#and the last square presenting that loss....that final would be touch

[liebrenado]

@saimatsu-week Day 5: Touch.

"Compassion makes people trust you. If you offer them your hand, they'll reach for it..."

[dmagedgoods]

Zinnia?

It's finally time to answer the flower prompts. I combined the three I got into a small story, each with its own chapter. 🌷🌸🌺 22. zinnia - remembrance for those gone ~ Funeral Flowers – Part I (to Part II) (to Part III) “And therefore, we are not only bidding our farewell today, but we are also celebrating a life full of unequaled accomplishments, a life lived to achieve goodness and righteousness for our glorious nation.” Iomedae’s cleric fell quiet and instead, a chant swelled with heavenly force until it filled the spacious square, the pillared temple straight ahead, and the high building flanking it where they stood and followed the speech and deferential presentations. The choir’s voices were bright and jubilant despite the wistful melody and as clear as singing from the outer planes. The stony eyes of the goddess watched in silence and serenity and so did he, his expression as cold and unreadable as the face of Iomedae’s statue below the gallery of the city hall. Daeran had made true to his threat to spend the day in unbothered merriment and to only show some decency with the gowns he wore, his perfectly tailored coat with the silken shirt, straight-cut pants, and waist-long cape all black and adorned in subtle elegance. It was only now that his act crumbled, the cracks in his performance allowed a glimpse of what lay underneath: The deep pain and loss. Salvadore felt something inside of him grow even harder, even colder, like a chunk of ice filling his chest, displacing every warmth and hope. Carefully, he reached for Daeran’s hand, but he withdrew from his touch. Instead, a mocking smirk appeared on his lips, emotionless and cruel, more a grimace than a smile. “Oh please,” he snorted. “Don’t tell me you expect me to fall for this gaudy presentation because they invited a group of children with pretty voices.” He had spoken loudly enough for others at the gallery to hear. Glances were sent his way, some offended, some even genuinely hurt. Salvadore tensed. A rush of anger mixed with his fear and suffering. Before he got the chance for a sharp reply, Daeran stepped back from the balustrade. “Excuse me.” With his, he turned around and left through the arched doorway leading into the building. Salvadore didn’t even find the words to phrase a diplomatic apology to elicit leniency for the Count’s behavior from those around him. This was his fault, all of it. Every guest, every resident, every observer, they all suspected, rightfully, that he would raise a claim to the throne. But none of them was even able to imagine that the celestial Commander of the Fifth Crusade, conqueror of the worldwound, Primarch of the Wounded Lands, was the one responsible for their beloved queen’s death. No. She had picked her own fate with her decision to send him to the Abyss, to give in to her jealousy, to march to Iz during his absence, badly prepared after she had managed to destroy all his efforts of the last year within a few months’ time and eventually stand there with barely anything to use against Deskari and his hordes. He hadn’t had a choice but to save the people first, to preserve the knowledge needed for the goal they had shared. The risk she had taken, the duty to hold out, it was the price of rulership. And you hoped and even knew that she would fail and die, the malicious voice in the back of his mind replied, a throne in a destroyed land would never have been enough for you. You wanted Mendev and her death would pave the way for you. And there it is, in the palm of your hand. Salvadore straightened his posture, burying those thoughts deep within. This wasn’t the time. Now more than ever, those people needed his guidance and strength. He wouldn’t waver but stay true to the responsibility he had chosen, true to his way, like Galfrey had stayed true to hers.

[alexagirlie]

Behind Enemy Lines

Chapter 2

This is not a new fic but realized I never properly posted it to tumblr just linked to my AO3 which is locked to non-registered users so I am reposting here.

Pairing(s): Sihtric/Bloodhair (ch 1 only) Sihtric/Finan/Uhtred (main) Summary: Things do not go according to plan while Sihtric is undercover in the Danish camp. He is presented with a hard choice and has to live with the consequences. Warnings/Tags: dubcon, rough sex, oral sex, anal sex, forced orgasm, bruises, biting, angst, hurt/comfort, canonical character death, DDDNE

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

All Sihtric could feel when he woke later that day was numbness. Bloodhair was thankfully long gone, the space he had slept cold to the touch. 

He was numb as he washed the remaining cum and a smear of dried blood from the inside of his thighs. Numb as he pulled his clothes and armour back on and left the privacy of Bloodhair’s tent. He ignored the knowing stares which followed him as he made his way through the camp.

He was numb as he joined a crowd of Danes and watched as the Earl himself pushed a bound man to the ground before the Cnut, Brida and Haeston. Sihtric could barely focus as the man explained that he was a messenger and he carried a message from Uhtred of all people. He spoke of a threat of shadow-walking, of coming for them soon and a promise to kill them all like Ragnar was killed and condemn them to Niflheim.

The words helped break through some of the numbness, knowing that the mission would soon be completed and he would be back at his lover's side, where he belonged. 

He hovered just behind Bloodhair as the numbness continued to recede. As the energy turned hostile and then a challenge was issued from Bloodhair to Haeston, provoked by the blonde dane when he continued to mock the Earl about his loss to Uhtred.

The square was made.

The numbness receded and contempt for the witch grew in its place as he watched as Bloodhair faltered in the ring seemingly out of nowhere. He saw the confusion on many other faces, Brida, Cnut, as the superior warrior lost his balance, then his footing, over and over again. Almost as though he had no control over his own body or his actions.  

The Earl seemed to have the same conclusion for he turned to look at Skade and as Sihtric followed the other man's sight he saw the knowing smirk upon her face. She must have cursed Bloodhair, to make him lose.

Bloodhair knelt in the dirt, Haeston's sword poised to strike a finishing blow when at the last moment the Earl charged the women. Sihtric watched as she evaded him, her mocking laugh ringing through the air as she danced around his form and plunged her dagger's into Bloodhair’s back and finished the job Haeston started.

She stepped back into the now silent crowd. The only one springing into any sort of action was Brida, who placed Bloodhair's axe in his hand as he took his final breaths ensuring his acceptance into Valhalla.

"She is poison to all men." He hadn't meant to say the words out loud but they rang with truth all the same.

.

.

.

It was the early next morning when word reached the Danes camp that  not only was Uhtred was nearby, he was supposedly trapped by a thegn in a nearby village. Sihtric was loitering near Haeston's tent when Cnut came to share the news himself and it was decided between the two that Cnut would go while the blond dane stayed at camp.

Sihtric would be worried but knew the feel of one of Uhtred's traps and this was definitely a trap. A weight lifted from his shoulders, unnoticed before then, despite how heavy and smothering it had been.

At the first opportunity he would need to slip away from camp and search out Uhtred. His Lord would be waiting for him

.

.

.

Uhtred and his men crouched, hidden behind a crop of trees and tall dry grass as they watched the continued trickle of danes leaving their camp. Too many danes and without nearly enough cover for what needed to be done.

Uhtred, Finan and Osferth waited away from the rest of the group, conversing quietly.

"Once night falls even the king of shadow-walkers would find no place here."

Uhtred hummed to acknowledge Osferths words and the truth of them. He had no idea how they were going to accomplish their task, he only hoped Sihtric brought news soon which could turn the tide in their favour.

"Shhh someones coming"

A dark cloaked figure had left the path the other danes had taken and made their way towards where the men hid.

"It's Sihtric!" Uhtred had to fight to keep the happiness and elation off his face at Osferths whispered words. He had missed his boy but he wanted to play the ruse out a little further.

He pulled Wasp-Sting from its sheath and moved to meet the young dane as he weaved his way through the trees. He pointed his blade at his lover's chest. "You have something to say to me boy?" He had missed looking into his young loves mismatched eyes and watching them darken when just the right tone was used.

"I do…." Uhtred could feel his cock twitch as Sihtric pulled his seax from its sheath and pointed it at Uhtred's chest, cocky and sure. "Yield to me."

His traitorous cock twitched again. Not only at the implications the words themselves brought to his mind but also at the confident tone their boy had adopted. It was the tone normally reserved for the rare time Sihtric wanted to boss Uhtred and their Irishman around in the bedroom.

If it had just been himself and Finan present, he would have dropped to his knees then and there and welcomed their boy back to them properly. With worshiping lips and tongue and teeth and his cock if he was lucky. Unfortunately the presence of the rest of his men meant that it couldn't be.

Uhtred waited half a breath before he flipped his grip on Wasp-Sting and dropped it to the ground. A breath later and with a completely straight face Sihtric does the same and drives his seax into the ground before his face breaks out into a grin.

They laughed and embraced, far too quickly for Uhtred but it was still enough for man to make out the smattering of dark and painful looking bruises on the edge of Sihtric’s jaw. Of the redness and tiredness in his eyes that the boy tried to hide from them. 

"They were playin' us! My goodness! They were playin' us Finan! Why?" Osferth sounded so elated and completely confused.

Uhtred had to stifle his laughter to answer the baby monk. "If you had not believed it, Osferth nor would others."

He watched as Finan approached their boy, he crowded into Sihtrics space and looked like he barely held himself back from something foolish. Like kissing the boy before God and their men.

"I fooled you" Uhtred could tell their boy was trying for a teasing tone but there was an undercurrent of emotion that he couldn't quite put a name to.

"No I... I knew!" Finan was quick to deny that he had been fooled. To Uhtred it sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to reassure their lover.

Sihtric shook his head with a small knowing smile. "No you did not." Again that under current of emotion but this time Uhtred could identify it for what it was. Hurt and sadness. That Finan could believe their lie, that he would believe their boy would betray them and it wounded him.

Sihtric turned and looked back at Uhtred and Osferth. "Was I good?"

Uhtred bit back his initial response at the boy's hopeful tone and simply waved his hand in a so-so motion. Sihtric was obviously trying to keep the conversation in a light mood and the Lord needed to respond in turn. Sihtric was always good for them but he had to play it down for now. 

"I'm telling you I knew it" Their Irishman seemed determined to reassure their boy but as Uhtred exchanged a loaded look with Finan over Sihtric's shoulder they both could tell it didn't work. 

Years of fighting together and loving together told Uhtred that they both could see right through the mask Sihtric was wearing but Uhtred knew now was not the time to question and push their youngest lover. To reassure him of their love and devotion. That would have to come later, once the mission was done.

.

.

.

"I just hope it was all worth it."

Finan’s words caused Sihtric’s stomach to twist and knot up and he could barely meet anyone's eyes as he returned Osferths quick embrace. "I hope so too."

It wasn't. It hadn't been worth it, maybe once enough time had passed for the wound to heal some he would find its worth, if only for Uhtred's life but not for her and he could never tell them.

"What do you know? We saw Cnut on the road." Uhtred's voice was earnest, he was obviously desperate for good news.

Sihtric could barely look his lord in the eye. His guilt was so strong but he forced himself to meet that intense blue stare as the man questioned him. "Only Haeston remains at the camp."

"What of Bloodhair?" Sihtric couldn't help but flinch at the mention of the Earls name. He fought the memories which wanted to flood his mind and forced himself to continue talking.

"Dead… He fought with Haeston and was killed by Skade" Sihtric could barely contain the contempt in his voice when he said the witches name.

"Good Jesus.."

He flashed a quick look at Finan at the man's curse then looked back at Uhtred  trying to convey the seriousness of his next words. Hoping his lover and lord can interpret the meaning. That Skade needed to die.

"She is a witch like no other." Sihtric had known women who could throw curses growing up in Dunholm but none were anything like Skade.

"She knows I am near?"

"Yes and she knows of your promise to shadow walk but there are too many guards." He paused before suggesting his plan, he really wished they could just leave the bitch and be done with her. "She is allowed to collect grass and herbs by a tree.. for her spells."

Uhtred made a face and scoffed. Sihtric smirked. "It is a single tree on the other side of the camp. You cannot miss it."

Uhtred nodded and had a considering look on his face. "Tell her I am here. Take her there tonight."

He would rather slit Skades' throat. "And if she refuses? If Haeston prevents it?" She had better not refuse. She owed him for the tale she told to Bloodhair, all so she could sink her claws back into his Lord.

"She will not refuse and Haeston will not refuse her." His Lord grinned at his own words, his opinion of Haeston's inability to refuse a beautiful woman amused him. Even Sihtric’s own black mood could not stop the impulse to meet his lord's smiles with his own genuine one. "You have never failed me, Sihtric."

Sihtric accepted Uhtred's embrace and tried to not hold the man too tight. He suppressed a moan when his lord leaned in to whisper in his ear. "You did very good."

They separated and Sihtric knew it was time to head back to the danes and put their plan in motion. His Lord's parting words filled him with equal parts hope and worry.

"I will see you at the tree.'

—---------------

Sihtric had the whole conversation worked out in his head for when he approached Skade about Uhtred's plan that night but as soon he saw her face to face it was replaced with the burning need to know the answer to one question.

"Why?" 

Her gaze pierced through him and seemed to look into his very soul. "They did not believe your story. Bloodhair and Brida. I told them one they would believe. He did believe."

Sihtric had never touched a woman in anger before but Skade was quickly on her way to becoming the first. His rage was so great he shook with it and could barely contain it. "Uhtred is here. We are to go and collect herbs tonight and he will be waiting."

He left without another word, not able to stomach looking at her any further. He kept himself occupied for the hours until night fell fully then he went and found the witch and led her to the tree and then walked a short distance away as they waited for Uhtred to appear.

His well trained instincts were just telling him that they are not alone when he sees Uhtred exiting the treeline and makes his way over to the witch. She must sense he was near for she spoke first, before his Lord had even finished crossing the field.

"I knew you would come for me lord." She turned to look at Uhtred as he approached. "I'm ready."

Uhtred spoke so quietly Sihtric could barely hear his Lord's response but heard it he did. "I am ready."

"I'm ready." The witch replied again, the word barely a whisper.

Sihtric is forced to look away as Uhtred leaned in for a kiss, his stomach rolled and he burned with jealousy and igniting rage. He could hardly believe what he was witnessing.

Suddenly out of the darkness surrounding the camp they hear Haeston's voice ringing out. "Skade? You hear me!?"

Then another voice, a closer voice, Sihtric was sure it was Dagfinn. "He is here Lord! Uhtred is here!" Sihtric cursed loudly. They must have been watched as he led Skade away from the camp.

They take off running attempting to out run the Danes giving chase to no avail. 

Sihtric remembered the ships waiting on the river, with only a small number of guards. He gasped a desperate breath and yelled to Uhtred and Finan ahead of him. "There are ships on the river!"

"Sihtric you lead! Move!"

He leads them to the river's edge and through the path cut into the long reeds which guard it. They slow just before they would come into the view of the guards and Sihtric goes on alone. "We are under attack! Heaston says to ready the ships! Now! Untie them now!"

He waits until Uhtred and their men burst around the corner before attacking the man closest to him. Then another and another. He has a fleeting thought that maybe if one of them gets a good hit on him he can go to Valhalla without having to live through his love humping the witch. He pushed the thought away forcefully.

The rest of their escape is mostly a blur to Sihtric. His focus on getting out alive and following the commands issued by Finan. Getting on the boat, getting the oars in the water and then they pulled and pulled and pulled.

—-----------------------------------------------------

Finan was huddled on the stern of the boat, blocked from view by the large canvas enclosure and huddled in his cloak to ward off the sting of the cold wind. Through the gaps in the fabric he spied Uhtred and Skade locked in a passionate embrace. 

He scoffed and stood from his seat and moved around the side of the tent and looked around for his youngest lover. Sihtric was trading off his shift at the oars and Finan whistled to get his attention. A quick jerk of his head and Sihtric picked his way through the men and around the tent to wear Finan had secluded himself. 

Finan said nothing as he retook his seat on the stern of the boat and nodded his head to the gap in the canvas. Sihtric was as silent as he ever was as he crept closer and peered into the gap. Finan knew the exact moment Sihtric saw what he saw as the younger man froze then began to shake.

Sihtric spun around and the rage which crossed his face and the way it seemed to fill his whole body as he moved to sit beside the Irishman surprised Finan. He himself was frustrated and hurt by Uhtred's actions, but knew that the witch's trap was only temporary. This rage was something else.

"Sihtric?" Finan risked reaching out and rested his hand on Sihtrics thigh. Finan snatched his hand back when his lover flinched away from the touch. Normally his heathens did give a shit who could see or hear them. "Is everything alright?"

Finan held back his own flinch when Sihtric slammed his fist against the side of the boat and spit at his feet.

"Yes… just frustrated we went through all this effort just for him to hump the witch. He needs to kill her and be done with it." There was hurt in his words, hurt beyond just their lover being so ensnared by another. They had shared Uhtred with his wife for many years without jealousy or pain like this. Sihtric himself was married, he understood the lure of a good woman. Skade was not that.

There was an edge of darkness to Sihtrics voice Finan did not like and again he wondered what happened in the Danes camp.

Finan hummed in agreement and looked back to the canvas wall and thought hard. Something had broken between the three men and Sihtric wasn't talking and Uhtred was too distracted by the curse and Skade. Finan needed to separate Uhtred from the witch and have a candid conversation with his lover as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

[peachypascal]

work for it

summary: tensions are running high between you and mando, and after a long day, he loses his patience with you.

warnings: unprotected sex, oral (m+f receiving), choking, condescension, possession i guess?, very lowkey dom/sub vibes, one (1) spank, spoilers for season 2, unedited

word count: 5.3k

you can barely even look at him anymore.

if you could get to his face, if he wasn’t such a skillful fighter, you reckon you might have hit him already, but instead, you’re forced to push all your irritation under the surface. it’s already such a tense environment; there’s no point in making it worse.

he’s been fighting with everyone since the moment you had landed. he’s unhappy. it’s understandable, given what he’s lost recently, but you had lost, too. you had lost the child, and you had lost a piece of yourself. you hurt, too, but he won’t allow you your moment to grieve. for the first time since the two of you met, your mandalorian expects you to stand up. you are meant to be the strong one this time. before he had begun taking his upset out on you, that had been fine. you had been okay with that.

din has lost more than you have. you lost grogu and you lost the ship, but he had lost his child, his home, his creed. din had lost his way. you ache for him, really. it’s unfair that such a good man should live a life so wrought with tragedy and tribulation.

it doesn’t stop you from bristling at the way he talks to you, like you can’t take care of yourself anymore. the two of you had always worked so well together before now. now, he’s pent-up. he’s angry. about his losses, about his mere proximity to bo-katan, who seems to have her mind set on defeating him every step of the way, about the fact that he can’t find a moment alone, not with you staying in the same room he’s in, one hardly big enough to hold the two cots you’ve been sleeping in.

he thought getting off the ship was what he needed. solid ground and natural light and someplace where looking out the windows doesn’t make his head spin, but now he’s even closer to you than before. lately, something that was once so comforting now only reminds him of one more thing he’s bound to lose. against all great odds, he had managed to survive his losses. you, he’s not so sure he could handle losing. you’re the last thing keeping him hanging on, the single thread keeping him where he needs to be, and without you, he’s gone.

after the days that you have been living, all you want is a nice, luxurious bed to fall into after your perpetually long days, but you and mando are barely able to scrounge enough extra credits together for the dingy little box they call a room. you would call it a scam, but after traveling with mando for so long, you’ve grown used to the seedier parts of the galaxy, and you’ll only be here a few days while everyone regroups. it’s a much-needed break from the only person you want to punch more than din and even with your mounting annoyance, it feels nice to listen to the chatter of a city while you sit in your room, watching them from above.

behind you, the door opens. you don’t bother turning around—you fear that seeing him might set you off and vice versa. a deep breath holds still in your chest, waiting, wondering if he’s going to say something to you. right as you begin to let your guard down, your shoulders dropping, he breaks the silence.

“we’re leaving tomorrow.”

they’re the first words in days that he has spoken without malice behind them, but the sound of his filtered voice still grates on your nerves. the two of you have been living in a powder keg, your explosion inevitable, but you had hoped it would stay intact until you left this planet. with the irritation that burns you now, you’re unsure you’ll make it through the night. it fills you with a great sense of dread. no, you aren’t sure you can stand another moment sleeping three feet away from him, but you hate even more the idea of the two of you not even speaking.

you don’t hear him move, still by the door, still in his armor. with a quiet sigh, you glance back at him only to give him confirmation that you’ve heard him. even through the modulator, you hear his disgruntled huff. he begins removing his armor, shaking his head at you. you purse your lips at the sight of him. before grogu was taken from you, it felt as though you two were finally getting somewhere. you had been traveling with them long enough to feel as though you were a part of a small family. you had finally managed to break down din’s walls, to almost get close enough to touch. all your travels had led up to this, all the nervous glances and tentative touches, and now, you can barely look at him. you want to reach out for him, but even in the tiny room, he feels too far.

finally, you sigh. “great.”

din stacks his armor noisily beside his bed, hiding his blaster under his pillow and kicking his boots off. he’s being loud. after so many nights of hearing him take off that armor in the crest, you knew he was always careful not to let it clang the way it does now. if you could see his eyes, you would see the light that flickers in them, just waiting for an excuse to start a fire.

