepped into the entryway. 

It was notably odd being here alone without the usual hosts present and greeting party of astromech and the protocol droid. He almost welcomed the silence had it not been so eerie. 

They could’ve left the lights on in the foyer at least. 

When Skywalker had asked him to house sit, he’d raised an eyebrow but accepted nonetheless. What else was he supposed to do? Clones didn’t really celebrate the solstice. They celebrated everything and nothing and all of it with a drink in hand and a headache the next morning. 

If bets were being taken, he’d put all his credits on the boys piling into 79s this week. 

He hadn’t stayed with the GAR after the war had been won. And as much as he’d wanted to, he couldn’t allow himself to accept the permanent position of being Ahsoka’s Commander. 

Being that close to her yet forbidden from being with her, would’ve been too heavy on the heart — not to mention dangerous for her, himself, and the men. So he left. Being a soldier was all he knew how to do and he regretted his choice every day. But it was necessary. He had to learn how to be something other than a clone, other than a soldier, and something other than a man in love with his superior. 

Sighing, Rex tossed the passkey into the dish by the door and noticed that the spare one was missing. He stilled and slowed his breathing, checking a second time to confirm. 

Skywalker had been specific. There were supposed to be two. 

Reaching for the pistol strapped to his leg, Rex began making a sweep of the penthouse, aiming first for where most of the valuables would be residing. He took a left into the apartment and stalked towards the master bedroom, finding the door wide open. A glance around at the other doors told him this was indeed the right call — every other door was sealed. 

His former General was still on speed dial. He could reach them if he needed, even if they wouldn’t do much good from Naboo. 

Ahsoka was also still on speed dial as well. 

Rex took a moment to glance down at the first button on his wrist comm. She was currently on leave if he wasn’t mistaken. A coil tightened in the center of his chest (maybe a little to the left). As war hardened as he was, the pain of losing her still cut deep. He ground his teeth.

They were adults. She’d come if he called. 

No disturbances were coming from the main suite. The bed was made and tucked with droid-like precision. All of the drawers were closed and the curtains hung undisturbed. No glass or debris littered the floor. For a brief moment, Rex relaxed his grip on his blaster, but that was only until he saw the faint flicker of light coming from the crack in the ‘fresher door. 

The lavender and gold doors flew open, ricocheting against the painted walls and chipping the lovely paint. His eyes were narrowed and brows furrowed as he scanned the refresher, not at all expecting to find lit candles in a dark room and a very naked Ahsoka in the largest bathtub he’s ever seen. 

His eyebrows slowly rose upward in shock. Gone was the instinct of a soldier ready to strike. 

She would’ve stopped it if she could, but it was far too late. Her eyes would’ve stayed squeezed shut had Rex not entered the room — the very image of what brought upon her orgasm was now standing directly across from her. She didn’t have to picture his fingers anymore. She could see them. His chest was heaving, his skin glowing, eyes reflecting the flicker of the candles, his pretty lips parted. Ahsoka was helpless but to choke out a moan, helpless to control the jolts of pleasure coursing throughout her body as she came, eyes locked with his as she came undone to the thought of him. 

Three candles only provided so much visibility, but she didn’t need them to be able to tell that Rex had gone deeply red in the face. 

He was frozen where he stood, unable to move, unable to divert his gaze. He’d only witnessed the climax of her pleasure for one night, engraved it into his memory, certain he’d never see it again. Yet here it was, here she was, legs trembling as she came right in front of him. 

Ahsoka’s hands moved beneath the water, her arms following as she removed them from between her thighs. She was still holding eye contact with Rex, who began to notice that the only sound in the room was their combined, panting breaths. He’d been standing there, looking at her for far too long. 

Discreetly, he stuffed his shaking hands into his pockets and adjusted himself, now looking anywhere but her and delayed in picking up on the scent of some recreational spice. 

Chancing a look up to the small table next to the bath, he saw the pink dust. Perhaps her pupils were only dilated due to the drugs and not because of him. Ahsoka's head lolled against the side of the tub and Rex was all too aware that her eyes were still on him, watching him try to not watch her as she came down from just one of her highs. 

Of all the things he’d been trained for, this certainly hadn’t made the list. He should leave. He should step out of the room and wait for her to be clothed. But his feet remained still. Stuck. What was he supposed to say now?

“I thought Jedi weren’t permitted the use of recreational spice,” he said, hearing his words tremble in his throat as he motioned towards the jar of dust. 

Not the right thing to say. What are you doing? She’s in the bath. You need to leave. 

Ahsoka giggled and looked at the spice and then back at him, pulling her one leg back into the water. He swallowed thickly. She licked her bottom lip, her mouth presumably very dry at this point. “The Jedi are quite different than you and I last remember,” she responded slowly, still laughing. 

“Of all the rules they revised, I somehow doubt this was one of them,” he retorted, leaning against the marbled countertop and crossing his arms. You shouldn’t be in here. 

Rex forced himself to push off the surface, to put a stop to this and not let himself grow comfortable here. Comfort was the furthest from what he was feeling, but something about Ahsoka made it feel so natural, even when it was anything but. In fact, it was most unnatural for a clone and a Jedi to be caught in this situation. 