“what did you do today?” you ask quietly, skin burning with the tension and your need to diffuse it.

he sighs, shaking his helmet minutely. “nothing.”

a crinkle forms between your brows. “nothing? you’ve been gone all day doing nothing?”

his shoulders square in irritation and the sight nearly sets you off. “does it matter?” he scoffs, settling his hands on his hips.

your jaw sets and you turn to face him. “no, i suppose not.”

the air is thick between you and a heavy shiver runs down your spine, desperate to get away from him. you stand, in need of a moment of fresh air, but din grabs your bicep before you can pass him, the stoic flat of his helmet tilting to look at you. “where are you going?”

your mandalorian is a man of pride. he would never admit it, especially not after he had sacrificed that pride so much in the time that you had known him, but it was true. that pride means that asking the very question makes him cringe beneath his helmet. perhaps it’s your anger with him, or your inability to keep your mouth shut, but in a quick moment of spite, you sneer back at him. “does it matter?”

before you even have a chance to change your facial expression, one gloved hand wraps firmly around your throat, forcing your gaze up to meet his. you choke, not because he’s holding you too tightly but because of your surprise, eyes wide as you look up at him. “watch it.”

you stare at his visor, hardening your expression. your shock wears off quickly. instead, you find it much easier to concentrate on the fury that has been building for days. “or what?” you spit. “i’m not fighting with you, din.”

the use of his name catches him off-guard. he had only heard it fall from your lips in the most intimate of moments, quiet, long conversations in the cockpit when the child was asleep. then, it had calmed him. it soothed his soul to know that you knew him. now, it fuels the fire already burning in him; it only feeds the need settled low in his gut at the sight of you. it sets him off.

he takes two, long strides and takes you with him, backing you against the wall with his hand tightening around your throat, ignoring your confused squeak. “you don’t talk to me like that,” he cuts out, voice low and tight, and you laugh mirthlessly, still impassioned enough to fight him even with his hand around your throat.

“and you don’t treat me like dirt. deal?”

the two of you stand in a long silence, your nose an inch away from his visor; you wonder if mando will say anything, defend himself, but he seems as though he doesn’t even hear your words. he takes in a slow, deep breath before his fingers tighten around your throat, and you can’t help your quiet moan, eyes fluttering closed. his mouth goes dry at the sound, legs weak at the sound he’s been imagined every single night. even with anger still pounding through you, you can’t deny that you like the position. after traveling with him for so long, always at arm's length, this is all you think about anymore. him, touching you, holding you so close like he does now.

you shudder under his hand and blood rushes in his ears, seemingly amplified under his helmet. his breathing is heavy, pondering his next move cautiously before he finally says, “turn around.” you’re so headstrong, you have been since he’s known you. you don’t take his commandments without question or pushback, which is why he expects you to spit a curse back in his face. you don’t.

instead, for the first time ever, you obey without question.

din feels like the breath he takes is gasping, his mouth open like a fish as his hand falls down to his side, eyes tracking down the arch of your spine. it’s as though you’re presenting yourself to him, the subtle look over your shoulder telling him all the words he wants to hear. take me. i’m ready. the wait is over.

“mando,” you whisper hoarsely, pressing your warm forehead against the wall. “please.”

he’s unsure exactly where to start. after a thousand fantasies, they all seem to blur together until he wants everything, no way to figure out what he wants the most. as he pulls off his gloves, he takes a moment to deliberate, admiring the sight of you waiting for him. all those fantasies and din can only decide on one thing: he’ll take as much as he can.

his bare hand glides over your hip, his touch relaxing your tight muscles as his arm wraps around you, palm pressing to your stomach and his chest pressing to your back. “you’re okay?” he asks, voice tight with barely-restrained need.

your answer is breathy and needy. “yes,” you sigh. “please.”

din tightens his arm around your ribcage with an impatient grunt, his other hand already reaching into the waistband of your sleep pants. your skin is warm under his palm and not for the first time, he’s cursing the helmet on his head. he wants to be closer to you, to bury his face in your neck and breathe you in until you’re all he knows, and just as he begins to toy with the band of your underwear, he pulls away.

you give a frustrated groan, leaning back into him, but it’s fruitless. he’s already crossing the room, bare hands drawing the curtains and turning off the lights. “mando.” it shocks you to hear how your voice sounds, whiny and small while you turn back to him. “what—did i do something?”

“no,” he answers shortly.

there’s a moment where all you hear is the pounding of your own heart and the faraway chatter of the crowd on the street below you before he returns to you. you breathe out gently in relief when his large hands grip your hips tightly again, squeezing once before one travels up and the other goes down. your eyes flutter closed, reaching to grasp at his wrist when he cups your breast.

and then he leans down and presses his lips to the shell of your ear. you jump in surprise at the feeling, at the idea that he would take his helmet off in such a vulnerable position, and your eyes fly open. “mando!”

din shushes you. “it’s okay,” he murmurs, fingers slipping into your pants once again until he’s cupping your pussy, an unfiltered moan vibrating against your neck. “maker, you’re already soaked.” your hips jolt into his hand, desperately searching for any sort of friction. his teeth sink into your earlobe. “needy,” he growls. “always so needy.”

a quick retort is already on your tongue, but his nose nuzzles against your temple and two of his fingers find your clit, lips stretching into a small smile when he hears your soft moan. your head falls back onto his shoulder, sinking into the pleasure he’s building within you. he’s always worked so well with his hands but you have a newfound appreciation for the dexterity of them as he rubs deep, slow circles into you.

din buries his face in your neck, tongue laving over your pulsepoint and teeth biting at your collarbone, savoring the way you take over all of his senses. he grinds against your ass, the thick duraweave of his pants grating against your threadbare sleep pants. “feel that?” he murmurs, just below your ear, and you moan, grinding down against his fingers. you certainly do. it shocks you, at first, just how hard he is, how big he is. he’s always been so broad, so big in every other sense that it shouldn’t surprise you, but you find yourself daunted by the thought of him already.

“fuck, mando,” you whine, unable to decide where you want to be more, grinding down against his fingers or back against his cock, and you let out a frustrated groan.

“what’s wrong?” he coos mockingly, hand sliding from your breast to your throat. “you want more?”

“i want to come,” you beg.

“you want to come?” his grip around your throat tightens. “work for it.”

your knees almost buckle, a loud moan falling from your lips, one that makes din’s cock twitch. you press back against him, grinding shamelessly against your mandalorian with your brow furrowed in pleasure. his fingers work faster against your clit, the arm across your chest keeping you tight against his, and his low moan rumbles against your back.

it’s just out of reach, right at your fingertips; you need just a little bit more. you reach back for him, your fingers tangling in his hair. “din,” you gasp, voice choked. “i’m so close.”

he hums against your hairline, long fingers slipping further into your underwear to circle your entrance just once before he’s sinking one in, enjoying the bliss that washes over his body when you lean back against his chest. “stars, y/n, you feel so good,” he breathes, his eyes falling closed when he adds another finger.

your jaw clenches in preparation for your orgasm, already burning you up when din presses right against your sensitive wall. with a tug of his hair, your stomach tightens, the prettiest moan he’s ever heard in his life falling from your lips. din curls his fingers, breathing heavily when you clench tight around them. it takes over you without warning, your strangled cry of his name forcing his own rough groan against your hair. your thighs shake around his hand as you come, pulling on his hair until he’s hissing.

it’s the first time you’ve come in weeks and by the time din stops pressing against your g-spot, there are tears running down your cheeks. your hips jerk away from him fruitlessly, desperate to get away from the stimulation. din can’t help his soft smile, guiding you to your bed as well as he can in the dark. “c’mon, you need to rest.”

“no,” you insist, eyes wide and searching for him in the black. “no. sit down.” the thought of you on your knees for him, between his legs, it nearly makes him sweat, so he searches for your hand, entwining your fingers. “please.”

you trap your lip between your teeth as you sink down to your knees, listening to your mandalorian remove his clothing before he sits on your cot. your palms find his knees, brushing over the hair scattered over his skin, grinning at the sound of his exhale. you hum, running your hands up and down his thighs, over his hips, appreciating the feeling of his skin against yours until you wrap your fingers around his cock, stomach flipping at his quiet moan of your name.

all you want is for him to feel good, to feel a fraction as blissful as he made you feel, and it’s hard to pace yourself, so you lean forward and take him in your mouth, your lips closing around his head and your eyes fluttering closed. it’s a scene you’ve imagined a thousand times over, but none of your daydreams compare to the real thing. he’s so vocal, his loud moans and quiet murmurings filling the room, and he’s intoxicating you, his scent and taste and the feel of him under you, it already has you ready for him again. you moan around him, tightening your grip slightly, and his hips stutter.

“fuck,” he hisses, grasping the blanket beneath him. your eyes open, desperate to see him, but the way this man, this warrior, whines when you flick your tongue a certain way, you think that’s just as good as seeing his face.

din’s hips jolt at a particularly strong suck at his head. you hum at the taste of him on your tongue, distinct and so uniquely him, taking him deeper to taste more of him. when he hits your throat, your gag makes him cry out, voice thin from the pleasure, and in an attempt to calm himself down, he pulls you off of him, panting loudly. it had been far too long, not just since relief but since he had started fantasizing about this very position, and it’s not unlikely that if you continue, this will be over far too fast for his liking.

wordlessly, he pulls you off the floor and into his lap. strong arms wrap around your waist, and you gasp when he grabs the nape of your neck, guiding you into a kiss. it’s sloppy, a little unpracticed, but you’ve never felt so worked up. you wrap your arms around his neck, eagerly rolling your hips against his. “more,” you insist, grinning against his lips at his silent chuckle.

“what did i say?” his grip on the back of your neck tightens and his voice drops, suddenly serious. “needy.”

without answering, you reach between the two of you, fingers wrapping around his cock again before you drag it through your folds, pleased with the impatient grunt that falls from his lips. his fingertips dig into your waist and his teeth dig into your lip, trying to will you into giving him what he wants and you’re in no position to deny him this; you’re just as worked up as he is. with another long kiss, you sink down slowly, pressing your forehead to din’s. the room echoes with the relieved breaths that fall from both of you, with the increasingly passionate kisses the two of you share as you begin to adjust to his size, and with the lewd sounds of him filling you. he’s panting, holding you close in an effort to not drag you down on his cock. you’re barely halfway and already whining against his lips, and maker, he’s going to leave bruises to show his restraint, a sweat springing at his hairline every time you take him just a little deeper.

finally, with a high, quiet moan, you sink fully down on him, settling on his thighs for a moment of rest, adjusting to the way he stretches you. “din,” you breathe, tugging on his hair. you clench around him, your heart leaping when you feel him shudder. “you feel so good.”

“you’re so tight,” he huffs, thrusting up into you gently. “sweet little thing. i’ve been waiting for this.”

the admission makes you whimper. you kiss him hard, rolling your hips against his in an effort to get him just a little deeper and din’s head falls back, taking in a shaky breath before he’s thrusting into your again. leaning forward, you nip at his jaw. only he will see the marks you leave on him, but you’re unsure what happens when the two of you are done. you don’t know if it will ever happen again. you’re determined to leave your mark on him. you want him to remember this night when he looks in the mirror tomorrow, and the day after, and as long as your marks last. it sets a new fire under you, holding desperately to him while he fucks you, your teeth littering marks on his neck.

“mando,” you whine, sensitive clit rubbing over his pelvis. you want to say more. you want to tell him exactly how he’s making you feel, dizzy and hot and intoxicated by him, but you can’t exactly find the words. instead, you hang onto him like you’re going to lose him. he has you stuffed full and near tears with how deep he’s fucking you and for the first time, you have him. all of him. you feel him all over, breathing his scent in, finally pure and strong without the obstruction of his armor between the two of you. it’s a scent you never want to get rid of.

the way you squeeze him nearly has him coming, hands shaking even when pressed against your skin. he wants to pull you off him—needs to pull you off him—but you feel too good. his eyes roll back, jaw tight when you circle your hips just right, and with no warning, the same way he had pulled you on his lap, he rolls you off onto your cot.

“no, no, no,” you cry, reaching out for him. your fingertips barely brush his bare skin, and he shushes you quietly, grabbing your ankles as though he can see you perfectly well.

“you’re okay, mesh’la,” he says softly, pressing a sweet kiss to one of your calves. “i’m going to take care of you.”

din sinks to his knees, pressing his cheek to the inside of your knee, and you take in a sharp breath, his facial hair scratching pleasantly at the sensitive skin. “din,” you breathe, sitting up on your elbows. he only hums, soft lips pressing a line of sweet kisses up your inner thighs.

oh, he had been waiting for this. all of it, really, but this is his favorite daydream. his mind had worked up the most elaborate fantasies about what you would sound like, feel like, taste like, and his heart pounds at the idea of finally finding out. he’s not in the mood to tease you, not anymore, and his eyes flutter closed as he wraps his arms around your thighs and leans in, dragging his tongue through your folds with a satisfied hum.

you keen, reaching down for his hair without hesitation. the sharp tug makes him moan into your cunt, savoring the taste of you with nothing but pure delight. for a few minutes, all he wants is to taste as much of you as he can, but your quiet, little moans are no longer good enough for him. he licks a thick stripe up your slit and wraps his lips around your clit, tightening his grip around your thighs.

“oh, fuck,” you mewl, pulling on his hair harder. he flicks his tongue before he sucks your clit into his mouth, basking in all your needy little sounds.

din pulls away despite your desperate whine. “can’t believe you’ve been keeping this from me, sweet girl,” he whispers, pressing soft kisses to your clit.

your back arches, pushing your hips further toward him. “please.”

as though he hasn’t even heard you, he continues, “but this pussy is mine now, isn’t it?”

those words are enough to have you clenching around nothing, the idea of din wanting you longer than just a night. “yes!” you cry, digging your heels into his back. “it’s yours. i’m yours, din. please let me come.”

his fingertips dig into your skin and his eyes roll back. he ducks his head down and the fervor with which he licks into you has your hips rolling against his face, so close to your release. the room echoes with the lewd sound of him between your legs and your eager moans, teetering right on the edge of another orgasm. your legs struggle against his hold as you writhe around on the cot, voice getting pitchy as he sucks your clit again, humming into you. whatever sound you’re making gets caught in your throat, your whole body tensing around him as you come again. you sob his name out, pulling his face closer and pushing your hips away, unable to decide whether you need more or rest.

din works you through your high with sweet kisses and quiet praises, nuzzling his bare cheeks against your inner thighs as you whine. “c’mere,” you slur, trying to pull him up by his hair.

he complies, allowing you to pull him into a tired, sloppy kiss in the haze of your orgasm. “can you give me one more?” he asks quietly, lining kisses across the bridge of your nose.

his wide hips settle between your legs, grinding his cock against your sensitivity and you shiver, scratching his scalp gently. “yeah,” you breathe, searching for his lips again. you smile against his lips at his sharp intake of breath, hips rolling toward yours in an effort to get him back inside of you.

din sinks his teeth into your lower lip, tugging gently. “roll over, cyar’ika.”

you barely feel like you can get the strength up to do it, even with his hands on your hips. with your hips raised in the air, you rest your forehead on your folded arms, pushing your hips back toward him eagerly. “i need it,” you huff, jumping when one of his large hands settles on your hips. “need you inside of me.”

“so impatient,” he mumbles, the tip of his cock prodding at your entrance. your whole body wracks with anticipation, pushing back against him and grunting when he pulls back. “you are not in charge here,” he hisses, slapping the swell of your ass sharply.

your yelp echoes throughout the small room, the sound fading into a low hum as you push your hips back. “i’m sorry,” you respond smally, reaching back to grab his wrist. “i’m sorry. please.”

his chest burns against your back as he leans over you to slide inside, choking out a moan into your ear. “perfect girl,” he spits, wrapping an arm around your waist. “take my cock so fucking well.”

you brows furrow, hips shifting until he’s brushing that perfect spot inside of you with every single thrust. still sensitive from your last orgasm, you can’t help the way you cry out at the stimulation. “right there,” you wail, your head falling from your arms as you grab helplessly at the blanket.

it feels so good that it nearly hurts, the tears that had dried after your first orgasm springing to your eyes again. “right there,” he repeats. “is that what’s going to make you come again? hm? is that the spot that’s going to have this pussy squeezing around me?”

your head feels foggy, unable to focus on anything other than the way he feels, not just inside of you but around you, too, his hot breath fanning over the side of your face, the heat of his skin warming you everywhere. one of his hands slithers between your body and the cot, finding your sensitive clit and drawing lazy, tight circles around it. “i— fuck, din,” you blubber. “it’s too much.”

“too much?” he asks gruffly, teeth sinking into your shoulder. you think the lapse in his movement will give you some relief to that unbearable ache growing between your thighs, but when his hips slow, his cock nestled as deep as it will go and your fingers still rubbing your clit, your hips jolt in a dazed panic. you can’t afford for him to stop, not when you’re so close again. “are you done yet?”

“i can take it,” you sob, fingers tightening in the flimsy blanket that covers your cot.

he’s beginning to lose control, his thighs slapping against yours as he fucks you, your face buried in the mattress as you blubber. din desperately tries to hold on but the way you cry for him leaves him reeling, counting backwards in his head to keep from coming too soon, and he’s unsure how much longer he’s going to last while you squeeze him so tight that he has to clench his teeth.

“c’mon, mesh’la,” he whispers in your ear, voice tight as he staves off his orgasm. “let me hear you.”

“din,” you whine, your thighs aching with how tight your muscles are. he hums, kissing the shell of your ear. his orgasm is already taking root in the pit of his stomach, so he pinches your clit gently.

“can you come for me? one last time?” he asks, but you’ve already clamped down on him, a broken moan falling from your lips as you come around him, inconsolably shaking around him, and there’s not a single bit of hope for him. he comes—hard—calling out your name and clutching at you, both of you riding out your highs in the darkness of the room.

after a long moment of nothing but the two of you breathing heavily, din pulls out with a broken moan, rolling to lie beside you on the cramped little cot. he’s never been good at this part—the after effects. he never knows exactly what to say, whether or not to cuddle, or if he should leave. in fact, he he’s already working himself up wondering exactly what he’s supposed to say, or if he should say anything. his eyes move in the black of the room, fingers reaching for you tentatively, ready to take the leap and pull you into his chest.

in the heavy silence, you finally give a tired laugh, rolling closer to him, right under his already open arm. “wow.”

“wow?” he repeats softly, and he can hear the mirthful lilt in your voice. it makes him feel a little better, a little more hopeful that he hasn’t entirely ruined your relationship.

“i’m just surprised that this is what all our fighting was leading up to.” it’s a joke, really, but it makes his lips turn down in a frown. after so many long, unbearable days of fighting, his heart sank at the reminder of how short the two of you had been with one another. the way that he’d treated you. he had never treated you that way before, and he had never wanted to, and even through the veil of post coital bliss, regret begins to eat at him.

“i’m...sorry,” he finally whispers, fingers intertwining with yours.

you smile, lifting your hands up and pressing a kiss to the back of his. “i know,” you assure him. “i am, too.”

and then he’s quiet again. it usually means that he’s searching for exactly the right words, so you allow him his time, pressing your cheek to his chest and breathing him in, waiting for him to finally sort out whatever is going on in his head. “i don’t—i dont want you to think that this was...something i did…” he stumbles through the idea, but you exhale softly, opting to put him out of his misery.

“mando,” you cut him off, turning your head to kiss his shoulder gently. “i know better than anyone that none of your decisions are careless.”

din chuckles quietly, relief flooding through him and relaxing all his muscles. “still, i shouldn’t have treated you that way,” he insists. “this wasn’t how i imagined this happening.”

a smitten smile pulls at your lips. “well, you’ll find some way to make it up to me,” you hum. he rubs a large hand over your back, goosebumps following as the cold air of the room rushes back to your skin. you lean away from him only to tug on the blanket. “in the meantime, i’m exhausted. let’s get some sleep.”

for the first time since he can remember, din sleeps through the night.

[marjansmarwani]

beyond the terror of the nightfall

4.5k || ao3

After everything, there is much healing to be done. But comfort can always be found in the ones you love. --- A (very late) 2x13 coda

Did this take me forever? Yes. But I got it done before the new episode and that's what matters. Shoutout to @justaswampdemon for helping me make sense of my own timeline, you’re the best! 

(And am I insane posting this 6 minutes before the 911 episode airs? Probably.)

----------

Things looked brighter in the morning. 

Not only because they had fallen into bed without drawing the curtains when they had finally gotten to a bed in the early hours of the morning, but because of the man laying beside Carlos; face still peaceful in sleep. He couldn’t help but stare; taking in the miracle that was TK’s rhythmic breathing. It was irrefutable proof that he was still there, that Carlos had not lost him in the chaos and fear of the night before.

He lay on his pillow, silently observing and resisting the urge to reach out and touch him for that extra layer of proof. He wanted to feel the warmth of his familiar skin beneath his fingers but he did not want to pull him from this blissful state where maybe he could forget everything that had happened, for a little while. He turned away to avoid the temptation and look around the room, taking in the details that had escaped him the night before. 

Owen Strand’s guest room was sparsely but tastefully decorated and the warm browns of the room were as comforting as any place could be. The bright sunlight streaming in told Carlos that it was well past the time he usually woke up and for a brief frantic moment he thought he must be late for work. But then he remembered that at some point during the seemingly never-ending night one of his coworkers on scene informed him that their captain had ordered Carlos to take at least a few days off and that more leave would be ready for him should he need it. 

He let his head fall back against the pillow with a sigh, closing his eyes as he tried not to think about all of the things that needed to be done. He and TK had nothing now: no home, no clothes, no wallets. Every bit of their life, no matter how important or trivial had been reduced to ash right along with their home. Carlos knew they were lucky to have even escaped with their lives; the very real fact that they almost hadn’t had haunted him since the moment the flames erupted. But now, after, he was able to see around that and consider their way forward; and he knew it wouldn’t be easy. 

The sound of TK stirring beside him pulled Carlos from his thoughts and he rolled over to see his boyfriend slowly blinking open his eyes. He tried for a smile when those eyes landed on him and received an equally unsteady one in return. 

“Good morning,” TK said softly, his voice almost a whisper as if he didn’t want the world to know they were awake yet. 

“Good morning,” Carlos replied, matching the other man’s volume even as he moved closer and pressed a light kiss onto his lips. TK smiled into it, but once they pulled apart and he took a look around at their surroundings his smile faded. 

“I remember it happening,” he said after a moment, his eyes on the sparse furnishings of his dad’s house, “I was just hoping that maybe it was a dream.” 

Carlos hummed his agreement but he slid his hand across the bed to find TK’s. He squeezed it as soon as he found it and TK wound their fingers together in response before he pulled his mind back to the present and turned so he was facing Carlos again. They lay in silence, simply soaking in the presence of each other for a long time before Carlos finally sighed and ran a weary hand over his face. 

“We have so much to take care of,” he lamented, “I don’t even know where to start.” 

“Me neither,” TK agreed, “but we can divide and conquer, I suppose. You’re not alone in this Carlos,” he reminded him earnestly, “We are in this together, 100%.”

Carlos smiled at him as warmth spread through his chest. Their home might be gone but he can’t help but feel lucky that they didn’t lose this, that he didn’t lose him. The tasks before them were daunting and he was already dreading the hours spent on the phone with the insurance company, but knowing that he has TK at his side makes it all just that much more bearable. 

“We do make a good team,” he agreed, watching as TK’s smile grew. 

They lay there for a few more minutes, soaking in the calm silence of the late morning sun and the soothing presence of each other. It’s eventually TK that moves, a groan coming from his lips as he pulls himself up. 

“I suppose we need to actually face this,” he said wryly, “but I’m going to take a shower first. Care to join me?” 

Carlos laughed at his suggestive eyebrows but shook his head, “As tempting as it is,” he told TK, “I don’t think I could knowing that your dad and Mateo are right down the hall.” 

TK gave a light chuckle and leaned down to give him a lingering kiss. When he pulled away he took Carlos’s air with him as he stood from the bed.  

“Your loss,” he told him as he disappeared out the bedroom door with one last suggestive grin. 

Carlos watched him go, still trying to find his breath. Sometimes he was just struck by how much he loved the other man. It was a thought he had often, and a thought he had had last night as the flames had raged around them. 

As he pulled himself out of the familiar bed and began to get ready for the first day in their uncertain future he knew without a doubt that no matter what came and no matter how difficult, it would be worth it. Because he still had TK and they still had each other and after that, nothing else really mattered. 

-----

It doesn’t hit him until he is in the shower, of all places. 

He and Carlos had both spent an extremely long time under the running water the night before, plying the soot and smell of smoke off of their skin with Owen’s myriad soaps and skincare products but somehow now this regular, everyday act of showering before he got ready was his undoing. 

It was inevitable, he supposed. He hadn’t really processed it after all. There had just always been another thing to focus on: getting them out safely, answering questions about what had happened, supporting Carlos. TK had been a firefighter for the majority of his adult life; fire was nothing new to him. The sights and smells and sensation of being trapped among the hungry flames hadn’t affected him like it had the other man, for which TK was grateful. Carlos was the consummate pillar; always there to lend his support, always ready for TK to lean on and he was happy to be able to return the favor. 

But eventually, he ran out the timer he didn’t even know was running. 

It’s the smallest thing that acts as the catalyst. He’s just reaching for a shampoo when an idle thought drifts through his mind: he can’t remember the name of the shampoo Carlos used. 

It had been a bit of a running joke between them that Carlos had been struggling to find a shampoo that worked with his curls. He finally had settled on one just last week, but TK couldn’t remember what it was. He needed to replace it for him, he needed to make sure Carlos had everything he needed but he couldn’t remember the name of his shampoo. 

And it’s that thought that somehow brings the reality into focus. Everything they had is gone. They needed to move forward and they needed to do it completely from scratch. Everything they had built together was gone, and there was no bringing it back. The past month of living with Carlos and building a home together had all been erased; all proof of its existence reduced to ashes.

All their memories seeped into every square inch of the house were gone and there was no getting them back. 

It’s just one tear at first, but the rest quickly follow. Before he knew it he was sliding down the wall of the shower; chest heaving and shoulders shaking with the force of his sobs. He landed on the shower floor as the tears kept coming, mixing with the warm water falling around him as he put his face in his hands. 

He hadn’t let himself feel this because Carlos had needed him but now, in the privacy of the shower with the sound of the water concealing his sobs, he let it come. He cried until he didn’t have anything left in him, until all the fear and pain was gone and he only felt numb. 

Then he stood up, shut off the water, and stepped out of the shower; drying himself off and getting ready to face a new day. 

----------

Carlos stepped into the kitchen to find Owen, fully dressed and bent over the counter writing something on a notepad. He cleared his throat awkwardly as he stepped into the kitchen, not wanting to startle the older man. 

“Carlos!” he greeted cheerfully, Good morning! I was just leaving a note for you boys, I have to head out for an appointment in a bit. How’d you sleep?” 

“The room was very comfortable,” he replied, carefully skirting around all mentions of sleep and dreams. The look Owen gave him told Carlos that he wasn’t fooled, but he didn’t press. 

“I expected you both to sleep longer,” he said instead. “It was a late night and lord knows TK’s never really been a morning person. Is he up too?” 

“He’s in the shower,” Carlos answered, taking a seat on one of the stools at the counter. “We both figured we have a lot to get done so it would be best to get moving.” 

“That actually brings up something I wanted to talk to you about - well, a few things actually,” Owen amended. “The first is simple.” 

He followed his words by picking up something resting on the counter beside the paper he had been writing on. It was his credit card and when Carlos went to protest he shook his head, “Don’t even think about it. Unless one of you went to bed with your wallet last night and failed to mention that, neither of you has access to any of your accounts at the moment. We’ll get that all sorted out in time but for now I’m sure you’d appreciate having some clothes that actually fit. And don’t even think about trying to pay me back,” he added as he slid the card across to Carlos, “I can cover it, and it’s the least I can do.” 

Carlos carefully picked up the card in front of him and looked from it back to his boyfriend’s father, “Thank you, Owen.” 

Owen waved off his thanks. “It truly is the least I could do, given everything. But I’m not the only one who wants to help you two.” 

Carlos opened his mouth, ready to assure him that the 126 didn’t need to do anything, that simply being there was enough (though knowing them he was sure his assurances wouldn’t stop them) but what Owen said next was not what Carlos had been expecting. 

“I know TK talked to his mother last night and told her it was fine that she couldn’t fly down here, but if I know her she is kicking herself for that. Now, this is all up to you and TK. It’s your house and your insurance and it’s up to you how you want to handle it but don’t forget that you have a powerhouse of a Manhattan lawyer on speed dial,” Owen reminded Carlos, “don’t be afraid to call Gwyn if you think it’ll help.” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to…” Carlos began but Owen shook his head. 

“None of that,” he told him firmly before his expression softened. “She hates that she can’t be here for you two and if you would like to pass on some of the legal and insurance stuff to her I know she would be happy to do it. She would probably feel better about it, knowing that she was able to help you both even if it’s just a little.” 

Carlos nodded, feeling the smallest amount of weight lift off his shoulders. There was still plenty left behind, but the knowledge that someone with a better understanding of the system could help them made it just that much easier to breathe in the face of it all. 

“Thank you, Owen. I will.” 

“Good,” Owen said with a nod. “It’ll mean a lot to her and I’m sure you won’t mind a few fewer things to deal with.” 

Carlos nodded emphatically at that and Owen grinned. His expression shifted though as he caught sight of the clock about the stove. 

“I need to go,” he said hurriedly, “I have an appointment at the hospital. Will you tell TK...I don’t want to leave before he comes down but…”

Carlos shook his head, “It’s fine, I’ll tell him. We’ll see you later.” 

Owen gave him a grateful smile, “Count on it. If you need anything while I’m gone just call me, and don’t worry about buying whatever you need because I’m not letting either of you pay me back, I mean it.” 

Then he was gone, out the door with a wave before Carlos could even open his mouth to argue. He picked up the card idly and was tapping it against the counter while his mind wandered when he heard footsteps behind him. He looked around and felt a smile spread across his face at the sight of TK entering the kitchen. It abruptly faded though when his boyfriend grew closer and he could see the telltale signs of recent tears all over his face. They were well concealed, but Carlos knew TK’s face better than his own. TK had been crying, there was no doubt.  

“Babe?” he asked gently, rising from his seat at the counter.

“I’m fine,” TK assured him in a hearty voice that did not have Carlos fooled for a second. 

“TK you are not fine,” he retorted adamantly, “talk to me.” 

“I am Carlos, really,” TK repeated firmly and Carlos went to argue again but TK kept talking. “It just all finally hit me, I think,” he told him, “that’s all.” 

Carlos could feel the panic that had sprung up at the sight of TK’s upset start to fade in the absence of any immediate threat or injury. “I’m not surprised,” he admitted softly, stepping forward to wrap his arms around the other man. “You’ve been a rock the entire time and while I appreciate it - really, I do - it was your home too.” 

TK heaved a weary sigh and wrapped his own arms around Carlos, returning the embrace. “I know that,” he said softly into Carlos’s shoulder, “but I’m okay, I swear.” 

Carlos pulled away enough to study TK’s face, to look for any sign that he was lying. When he didn’t see any he relaxed and took a breath. He knew that it would take some time for them to both move past this and that they were each going to deal with this in their own way. He also knew that this would be far from the last time they talked about this, or the last time one of them struggled. But if TK said he was fine, he was fine and Carlos would let it go - for now. 

“Your dad just left,” he said instead, stepping away from his boyfriend so he could enter the kitchen. “He had an appointment but he said he would see us later.” 

TK nodded as he crossed to the counter and pulled out two mugs before filling them both with coffee and handing one to Carlos. Carlos took it with a grateful smile and continued, “He also left his credit card and told us to buy whatever we need and was very clear that we were not paying him back. He mentioned that part twice.” 

TK shook his head fondly and Carlos grinned before he moved onto the next part of their conversation. “He also suggested we call your mom to see if she can help us with any of the insurance stuff.” 

TK looked up, surprised for a moment before his expression evened. “That makes sense,” he admitted. “If anyone knows their way around the system, it’s her.” 

Carlos grinned at that, allowing himself a quick moment of enjoyment at the thought of an unsuspecting insurance agent trying to pull one over on Gwyneth Morgan. “I think we should,” he said a beat later, “I think it could make a difference because frankly, I have no idea where to even start with all of this.” 

TK chuckled and shook his head, “Honesty, me either. I’ll call her in a little bit, see what she says.” 

Carlos nodded but secretly he was sure the answer would be yes. He was fairly certain that Owen was right, that she would do anything that felt like she could help them, especially in a way that only she could.

“We should make some time to go out for a bit,” he says instead, “get some clothes to get us through the week, get you a new phone.” 

TK grimaced at the reminder. “You’re lucky you still had yours in your pocket,” he told Carlos. “It feels so weird not having it. I feel so out of the loop.” 

Carlos chuckled and reached across the table to place his hand on top of TK’s, “That’s okay,” he assured him sweetly, “I’ll make sure you stay in the loop.” 

“My hero,” TK deadpanned, but he was grinning. 

Any further conversation was halted by the dinging of the phone in question and Carlos fished it out of his pocket, swiping it open to reveal a new message in the group chat. He put the phone down on the counter so he could see the message from Paul: Status update: everyone make it through the night? 

TK rolled his eyes fondly as messages from the others appeared, all confirming their continued existence. Carlos grinned at him before he pulled the phone closer to type out a message informing them all that yes, he and TK had in fact survived the night. The conversation quickly shifted from there and, TK reading over his shoulder as he sipped his coffee, slowly a plan began to form. 

Paul reminded them all that they had scheduled a game night for tonight and that if there was ever a time they all needed it, it was now. Marjan was quick to agree and Mateo to wonder where they were going to meet. It was Nancy who suggested the 126, reminding them that it would be abandoned for the foreseeable future and that the building had been deemed structurally sound. It was at this point Carlos felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to meet TK’s concerned eyes. 

“Would you be okay with that?” he asked softly. 

“Yeah,” Carlos responded, baffled at the other man’s concern, “why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Because we barely escaped from a burning building with our lives last night.” TK reminded him gently, “I’m just making sure you’d be fine hanging out in another one.”

Carlos considered, looking back down at his phone. The messages had paused and it seemed as if everyone was waiting on him. The idea of being surrounded by the work of the arsonist who had taken their home did seem daunting, but doing it with their friends and TK at his side made it seem far less so. 

So he smiled at TK and gave him a nod before he typed his agreement into the chat. The others were clear in their enthusiasm and despite everything that lay behind them and what was still waiting, Carlos found another smile. 

He had a feeling they’d be okay after all. 

-----

Walking into his destroyed firehouse is like walking into a grave, again. 

When he first started out as a firefighter he never thought he would be forced to stand in the ruins of the place that had come to be a second home (or even a first home, at times) and contemplate the loss and tragedy of the sight before him. But he had, twice. The first time it had been silence: the emptiness of the formerly bustling kitchen, the hastily made beds in the bunk room. The knowledge that the rooms would never be filled again. 

This time it was charred walls and shattered windows; physical destruction scattered with the debris and clutter of their day-to-day lives. They were still there - still standing - but there was an illusion of safety that had been washed away, never to be fully regained again. A safe place had been violated and for that Owen was sure he would never forgive himself for being the cause. 

His flashlight caught a glint of something in the debris of his office and he reached down to pull out the lump of melted steel. He turned it over in his hand as he sank into his chair, his mind fractured between a time nearly 20 years ago and this moment. He had once walked out of hell alone; filled with the grief of losing his brothers and the knowledge that nothing would ever be the same again. But he had moved on and he had built new families and he had vowed to look out for them so he would never have to feel that loss ever again. In the minutes between his frantic call to Judd and the call confirming they were all safe he had nearly been toppled by the fear of that thought. He had thought that he might lose a family again, and that this time it would be his fault. 

But he hadn’t; his luck had held again. It had even carried on late into the night, saving him from losing the one thing that meant most to him in the entire world. The pure, unrestrained fear he had felt upon making the connection between Raymond’s threat and the fact that TK and Carlos - the two people both he and Gabriel Reyes cared for most - lived together, making them a perfect target, was unlike anything else he had ever felt in his life. The helplessness had almost overwhelmed him as he and Billy had raced to the scene, the guilt still did even now. 

But his luck had held once more and while he was beyond grateful - the thought of losing either of the boys was too awful for him to even comprehend - he was left now to once again wonder why. What had he ever done to make him deserve a happy outcome when Tommy didn’t get one. What made him better, more worthy of a long life, than Charles Vega? He may not have known the man for long, but he had come to know him well and he knew without a doubt that Charles had been a better man than him. Not just a better man: a better person, a better friend, a better husband, a better father. Charles Vega was better than Owen in every single aspect of life that mattered. 

Yet for some reason fate had decided that Charles’s time in this life was over; that Tommy needed to face life without her partner, their girls without their father.  

And Owen was still here, left standing once again in the ruins; wondering how to move on. 

He turned the lump of steel - a reminder and a relic - over again in his hand. There were so many skeletons in his past and sometimes he was afraid that his present was trying to match that. It was a fear that he lived with day in and day out, it was one of the things that kept him up at night and kept him turning to the tequila. He didn’t know how to shake this feeling of dread that had become his constant companion and sometimes he was afraid it would drown him. 

Sometimes he wished it would. 

There was a list of people in his head; people he couldn’t save, people who should have lived instead. He was running through the list of names (Pullman, Rollins, Rosewater, Santiago…) when the sound of loud music erupted through the silent shell of a firehouse. He frowned, glancing around as if the source would reveal itself before standing and heading down to the first floor. 

The sound of voices soon mingled with the sound of the music as he followed it to its source. He turned the corner from what had formerly been the kitchen into the skeletal remains of the lounge to see a small crowd. It was his team, and Carlos. He watched in awe as they took it in stride, as they made the most of it. He lingered off the side, beer in hand and more than content to watch and observe as they bantered and argued about foosball teams. They had all been deeply affected by everything that had happened; he had seen it in them in the immediate aftermath. He knew it had affected them each deeply in their own personal way.

But somehow, they keep moving forwards. 

He wonders vaguely when he lost that ability as he stands off to the side, watching them jostle and tease each other by the foosball table as Carlos and TK watch fondly from the sidelines, quietly seeking comfort in each other. He is amazed at their fortitude, at their propensity for healing. They have all faced so much and yet they keep coming out on the other side just as good, just as strong. Just as whole. 

He felt a smile find its way to his face as he saw TK gently rub at Carlos’s back; an almost unconscious act of comfort and support. They were fine because they had each other and as long as that was true he knew they’d be okay. 

His new team had become a family somewhere along the way and he knew that together, they could make it through anything. It’s in that moment that he decides two things: first, that the news of Charles Vega’s death could wait. These people deserved one night unmarred by tragedy and he had the power to give it to them so he would. 

The second, he decided as he watched them laughing with abandon and leaning into each others’ space - finding happiness in the literal midst of destruction - was that the best thing he could do for them is to make sure that they always had each other. And he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would do anything and everything in his power to make sure that stayed true, for as long as he possibly could. 

[wanderinginksplot]

Just for Kix

Previous | Next | Masterlist 

Leia 

(WARNING for major character death)

It wouldn't be long now.

Kix had warned the general that her time was growing short, and that had been months ago. General Leia Organa had taken the news of her impending death rather well, all things considered. She had accepted it with the grace of her mother, despite the well-known joke that she had inherited her father's temper.

Leia hadn't been able to get out of bed that morning. It had only taken Kix a few hours to notice her absence, though she hadn't called him. Despite his grimness at the day ahead, Kix hadn't been able to suppress a smile. It was such a Skywalker trait to ignore their health, even until death.

The scanner let out a smooth beep - a world of difference from the scanners he had grown used to during the war. The universe had benefited greatly from the half-century of tech advancements that had occurred while Kix slept. Still, he didn't need to check the small readout to know what was happening. He had seen death too many times in too many forms to be fooled by a slow fade.