It was wrong before and it was still wrong now. 

“You wouldn’t be wrong.”

His heart lodged itself in his throat. 

She continued, sounding far away, “I thought it was bath crystals.”

He coughed and rubbed the back of his too hot neck, readying to take his fleeing steps from the room. Rex didn’t know what to do with his hands. At this moment at least. He absolutely knew what he’d be doing with them later, in the privacy of his own apartment and with an amount of guilt that would last him to the next solstice. 

His disapproval of the drugs seemed to amuse her. She leaned forwards and crossed her arms, folding them under her chin on the edge of the bath, prompting him to cough again. Only the soap covered her chest, slipping between…

“Will you be able to get out?” Rex asked, clearing his throat and keeping his eyes fixed on the pink powder on the small table in front of her. If he didn’t, he’d be wholly incapable of keeping his eyes at appropriate levels. 

Her confidence was… intoxicating. In this state, Ahsoka felt zero ounce of embarrassment from the act he’d just seen her complete. 

Blinking lazily, she slipped a little on her knees and giggled. Well past her limit to exit the tub without injury, Rex concluded. He ground his teeth. Karking hells. Leaving the room alone certainly wasn’t in the question now. The soldier in him shifted into gear again, finding the towel that sober Ahsoka had set out for herself and thanking their makers that she’d done so. He stepped around the tub and held it up, letting the material unfold itself and shield her nudity from him. Rex put his back to the mirrors. 

Ahsoka giggled again from the water as she bit on her lower lip, looking at Rex through half-lidded eyes. 

Fuck. 

Tearing his gaze away from her, Rex approached the edge of the porcelain tub and took great interest in the colorful tiles at his feet. The cool air coming from being near the windows told him he was sweating. “Can you stand?” he asked. 

“I can try,” Ahsoka said, gripping the edges of the bath, wet fingers grazing Rex’s pants. He bit down on his tongue hard. 

From what he could tell out of his peripheral vision, her movements were entirely uncoordinated — like a newborn kybuck walking for the first time. Taking a second to regain her land legs, Ahsoka rose with wobbly knees to her feet, the dripping of the water off of her body filling the room. Rex tried not to imagine it, he really did, the way the water traveled down her breasts and gathered by her navel. He tried not to imagine the shine and slip of her sienna skin, the water streaking down her torso and the swell of her ass, collecting there and trailing down her thighs. 

It was an image he remembered all too well and an image concealed to him now only by a towel. 

Yes, Rex remembered — all too painfully well. He was cursed to remember. The feel of her lips between his, her supple skin under his fingertips, the flutter of her eyes, the sounds passing over her tongue. He’d memorized the curve of her breasts, the taste of her kiss, the way her hands scratched along his scalp, the way she breathed his name, how slow they’d taken it at first, the way her cunt sucked him in and wrapped so tightly around him, how wet she’d been… and how they’d washed one another in the sonic after. 

It was almost ironic that they meet like this now. Rex could’ve laughed if the memory hadn’t— 

Ahsoka suddenly fell forward and took a frantic hold of the towel, thinking it would break her fall but pulling it from Rex’s grasp completely. It dropped to the floor in a heap and her hands scrambled for the next available thing, pulling him into her with two fistfuls of his white shirt. Reacting quickly, Rex’s arms shot out to both hold her close and prevent his own fall, placing one hand at the small of her bare back and the other on the lip of the tub. 

But he was only successful at one of those attempts. His shins were flush against the bath and Ahsoka was flush against him, the soap in the water unwilling to allow her feet to grip the bottom. Finally slipping, Ahsoka took Rex along with her, yelping as they fell and the bubbles engulfed them. 

Unscrewing his eyes, the first thing Rex saw were small heaps of bubbles falling around them and framing Ahsoka’s face. The warm water lapped at his neck, having soaked through his tee and trousers. He blew away the bubbles on his nose. Two lekku were draped on either side of his head and both of his hands were holding… holding her hips.

She’d either landed on top of him by sheer accident or he’d somehow managed to cradle her fall while they were going down. But the only thing he knew for certain was that a dark, hardened nipple had just grazed over his chest. He bit the inside of his cheek, keenly aware of the twitch of his cock and the way Ahsoka’s hot core was seated against his belt. 

He’d turned his head but seeing the white marks situated above her opening had been completely unavoidable. Heat seared across his face as though he’d been slapped.  

Water continued to slosh around them and Rex tore his hands away from her naked frame, desperately trying to move in a way where she couldn’t feel the stiff erection in his pants. There’d be no tent and no hiding it. The water would allow Ahsoka to see and feel everything. His frantic reaction prompted her to leap into action, accidentally grinding herself against him in attempts to mend their situation and causing Rex’s hips to buck. 

A moan was stifled in both of their throats and again he caught sight of the pretty white markings above her pussy, screwing his eyes shut to avoid a third. “Ahsoka,” he choked out, “Just follow my lead and I’ll get us out of here.”