"Your major systems are beginning to shut down," he told Leia, resting a comforting hand over hers. Her skin was cool to the touch, but her fingers were steadfast rather than shaking. She had known. "It won't be more than a few more hours."

She smiled at him, her brown eyes warm and steady - so much like Padmé's that it hurt. "Thank you, Kix."

It sounded like a dismissal, but Kix didn't budge. "I'll be here with you until it happens."

Leia huffed out a small chuckle. "Kix, you have better things to do than sit with an old woman and wait for her to die."

Kix squinted up at the sky. It was mid-morning and the sky was bright and clear. Leia had been moved to the shade of a shallow cave - protected from the sun and wind, but still able to see and feel the world around her. It was a lovely spot to spend time. "I can't think of a single one, General. With respect, I'll stay."

"Respect," she snorted, shaking her head. "Well, if you're intent on staying, I'm going to put you to work."

He quirked a brow in silent response and she grinned broadly. The expression was such a mirror of General Skywalker's mischievous smile that Kix's heart lurched for a moment. She seemed to be thinking along a similar wavelength, because she ordered, "Tell me about my parents."

"Your parents?" he repeated stupidly. "Breha and Bail or the General and the Senator?"

"Both," Leia said, settling against the pillows protecting her back from the chilled stone wall of the cave. "Though I'm surprised you know anything at all about the Organas."

"Well, Bail in particular liked to have clone troopers escort him on diplomatic missions," Kix told her. "He thought it struck the right tone between showing up with obvious protection and showing up with no protection at all. Most of his escorts were from the Coruscant Guard, but we always shared our stories."

It was some hours later when Kix finally finished with, "...and Bail Organa, the great senator from Alderaan, had to run out of there at full speed, his ornate senatorial robes carried in his arms like a child and blaster fire hitting the ground behind every step! He always swore it was the last time he would bother going to Rattatak."

Leia laughed uproariously, wiping tears from her cheeks. "He never told me that version of the story! He just said that senators weren't welcome on Rattatak and that I shouldn't go… but if I did, I should make sure to wear comfortable shoes. I always wondered what he meant by that."

"One mystery solved," Kix told her with a smile.

"And just in time," she agreed. "I would hate to have missed that story. Now, what about my birth parents? I understand you worked with my father, but I wouldn't have expected you to know my mother. She was said to be beautiful and kind, passionate about political causes but not overly involved."

Kix snorted so hard that his throat stung. "Not overly involved? Did Senator Organa tell you that?"

"He did," Leia said, a wry grin playing around her mouth. "I take it that was a fairytale, an attempt to make me behave?"

"Maybe he knew a different side of Padmé than I did, but I've never known a politician to get in so many shootouts, present company excluded."

"Shootouts?" she asked, incredulous.

"Oh, yeah," Kix affirmed with a deep nod for emphasis. "I can't count how many times we were sent in to save your mother after she had gone in to try to make peace with some Seppie-leaning world and things had gone wrong. It didn't help that your father was in love with her by that point. He would have deployed the entire GAR if it meant keeping her safe, and he wasn't especially careful who knew about it…"

As he spoke, a small part of Kix's brain was working on the medical side of things. He tracked exactly how much color Leia's face was losing, watched as she leaned more and more of her weight against the pillows, and noted exactly when she stopped asking questions. Eventually, she stopped even replying to him.

Kix kept talking. Every bit of experience he had told him that hearing was the last sense to fade, and he would not let his general's daughter die in silence, wondering if everyone had abandoned her. He paused only once in his storytelling, and it was to administer a small dose of pain meds when Leia's breathing grew labored.

As the sun dropped low in the sky, Kix told story after story to the unresponsive woman in the bed in her cave. He talked about senators and generals, padawans and Jedi masters, of a war that had ended, but only in the least expected of ways, and of an army of identical men who spent their days finding ways to be different.

When her chest had stopped rising and falling, Kix stood to pull the bed's sheet up and over her slack face.

"Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum," he said in harsh Mando'a, the words still echoing with the pain of a thousand losses. "I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal. Leia Organa, Breha Organa, Bail Organa, Padmé Amidala, Anakin Skywalker, Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Rex, Jesse, Fives, Echo, Tup, Appo, Dogma, Hardcase…"

The list continued until Kix felt lighter, purged somehow of the weight of death. Remembering the little he had been told about ghosts in the Force, he glanced around the clearing. It was hazy in the dusky twilight, but he could see that no one else was nearby.

"If you're here, General Skywalker... take care of her. Your daughter found a way to be extraordinary in a world that tries to stomp out every bit of that it can find."

For a moment, Kix felt the shadow of a hand's weight on his shoulder, the sensation of company, of brotherhood - and it was gone. He was alone in the shallow cave once more. He squared his shoulders, gathering his thoughts and willpower for the days ahead.

There was work to be done.

---

A/N - This is probably the most angst-driven thing I will ever write. Two months ago, I had a family member pass away. This chapter was written as a way of processing the feelings of sitting by someone's bedside as they shut down. I definitely cried while I wrote this one. Sorry for the information overload! I have one more chapter planned for this series (though I always reserve the right to add more, haha) and I promise that it's far more cheerful than this one. You made it through the worst!

[brokenangelwings22]

Here's probably my only entry for IHweek. I've finally returned to writing. This is an excerpt from chapter 2 of my story Come Back Down to Earth. You can read the first chapter either on AO3 or FanFiction

Confession (IHweek 7/4) Please enjoy!

Chapter 2: Crawled In and Never Left

Give me the chance to tonight

I'll prove to you what's in my eyes

(It’s My Turn To Fly - The Urge - Titan AE soundtrack 2000)

Ichigo considered himself a reasonable man, but his patience was growing thin with his roommate.

“C’mon, man! You had a solid chance with Hime last night!” Renji pleaded with him. “Why are you so obtuse?”

“That’s an awfully big word for you.” Ichigo rolled his eyes at his friend. “Ever think of taking your own advice with Rukia?”

Renji let out a long suffering sigh. “You’re both hopeless, and therefore perfect for each other.”

“I’m perfectly happy with how things are with Hime. I don’t want to chance it.”

Renji pulled out a box of pretzel sticks from the cupboard. He fixed a concerned look on his face, and the seriousness unnerved Ichigo.

“Look. I’m not gonna force you. Even if I think you’re absolutely nuts not to. I will, however, point out that you’re an idiot for not telling her how you feel.” Renji pulled out a piece of pretzel and pointed it at Ichigo to emphasize his thought. “You’re gonna lose her one day if you continue to be ridiculous.”

Ichigo narrowed his eyes as his scowl persisted. “You think I am not aware of that?”

Renji placed the stick between his teeth and grinned toothily. “Yup!”

A sleepy noise came from behind the two men just as Ichigo opened his mouth to snap at his friend.

“Mm morning guys,” Orihime yawned as she stepped into the kitchen. “Any coffee? It’s too early.”

“Sorry Hime. Were we too loud?” Ichigo asked, his previous scowl morphing to something more kind.

“No,” she murmured. Her voice was still thick with sleep. She stumbled a little, bumping into Ichigo. “Oh hi wall. You smell nice.” Orihime leaned into his chest and snuggled him.

There was a strangled sound from Renji as he watched the young woman wrap her arms loosely around Ichigo’s waist. Instinctively, Ichigo wrapped his arms around her to steady her.

“Renji,” Ichigo said softly as to not disturb Orihime. “Please brew some coffee for her.”

“Jeez if I had known that Hime could instantly dissolve your sour mood with an embrace, I’d handcuff you both together.” Renji grumbled and shook his head, walking over to the coffeemaker on the counter.

Ichigo hummed a distracted acknowledgement as he idly stroked Orihime’s long auburn hair. She snuggled into his broad chest further. “Thanks. I’ll move her back to her room.” He was already moving towards the living room as he heard Renji’s snarky reply.

“Oh take your time. I’m merely here to serve.”

~*~*~*~

Ichigo sighed heavily as he stepped out from Orihime’s room and shut the door behind him quietly. He turned to walk down the short hallway, only to stop dead in his tracks when he saw his two friends standing a few feet away with evil grins on their faces. Squaring his shoulders and fixing a glare at Renji and Rukia, he taunted “Don’t you both have something better to do? Like, absolutely anything?”

Rukia’s grin sharpened further. “Nah, we’re more interested in heckling you.”

Ichigo grumbled, raking his fingers through his unruly hair. “Yeah yeah. You’re both insufferable.”

He flicked Rukia’s forehead and smacked Renji’s upper back swiftly as he moved to leave.

Rukia’s retort was loud as she declared, “And YOU are the annoying brother I never asked for and yet somehow got!”

Renji’s muttering was barely noticeable under the small woman’s rage. “C’mon, Rukia. Let’s leave him be.”

Ichigo rolled his eyes, stepping around the ornery woman and made his way to the kitchen. Of course, Renji was right. It annoyed him to no end that he hadn’t spoken with Orihime about how he felt towards her. Hell, if he were being honest, he knew that he was in love with her at first sight.

She’d stumbled into his dad’s clinic, buckling under the weight of her brother’s prone body. This girl, only 12 at the time, carried her six foot and change older brother from the scene of the car accident all the way there. She was battered and bruised from the wreckage too. It broke him to his very soul when he had to tell her that his father was unable to save Orihime’s brother. The ambulance Isshin had called to rush him to the trauma ward of the hospital had simply not gotten there in enough time.

He did his best to console Orihime, who collapsed in a heap on the clinic floor. Her clothes were soiled with dirt and caked in her brother’s blood.

Yuzu had entered the room, and with a kind and understanding voice, ushered the broken girl to the bathroom to wash up. Orihime stayed at his house for several days, mostly walking around with mechanical movements, much like a zombie or a robot, just going through the motions of a semblance of normalcy. At night she’d cry herself to sleep. Ichigo stayed by her side when she was awake, and would help her to bed when she could barely stay up right.

Slowly, but surely, Orihime processed the loss of her brother. Ichigo stuck to her like glue, promising her and to himself that he would always be there to protect her. Orihime professed her gratitude to him soon after she moved back to her apartment, telling him that she was eternally grateful for everything he had done. As time went on, they became inseparable. They went to the same middle school and then high school, which introduced them to new friends that they quickly established into a tight-knit group.

Orihime had grown up beautifully. Her smile, warm and bright, had the ability to render him speechless and lightheaded. He felt invincible and vulnerable all at once. Far too many times, their friends would catch him when he was slack-jawed and mindless, teasing him mercilessly when Orihime wasn’t looking.

He began calling her ‘Hime’ their senior year. He hadn’t meant to, but it just slipped out. She had been followed by a group of boys who often flocked around her, taken by her beauty and her curvaceous body. One of them had ventured to put a hand on her shoulder without permission and Ichigo had snapped. Any restraint he had frayed instantly and before he understood what was happening, he had slammed the cretin against the wall and threatened him.

“You don’t touch women without consent, especially Hime.” He growled at the other guy, clenching the offending limb.

Orihime had called his name softly, telling Ichigo to let the man go, and he had simultaneously dropped him and her request. Ichigo made it a point to be by her side every chance he had. To protect her, love her from a distance if need be. It was enough, at that time.

But once Ichigo, Orihime and their friends entered university, the strain to keep a tight seal over his feelings became increasingly more difficult. His best friend flourished in academics and her social life expanded to include other people outside of their small group. With that also came obstacles, and Ichigo had to fend off more than a few of Orihime’s admirers.

Ichigo gripped the handle of the carafe of coffee angrily at the memory. The steam and scent of the hot brew brought him back to the present. He sighed after loosening his grip and poured two cups, adding cream and sugar to Orihime’s.

Soft footfalls behind him reached his ears, along with a quiet yawn. A grin spread on his lips as Orihime came into view.

Orihime blinked away the remnants of sleep from her eyes, smiling brightly at Ichigo when he offered her the cup he’d gotten for her.

Taking a big sip, she sighed happily. “Thanks, Ichigo. You always know how to make my coffee just how I like it.”

Ichigo smiled gently at her, shrugging his broad shoulders. “Well, after knowing you for ten years, I’d like to think I know you well enough to get your preferences right.”

Orihime giggled and gazed up at him from behind the mug pressed to her lips. “You do, and I’m grateful for that. Lord knows why Rukia insists on adding extra sugar and Tatsuki puts in too little cream. You are a hero among men, good sir.”

Ichigo’s smile widened at Orihime’s playfulness. “I try my best, m’lady.”

“Where are Rukia and Renji?” Orihime asked as she looked around the kitchen.

“Don’t know. Don’t care. Hopefully somewhere off annoying someone else more deserving.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

Orihime snorted bemusedly, shaking her head in disbelief as he tried to sound convincingly bored and grumpy. She raised her hand to place it on his right cheek in a fond manner.

“What am I going to do with you?” Her question came out more flirtatious than she intended.

Ichigo’s eyes widened at her sweet gesture and instantly leaned into her touch, closing his eyes and revelling in it. He had never realized how touch starved he truly was until Orihime would step into his personal space with her warm smile and kind gaze. It was as if that one thing, a fleeting brush of her fingers, or a soothing embrace had the ability to heal his wounded heart or eradicate any scar left on his soul.

Losing his mother at such a young age had made him a hardened and angry child. He blamed himself for her death, believing that if he had done something, spent more time with her, taken care of her and his sisters more, that she may very well have recovered from cancer. But his father had explained to him many times that the disease was caught too late, and the malignancy had metastasized from her cervix to her uterus and ovaries very quickly. Ichigo was still struggling with the loss of his mother two years later, when Orihime stumbled into their clinic with her brother.

He’d figured that no matter how miserable and heart wrenching it was, he had found purpose in consoling Orihime. It gave him unbelievable strength to bond with her over the loss. Helping her ultimately helped him as well in the end. The desire to be with her only grew. It had crawled in and never left. He’d become greedy for it, overthrown by his desperation to be close to the light that was Orihime.

She continued to lightly graze his cheekbone with soft brushes against him, her warm fingers causing pleasant tingles on his skin.

Orihime cupped the side of his face as she watched in awe how he was drawn to her touch, feeling the soft smile that pulled at his lips. When he raised his hand to place it over hers, she felt herself being pulled by an invisible force, almost magnetic. He had always been like that, and she adored being the one that he let in entirely. She stroked his cheek and began to pull her palm away until he held fast to her. His eyes fluttered open, and the look he had in them made the breath catch in her throat.

“Ichi-“ she murmured breathlessly.

The raw emotion that flashed in his dark amber gaze made her spine tingle, her heart stutter and her cheeks warm. He had the ability to render her tongue-tied with the flicker of something deep and foreign to her. Ichigo pulled her into his arms, finally allowing her hand to move, and she found herself slipping it to the back of his neck and burying her fingers into his soft hair. He wrapped his arms about her, pulling her to his lean, muscular body and sighed happily as Orihime sifted her fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp comfortingly.

Orihime pressed her ear over his heart, as he towered over her five foot one frame. The thumping, strong sound of it beating quieted her mind immediately. He slid his hands up and down her back, and she felt herself melt into it.

“I… I just need this, Hime.” Ichigo’s whisper filtered into her ear as he pressed his lips to her temple, sending a shiver through her body. Though quiet, she heard the fervency in his tone. She nodded against him, continuing her movements through his hair. She felt him shudder in their embrace and the breathless ‘thank you’ that he uttered.

“Were you thinking about something?” Orihime whispered back, her eyebrows drawing inwards as the possibility fluttered through her mind.

Ichigo nodded, letting out a stuttering sigh. “Yeah. Don’t worry about it. I’m better now.”

She hummed thoughtfully at his response, resigning herself to his simple answer. She wouldn’t push him further.

Finally Ichigo pulled back from her to look her in the eyes. His gaze was still intense, as it flickered with what she could only identify as resolve and something far much more akin to what she assumed she wore as an expression often in his presence. It made her heart skip a beat and her mind to race at the possibilities.

“Hime,” he murmured. The way he said her name was like an urgent plea. It caused her stomach to swoop down like she was on an out of control rollercoaster. She waited on baited breath as he gathered his thoughts.

Ichigo’s mind was restless. His need to put into words how he felt about her, loved her, desired her rushed through and permeated the recesses of his brain. He should’ve been used to the intensity of it by now, but he most certainly wasn’t. The way she watched him gave him strength to form the words, stilling the overbearing thoughts warring to leave his mouth.

“I want to kiss you,” he whispered. His simple response was anything but, knowing deep down that this could make or break their friendship. The smile she gave him nearly shut down his brain entirely.

“What took you so long?” Orihime breathed before Ichigo’s mouth was on hers, his lips holding nothing back as kissed her with all the desperation and hunger of a man starved. The radiating joy splashed over the burning desire thundering through his veins.

Orihime parted her lips as she let out a sound that would’ve embarrassed her outside of this situation. Instead, she felt exhilarated to an immeasurable degree. Her body quaked at the reverence and pure heat he poured into it. It was as if the dam of years of keeping everything bottled up in fear of losing each other burst and flooded them all at once.

She clenched her fingers in his hair as he delved his tongue into her mouth. Orihime felt her body fight between melting and being drawn taught, like a string on a bow. Ichigo’s hands slid down to her hips, flexing and gripping at her flannel pajama pants and flesh. She angled her head when he held her firmly, seeking out his tongue with her own.