What was left of the contents of the tub sloshed around them as Rex sat up. With his eyes closed, he reached out for her arms, which she gratefully offered to him so that he could pull them up together. Ahsoka swallowed, trying to wet her dry mouth, and found that looking down only made it dry up more. Rex was undeniably hard, the head of his thick cock outlined by his soaked pants. 

A whine escaped her. 

“Are you alright? Did you hurt yourself?” Rex asked. 

“M’okay,” she squeaked, watching his boots as they left the tub. He cracked an eye open to look for the towel that had dropped, only to find that it too had been drenched. 

He sighed and Ahsoka witnessed the flush occupying the shells of Rex’s ears. “Put your arms around my neck,” he instructed. 

For the first time that evening, her heart leapt into her throat. Her senses were dulled and nowhere near the end of their fog, but this still made her insides flutter. Ahsoka did as she was asked, her eyes locked on Rex’s face as she hooked her hands behind him. Force, he looked as beautiful as ever. 

She hadn’t seen him… hadn’t spoken with him since…

Rex’s hands connected with her hips again, lingering for a fraction of a second and not even giving her time to gasp before he bent and slotted an arm under her knees and one behind her back. 

The small gasp fell past her lips as he lifted her up. Ahsoka looked past him and into the mirror behind them, witnessing the way his muscles rippled under his wet, white t-shirt. If her mouth wasn’t already dry, it surely was now. She giggled again to herself, kicking her feet in a girlish sort of way. It couldn’t be helped. Rex just made her feel so giddy and—

Ahsoka kicked the jar of spice onto the floor. 

“Fuck me,” Rex sighed, defeated. 

Pink dust swirled around them and they each coughed, his boots crunching the shards of glass now littered on the tiles. Ahsoka’s giggling ceased only for a moment before it started up again. She threw her head back in laughter as Rex walked them out of the room, shaking his head. 

But Ahsoka saw the slight twitch in the right corner of his mouth. 

His head was starting to feel light as he approached the guest bedroom. Ahsoka was humming and kicking her feet to whatever tune she had in her head. It almost sounded like a cheesy solstice carol, but Ahsoka was never one to hold the correct tune or even learn the proper words or melodies to songs. She was exceptional in everything she did — everything but singing. 

It was like listening to a choir of porgs. No, actually, it was like a choir of porgs being grilled alive for solstice dinner. 

And he loved her for it. 

The lamps and holo tv cast a dim glow in the room and Rex was grateful. He nudged the switch for the fan with his shoulder, turning it off, and placed Ahsoka gently onto the mattress, feeling himself sway as he leaned down. She released her grip on his neck but her fingers lingered, trailing under his jaw and causing him to choke on a hiss. 

His pants were already clinging to him and she was just making it worse. 

He had to look up to the bed canopy to prevent his eyes from drifting any lower. The doors to her ‘fresher were open and he spotted a stack of towels, lifting himself off the mattress for it and grabbing up a fresh one. Switching the light off, he sighed. 

He’d have to go back into the master ‘fresher and blow out all those candles Ahsoka had lit. 

Placing the towel on the edge of the bed, he began the journey back down the hall. The less he looked at Ahsoka the better. 

When he returned to the scene of the crime, the room was in a thin cloud of pink dust. One of the candles had already been put by their splash. 

Rex pulled his shirt up over his nose so as to prevent any more inhalation and mopped up the puddle on the floor. By the looks of the painted walls, he doubted that Senator Amidala had ever intended to add a real lake to her Naboo themed refresher. 

Quickly, he found proper cleaning supplies in a hall closet and erased the mess. It was like it had never happened. 

He was blowing out the last candle, however, when he saw the remnants of the spice being sucked up into the vents. Of course this couldn’t be easy. If he didn’t turn off the entire system, it would spread throughout the apartment. 

The walk back down the hall wasn’t as smooth as the first time around. His steps were noticeably less coordinated. As a soldier, it enraged him that he had no control over it. How much spice was safe to inhale in one sitting? 

Ahsoka was shivering on the bed when he returned, toweling off her lekku and still stark naked. His dick twitched helplessly and he leaned into the wall. 

“Rex,” Ahsoka slurred his name. He leaned further into the wall. She was looking down at her lekku. “I think the white is turning blue.”

“You’re not turning blue.”

“But—”

“I had to turn off the heat,” he explained, handing her one of the Senator’s robes. 

She finally looked up at him and her lekku dropped back down to her chest. Her towel drifted down past her collarbones and Rex offered the housecoat more urgently.

Ahsoka pushed it aside, delighted amusement painting her face. “Rex, what are you wearing?”

“The same thing you’re about to be wearing,” he answered, “Take it.”

Orange fingers took the luxury housecoat and blue eyes went wide. “This is expensive,” her blown pupils tried to narrow, “Wait. If this one’s… Is that Anakin’s?” 

Rex looked down to where Ahsoka was pointing. In the haze of shucking his wet clothes and pulling the robes on in the dark, he’d missed the monogram. Silver embroidery decorated the chest of the blue garment, reading in curly letters: Ani. 

Karking hells. 

He’d never seen Ahsoka laugh so hysterically. She fell onto her back with laughter, her face and lekku beginning to flush. Even Rex couldn’t keep a straight face this time. It looked ridiculous on him. He couldn’t tell if it was the spice, Ahsoka’s guffawing, or the image of General Skywalker wearing a fur lined, baby blue housecoat with his nickname on it that made him join her in hysterics. 