Ichigo was quickly lost in the taste of her skin, the sounds she made and the feel of her. His nerve endings felt like they had caught fire. It was a sensory overload in everything Orihime. If he didn’t think he was greedy before, he certainly was now.

~~~(TBC)~~~

I certainly hope you all liked this! I should have the chapter finished bit up fairly soon. Thanks so much for reading!

Also— I’m uncertain why this isn’t showing up in the tags, so I’ll try it again.

[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Part 15)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 4021 Warnings: fluff, mentions of the Holocaust

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: Thank you also to Ary (formerly @johnnynunzio) for helping me with information and resources for the history of Romani people during the Holocaust

PART 14 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

Walking up the steps to the hospital becomes a little difficult as you zig-zag through groups of people trying not to hit anyone with your umbrella. Under the overhang of the building you shake it out after closing it, hoping the umbrella doesn’t drip too much on the floors as you make your way to the elevator.

It’s been a really wet day but you don’t mind it so much considering all this rain is supposed to bring beautiful flowers next month and the hope of something beautiful is exactly what you needed now.

It hasn’t been the easiest going to work every day. Metro-General is where you first met Billy and now that you’ve broken up it’s all you can think about every time you have to head down to the ER.

Wanda came over that night you got back from work and broke the news that she and Sam spotted Billy with another woman. You insisted on seeing the proof, the pictures being the final push in your decision to end things with Billy.

You admitted how things weren’t the same anymore, his attitude plus lack of caring when you were sick really made you reconsider your relationship. It had been a few days since you spoke to Billy but you wanted to call him out in person, meeting at a coffee shop to discuss things.

Confronting him was easier than you thought but watching him lie to your face was not. You had proof and he still accused you and your friends of lying just to make him look bad. After a small outburst he finally fessed up to seeing the woman named Krista. Billy didn’t tell you how long he had been cheating which pissed you off but you walked away feeling good about ending things.

It didn’t mean that you felt good. You knew that it was Billy’s loss but still, it didn’t feel good to be cheated on. You questioned everything. Was he lying from the beginning? Was work the real reason he had to cancel a few times? All of these questions made you doubt your self-worth.

Your friends were great after your breakup, each one of them there for you, readily offering up a chance to kick Billy’s ass if you let them. You all went out to celebrate how you “took out the trash,” round after round dedicated to your new freedom. But being surrounded by everyone in relationships didn’t make you feel the best, everyone except Bucky.

You might have had a little too much to drink that night and in a tearful drunken cry you might have asked him what was so wrong with you to make Billy cheat.

Bucky might also have had too much as he slurred his answer, but still he was insistent.

“There ain’t nothing wrong about you Y/N. Nothin’. Assholes like Billy treat the world like it belongs to them, like everything is up for the taking, no consequences apply. But he’s wrong and he lost the best thing to ever happen to him. You hear me? You’re the best thing that could happen t’anybody.”

You replay Bucky’s words in your mind as you pass by the nurses’ desk where Billy gave you his card. It was his loss.

Since the breakup you’ve been throwing yourself into work again. Dating Billy wasn’t a mistake, he just wasn’t the right person for you and after careful consideration you decided to chalk up those feelings you might have had towards Bucky towards all the care he gave you when you were sick. 

Bucky was your friend and a great one at that and so you made sure to fill your weekends by keeping a promise. You and Bucky began your pizza quest and it has been amazing. Your pants don’t quite agree with you but it’s definitely been worth it.

In between cases you responded to a text from Wanda. The exhibit she had been working on for The Jewish Museum is opening in a few weeks and she wanted to confirm you would be there. Like she really had to ask, of course you would.

Over the last few months she’s been working so hard on this and you couldn’t wait to be there to support her. Everyone was going and Sam made sure to take the day off.

Bucky: You up for a trek to Brooklyn?

The message caught you off guard but still brought a large smile to your face. You replied quickly asking what he was talking about and by the end of your shift it was decided; you and Bucky were going to Brooklyn for pizza. 

“I haven’t been here in forever,” Bucky said, while opening the door to Spumoni Gardens for you.

“These better be worth the two transfers Bucky. I am starving!”

You may have exaggerated a little but you were pretty hungry. Bucky insisted that you must try this famous pizza, arguing that Brooklyn is technically within the boundaries as part of your pizza quest. Semantics aside, you trusted that the hour long trip to get here would be worth it.

Spumoni Gardens was famous for their Sicilian pie and Bucky ordered one the moment you were seated. Soon enough twelve thick slices were laid out in front of you in the most interesting looking square of pizza you had seen before, with the sauce on top.

With a skeptical eye you squint at Bucky who urges you to take a bite, eagerly awaiting your response. There was no denying it, as you sank your teeth into the deliciously thick crust, with sauce and cheese hitting your taste buds like a pinball setting off lights and sound as it hits the winning targets.

A proud grin settled on Bucky’s face as he held up his own slice, taking a bite as he watched you dab at the bit of sauce in the corner of your mouth with a napkin. His eyes light up, raising his brows in a silent request for your opinion.

“So good.” Every bit of enthusiasm is behind the few words you’ve said, combined with the smile that stayed plastered on your face as you quickly took another bite, needing to taste the symphony of flavors again.

Bucky paid for everything despite your protests. He insisted that since you indulged him in his craving after a long day of work it was only fair. Side by side you slowly strolled back to the train, making a promise to come back for the spumoni when you haven’t stuffed yourselves full of pizza.

Conversation was always easy with Bucky, making the ride back home a breeze. When you reached your block you saw familiar faces headed towards the building.

“Hey guys,” Bucky greeted Clint and Natasha, as they walked with their arms linked to the door.

“We just had the best pizza!” you blurted out, unable to control your enthusiasm for the amazing dinner you had.

“Oh yeah, well we just had some shitty pasta.” Natasha playfully smacked Clint in the stomach for his blunt remark. “What? It wasn’t good!” he snarked.

“We just came back from a wedding expo,” she added.

Her lips were tense as they pressed together. They had been wedding planning for a while, not getting very far. Natasha’s work had set her back, which she didn’t mind since she was excelling professionally but it did require her and Clint to push back their wedding date a few times since they couldn’t commit to the time frame required.

“It’ll come together in time,” you said, offering a hopeful smile.

“All I know is Sonny Burch is not going to cater our wedding. That food was awful. Now tell me more about this pizza.”

Clint was practically drooling throughout the elevator ride as you and Bucky described the incredible pizza you had. After saying goodnight to them you and Bucky held back your laughter hearing Clint begging Natasha to go to Spumoni Gardens tomorrow as the elevator doors were shutting.

“Thanks for dinner Bucky,” you said, pressing a kiss to his cheek before unlocking your door. “Oh wait! Hang on one second!”

As you went inside your apartment you missed the way Bucky touched his cheek, still feeling the tingle of your lips against his skin. A moment later you came out, handing him a wrapped present.

“For taking care of me last month when I was sick.”

“You didn’t have to Y/N.” He meant it, whatever it was you got him really wasn’t necessary but you insisted it was.

Your lips pressed together with excited anticipation, staring at Bucky with widened eyes as he began to tear off the wrapping. He held up the stretched white canvas rectangle with vertical lines of varied height going across it. He smiled kindly, unsure exactly what he was looking at which was fine, his gift needed a little explanation.

“It’s Herrmann’s Psycho score in soundwave form.”

Bucky’s jaw dropped open as he stared at the vertical lines that conveyed every beat, seeing the taller lines represent the higher strings, the greater tension of the score. It was so unique, so perfectly suited for him and he knew you truly understood who he was.

“I love it. Thank you so much Y/N.”

One arm wrapped around you as he held the artwork out of the way. This gift reaffirmed the feelings he felt for you, making it harder to deal with the fact that he wasn’t going to do anything about them.

After your break up with Billy you made it very clear that you were not interested in dating. This was not the time for him to open up to you. He didn’t want to push you into anything you weren’t comfortable with so once again Bucky needed a distraction from his feelings. This is how he found himself back on the dating apps.

He finally went on a date with Bobbi, a few actually, only to find that the real chemistry they had was in the bedroom. The longer Bucky stared at the artwork you gave him the more he felt like calling her to help push aside you and thoughts of the amazing non-date that you had, but he knew she was out of town for the weekend.

Bucky’s too tired to get involved with calling someone else so instead he settled down in front of his keyboard. His fingers glide across the keys as he’s filled with inspiration, pouring his heart into a melody with you on his mind.

Wanda paced back and forth in her apartment, stopping each time to check her reflection in the scalloped mirror above her dresser when she passed it. The way she swept back the few loose tendrils of her now more conservative light brown hair wasn’t out of vanity but nerves, needing to do anything to stop the shakiness of her hands.

“Hey, everything’s going to be perfect. I promise you have nothing to worry about,” you said, offering open arms to Wanda.

She was so fidgety she was barely able to stay in your embrace for more than a second. Wanda couldn’t help it. Tonight was the opening of The Jewish Museum’s exhibit on The Holocaust and Wanda was extremely nervous. Knowing this day was so important to her, you took off from your internship, promising Elena you would make up the hours.

The buzzer of her doorbell rang and Wanda jumped with excitement. “Mom!” Wanda called out, running towards the door.

It had only been a few months since they saw each other but on a stressful day like this nothing comforted Wanda more than her mom.

“Y/N, it’s so good to see you sweetheart.” Marya wrapped her arms around you and it felt like home, and seeing her brought back all the memories of your youth with Wanda and Pietro.

It was impossible not to think about him, especially considering he shared so many features with his mom. Piet would have been so proud of Wanda today and amidst the hug you choke back the tears you felt forming.

Wanda needed to be at the museum early so you and Marya went for a light dinner first as she headed there. Catching up was easy and Marya told you how proud she was for all the hard work you’ve been putting in to get your degree. The passion behind social work was unspoken because she already knew how deeply you felt about the circumstances of Wanda and Pietro’s upbringing.

“I think about it sometimes… what could have been.”

The twinkle in her eye suggested she knew the childhood crush you harbored for her son. It wasn’t something you ever admitted before. Even Wanda didn’t know.

“Years ago I finally had the strength to go through his things. I may have found your names in a heart, scratched on what should have been his notes on American history.”

You brushed aside a tear that trickled down along the curved cheek from your smile. Piet hated history so doodling became a common way to pass the time, and knowing he felt the same doesn’t make it any easier in losing him.

Marya brought a napkin to her face to soak up her own tears. She apologized though you told her there was no reason to. “So tell me, are you seeing anyone?”

As you retold the story of putting off relationships while you earned your degree you saw her mouth pull into a frown.

“Don’t put your life on hold, you know how quickly things can change.”

Her advice didn’t feel like a lecture, and you knew you might have jumped the gun on calling off dating again; not everyone would be like Billy.

An intricately detailed archway leads you through the main doors and into the crowded lobby of the museum. It’s past the normal operating hours, premiering the exhibit for the media and friends and family first.  

You spot your friends gathered together in the corner and happily introduce them to Marya. Sam smiles a little wider as he introduces himself. “Yes, that Sam,” he replied. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Bucky is wearing his long hair down, neatly tucked behind his ears and even in all black he stands out. The white printed pattern on his black button down shirt draws your eye to the velvet blazer that makes him look incredibly sophisticated.

“You look great,” Bucky said, as you both leaned in to press your cheeks against each other for a kiss.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of you and the shine of your beige satin shirt. The delicate gold chain you wore draped lower than the V-neck cut and he let his eyes linger down your body, from the black pants that hugged your figure to the pointed black heels.

“Thanks, you look pretty good yourself. Ooh fancy,” you said, running your hands along his velvet lapel.

The chatter in the lobby grew for another ten minutes until you were directed to follow the group towards the exhibit. Marya was accompanied by Sam and both their faces lit up as they spotted Wanda, standing proudly beside a curtain that was drawn across the entry of the main room. Her eyes twinkled as she spotted them, you and everyone amongst the crowd.

A man not much taller than her walked in front of the curtain with a microphone in hand. He introduced himself as the museum’s director Phillip Coulson. Wanda had always spoken highly of him and you can see why. He was soft spoken with a kind smile, welcoming everyone to the exhibit.

“On the eve of Yom HaShoah we invite you to do what is asked, remember. We remember through stories, from letters that made it out while their writers did not. We remember through pictures, of people and the faces we strive to never forget, of discarded belongings left behind deemed as irrelevant as the lives of their owners. As we remember the decimation and destruction we also remember the endurance, the survival. We remember and we will never forget.”

A round of applause breaks through the crowd with the increased flashing of camera lights as Director Coulson gestures to Wanda who proudly draws open the curtain, opening the exhibit.

The large room is painted in a somber blue, as if the life had been sucked out of a once vibrant sky. It’s fitting. This is a place of reverence, surrounded by artifacts that tell a painful history.

There were three smaller rooms connected to the main area, each showcasing smaller exhibits, one of which you knew was the one Wanda was most proud of. She stood in front of it, awaiting her friends so you could walk through it together.

“It’s called The Ghosts of Genocide and it focuses on the Romani aspect of the Holocaust.”

Unlike the main room there were few displays. One wall was dedicated to Philomena Franz, the first Romani woman to document her experiences in the concentration camps. You read the information beside her photograph, “Zwischen Liebe und Hass” (“Between Love and Hate”) was her autobiography, the dichotomy of a happy childhood against the brutality of Auschwitz.

The next photograph was of Elena Lacková, a Slovakian Romani poet and playwright. “Holocaust Romů v povídkách” (“Holocaust of Roma in short stories”). A copy of the out of print book was behind a glass enclosure.

The large wall featured the paintings of Ceija Stojka, an Austrian Romani Holocaust survivor. You chew on your bottom lip tensely as you stare at the images. Simple ink depictions of dead bodies stacked in a haphazard pile like they were nothing more than logs meant for a fire. One image burns itself into your brain, “Mama in Auschwitz” the wide-eyed look of fear immortalized by the memory of a child.

“Wanda.” You clear your voice of the thickness that built up inside, the heavy lump that weighed on your chest from reading everything. “Forgive me if this sounds disrespectful but I thought you were supposed to incorporate the history of those who were Jewish and Romani.”

She sighed heavily. “I was but there are so many factors that play into the reason why I couldn’t; loss of information being a big one but also most people didn’t specify that they were Jewish. Obviously we know that some were but it was an issue of safety. They were already dealing with being Romani and the prejudices that came with that so they couldn’t come out with it. It’s why we have this.”

She turned you around to the far wall, glossy black tile shines against striking spotlights.

“But it’s blank.”

She nodded, pointing to the dedication. “For the countless, nameless Jewish-Romani lives lost.”

You reached out to touch the wall, your palm against the cold tile; the emptiness that contrasts so starkly in a place filled with history on every wall. And you suppose the lack of information is a lesson learned in history itself.

“This is pretty powerful stuff,” Bucky’s voice called out from behind you.

“Yeah. It is.” You didn’t have any more words.

When the night was coming to a close everyone went home quietly. Wanda’s achievements would be celebrated another night. It was comfortably silent as you and Bucky left the elevator. The unexpected feeling of your arms wrapping around him for a hug was surprising but nice and he deepened the action, firmly pulling you closer to the soft fabric of his blazer.

“Sweet dreams Y/N,” he whispered before you went inside.

That night Marya’s words replayed in your mind and after the exhibit’s reminder on how precious life is you promise yourself to be open to whatever the future brings.

Golden hues begin to creep in on the blue sky ahead of you. As the day starts to wind down the city doesn’t stop. Construction is contained by go-away green walls, with orange and white barricades used to redirect traffic on the busy street. Brake lights flare as the cars begin honking incessantly at the driver going far too slow for the city’s standards.

You see it all from the observation deck of the High Line, accompanied by Bucky and a dozen other people enjoying the first weekend of warmth. You climb the stairs away from the crowd and find a bench beside a small tree.

Bucky opens the box he’s been carrying for a while, revealing two unique and delicious doughnuts that you couldn’t wait to try.

“What’s the square one again?” you asked, licking your lips in anticipation.

“Blackberry jam, and the other is rose I think?” his voice raises with uncertainty. “It looks like a rose at least.”

That it did. The dough was shaped to look like a rose in bloom, with a pink glaze over it. Both were tempting you and the decision was tough but you chose to try the jam filled doughnut first. Hands made sticky by the glaze, you tried your best to pull it apart evenly for Bucky to have an equal share.

Your head nodded in approval as you tasted the sweetness of the jam, mixed perfectly with the airy dough. “This is good,” you said, with your hand hovering over your mouth as you continued to chew through your words.

Bucky brushed his fingers down the corners of his mouth, wiping them on a napkin afterwards and you laughed to yourself. When you were ready Bucky presented the rose shaped doughnut to you as if he was handing over a bouquet.

“How sweet,” you feigned sweetness, bringing your hands together in your best impression of a Disney princess pose.

He let you rip off the first piece of the doughnut, finding it had come apart in a small crescent which was fine, you weren’t sure you could eat much more than that.

Bucky cleared his throat as the glaze melted against his fingers. “So, uh, I have something to ask you.” His nerves stilled momentarily as you hummed in response, sucking the glaze off your fingers.

“Will you be my date to my cousin’s wedding?”

You weren’t sure what he was going to ask but this was definitely not what you imagined. It surprised you especially considering the long list of available women he had to choose from and you couldn’t help but ask him that.

“Them? No. They’re not good enough to bring to a wedding,” he replied.

“Bucky that’s horrible!” you playfully scoffed.

His head dropped down, cringing at his words. “I didn’t mean it like that! I don’t really know any of ‘em that well, and it would be nice to have a friend with me and just have fun.”

Thoughts were running through your head faster than you could process them. Being asked to be Bucky’s date seemed like a dream come true. Yes, despite losing hope in dating after what you went through with Billy it didn’t stop the crush you had on Bucky from growing. But your mind stopped your heart from indulging in its fantasy, reminding you that Bucky legitimately had a long list of women to choose from and you were one of many.

His reasons for asking you made sense, you were very close and sometimes you questioned Bucky’s intentions. He’s never made you feel uncomfortable, it’s the opposite. You’re always comfortable with Bucky, no matter what you do. It feels like what a relationship should be except without the intimacy.

That was the scariest part of it all. Part of you wanted to take a risk and see if there could be something more to what you had but what if it makes you just another girl on his list. A convenient person to sleep with along with the others.

“Please, I already RSVP’d for two,” he begged, staring at you with big eyes as his plush bottom lip protruded out comically far.

The tug of war between your brain and heart wins in favor of the latter as you agreed to go with him, convincing yourself that it’s just a date to a wedding with a friend and nothing more.

PART 16

[aipilosse]

I don't know if you're still doing the ask prompts, but I saw you'd already filled the one I'd put for Mae Squared before so I thought I'd pick a different one so you didn't have to do the same one twice. I was thinking maybe 15? But only if you're still doing them/want to! Thanks for all the lovley writing you give to the fandom!

Yes I am! My first attempt at Maedhros/Sauron AKA Mae Squared, and the prompt ‘Out of your element’ from this prompt list. Rated Teen or so for, ya know, Angband.

There were so many different layers of misery in Angband. 

There was the misery of torture of course, of having the flesh torn from his back with spiked whips until he passed out from blood loss, only to have the whips brought out again when he was half healed. There was the horrible pain of glowing metal set to his flesh until he thought his bones must be singed, all the while his tormenters asked for answers he did not know and had never known. There was the misery of constant humiliation, sometimes as a method of torment, but also the just the daily degradation as he was denied clothes and the filth on his body built up, until he felt lower than a worm. 

He also learned that misery could be delivered just as well through neglect. At first, he thought he could bear hunger, but as the years passed and he saw his body waste before his eyes, the gnawing pain in his gut became harder and harder to bear. The pain of thirst moved faster; he soon learned that even if he had been allowed a cup of bitter, oily water, in just a few hours Maitimo’s throat would be burning. He would wait for days with his awful thirst in whatever position he had been chained in, the ache in his joints and the cramps in his muscles growing into agony.

Misery sank into his bones, until it seemed to encompass his past, his present, and his future. When they came to unchain him from the horrible crouch he had been kept in for several days, Maitimo felt a brief moment of relief despite the more logical part of his mind that told him he was being released only for further pain. The four orcs sent to escort him had to drag him; his legs refused to move after being locked in place for so long.