Tears collected at the corners of Ahsoka’s eyes and somehow Rex was now face to face with her. Had he collapsed onto the bed in laughter? He couldn’t pick himself up or make himself stop long enough to answer. It felt like if he’d were to try and lift his head up that it would weigh thousands of pounds. 

With his face smushed into the bed, their laughing slowly started to cease, turning into only a smile as they watched one another. 

The towel was millimeters away from exposing Ahsoka’s breasts. 

Rex reached for her forgotten housecoat and pulled it up for her to grab. “Put this on. It’s gonna get cold. I’ll call someone t’come fix it in the morning.”

Ahsoka nodded and opened the robe to access the arm holes. She got one in successfully and pulled the excess material over her chest to hunt for the other. She missed. And missed. And missed. And missed again. 

“Rex,” she whined, “Help.”

Her plea broke him out of his daze of watching her, not even realizing she was struggling. Something about the way her back kept arching off the mattress made his cock slap against his stomach and he’d been lost in the motions. 

His fingers didn’t feel like his own as he moved the robe around to find the other arm hole and hold it open for her. Ahsoka fit it inside and smiled in triumph, allowing Rex to lean over her to close the robe shut, tying it securely. The hands that didn’t feel like his own stayed motionless at her sides. 

A lone orange finger roamed over his knuckles before Ahsoka turned to look out the window. The snow was falling harder. 

Rex swallowed and pulled away, collapsing back into the bed at her side and looking in the other direction. 

Why were all of his favorite, guilty pleasure treats on the nightstand?

“‘Soka?” he asked, his voice cracking. 

She hummed. 

“Did you do this?”

Turning to face him, her brow markings turned inward. “What d’you mean?”

He licked his lips. Now his mouth was dry. “I mean why are you here? Why are my favorite things on the night table? Why is that Shilian classic on the tv with the woman I said looks like you? Did you know I’d be here?”

The crease between her brows had deepened. “Rex, what are you talking about? I didn’t d—”

Her words trailed. 

He—

No. 

Oh, when he gets back!

“Anakin,” she breathed, shaking her head and staring up at the ceiling. “He thinks he’s so slick…”

“I’m confused,” Rex said slowly, propping himself up onto pillows that cost more than his life. 

Ahsoka did the same, pressing her nose into the fuzz that lined the collar of her similarly monogrammed robe. “Did Anakin ask you to house sit while he was away?”

His features didn’t move. “Well, yeah, but—”

“When?”

“Yesterday.”

She nodded to herself and laughed at seemingly nothing, that was, until Rex remembered the passkeys. 

“That kriffing— He—”

Ahsoka finished for him, “Orchestrated this whole thing.” She definitely butchered the first word. 

Rex looked at the opposite nightstand and found that their guess was confirmed. All of Ahsoka’s favorite treats were sitting atop it — everything he knew her to love. And the film. She’d said once that it was her childhood favorite. 

He should be angry. He should be outraged at Skywalker and he ought to return his passkey to the bowl and leave her to house sit. This wasn’t a two person job, afterall.

But he didn’t move. If he did, it might take thousands of pounds of effort. 

“When did he ask you?” 

“Just before he left. I’d come to surprise them for dinner,” she answered, her voice less musical than before. 

They sat in silence for a long while, neither of them paying any real attention to the holo drama. With no heat running, the apartment’s silence was loud. They could even hear the snow falling outside. Ahsoka pulled the towel over her to retain more warmth. 

Rex reached for the nightstand and downed half of the bottle of water Anakin had presumably left for him. He was trying to focus on sobering up and not think about how he and Ahsoka had found themselves in a bed together. How could the Gener— Skywalker do this? All those countless dinners. He and Padmé both know how painful the subject of Ahsoka was for him. 

Her voice was quiet when she finally spoke — so quiet that he thought it was part of the program playing on the holo tv at first. 

“Why did you leave?”

The silence between them suddenly felt heavy, like it could weigh thousands of—

“You resigned without even telling me first,” she continued, glancing at him once, bravely, before turning back to the window. 

She was hurting just as badly as he was. 

Rex felt like that shattered jar of spice. 

“I– I couldn’t serve with you anymore,” he choked out. “I couldn’t serve under a superior I’d slept with. You’d agreed to rejoin the Jedi and… it wouldn’t… it wouldn’t have been in the best interest of the men if I’d had sexual relations with—”

“Is that all it was to you?” Ahsoka cut him off, her voice louder and wavering. “Sexual relations?”

The pain in her voice sent a crack running straight through the largest vessel in his heart. “Ahsoka. Of course not.” 

His eyes were still adamant not to focus but he fought against the high to train his gaze on her. 

“Ahsoka, it’s all I’ve thought about since. It’s all I’ve thought about for months. I thought… I thought leaving the GAR was what you wanted me to do. At the time, it’s what I wanted to do too. We’d finally been given the choice, all of the clones, and I made mine. I couldn’t choose the Republic and choose you too. It wasn’t even in the question to have both. I’d be failing the men, failing my government, and failing you if I stayed. You don’t know how I’d dreamed of one day being your Commander, calling you General. I thought after Maul, that’s what we’d get. I knew Skywalker would transfer me to you permanently. But when we got back… we— we got so much more than that,” he paused, “And then it just…”

She sighed, her eyes glittering with tears threatening to spill. “And then it just didn’t happen.”

“Just once. That’s all we got,” Rex laughed at himself to avoid breaking down. “I’d never regretted a decision more. I should’ve let you inspect the Tribunal yourself. I shouldn’t have come into your quarters with you. I should’ve turned in at the barracks, kept the promotion, and served with you and the 332nd. At least, that way, I’d still be able to see you. Even if you only spoke to me because you had to, we’d still be near, and I’d still die for you even then — gladly. We should’ve gotten so much more than we did.”

Moodboard by @ventresses

Pent Up in the Skywalker Penthouse (Part Two)

[thisisarcanereverie]

When the World Went to Shit (Chapter 7)

Joel Miller x FEM! Reader

A/N: this is a SPOILER WARNING, this contains spoilers from the series in general.

WARNINGS: Canon level of violence, swears, Joel is sad, talks of grief, PTSD, brief mentions of gore, Eventual Smut, pining (on both ends), grumpy idiots in love, reader is in her late 30's to early to mid 40's. Major character deaths. DISCLAIMER NO CHARACTERS/GIFS/PICS USED ARE MINE.

Summary: 20 years later after the world went to shit you, Joel, and Tess have to take 14 year old Ellie to the Firefly base outside of Boston QZ. What was supposed to be a simple plan turned into something much more complicated.

Prev. Chapter

You woke up with a start, breathing heavily as your head begins to pound as you remember what happened. 

The route you were going to take was blocked, there was no way to blow through it with the truck or move the cars and to get around it would’ve added another day to your journey. So Joel decided to go another route, one that led you into the city. At first everything seemed alright, but then there was a man on the road. He claimed to be injured but there was no blood on his clothes, no obvious signs of infection or any other bodily harm. Joel recognized the trap before you did, and suddenly he floored it; nearly running over the man who had tried to trick you. Next thing you know something smashed the windshield and Joel was losing control of the car. You remember swerving into an abandoned laundromat and Joel’s arm in front of you. After making sure Ellie was alright Joel had checked you for injuries, not even thinking of himself. You remember the worried look in his dark eyes before the gunshots started hitting the truck. You cussed as all three of you got out of the truck, you held onto your pistol as Joel grabbed the shotgun from the back. He ordered Ellie to go through the hold and not to come out until he or you called for her. Ellie seemed reluctant to leave you two to fight, you could see the argument brewing along with fear. You nodded at her, while Joel promised her none of the bullets would hit her. You’re sure that if you had said the same she still would’ve argued, but you had seen it the past few days; her and Joel were cut from the same cloth. So anything Joel said, went. 

After Ellie made it past the hole he had wanted you to hide, but you refused. Instead you rose from your crouched position and began to fire, counting the bullets fired as you tried to aim. You vaguely heard Joel curse at you as he began to do the same, taking cover when needed. It all had happened in a blur, one minute you’re fighting them the next you were knocked on the ground and everything went black. 

You sat up but quickly had to hold onto the floor for dear life as you tried not to fall back down as lightheadedness almost overtook you. 

‘Don’t get up,” you heard Ellie say, her figure slightly blurry but whether that was due to age or concussion you still weren’t sure. 

“What happened?” You asked, clutching your head, hissing a little as your fingers landed on a tender spot. 

“One of them knocked you down,” Ellie explained, “you hit your head on the ground pretty hard.” 

One of them. 

Joel

“Joel,” You said as you tried to stand up, looking for your gun. Joel was out there alone, he needed backup. 

“He’s fine,” Ellie explained, “see” she pointed over to him. He didn’t look worse for wear, a few cuts and forming bruises littering his features, but over all fine. You sighed in relief as you sat back down, your head still pounded. Something nagged at you though. 

“I was all the way over there,” you said, pointing over where the hole was. Or at least, should’ve been, seeing as it was blocked by a heavy object now. 

“I carried you,” Joel said, looking away from the window for a moment. “You’ve only been out for ten minutes.”

“What about the men?” you asked, your eyes narrowing on him. You saw as his eyes lingered on Ellie a moment before returning to the window and you noticed her breathing hitch. You gathered what must’ve happened in a few moments, which you guessed was a good sign. Meaning you were thinking clearly so the chances of a concussion were low. You looked at Ellie, expecting to see something in her eyes, or for her to have changed. You still remembered the first person you killed, they still haunted you in your sleep some nights. You’ve learned to recognize that look in others, the look of someone who had just killed someone for the first time. But you didn’t see that in her eyes, there was a grief in those eyes too old for someone so young. You didn’t press it, you figured Joel would tell you later or Ellie would, if they didn’t that was alright as well. 