When the walls changed from the rough texture of the caves he was usually moved between to smooth dark stone, Maitimo felt his dread grow. The only time he was taken this far above ground was when he was taken to Morgoth, and that was the worst misery by far in Angband. The Vala’s piercing eyes and terrible burning spirit seemed able to torment his mind as much as whips tormented his body.

He wasn’t brought to the throne room. Instead, they stopped in front of a pair of iron bound double doors.

“We have a guest for Lord Mairon,” one of the orcs said.

The guard at the door peered at him suspiciously. “My lord did not tell me he was expecting any visitors.”

“Order from the Mighty One,” the orc replied.

“He’s not going to like this,” the guard warned, but rapped on the door with his spear anyway.

“What?” The flat question came from inside the room.

“Lord Melkor has sent you a visitor.”

There was a sound that seemed penetrate Maitimo’s very being; whatever was on the other side of that door wasn’t pleased. “Make it quick.”

Maitimo didn’t know what he expected as he was dragged through the door, but whatever it was, it wasn’t this. The floor was carpeted, the plush surface unbelievably soft against feet that had only felt stone for years. The room was diffused with light, the soft glow of candles magnified by crystals and colored glass. The large room seemed to be divided into different purposes — Maitimo could have sworn he saw goldsmithing tools at a workbench and another corner with glass containers filled with multi-colored liquids — before he was thrown to the ground.

“Kneel,” snarled the orc, as if it was possible for Maitimo to do anything else. He bowed to Mairon. “The Mighty One says you must interrogate him.”

“Oh really? I must interrogate him? As if I have nothing better to do with my time than question a useless prisoner? I suppose requisitions, excavations, and the logistics of arming our entire host is not enough?” Mairon’s low musical voice was at odds with the sharp sarcasm of his tone. Maitimo watched his guards shuffle awkwardly from his spot on the ground.

“Get out. And if you breathe a word of what I said, I will slowly boil you from the inside out.” The orcs beat a hasty retreat, and then they were alone. Maitimo didn’t look up; whatever horrors were in store for him would happen whatever he did.

“Well, have a seat, I’ll get to you in a moment.” That at least grabbed Maitimo’s attention. He peered up from his spot on the floor. Mairon wasn’t looking at him at all; his entire focus was on whatever he was writing. Maitimo almost gasped out loud; Mairon was stunning. Red hair, a deeper shade than any he had seen tumbled around his shoulders. The golden flame of his eyes was mesmerizing. Maitimo swallowed; he already felt horribly out of place and filthy in the rich, pristine chambers. Now he felt like a twisted creature compared to the being before him. 

But he had been asked to take a seat. Earlier, he would have fought even the smallest order in Angband, but now he knew there was no point in resisting this reasonable request. Better to save his energy for the actual questioning. Maitimo crawled to the chair, and pulled himself onto it. He winced as he sat down. His back and buttocks were still only partially healed from the last time he had been whipped, but the flinch was more so at the thought of his filthy skin touching the elegant upholstery. 

Mairon didn’t look up through the whole laborious process. He appeared to be filling in some sort of grid, carefully writing figures and occasionally tallying up the columns. Finally he looked up.

“So you are the High King of the Noldor?” He sounded bored.

“I was. I am not king of much here.” Maitimo met Mairon’s eyes, trying not to be the cringing thing he could feel himself becoming. 

“Hm, so I am to interrogate you. Are they still asking you about silima?”

“Among other things,” Maitimo said cautiously.

“I already know the size of your army, how they are armed, what they have gained, what they still lack, where you are camped, the messages that have been exchanged with the local Sindar, and who now calls himself the High King. I’m sure I know more than you at this point about the Noldor on these shores.” Mairon sighed heavily. “But I shall question you nonetheless. How did Fëanáro create the Silmarils?”

“I don’t know,” Maitimo said, reflexive terror closing around his throat and making his voice shake.

“Why did Fëanáro burn the ships?”

“To prevent anyone from fleeing, and from his half-brother from joining us.” He had agonized over letting that information slip, but it had spilled out some time ago. In the end he wasn’t sure how much it mattered. Morgoth already knew of the strife between Fëanáro and Nolofinwë; he had helped sow it. At least Maitimo had not spoken of the kinslaying.

“Anything else you wish to share?” Mairon absently flicked a contraption on his desk, setting off a tinkling cascade of chimes.

“No.”

“Well, that was a very productive conversation, a good use of time for us both.”

Maitimo felt a huff of air leave him, something like a laugh. “This is the best use of my time since I arrived.”

A corner of Mairon’s mouth rose. “I suppose it is.” He drummed his fingers against the desk. “Nelyafinwë, do you like games?”

“Yes,” said Maitimo hesitantly. 

“The only thing that’s enjoyed by folk here is base gambling. A good wager can be entertaining, but only for a moment.” Mairon carefully set the ledger to the side. “The numbers are as good as they are going to get until Langon sends his update.” Mairon stood and returned with two goblets. He handed one to Maitimo. Maitimo sniffed it suspiciously. 

“It’s water.”

After a cautious sip, Maitimo began to drink greedily, the cool, clean water soothing his parched throat and tasting sweeter than any nectar.

“If you throw up, I am expelling you immediately.” 

Maitimo reluctantly lowered the goblet, and saw a board with many glittering pieces had appeared on the desk. 

“So, you are the silver pieces, I am the gold,” Mairon began. Maitimo tried to focus on the rules, his mind still reeling from the unexpected, if temporary, relief from torment and his surprisingly charming host.

[e-milieeee]

tongue-tied (hearts entwined)—Marichat

Summary: Chat Noir has the annoying habit of sticking his tongue out whenever he's concentrating. Marinette hates that she finds it (and him) ridiculously cute.

Now all she has to do is get through the denial.

Notes: For @emsylcatac! Happy birthday, even if I’m a bit late. I know you’re a Ladynoir stan but... it’s Marichat May+Chat blepping :D 

(The last scene is also inspired by this gorgeous piece of art by @australet789! I couldn’t resist sneaking it in lol) 

Or click here to read on AO3! 

tongue-tied (hearts entwined) 

The first time Marinette notices the habit, she brushes it off.

Chat Noir sits on the balcony with her as he attempts to disentangle a ball of yarn from his body. He had claimed that no, he hadn’t in fact been chasing it and it was most definitely not his fault (meaning that it most likely was).

Now, he is wrapped like a Christmas present in neon yellow string. Marinette refuses to help him, so Chat yanks and pulls and stretches the yarn with utmost focus—all with his tongue poking out of his mouth.

Marinette watches him. He doesn’t even seem to notice her presence and only continues in his concentration. His tongue does not return to its rightful place (out of sight, out of mind)—it continues to stick out in the most obnoxiously adorable way ever and Marinette is almost tempted to tell him to shove it back in so she can stop finding him cute.

Before she can do so, Chat Noir lets out a groan. His tongue swipes over his lips and disappears, to Marinette’s relief (and disappointment). “Cataclysm,” he grumbles under his breath.

With that, he cataclysms the yarn to free himself. It falls to black dust all around him like ashes.

“What?” Chat asks when he sees her staring. “It was efficient. Don’t look at me like that.”

Marinette blinks and shakes her head. Had she found him cute just a moment ago? No, she decides. Obnoxious, maybe, but definitely not cute.

(No way.)

***

It happens a couple more times before Marinette realizes that it’s become a problem.

They’re playing video games in her room, an odd little routine they’ve developed. Chat Noir is surprisingly enthusiastic about beating her in Ultimate Mecha Strike III, which, so far, he has not been able to do.

Marinette makes the mistake of sneaking a glance at him in the middle of a match. He’s holding the controller, staring at the screen with the same intensity he often directs at akumas, and, best—no, worst of all, his tongue is sticking out of his mouth again.

She stares at him for a little too long. A little too long turns to really, really too long, because Marinette is only snapped out of her thoughts when Chat Noir throws his hands up with a triumphant whoop. “I won!” he crows at her, and Marinette turns to look at the screen in dismay.

Sure enough, he had finally bested her. The stats flash across the screen—he’d only won by a margin, but he had won nonetheless, breaking her streak of eighteen wins and zero defeats. Now, a red 1 flashes across the screen under her losses, and Marinette groans.

“No fair,” she complains. “I was distracted for a second. You wouldn’t have won if I weren’t.”

“Distracted?” Chat frowns at her. “Distracted by what?”

Your tongue does not suffice as an answer. Not unless she wants to die of embarrassment and shame. As Marinette fumbles for an acceptable reply, Chat sets down his controller and leans forward. “Admit it,” he grins, infuriously smug. “I won fair and square.”

Marinette pushes his nose away from her. Her face is burning. “I’m going to kick your ass harder next time, and you’re going to regret this.”

His grin widens. “I’d like to see you try.”

(He’s not cute. Just annoying.)

***

Chat comes by to bake when Marinette’s parents are out of town one day. He asks her to teach him how to make macarons, but it’s a far too advanced skill for his limited scope. So instead, they come to an agreement to make Chinese pineapple buns. Now, standing shoulder to shoulder, Marinette teaches him to knead dough.

He’s all wide eyes and concentration, tongue peeking out from the corner of his mouth as he follows her movements. Marinette forgets about rolling her own dough in favor of watching him. His ears are sticking up straight on top of his head.

He’s so annoyingly cute.

“Okay!” Chat suddenly announces. “Is this good enough—Marinette? Is there something on my face?”

“Huh?” she looks at him, looks at the dough, looks at her own unfinished one, and promptly feels her face flush. Then, against all better judgement, Marinette blurts, “Why do you always stick your tongue out like that?”

“Like what?” Chat tilts his head slightly then sticks his tongue straight out. “Likthe thith?”

“No!” Marinette practically yelps, then throws her hands up. “Your dough isn’t ready! Stop slacking!”

He purposefully keeps his tongue out the whole time until Marinette is shaking from laughter.

(Maybe he’s cute. Slightly.)

***

“It’s called blepping,” Chat Noir tells her.

“What?” Marinette looks up from her project. “What’s called what?”

“Apparently cats do it too,” he continues. “Stick their tongue out, that is.”

“Well,” Marinette tells him, nearly tripping over her words. “You’re not actually a cat.”

“I don’t appreciate you telling me what I can be and what I can’t be,” Chat sniffs back. “Besides, it’s not a problem for anyone, so I don’t see why I can’t embrace my cat instincts.”

“Cat instincts,” she parrots under her breath. “Yeah, right.”

“Wait. You’re not bothered by it, right, Mari?”

Marinette snorts. “Who, me? Why would I be bothered?”

Chat shrugs. “See? Then it’s whatever.”

It’s not whatever, but Marinette isn’t going to let him know that. A moment later, when he’s focusing again, she catches another glimpse of the pink tip of his tongue.

Why does he have to be so cute?

(She is in deep, deep trouble.)

***

Chat’s terrible at tying his laces.

It would’ve been funny—from the way his eyebrows are scrunched, ears twitching as he fumbles uselessly with the string—if it weren’t for the fact that all of that was accompanied by the tongue poking out over his top lip. Marinette knows she should stop staring, because then she can stop finding him cute. But she keeps staring, like a whole idiot.

To her mortification, Chat looks up at her and grins when she catches her turning away hurriedly. “Is my face that great to stare at?” he asks.

“What?” Marinette shrieks. “No! I’m looking at you tie your laces. Do you seriously not know how to do them up?”

Chat pouts. “It’s hard to do with claws,” he grumbles, wiggling his fingers. Then he sticks his leg out. “You can do it for me.”

Marinette does it, only to have an excuse to duck her face so he can’t see how red her cheeks are.

It’s one of their monthly outings that Chat Noir claims essential to their friendship. He had launched into an indignant tirade when Marinette suggested they could skate at a rink, insisting that they skate in nature.

Now, at the small pond with hints of snow beginning to fall, Marinette has to admit that he made the right call. The wind nips at her nose with the slightest hints of cold, but not too cold that it’s uncomfortably so. Bundled in her own handcrafted scarf, mittens and toque, the worst of the chill is kept out. Even Chat is wearing an overcoat over his suit.

They’re far from the city; in fact, they’re far from Paris itself. The horse Miraculous is tucked safely away in one of Chat’s pockets (which, ironically, he had borrowed from Ladybug). Here, away from the buzzing and business of the city, her thoughts feel clearer than they have been in a long, long time. The snow, fresh and still falling, offers a muted sort of quiet that leaves her room to think and ponder without interruptions.

(Too bad all her thoughts just linger on Chat.)

((Or maybe that’s a good thing.))

Marinette double knots Chat’s laces. “There,” she announces, then adds, “you big baby.”

“It’s the claws’ fault!” he exclaims again. “Race you to the pond?”

Before Marinette can react, Chat grabs the hem of her toque and pulls it down over her eyes. Then, with a boyish laugh, she hears him run off, crunch, crunch, crunching over fresh snow.

Marinette scrambles to her feet, cursing him under her breath as she snatches her mittens and brushes the wool out of her face. Chat is already halfway to the pond, and with one last desperate attempt to win, she chucks her mittens at him.

They miss by a margin, landing in the snow and inciting more laughter.

“You’re a cheat!” she shrieks when Chat reaches the ice. “I hope you know that!”

“Sore loser!” he yells from the ice, already twirling easily on his skates. “You don’t see me complaining every time you win in Ultimate Mecha Strike!”

Marinette retrieves her mittens from the ground and brushes the snow from them. “You complain every single time,” she grinds out, joining him on the ice. The moment her skates touch the pond, Chat’s already darting away from her with easy grace. He glides, spins, then starts skating backwards so the smug grin is fully displayed.

“Come get me!” Chat Noir calls, sticking his tongue out. His hands are tucked behind his back, and he loops each glide, one foot behind the other with ridiculous ease. Show off.

“If you’re going to keep sticking your tongue out, then I dare you to lick that,” Marinette yells at him, pointing at the lamp pole that stands a couple of paces from them. “Bet you won’t.”

Never one to back down from a challenge, he raises an eyebrow. “What do I get if I do?”

“I’ll bake you a batch of whatever you want.”

“Oh, you’re on. Also, if a batch of cookies is usually twelve cookies, do you think I could get a batch of twelve cakes—”

“I’m taking back the bet,” Marinette mock-threatens.

“Okay, okay! I want those mooncakes we had two weeks ago! Three of them.”

She skates up to Chat as he makes his way to the pole. He tromps off the ice, skates sinking into the fresh snow and leaving deep imprints, before sidling up to the pole.

Frost spirals in small flowery patterns over the metal. Marinette grins when she sees Chat hesitate.

“Well?” she asks. “Chickening out now?”

“Never,” he grins. Then, with one swift movement, he licks the metal pole and pulls back.

Or tries to.

Chat lets out a muffled cry of distress and pain when the tip of his tongue sticks to the metal. Immediately, his hands go to wrap around the pole, pulling himself close enough until the hurt smooths off his face, soon replaced by panic. “Marinethe!” he yelps.

Marinette stares at him, her body frozen in a mixture of shock and amusement. Then the shock gives way to pure delight, and she bursts out laughing.

Chat takes it in stride. “Ha, ha,” he grumbles as she doubles over. He looks so stupid, with his tongue sticking out, gloved hands gripping the pole as his eyebrows scrunch. “Vthery thunny, Marinethe. Can you helpth?”

“You should see yourself,” Marinette manages throughout her giggles. “Oh my God, Chat, you really deserve this for not having better judgement.”

He lets out a long suffering groan. “Geth thith offth!”

“This is what people sounded like in Shakespearan times,” she continues.

Chat side-eyes her, unable to move his head any more than a bare centimeter. “Justh helpth!”

“Ooh, I got a good one. Cat got your tongue?”

He groans. “Is thith whath ith thakes for you tho maketh a joke?”

Marinette snaps a quick picture before taking pity on him. “Wait here,” she tells him. “I packed us hot tea. A little bit will be enough to unstick your tongue, probably.”

She skates back to where their bags lay on the bench and retrieves the thermos. Half a minute late, Marinette is pouring the steaming liquid into the cap, cooling it just enough, before raising it over Chat’s tongue. “Okay,” she tells him. “Get ready.”

For all his superhero experience and near-death scrapes, he actually looks scared of the tea. “Ith won’th burn me?”

“No,” Marinette reassures and raises the cup to her lips to take a sip. “See? Warm, not hot.”

Chat closes his eyes. Very carefully, Marinette pours a small stream steadily onto where Chat’s tongue has stuck to the metal pull. “Try to move away?” she suggests.

He wiggles his shoulders.

“I mean your face,” Marinette tells him drily. “Don’t be a scaredy cat.”

He scrunches his nose, then very slowly, moves his head back.

The tea does its job, because Chat unsticks himself from the metal easily. His eyes widen as if he can’t believe his luck, then lifts a cautious hand to his mouth and touches the tip of his tongue. “Ow,” he hisses. “It feels like I’ve burned my taste buds off.”

“You froze your taste buds off, but yes.” Marinette screws the lid back onto the thermos. “Lesson learned?”

“You dared me. You wanted this to happen, huh?”

She shrugs. “Can’t say I wasn’t expecting it.”

A look of playful betrayal sweeps over Chat’s face, and he lunges for her. Marinette, expecting it, scrambles out of the way just in time for him to go barrelling into a pile of snow.

By the time Chat Noir has sat up, snow tucked between his ears and all over his hair like cotton, she is already darting across the ice far, far away from him. Chat shakes the flakes from his head and slips onto the ice in one fluent movement as well.

Marinette grins as he comes skating after her. She’s not quite as confident on her skates without her transformation, but lessons and practice have done it’s good because she’s nearly as good as Chat is on the ice. For a good fifteen seconds she evades his messy attempts to catch her, but her disadvantage without her suit comes creeping up little by little until Chat finally manages to wrap a hand around her wrist.

“Gotcha,” he grins.

Then, with a little shove, Marinette crashes into the bank.

It doesn’t hurt, per say, because it’s a snowdrift he’s sent her into, but the cold is still a shock. For a moment, she stares at Chat, who’s laughing like it’s the funniest thing in the world, before Marinette comes back to her senses and kicks a her leg at the blade of his skates.

Even his enhanced senses don’t help him from tumbling right into the pile of snow next to her.

One look at each other later, they’re both laughing.

(It’s nice; the time together, the easiness and lack of…everything else. It’s nice, his smile. His eyes.)

((And it’s then that Marinette realizes that she’s in deep, deep waters with no sight of the shore.))

***

They sit together on the bench, steaming tea between them, as Marinette shakes the last of the snow from her scarf and toque.

The sun is beginning to set, and the coldness has begun to creep into her bones, leaking through her overcoat. Every exhale sends little ghosts into the air, and even with the warm tea, Marinette is beginning to shiver.

Still, they’d arranged to watch the sunset, which means that she’s going to stay even if it means freezing to death.

“Let’s skate more,” Chat says. “You’ll be less cold if you’re moving.”

“I’d be less cold if you didn’t throw me into a pile of snow,” Marinette says between chattering teeth.

He gives her a sheepish look. “You got payback, at least? Come on.”

She looks at the hand extended to her. For a moment, Marinette hesitates, even if the butterflies in her stomach are doing a whole gymnastics routine and her heart’s thump thump thump must’ve quickened to at least twice as fast.

Then she takes Chat’s hand and lets him pull her to her feet.

This time, when she steps onto the ice, he doesn’t let go. Chat Noir’s hands are comfortably warm, tight around hers, and Marinette lets him lead her around the lake in a simple but graceful glide.

They skate until the sky turns from blue to gold, until the clouds dye orange and the world changes color altogether. It’s only then that Chat stops, lifting his head to the sunset. Marinette follows his gaze.

“It’s still cold,” she tells him pointedly, after a minute.

Before she knows it, Marinette is standing against his back, Chat’s arms draped lazily over her shoulders and his chin resting on top of her head. She can’t see him from where she’s standing, but she wonders if he can see her; if he can hear how her heart has jumped right to her throat and notice how the redness in her cheeks can’t be fully credited to the cold.

“Better?” he asks.

Marinette turns back to the sky, where now a brushstroke of red smears across the horizon. “Only slightly,” she replies as nonchalantly as possible.

His body shakes in a silent laugh. And so they stand on the ice, against the cold, until it all melts away to warmth.

(And Marinette thinks that even if she’s in deep waters, this sort of drowning is the best way to go.)

Notes: Fics masterlist here!

[halcyonstorm]

Ahhh my final submission for LH drabble week: Angst Monday (yes i posted it on a tuesday)! Please enjoy and comment your thoughts and feedback. @levihan-drabbles

Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Levi Ackerman/Hange Zoë, Levi Ackerman & Hange Zoë Characters: Levi Ackerman, Hange Zoë Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Shingeki no Kyojin Chapter 126: Pride Spoilers, Shingeki no Kyojin Chapter 126: Pride, Shingeki no Kyojin Chapter 132: Wings of Freedom Spoilers, Angst and Feels, right person wrong time, What-If Series: Part 8 of Short Fics Summary:

They just wanted an ending.

The sound of the shotgun rang in Hange’s ears as she shot two of her ex-soldiers dead, tears trickling down her face. She hated that it had to end up like this. She had known them personally, too. The whole world was against them. She took a deep sigh. After surveying the forest and deeming it safe, she returned back to Levi’s side. He was unconscious with Hange’s Survey Corps cloak wrapped around his face. Her heart ached when she started unraveling the cloak, exposing his injured, tainted face. The biggest scar ran from the top of his forehead, through his right eye, into his cheek. She felt herself get overwhelmed seeing him in this shape.

“The pursuers are all gone, Levi…” It’s safe, for now, she wanted to say. You’re safe with me. She knew this was temporary, though. They would never truly be safe again.

-

Hange had begun to set up camp. She pitched a tent, chopped at trees and gathered sticks to start a fire and was able to clean Levi’s wounds and body. He could develop an infection if she didn’t act fast. After all, she wasn’t sure how long he’d been face down in the mud unconscious. She started with his hand, using a wet cloth to clean the dirt as gently as she possibly could. Then, she wrapped his exposed wound, starting at his wrist and weaving the bandage around the empty space on his hand. She brought his hand to her lips and placed a gentle kiss on top. It broke her heart to see him in such critical condition.

After his hand, she tended to his face. She dampened her cloth in the basin of water, slowly and gently caressing his face to clean off the dirt and mud. She took this moment to indulge in admiring him. He looked peaceful, at least for that moment. She brushed his raven black hair out of his face, patting his gash with the cloth, blood crusted on the scar. His skin was smooth as she couldn’t resist the urge to touch his cheek with the back of her hand. His eyelashes were long and straight which she never noticed before. She had never been this close to him before. She made her way down his face to his lips. She dunked the cloth in the basin again, wringing it out, and then dabbed at his lips to cleanse them. As she cleaned him, she felt tears well up in her eyes. 