“We need to leave,” Joel said, grabbing his flashlight beside him, “We’ll go through the back, use a few back alley’s till we can get somewhere safe for the time being.” You went to stand up, only for the familiar sound of Joel’s boots to stop in front of you, you see his tanned hand and accept it. The roughness of his hands, the callouses and scars littered it. But you didn’t mind, because despite their appearance and Joel’s icy look, they were pleasantly warm. 

…alright maybe you did have a concussion. 

“Can you walk on your own?” Joel asked, you could feel his eyes scanning over you, watching as you lightly pushed yourself off the wall, ignoring the slight pain on your head. 

“Why, you offering?” You asked with your best cheeky smile. 

“You wish.” Joel said as he rolled his eyes, there was a moment where your hands lingered together for a moment, before he let go and you proceeded to follow him. 

You made it a few streets over, hiding behind cars and staying in the shadows of the back alley’s you eventually make it to cover. 

Another abandoned storefront, but at least the windows were covered, old newspapers covered the glass. At least you wouldn’t be seen so easily by people passing by and from what you saw on the way here, it was a good vantage point. Easily scoping out routes and ways to get to a better location. As soon as the door was locked you plopped yourself down on one of the seats available, you're still slightly dizzy but you were almost certain it wasn’t anything serious. You took in a sharp breath as your hand grazed over what you assumed to be a slight cut on the left side of your hairline. You were tempted to grab something for the pain in your bag but thought better of it. You didn’t know what was coming your way and you might need that tylenol in your bag for someone else. 

However that didn’t happen as Joel must have noticed your hesitant hand leaving you bag, because the next thing you know your first aid kit was out and the older man was in front of you. He pulled one of the dusty chairs towards you and sat on it, creaking lightly as he put his weight on it. His fingers gently opened the kit in front of you and began looking through. 

“Joel I don’t nee-”

“Shut up.” Joel interrupted, you were about to speak again when the look in his eyes turned all the words you were about to say into dust. “Let me help you,” he said in a low voice, “please.” You wordlessly nodded as he finally found what he was looking for apparently, something to clean the cut and the painkillers you got from Bill and Franks before you left. Not thinking you would need them so soon. It was heavy duty stuff, you had to do quite a few things you weren’t proud of in order to get that for Frank. You only took it in case something serious happened, and seeing as your only problem was some dizziness and a slight cut you went to correct Joel.

“Joel that medicine is for emer-”

“Listen if you would rather-” 

“If you’d shut up for a second and let me get a word in edgewise,” You interrupted, “I was about to say it’s the wrong medicine. That right there is for major emergencies, the tylenol is right next to it.” You pointed to the other bottle, admittedly it was a well worn plastic bottle, the wrapper long since tatters somewhere so he couldn’t have known. You watch as he mutters something you couldn’t make out as he puts the pills carefully back in their plastic baggie before grabbing the plain bottle you were pointing to. He screwed the top open and handed you two round pills which you took with a swig of water from your bag. You didn’t realize how dry your throat was at that moment until you felt the semi cool liquid running down your throat. You coughed a little as you put the cap back on, you needed to conserve it. It wasn’t like there were any water bottles lying around and the nearest stream you guessed was out of the city. You quietly secured the bottle to your bag, all the while not paying attention to the man in front of you. It wasn’t until you felt his fingers gently touch the wound on your head, causing you to wince a little and bring your attention back to him. His brows were furrowed and a thin frown decorated his face, he looked angry but his hand was gentle. 

“I probably don’t have a concussion,” You said as you cleared your throat, fighting off the slight flush to your cheeks, “the worst of it is the cut I probably won’t even need stitches. Just hand me some tape or something and I’ll do the rest.” You reached for the tape beside him but Joel was faster, grabbing the tape before you got to it. 

“I’ve got it,” he said with gravel in his voice. You made one more attempt at grabbing the tape before you accepted his help. You tried to avoid looking at him, but when he was close enough for you to smell the earthy scent on his skin and the slight cedar scent of his shirt it was hard not to. His lips slightly parted, his tongue occasionally darting out to wet them. The crows feet beside his eyes crinkle ever so slightly as he narrows them, and the fact that his hands, despite being war worn and capable of such violent acts, were gentle with you. You’ve seen Joel in various stages in 20 years, you’ve seen him miserable and depressed and angry and violent. But you’ve never seen him gentle, or hopeful, and ever since taking this job with him and meeting Ellie. You’ve seen sides of him you thought were long dead. He had this certain look about him when he talked to her, it was softer almost. 

“There you go,” Joel said, you cleared your throat and hoped he hadn’t noticed you staring. You saw him look apprehensive at his handiwork. “It’ll hold until we can leave, once we’re in the clear you can fix it up.” 

You nodded as Joel went from sitting in front of you to tentatively look out the window. Lifting a small piece of newspaper to glance through. 

“Looks like they’re checking out the apartment buildings first.” He observed, “but they’ll be coming through here soon enough.” He walked away as Ellie approached where he was and looked out as well. 

“There’s a really tall building, like, four blocks away.” 

“Yeah I saw it.” 

“So we’re heading towards that one then,” Ellie said as she looked away from the window. 

“As soon as we don’t hear a truck, we move.” Joel sat down in front of you again, “as fast as we can.” You watched him look over at you, “go rest, I’ll take the first watch and I’ll wake you when it’s time.” 

“Joel,” You began until Ellie stepped in.

“You got your fucking bell run dude,” Ellie said as she slide down the floor, “Sleep.” Despite her hard tone you could see the concern in her eyes, you let out a sigh as you complied. The trucks probably will stop for a brief moment in between shifts which seems like it won’t be for a while. You get off the chair and make a makeshift sleeping area with your sleeping bag and your coat. The ground is hard and cold, but you’ve slept in worse conditions. You do your best to ignore the chill of the floor as you slowly feel yourself sinking deeper and deeper into the arms of sleep.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////

Joel P.O.V

He looked at you while you slept, it didn’t take as long as it usually did, probably because of the head wound. 

A heavy, sickening weight settled deep in his guts the longer he looked at you and the girl who sat next to you. Ellie had saved you, he had been too slow, too old, and too damn deaf. He didn’t hear the other one, it wasn’t until your body had fallen that he heard him. But Joel had been too slow, so the boy got the drop on him, all at once he couldn’t breathe as he was pinned to the ground by his neck. His kicking and struggling did no good to get the boy off of him. Had it not been for the dark haired girl, he probably would’ve died. 

Still though, despite the world being as fucked up as it is, someone at her age should never have had to do that, or hear it. She didn’t kill him, but she might as well have. The man was injured, there was no way he would’ve survived longer than an hour tops, so Joel did what he’s always done, what he had to do. He sent Ellie back through the hole and told her and took her gun. He figured she nabbed it back at Bill and Franks before they left, it was the only time she could’ve gotten her hands on one. Once the small girl was behind the wall he turned to the man, he couldn’t have been older than 20. It wouldn’t be the youngest he’s killed, he watched as the boy tried to barter for his life. Giving him the knife he had on his person, promises that Joel knew deep down he wouldn’t keep, and as Joel raised the barrel of the gun and aimed the boy called out for his mother. Joel shot him before he could plead more. Joel has heard begging before, usually they begged for their lives or to god, but occasionally you would get one that would plead for their mother. Those ones got to him the most, but he couldn’t think about it for too long. 

He remembered putting the gun in his pocket before turning to you. Joel didn’t hesitate before picking you up, you were warm despite laying down on the cold floor. He carried you over to the front door where Ellie was waiting for him. After setting you down inside it wasn’t long until you had woken up. But the minutes in between were silent as Joel stared at you, there was a nagging feeling in his gut. One that was heavy and burdensome, a million thoughts ran through his head. He worried that you would have a concussion when you woke up, he wanted to curse out loud about the supplies those fuck heads costed him, but one things kept coming into mind. The young girl beside you, she looked slightly shaken but nothing beyond that. 

When you woke up, he was expecting you to yell at him for being too slow or too deaf. But he was surprised when you called his name instead, he looked away before you could catch him staring. 

Joel didn’t want to admit what was happening to him, he didn’t want to admit that what Bill wrote in that letter was true. You were family, had been since the outbreak happened, same with Tess. But, he guessed, even Tess knew that wasn’t all. 

Joel tried to busy himself with getting you and Ellie to a safer location, then with mending you up like you’ve done for him many times before. After the initial protesting and some guidance from you, he had patched you up decently enough. Joel would be lying if he said he was completely focused on the wound on your head. He tried to be gentle, not wanting to hurt you further, but he lingered. He had forced himself to look at the wound, but the temptation to look further was gnawing at him. To linger longer than he was, to wipe his thumb over where a droplet of water rested on your lip, to press his forehead against yours and breathe you in. the smell of ivory bar soap and the faint hint of pine and something floral, the same scent that haunted some of his dreams only it was tinged with an unmistakable metallic scent. 

After surveying the area and getting you to sleep, he looked over at the dark haired girl for the first time since the laundry mat. Her eyes were steady and dark as she took a seat next to you. Joel didn’t say it outloud, but Ellie seemed to like you. More than you seemed to know. 

Silence loomed over the both of them until Joel finally broke it. 

“Are you alright?” He knew it was a stupid question, but it was the only thing he could think of. He watches as she turns to him, her eyes unwavering. 

“Yeah,” She responds simply, “you?”

“Yeah,” he responds the same. He pinches the bridge of his nose as he tries to find the right words to say. He shakes his head as he begins to talk. “The thing is I didn’t hear him comin’, and I- just…You shouldn’t have had to…Y’know?” He watches as Ellie crosses her arms over her knees. 

“Well,” She starts, “you’re glad I did, right?” 

She has no idea, Joel thought, he wasn’t glad she did it. She doesn’t understand that she was just a kid. That no kid should have had to do what she did, to shoot a man and hear him beg for his mother. If the world hadn’t gone to shit she would probably be skating in one of those parks, or walking through a mall with friends her own age. Maybe one of those friends would’ve been his grandchild. But it’s no use to think of the way things would’ve been, or should’ve. Because the truth of the matter is that, that world doesn’t exist anymore. It died over the course of a single weekend, and what’s been left was hell. 