“The fact that you're still alive with these wounds is because you’re an Ackerman,” she determined, starting to sterilize her needles in the fire. She grabbed the thread and started to stitch his face. She was careful, making sure to only go as deep as she needed to avoid causing more pain. Her heart throbbed in her chest when she imagined how much pain he was in. I wish it were me instead. She thought. After carefully poking and prodding at his face, stitching him up as well as she could, she dumped her tools into a pot of boiling water to be cleansed. She ran a hand through her hair, gripping a chunk of it and squeezing, tempted to pull it out. She felt like she was going to explode. After everything her and Eren had been through, he still turned his back on her and her soldiers. Rage boiled up inside her, poisoning every cell in her body. 

Why couldn’t things be different? She’d ask herself.

“I’d rather the two of us just live here. Right, Levi?” She said softly aloud, turning to look at Levi’s unconscious face. Her selfish ideas spilled from her mouth and into the ears of her partner. She truly wanted to live with him. She wanted a life with him. She wanted to wake up with him every morning, make him tea, explore the forest, forget about the shitty world they were born into for even just a moment. She was grateful he was unconscious and couldn’t hear her. She allowed the tears to flow for just a brief period. No one was around, she was safe to let it go. Her exhale was shaky as her throat tightened. She blinked and hot tears came rushing down. She covered her face with her hands, allowing herself to cry. Not just cry… to sob. Her heart felt as if it was being torn apart strand by strand. Like someone physically shoved their hands inside her chest, pulling it apart. She felt a strong urge to scream, but she covered her mouth tightly with her hand, allowing a few moans to escape.

All she wanted was peace. She wanted all the suffering to end. She wanted Levi to be healthy and happy. She wanted to explore the world with him, try new things with him. There was so much she wanted to do couldn’t, and she knew that. When she joined the Survey Corps, she knew what she signed up for. She wasn’t afraid to die for the cause, but she just wanted Levi to be happy. She knew how deeply he had suffered. He lost his mother, Isabel, Farlan, Gunther, Eld, Petra, Oulo, Mike, Erwin, and countless more soldiers. She would do everything in her power to make him happy and not just survive but to truly live.

Later that evening, she began to work on building the cart to carry Levi. She contemplated carrying him on her back, but it was unrealistic. She was strong, but not strong enough to carry him for possibly days on end. She was working on hammering a nail into the wheel when there was a crash of lightning. Suddenly, she was knelt in soft, white sand. The sky shone turquoise behind her. She placed her makeshift hammer down, leaving an imprint on the sand. She put her hands on the ground to help her stand up. That is where she saw a familiar tall man with his dark brown hair tied in a knot. He was facing away from her, sitting in the sand with his knees to his chest. She slowly walked up to him, sand filling her shoes.

“Eren?” The man turned his head to face Hange. She is hesitant to sit down, but he waves her over to him.

“Hange-san,” he began. “I am sorry for everything.”

“Wh… What are you talking about?”

“You’re going to die soon,” he admitted, drawing circles in the sand. “Levi will try to stop you, but you can’t let him.”

“I don’t understand… how do you know all this?”

“This is all a part of my plan to eradicate the Titans…” he muttered. “But I am sorry it has to end this way. I know how much you and Levi care for each other. It will be painful, I will admit. But it is for a good cause.” 

Hange shook her head in confusion. “What the hell? What will happen to Levi? Isn’t there another way?”

“No… There's no other way. Levi will be survive in the end. Don’t worry about that.” He had already made up his mind. “I am sorry. Go inside. Levi is waiting for you.” As Eren spoke, he pointed into the distance. Suddenly, they weren’t in the sand staring at the turquoise sky anymore. They were in a similar forest with tall pine trees. There was a small cabin with smoke exiting through the chimney. The cabin looked like it was something Hange and Levi could’ve made themselves. She opened the door hesitantly to find Levi sitting in the rocking chair, a cup of hot tea in his hand. 

“Hange, you’re home,” Levi said, pleasantly surprised. She noticed his scar was present, clean and healed. He didn’t wear an eyepatch like she did. His right eye was white and cloudy. He stood up slowly, placed his tea cup in the tea dish, and walked towards her. She was able to admire his outfit. He wasn’t in his military gear, but in a beige sweater and grey trousers. He looked comfortable and at peace, which is what Hange always wanted for him. She was at a loss for words.

“What is this?” 

“This is the most I can give you, Hange-san. A life with Levi.” She felt tears well up in her eyes. “I can let you stay here a little while longer.” Eren disappeared when she looked back to where she heard his voice. She looked at Levi, placing her hands on his cheeks. Levi’s lips curled into a small, sad smile.

“Look at our house, Hange,” he said, gesturing towards the center of the room. She looked away from him to admire the house. Their house. It was very cozy: it had two large burgundy sofas against the back and right wall, a fireplace in the center of the living room which had fierce flames. Levi led her to the kitchen and dining room. The kitchen had off-white square tiles as the floor and wooden cabinets, as well as a stove. There was a wooden table with two chairs. It made Hange’s heart swell, even bringing tears to her eyes. They did get to live together in another life.

“Levi…” she whimpered, looking at him again. He grabbed her hand, interlocking their fingers.

“We’ll be here again, one day…” Levi said. Suddenly, she felt a breeze flow through her hair. Then, the house started to fade into nothingness and blow away. Levi was the last to disappear. Hange felt herself reaching out and grasping for him, begging him to come back. 

Then, she was back to reality; hammer in hand, arm in the air, ready to swing.

What just happened? She asked herself. She felt as if she had taken a long nap, dreaming of a place so distant. She swore she had a dream, but it was long forgotten, deep in her unconscious mind. A tear was streaming down her face, her heart pounding in her chest, as if she just woke up from a nightmare.

“Don’t tell me… Eren… the world…” she muttered. The words came spewing out of her mouth for a reason unknown to her. “LEVI!” She turned to look at her partner only to find out he’d woken up. He was attempting to sit up.

“That damned beast titan…” he groaned, pain overwhelming him. 

“You don’t need to get up,” Hange insisted, placing her hands gently on his chest. He eased back to his previous supine position. “What happened?” He briefly explained what happened, how Zeke was prepared to die for the cause. Hange sighed. She could barely handle the thought of what happened. She did hear the thunder spear go off, after all… She felt guilt tug at her damaged heart. Maybe she could’ve prevented it.

“I know you’re full of regret, but for now…” She was interrupted.

“What's left if we run and hide like this?” Levi asked, looking her in the eyes so fiercely she couldn’t look away.  She felt her face turn red and hot.

“So, you heard my soliloquy, huh…” She mustered up the strength to look away. She was embarrassed, but then she realized he didn’t reject her. He said ‘what if we run away and hide like this?’ Him, her, together. He looked past her shoulder.

“What is that? Are you planning to pull me by horse? I know you, you aren’t able to stay out of the action…” She noticed his eyes were starting to appear wet… was he tearing up?

“That’s right. I can’t.” Hange sighed, looking into her lap.

The two knew what was to come; Hange and Levi knew what was coming from the moment they joined the Survey Corps. Duty first. Love second. They yearned to be together, but they knew that they had met each other at the worst time. Perhaps in another life, they would find peace. They would find freedom from this terrible world and find comfort in each other. They just wanted an ending. An ending to the war, an ending to the suppression of true emotions, an ending to the strain on their hearts since the first day of joining the military. They didn’t care where or how, as long as it was an ending together.

[rosemaidenvixen]

A Secret’s Worth

Chapter 16: Walter

Ao3

Over the years Strickler had lost track of how many times another changeling had made a joke about how it must rankle him to teach history that he knew was false from firsthand experience. 

But what most other changelings didn’t realize was that between ineffective funding and highly biased textbooks he’d be teaching falsehoods one way or another.

The truly ironic thing about being a changeling educator was being forced to leave out key events responsible for shaping the modern world as they knew it that no human was aware even occurred.

“Can anyone tell me who the final king of Camelot was?”

The predictable grouping of hands went up; Claire Nuñez, Seamus Johnson, Darci Scott, Eli Pepperjack. He had no doubt that they all knew the correct answer, maybe it was time to check that one of his less alert students was still mentally present in some capacity.

“Ms. Longhannon?”

The girl in question jerked her gaze away from the window “Wha?”

A chorus of snickers came up from around her. Shannon flushed.

“We were discussing the final ruler of Camelot, Ms. Longhannon,”

“Oh….that was King Arthur…..right?”

He smiled “Correct,”

Pressing a button on the remote in his palm, Strickler switched the view on the projector to a timeline extending from the years 400 to 1200 “The Pendragon Empire, founded by Uther Pendragon in the fifth century, lasted until the early twelfth century, ending during the upheaval surrounding the death of his descendent, Arthur Pendragon. A large part of the chaos after Arthur’s death was due to the fact that Arthur left no immediate heirs apparent. That combined with crumbling infrastructure and opportunistic invasions from neighboring nations is what led to the fracturing of the empire,”

Strickler paused as the soft scratching of pencils on paper filled the room.

Neighboring nations, what drivel, it was enough to make any self respecting changeling want to laugh and vomit at the same time.

Granted, Strickler himself hadn’t been present for Camelot’s true downfall. He’d been a young changeling back then, trying to sell a remote clan of Slavic trolls on the benefits of an alliance with the Gumm Gumms.

He hadn’t succeeded. But in the end it turned out rather moot.

No, that was putting it far too mildly. It had taken over a century for the Janus Order to recover from the chaos; setting their goals back by nearly a millennium.

Arthur might have lost the battle against his kingdom falling, but the victory he’d gained in the war was exponentially greater.

He’d prevented the extinction of the entire human race.

Strickler shut his eyes and pulled in a deep breath to ground himself back in the present as the last few students finished taking their notes.

No. 

Not prevented. Delayed.

“Your final project will be done in groups, each group will be assigned a single century during the Pendragon empire and will put together a presentation summarizing the events and the impact of your assigned century. This presentation should last twenty minutes and we will be doing them in class at the end of the month,” 

The entire room broke out into groans. 

Strickler chuckled good naturedly “Consider it a small price to pay for not having any work over spring break, now I want you all to break into your groups, three to five people each, and have one member select your century, and enough rubrics for all of you,” he gestured towards the small slips of papers on his desk sitting next to a fat stack of rubrics “The rest of the hour will be in class work time, so I suggest you get started,”

There was a shuffle of desks and sneakers as the students settled into their groups, a handful darting up and snatching their centuries and rubrics under Strickler’s keen eye. Had to make sure everyone settled into proper groups and keep track of who was working on what century after all. He waited until things had nearly settled down before speaking up again.

“Jim Lake,”

The boy in question started in his seat, both him and his groupmates turning and looking at Strickler inquisitively.

“Yeah?”

“Do you mind stepping outside with me for a moment?”

Based on his expression Jim certainly minded quite a bit, a gauntness present in his features that hadn’t been there a month ago, but he stood from his chair all the same “Ok….sure,”

Strickler ignored the course of oohs that filled the room as Jim headed over to meet him at the door. Only after he had stepped out and closed the door behind them, the two alone in the hallway, did Strickler speak again.

“Jim, I’ve been monitoring your behavior these past few weeks, and quite frankly I’m concerned,”

Someone less observant and experienced at the art of subterfuge would have missed the subtle way Jim’s shoulders stiffened, the flicker of panic on his face before it settled into a calm veneer.

But Strickler missed nothing.

Jim forced out an uncomfortable laugh “Well...uh, sorry to worry you, but I’m totally fine,”

Strickler had to bite back a sigh. It looked like Jim, not unexpectedly, had decided to be evasive; no matter. In that case the only thing to do was strike at the heart of the issue, bluntly and without delay.

He whipped a comb out of his front pocket; cheap and still sealed in its plastic packaging, but very fine toothed, holding it out in front of him “I want you to run this through your hair,”

Blinking, Jim stared at the comb and then back up at Strickler “....are you serious?”

“Humor me,”

Looking more confused than anything else, Jim slowly took the comb, pulled it from its wrapper, and ran it through his hair once before promptly handing it back “There, is that all? Because I need to--”

“Jim. Look at the comb.”

He did, all the color instantly draining from his face.

From end to end the comb’s teeth were stuffed to the brim with short, black hairs.

“Your hair is falling out.” Strickler’s tone brooked no questioning. He wasn’t asking, he was stating a fact “So do not tell me that everything is fine. If everything were fine you wouldn’t be losing your hair from stress,”

Of course there were plenty of non-stress related medical conditions that could cause a sixteen year old boy to start losing his hair, but Strickler found that his intuition was rarely wrong.

Jim hadn’t so much as twitched, standing frozen in place, eyes wide and locked on the comb.

Strickler let out a sigh and tossed the comb into a nearby trash can “I’m going to be frank with you Jim, I know CPS is investigating your family,”

Now that got a reaction, Jim snapping his head up, breathing quick and shallow, voice tight with pure panic “You do!?”

“Keep your voice down, yes, the investigator called the school with a few questions,” Strickler saw no reason to bring up the fact that he had been the one to make the initial call, much less that he had done so at the behest of Mr. Domzalski.

“But I’m not going to ask about that. That case is a matter between your family and the state, now if you want to talk I am more than willing to listen, but I’m not going to pry into your family’s private matters,”

Just like that the wind went out of his sails. Jim practically going limp, swaying on his feet overcome with relief. But before he could relax too much, Strickler was talking again.

“That being said, in the weeks that the investigation has been going on, I have become seriously troubled by your behavior,”

“What...behavior...are you talking about?”

“You’re anxious and unfocused, I’ve caught you nodding off in class no fewer than three times in the past week. And this is pure speculation on my part, but I don’t think you’ve been getting nearly enough to eat, which could be contributing to your hair loss,”

Squirming under his scrutiny, Jim ran a shaky hand through his hair, before he quickly realized what he was doing and pulled it away “Ok things have been hard… and maybe I’ve missed a meal or two...but I’ve just...really been focusing on keeping my grades up,”

It was true. Strickler happened to know for a fact that Jim was pulling all A’s in every subject. But while that was a fact it certainly wasn’t the whole truth.

“You’re grades are exceptional, and normally I would applaud you for being so diligent with your studies, but I get the feeling you’ve been hyperfocusing on your schoolwork in order to avoid dealing with the other problems in your life,”

From the way Jim flinched at his words, breath catching in his throat, Strickler knew he’d struck the truth. 

“Look...I...I know that there’s a lot going on, but I swear I can handle it,”

“Jim--”

“I promise it’s really not that bad,”

“Not that bad? For goodness sake Jim, your hair is falling out!”

The boy had no response to that, downcast eyes locked on the floor, unable to meet Strickler’s gaze.

Squaring his shoulders, Strickler clasped his hands together and netted his fingers in front of him. Bluntness had served its purpose in this conversation, now it was time for the olive branch “With everything going on in your life I imagine it must feel like you’re carrying the world on your shoulders,”

“Yeah,” Jim mumbled “Something like that,”

Strickler gave him a small smile “Have you heard of the greek myth of Atlas?

Jim looked up at that “No….should I have?”

“Atlas was a titan that took part in the war between the gods and titans, and when the titans lost Atlas was condemned to hold up the sky for all eternity,”

“Okay…but what does that have to do with...me?”

“In the myth Atlas alone bore the weight of the entire world on his shoulders, but Jim, you aren’t Atlas. However heavy your burden is, you don’t have to bear it alone. The faculty here can put you in touch with some excellent counselors and--”

“Actually I really don’t need anything like that,” Jim stepped around him and tried to go back into the classroom “And I should really be getting started on--”

“Jim.” Strickler allowed a trace of stone to creep into his voice “We are not done talking.”

The boy froze midstep, slowly turning back towards him with clear hesitation.

Once Jim was facing him again Strickler cleared his throat and started over “The purpose of counselors and therapists isn’t to scrutinize you or your family, but to give you tools and resources, coping mechanisms to help you better deal with the struggles life throws at you. And before you ask, no, you don’t have to talk about the investigation with them either,”

Jim’s mouth abruptly twisted into a scowl “If I don’t have to talk to them then why should I bother...even….”

He trailed off once he noticed Strickler’s expression, the boy couldn’t possibly see down to the depths of Strickler’s true thoughts, but he clearly saw something that gave him pause.

“...sorry,” Jim muttered, looking down and away.

Strickler just stared back at him evenly.

One didn’t survive as a high school teacher without developing a thick skin in regard to teenage impertinence. But this kind of snide back talk was far more in line coming from Steve, or even Seamus. Hearing it from Jim it was...troubling.

Not wasting any more time, Strickler pulled a sticky note out of his pocket and held it out “Here are a few of the counselors and therapists that I most recommend, but if you want more options let me know and I can get you a complete list,”

Jim didn’t move, arms not so much as twitching from their position at his sides. Staring at the note with a sour expression on his face.

“I’m not going to force you to go see any of them, but you will take their contact information and keep it,” One of Strickler’s eyebrows quirked up “Unless of course accepting the contact information of guidance counselors and therapists would put you at risk for some reason? If that is the case I certainly wouldn’t want to put you in any danger, but I would need to know exactly what kind of danger you would be in,”

Jim chewed on his lip, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

Strickler held his gaze, kept his hand extended, and waited.

Finally after what must have been a solid minute, Jim reluctantly reached up and took the note. Tucking it into his pocket under Strickler’s close scrutiny “Can I go back in now?”

Strickler frowned. He was not pleased with how this had turned out. Despite his best efforts the boy seemed dead set on refusing every helping hand extended his way. But as the saying went, one could lead a horse to water, but can’t make them drink. The only thing to do was continue to offer the water and hope one day he bent his head and accepted.

“You can, but please remember, as a teacher it’s not just my job to educate you, myself and every other staff member in this building has an obligation to look after your wellbeing, so please don’t forget that, young Atlas,”

Jim rolled his eyes “Yeah, sure,”

Strickler frowned; darker, harder this time, Jim shrinking under the force of his gaze. Brusqueness gone as quickly as it had come. 

“I...I’m sorry…”

It wasn’t as though Strickler was losing his patience with the boy, compared to his dealings with the order’s underlings this was as relaxing as a day at the spa. Rather he was becoming increasingly concerned by Jim’s uncharacteristic outbursts.

Despite Jim’s best efforts to bury his troubles and pretend that they didn’t exist, his woes were finding their way to the surface one way or another.

“More people care about you than you know Jim,”

Strickler was suddenly struck by inspiration. For whatever reason Jim wasn’t comfortable reaching out to Strickler, or any other adult it seemed. Perhaps the idea was to appeal to his peer relationships.

“Like your friends,”

He gestured towards the window in the classroom door, at cluster of five desks with four students at them in particular “You happen to be graced with a group of companions who would go to the ends of the earth to help you, not everyone can be so fortunate,”

Strickler turned his head slightly, trying to gauge Jim’s reaction. But to his shock, rather than looking relieved or even uncertain, something hard and inscrutable had settled over Jim’s face.

“Yeah, they would wouldn’t they,”

The boy’s tone cinched it. Strickler had accomplished all that he could for today, pushing Jim any further right now would do more harm than good.

With only a pang of reluctance, Strickler opened the door and allowed Jim back inside, following shortly after.

He went over to his desk to grade quizzes while the students worked for the rest of the hour, Jim taking his seat at the cluster of desks, rejoining his companions and enmeshing himself in their project.

Despite his best efforts to file this incident in the back of his mind, Strickler found himself dwelling on his brief interaction with Jim. Keeping a subtle eye on him and his group. 

Strickler had been doing this for a very long time and found that for good or for ill, his intuition was rarely wrong. 

You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make it drink, only keep offering and hope one day he bent his head and accepted it. And Strickler’s intuition was telling him that Jim would break before he ever bent.

[voxmyriad]

Prompts, you say? Can I get some uhhhh. Ordo/Maze, with a side of fluff, or filth if you don't have it. Yeah, combo number.... "H-how long have you been standing there?" -- MandalorianBrainWeasel

@mandalorianbrainweasel Well, this was not supposed to be so long, or so emotional, but here we are. It appears I did not have the fluff, but I present at least mild filth. Rated M.

"H-how long have you been standing there?"

Ordo hummed, finally stepping inside Zey's office. "Not long enough yet."

Behind Zey's desk, Maze frowned. "What is that supposed to mean? Are you waiting for something?"

"For Besany."

Maze waited. There had to be more to it than that. Why would Besany Wennen come here?

Ordo finally deflated a little as he glanced over his shoulder. ". . . waiting for Besany to decide we've had a talk and made peace."

"What?" Maze asked, genuinely confused now. "What peace?"

"I tried to explain, but—" Ordo gestured to the cut on his lip, the dried blood beneath his nose from Maze's perfectly-aimed hits during the Dha Werda. "She doesn't understand yet."

". . . you hit me, twice, and I hit you back." Maze could hear the tension in his voice, but it was stubborn, it wouldn't release.

"That's what I tried to explain. We're even." Ordo tipped his head, one hand squeezing into a fist and releasing. "Aren't we?"

It wasn't fair of him to use the Dha Werda like this. He knew it would only piss off the others. But two hits were still owing. Maze had his suspicions about the ordnance that had been temporarily mislaid, but all he had proof for were the two hits. And he could argue that it hadn't been fair of Ordo to lay him out with two hits when Maze had been trying to keep some form of military discipline intact.