“You’re just a kid.” Joel says eyes looking to the ground before landing on her again, “you shouldn’t know what it means to-” he struggles to find the right words, “it’s-it’s not like you killed him…but shootin’...” he huffs in annoyance at his own words, growing a little more frustrated as he continues now wishing he never said anything to begin with, “I know what it’s like-the first time that you hurt…someone like that.” He takes a deep breath, eyes dropping to your sleeping figure. What would you have said? You were better at this stuff, the comforting and all that. He shakes his head as he looks at the girl next to you again. “If you-uh- need to…” he silently curses under his breath, “Doc’s better at this than I am.” 

“I can tell.” 

“What I mean to say is,” Joel said, taking a deep breath, “it was my fault. You shouldn’t have had to do that, and I’m sorry.” Those words hung in the air for a moment, with the expression written on her face Joel would think that Ellie had never heard someone say that before. But soon enough her eyes darted around, looking at anything that wasn’t him as a look he’s all too familiar with graced her features. 

Grief. 

The tears in her eyes didn’t have time to fall before Ellie wiped the sleeves of her jacket over them. She had this far away look, one that Joel hadn’t seen before. 

“It wasn’t my first time.” Ellie spoke, her eyes refusing to look back at Joel. Silence fell between the two as Joel studied her for a moment or two. He wanted to ask, but he watched as she fiddled with the sleeve of her right arm. 

Oh 

He decided then not to ask, not that he doesn’t want to know. But it wasn’t his place, so instead he took the gun he had taken from Ellie out of his back pocket and unloaded it before handing it back to her. 

“Show me your grip.”

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@chelsey01

[bohemian-nights]

Swear Daemyra shippers are the only ones whom can look at a man teach his niece who at the time was a minor by real standards and fantasy standards sex acts, and say he loved her. I was reading a fic where Daemyra popped up in the background and they had Daemon say “I’ve loved Rhaenyra since the time she was a girl” and it’s like no shit. Then again in the show it’s just so…. Like I can acknowledge that Matt and Mily had chemistry (which would’ve been great for a book!Daemyra where he is very cleary a groomer) but even then all their scenes had an underlying pervy feel to them. Also Daemon is always ABANDONING Rhaenyra when it counts. Instead of staying with her after the death of her brother and mother he goes out drinking and makes the “heir for a day” comment. Then ( knowing Dragonstone is the seat reserved for the heir) he takes possession of Dragonstone (which also could’ve lowered her standing as heir) and the dragon egg that Rhaenyra placed in the cradle of Baelon. Then he leaves her alone for three years fighting in what was technically an illegal war before coming back and trying to ruin her reputation in order to attain the throne. He does this by taking her a crown Princess into a whore house, ensures that she will be recognized, engages in light sexual content with her before leaving her ALONE in a whore house half naked. And the worse part? Not a single fuck was given. Then later on at her wedding she practically begs him to take her to Dragonstone and marry her. In response to this he marries another woman (who he also treat like shit R.I.P to book!Daemon and Laena). Fast forward ten years where they (on the day of his wife’s funeral) have sex on the beach (sex that didn’t even look pleasurable) and she wakes up ALONE. Mind you prior to the sex she’s essentially begging him to fuck her as well. Following him around like a lost dog. Then we once again have the begging for marriage only this time he accepts. Fast forward down the line he’s not showing any support really in Kings Landing (why didn’t he go with Rhaenyra to talk to Rhaenys) but yeah he killed a man for her so the fandom ate that shit up. Back on Dragonstone she experiences a still brith where she calls out and begs for him so she won’t be alone and he just doesn’t come(I’ve seen some people excuse this staying maybe he had trauma from Laena so I’m 60/40 on it) and then upon learning that she doesn’t want to immediately jump to WAR he chokes the shit out of her.

Their fans are special.

Even if you want to take out the obvious grooming or only want to focus on book canon, Daemon still ends up abandoning her after she ordered him to return back to her, saving another woman(Nettles) after she ordered her to be beheaded in her sleep, and then either offs himself or lives out his days with Nettles.

How they turned that into Daemon died to defeat her greatest enemy(which the text specifically states is Daeron and not Aemond) will never not be absolutely hilariously.

If you only want to consider the show as canon(why?), he’s physically abused her (and is allegedly going to do so again) and abandoned her on countless occasions (after seeing her beg for him to love her 23 million times) with no concern for her physical or mental well-being.

(The trauma excuse is a poor one when he chokes her out 5 seconds later. That is not how you respond to trauma or your brother dying).

Book canon, show canon, grooming, no grooming, it doesn’t matter. It’s a hot mess any way you slice it(which is why they start crying when you bring out the actual text).

I get morally ambiguous ships(all but one of my favorite ships fall into this category). Still, I don’t get shipping something where the guy outright does not care about whether the woman lives or dies and then claiming that those who aren’t deluded are the crazy ones. This shit is straight up pathetic.

I’m all about ship what you want, but these are the same people calling characters the n-word and actively wanting a Black character to be cut cause she “gets in the way” of their ship so they use the excuse that there are already enough Black people on the show. So if this comes off harsh it’s because this ship attracts racist assholes who need psychiatric help on top of them being so fucking delusional they can’t see the forest from the trees.