And that was only what had happened recently.

So he had his reasons. Reason enough to slide into the line next to Ordo, when there were gaps elsewhere. Reason enough to go through the steps, time it right, and land a punch against Ordo's face. The gasps around him went ignored by the both of them. Ordo didn't even react.

And you know what it's for, Maze thought as Ordo's eyes passed over him in the course of the dance, damnably unaffected. It isn't for laying me out in a corridor in front of Skirata's pet Jedi.

The dance kept on, and as they came around again, Maze's fist flashed out again, spattering blood against Ordo's chest plate. Both calculated hits, both landed just how he'd wanted them to. And two was his limit. He couldn't bring anything more to the table here, in front of everyone. So he didn't.

Maze opened his mouth to give a rote affirmative, then closed it again. Instead, he sighed, leaning back in Zey's chair and running a hand over his head. I don't know what "even" would look like. "Yeah. Even. Go on, she's waiting."

Ordo's eyes narrowed and Maze knew, with a sinking heart, he hadn't been flippant enough to let Ordo also pretend everything was squared between them. "That was a long time ago."

"Do you think you could try any harder to pretend we'd never met before?" Maze shot back, anger hitting beneath his chest plate with nowhere to go but up. "What is it? You don't want to admit to fraternizing with an ARC? We went through the same kriffing training."

"I was in a rush. It didn't sound like you wanted me to go over the intricacies of our ARC training with Jusik when you called me Null, either." Ordo's voice was still even, but the edges were burning.

"That wasn't about any shabla ARC training. We're out in the field now and you've taken your place at the top, right? Just like you always wanted. Except I remember when you didn't want it." I remember when you wanted me.

Ordo didn't answer, standing stone-faced against Zey's closed door like he was guarding it against all comers, and Maze kept going, rushing headlong into something that likely wouldn't end well for either of them. "We were eight, wasn't it? Fresh into ARC training? I know you remember. You remember everything."

"I remember why I decided keeping my distance from you in the future would be the right thing to do," Ordo cut in.

"Go, then. I have work to do anyway. Paperwork to explain the mysterious movement of several pounds of high explosive—but you don't know anything about that either." Maze pushed out of the chair, blood too hot to keep just sitting around. He sat around often enough in his job. "And the next time one of your brothers decides to run a mission through my—"

Maze didn't get the chance to finish. Ordo calmly took his accusatory finger and twisted it back, and used his sudden loss of equilibrium to turn and shove Maze chest-first against the door. "K'uur," he whispered against Maze's ear, and their energy connected and touched off.

He yanked at Ordo's short hair and got shoved more tightly against the door as a response. Maze had no space to reach back, but Ordo's hands were both free, making short work of his armor and his blacks. He twisted, cursing his pauldron, but Ordo's cut lip reopened almost immediately under his lips and teeth, and the groan that pulled from Ordo was enough to get Maze grinning.

After that, they scrambled for each other, armor left in place in favor of focusing their attention—ARC training had been good for focusing too, Maze thought dimly as Ordo finally got a hand around him. He stumbled back blindly until his hip hit the side of Zey's desk, but he only had time to shove a few datapads aside before Ordo knocked his knees apart and crowded up against him to slide their cocks together.

This was familiar, so familiar that the office looked wrong for a moment. Weren't they back on Kamino, fumbling in an empty classroom? But no, Maze thought, breathless from the memory as Ordo spat on his hand and wrapped it around the both of them. Kamino was long behind them. This was happening now, fast, with pent-up need from the both of them.

Maze had no idea what Ordo did with his off-hours, but he wasn't sleeping with anyone, if his impatience was any indicator. Still, he couldn't let Ordo have it all his own way.

He licked his hand and shoved Ordo's aside to stroke them instead, only to have Ordo's hand wrap around his and squeeze just a little too tightly in warning. How could he forget, Ordo had to be the authority on this, as in everything else? Maze's free hand slid to the nape of Ordo's neck and squeezed back as he yanked Ordo back into a kiss that was too bruising to be caring.

Neither of them was destined to last long. Maze came sucking on Ordo's bottom lip, and the glide from his spend sent Ordo over the edge only a few quick strokes later. It was sharp, close to too much, and the high faded too quickly.

As they put themselves back together, more than one type of armor was replaced. Ordo walked to the door and set his hand on the knob, his mind already elsewhere. "We're even."

Maze circled Zey's desk to sit down again, and began mechanically straightening the piles of flimsi they'd knocked askew. We'll never be even. "Yes."

The door closed.

Tag list: @anstarwar @cacodaemonia

[s4ijoh]

icarus falling. oikawa tooru

OIKAWA TOORU X GN! READER

GENRE: angst; fluff

WORD COUNT: 1.9k+

WARNINGS: established relationship

after seijoh's loss to karasuno in the semi finals…

the walk back home was nothing like what you had expected. you wondered if, walking on this sidewalk next to you, stood the same gutted boys that back in the court had their heads bowed down in defeat - their frowns now replaced by lighthearted smiles. you cling onto your boyfriend's arm, your presence silent next to him, watching from the sidelines. from your position, it might have just looked like a group of friends catching up on conversation but there was so much more to this moment than met the eye.

despite their loss, the conversation was rather lively - but you knew it was all a hopeless attempt to avoid the elephant in the room. there was a bittersweet taste to the current energy on the atmosphere. they carried on chatting almost as if they felt it was best to avoid the topic, it didn’t feel right to spend the last moment they had last as a team mourning their mistakes but rather reminiscing on the good memories instead. whereas, on the other hand, to deny to acknowledge their loss was to live a lie.

you keep a close watch on tooru, his features completely devoid of even the slightest hint of sorrow. however, you have learned to read in between the lines, to get to know each and every one of his quirks - to know his voice gets quieter when he is lying or how he blinks more rapidly when he’s nervous. you could read him like an open book and the occasional furrow of his brows, that even though was barely there for a half a second, only for you to catch a glimpse of it, was an immediate giveaway of the thoughts plaguing his mind.

once you reach the doorstep to tooru’s house you wave your goodbyes to the boys before the both of you part your different ways with the group. a heavy silence falls between the two of you yet there are so many things to be said. as the boys disappear into the distance, the atmosphere turns blue, all of tooru’s troubling thoughts lingering in the air yet not spoken of. you choose to give him his space to grieve, you knew he would talk to you once he was ready.

it was the quiet before the storm. as soon as he walks through the front door a suffocating void settles in his heart. tooru finds himself spiraling down a deep dark hole, a sudden numbness taking over his body before he is brought back to reality when his emotions strike him all at once. it was the catalyst to his ruin.

the lump in his throat tightening knocks the oxygen out of tooru’s lungs making it hard to breathe and he can no longer find the strength within himself to hold back any further, it is almost physically impossible for him to keep the tears from falling. he had kept all these feelings bottled up inside him for too long and it was only a matter of time before the inevitable happened - they start overflowing, all at once, against his own will. after the rainstorm, it’s not long until the flood. 

despite all his effort to keep himself under control, his first attempt at verbalizing his thoughts comes in the form of a choked sob as he falls right into your embrace. and so you watch him fall apart right before your eyes. as many times as you had held his trembling body in your arms, you would never get used to this sight. you could never guess that someone as cheerful as tooru had all these hardships in his life, but he did and ever since you met him you knew better than to believe the little show he put on for everybody.

you had seen him at his worst, and you were one of the few lucky ones he trusted enough to willingly let his walls down for. he had trusted you to see the rawest version of him and to allow you to roam his naked soul - no matter how many times he confessed his love for you, this was the ultimate proof of his sheer devotion and no matter how many times you confessed your love for him you could never show him how grateful you are to be fortunate enough to know the real tooru oikawa.

"let it all go" his shaky sobs resonate through your skin as he cries on your now damp shoulder with his face buried in the crook of your neck.

it was hard to notice on the outside but there was a battle taking place under the surface. disguised beyond his usual bright persona, tooru was fighting a war against himself. he was indeed his own worst enemy as cliché as it might sound. his number one struggle was to acknowledge his own worth, which induced the growth of his prevailing self-destructive habits. he would beat himself up every day, neglecting his own health in favor of working towards being the best player he could possibly become - he never thought it was enough; he had spend many restless nights wondering whether he would ever be enough. perhaps he was hopeless. so far, life had gone hard on him but, ever since you entered the scene, he could rely on you to brighten his darkest days.

"i did e-everything i could and it was still no-not enough" his words make your heart ache in your chest for you can tell how difficult it is for tooru to speak by the way his voice cracks at the end of the sentence before he falls into another fit of watery sobs. but to know he was taking it all upon himself struck you even harder.

this was the same boy you had watched pour his blood, sweat and tears into everything he had done, you only wish you could give him the world for he deserved nothing less. you knew he carried the weight of responsibility that came with being the team captain on his shoulders with pride, whether it was for the best or the worst. however, what he failed to realize was that he didn't have to bear it all on his own.

tooru felt like a failure; he had hit a wall. despite all his hard work he could not see the fruits of his labor. it was as if he was trapped in a maze with no exit - no matter the advances he made, he would always find himself back on square one, hopelessly running around in endless circles and driving himself insane.

in the end all his effort had gone to waste - or so he thought, in his current state, it was hard to see past the fog clouding his mind. he was inconsolable. you knew that no word you said could possibly mend his broken heart but you could at least try to relieve some of his pain.

"tooru, i know you will achieve great things one day. you just have to hold onto your dreams." you caress his hair whereas your spare hand rubs up and down his spine before settling on the nape of his neck, cradling the back of his head and tugging him closer to you.

“right now, i know it might feel like a loss but i believe in you and know you will make it out of this stronger, you always do"

you pull back to look into his glassy eyes, a thick veil of tears coating his hazel orbs. the eyes that once held all that passion are now dull as the familiar hopeful gleam fades away with every teardrop streaming down his cheeks, being replaced with a void of broken dreams. he always aimed high, strived to be better and it hurt to see him like this for he did not deserve it but, unfortunately, the universe had different plans for him.

tooru stood too close to the sun. he was close, close enough to yearn for more of it's warmth - he needed more. but what he failed to anticipate, guided by his own instinct, was that it was physically impossible to go any further without getting hurt. the higher he flew, the closer he got, the harder he would fall; his ambition was his greatest blessing as well as his worst curse. 

yet, once again, here you stood, ready to catch him on his fall back to earth. you had been there for him every step of the way. you had watched tooru fall flat on his face several times only to witness him build himself back up and work harder than the last time. you admired his cunning nature, it was his greatest weapon.

"i know you wanted to pursue your dreams next to your friends, tooru, but i promise you that they will be there, alongside you, watching your every step on the way to the top"

you feel his stiff muscles relaxing under your touch, it was almost as if you knew exactly what he needed to hear. everyone thought tooru required high maintenace but a few reassuring words were all it took to make him feel better and upon hearing the mention of his teammates, a switch flips inside him and he has a purpose once again. tooru wished to be better and even if it was hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel, he would keep going, if not for his sake, for his friends - he wouldn’t let them down again.

after a while you listen to his sobs fading into the air. after the flood always comes the quiet.

tooru’s body leans weak against yours once his sniffles die down. you hold onto his waist, dragging his limp body across the hall and into his room, sitting him on the edge of the bed to help him change into more confortable clothes. you crouch down in front of him to press a kiss to his injured knee before you lay down next to him, cradling him in your arms whereas you let the silence of the quiet night envelop the both of you in it’s sweet embrace. he felt at home, secure in the shelter of your warmth, your body caging him in a reassuring hug. he feels invincible all of a sudden, like he could conquer the world.

“i will make you feel proud of me, one day” he whispers against your chest, his voice is still hoarse in the aftermath of his emotional burst.

“i'm already proud of you, tooru. you are stronger than anyone could ever fanthom” 

“no. i mean that, one day, i will redeem myself and i want you there, by my side.”

despite his mellow tone, the eagerness was still present in his voice, each word radiating with the strength of a thousand suns. you were glad to know that, regardless of the storm, the flame was still burning bright inside him.

“i will be there, tooru.” you pull away from him to hold his face in your hands “i will be there to watch you reach the top. i will watch you get each and every one of your opponents out of the way and prove them wrong, baby. it's us against the world”

that night, you never leave his side, holding him as close as humanly possible expecting that, perhaps, if you hold him just tight enough you can fill the hole in his heart and make him feel whole again.

and, hopefully, you would still be here when he is finally ready to spread his winds open again and earns back the courage to fly high.

[a/n]: so im experimenting with a new writing style,, i wanted to improve my dialogue writing skills so from now on ill be focusing more on dialogue than i used to (feedback would be highly appreciated :D) + also no smut in here, for now, cs i was tired of writing nasty shit ,, give me a break, for the time being this is a smut free zone, (lmao who would've guessed) if you were here for the smut im sorry to disappoint you - the old ellie can’t come to the phone right now cuz she’s DEAD. my goal is to write shorter pieces and work on characterization as well hence the new blog!!, my old stuff didn't serve me anymore.

+ also it took me more time to write 2k words than those longer fics i used to write lmao. im actually proud of this one. hopefully, i changed for the better!

[nbrook29]

Okay it seems like they’re gone for the time being so 👀

Part 2&3 of Sander in NYC ‘verse ⬇️

The clock strikes midnight on his bedside table while Robbe is stretched on his bed, head propped on his hand as he’s staring at his computer screen, weariness coursing through his body. He stifles a big yawn and tries to blink the sleep away, but it doesn’t do much to erase the feeling of what seems to be yet another longest day he’s had. Wiggling his butt to find a more comfortable position, he reaches for his phone and opens instagram to kill time. After scrolling for a few minutes he gives up, the app failing to distract him from his heavy thoughts and only making him more irritated in the process.

He tosses the phone on the mattress with frustration, sighing deeply. Staring mindlessly at the ceiling doesn’t make the clock tick any faster so he allows himself to close his eyes.

Just for a little, just for a moment. Long enough so he can pretend he can feel a dip in the mattress and that there’s a certain someone lying by his side, only mere millimeters separating their bodies instead of 5,870 kilometers.

In the end, it makes him feel even worse than he has the whole day. Because there is no one next to him when his fingers venture out tentatively, grazing the sheets on the side of the bed that has been Sander’s since that November night.

The memory makes him smile a little, albeit involuntarily. But how can he not when he remembers the boy’s pouty face, petulance in his voice when he refused to sleep on the left side, stubborn like a bratty five-year-old, and Robbe would have laughed at his expression if he hadn’t been gazing at him like a fool in love the entire night. So he of course granted him HIS own preferred side, getting an abundance of kisses all over his face in gratitude and tickles that almost woke the whole house up.

In the end, it didn’t matter. Not then, and not many times later. What’s the point of choosing sides when most of the time they would sleep on each other’s chest anyway, head tucked in the crook of the other’s neck, nose squished into the underside of the jaw despite the tickling sensation of barely there stubble? Or, during other nights, curled into each other in spooning position, no space between them.

The incoming messenger call rudely disrupts his musings, preventing him from almost falling asleep, and he pushes himself up a bit and scrubs his face, fingers running quickly through his hair to make it look at least a little more presentable.

The face that greets him after he answers the call makes his eyes sting but he blames it on exhaustion.

“Hey, cutie.”

Beautiful. He looks so beautiful. Hair in disarray, cheeks rosy and he’s positively glowing, grinning at him with the same adoration and love he always has and Robbe’s heart is bursting with how much it hurts not to be able to cup his cheek right now.

They haven’t talked since last Thursday, both of them so busy with college work. The fact that there are 6 hours between them isn’t exactly helping. They have been messaging back and forth a lot, but it wasn’t the same.

Lately, Robbe has been feeling like a crucial part of him was ripped off and boarded the plane to New York along with Sander. It’s been a struggle without him here and not letting Sander notice how much he's hurting has been a struggle on its own.

“You’re okay?”

Robbe must’ve been staring without a word for longer than he thought because when he focuses properly he notices a small frown on Sander’s forehead.

He plasters a fake smile on his face. “Yeah! Sorry, just tired.”

He shrugs in hopes it will help to sell his cheeriness better, but the way Sander regards him with concern makes him doubt it.

“Robbe…”

Cutting him off quickly, he starts rambling. “So how was that school trip yesterday, huh? Still not bored of MoMA? I mean, you’ve been there like a hundred times by now,” Robbe ends on a teasing note, eyebrows wiggling for a better effect, anything to not let him notice he’s not okay.

It works, Sander’s face partially offended, partially scandalized at such outrageous suggestion, and he breathes out with relief.

“Excuse me, skater boy, some of us have enough taste to appreciate modern art for its greatness-”

“Yeah, art nerds.”

Sander’s jaw drops comically at his triumphant expression. “Oh my god, you’re such a brat!” He shakes his head in faux-disapproval, but the smile doesn’t disappear from his eyes as he easily gets into their usual banter. “Wish I was there to snog you into submission,” he adds, chuckling, unaware of the turmoil inside Robbe, who’s trying to hold on for dear life, blinking the tears away.

This time though, his smile fails to be convincing enough. Sander’s laughter dies out, his eyes searching Robbe’s for answers.

“Baby, what’s going on?”

Robbe squeezes his lips together to keep the emotions at bay and lowers his eyes so Sander couldn’t read him like an open book. He squirms on the bed, trying to give himself time so make sure his voice won’t quiver and that he can sell this thing.

“Nothing.”

“But that’s not true, I can see that.” He’s speaking so gentle, so soothingly.

It doesn’t make him raise his head, eyes still glued to the mattress as he’s twisting his fingers hoping Sander will just let it go.

Cause he doesn’t want him to know. That he’s a mess. That he’s not doing that good.

He doesn’t need to know he’s been watching his wandelingen videos on repeat. That he misses him so much he created a TikTok account to ‘stalk’ his new classmates accounts to catch a glimpse of him laughing and having fun when they’re hanging out, having picnics in Central Park despite low temperatures or drinking coffee and acting like dumbasses at Union Square.

He doesn’t need to know the reality hit Robbe hard and that he’s not the best at coping.

That he’s anxious because the texts between them aren’t as frequent as they used to be in the beginning.

That he had a serious fallout with Jens after already losing touch with Moyo and Aaron.

That he feels lonely.

And that’s missing him like a limb.

He doesn’t want him to know because Sander’s going to worry about him and that’s not why he went away to New York for five months. Correction, six months.

Yeah, that lovely update didn’t exactly make his mood lift when he found out a week ago about Sander having to extend his stay to be able to participate in the February art show his school holds.

There’s still three and a half months before he can bury his face in the crook of his neck and taste his lips. Touch is Robbe's love language so to say he misses the way Sander's hands feel on him would be an understatement of the year. And they both know by now Sander’s not coming back for Christmas despite his promise he’ll try.

“Please talk to me, please, baby.”

One shaky breath after another and Robbe feels wetness on his cheeks, mortification filing him when he realizes it’s tears, and Sander now has a clear view of the situation.

Still, he tries to deflect one more time, wiping his cheeks with his sleeve surreptitiously.

“It’s nothing, really… I’m okay, just miss you.” Another unconvincing smile.

He knows Sander is watching him like a hawk, confused and worried, he can feel it without even lifting his eyes to the screen. When he peaks just for a moment, he sees the desperate look on his face.

“I miss you too, so much, you have no idea,” he pauses, shifting closer to the screen like he wants to physically be closer to him, somehow. “But I know that’s not all, so please tell me what’s wrong so I can help you. Did something happen? Is your mom okay?”

Robbe nods because thankfully, everything has been going smoothly in that area. His mom’s been doing better than he could have hoped for, actually.

“Then what is it?” he keeps pressing, stubbornly, adamant to figure it out, but Robbe really doesn’t feel like talking about it.

“Look, it’s not a big deal, I just had a rough few days, okay? Can we talk about something else?” he pleads, but to no avail.

“No, we can’t because I don’t understand why you don’t want me to help you, Robbe.”

There’s a hint of annoyance in his voice, the confusion getting to him, and Robbe feels even worse, curling a little into himself.

“I just- I don’t wanna bother you-”

“What?” Sander sounds stunned. “Bother me- what the hell?”

“I just want you to have fun there, I’m gonna be fine.”

When Robbe glances back at the screen, he’s met with Sander’s eyes boring holes into him, quietly assessing him, and he knows it’s far from over.

But he’s just so tired. With this week, and his school work, with his emotional state and lonely nights. He’s just really tired.

On the screen, Sander sighs, scrubbing his face with his hand, his silver ring glinting in the computer light. A while passes before he finally speaks, quietly, looking back at him.

“You know, I feel like you think our skype calls are like chores for me that I keep in my calendar and can’t wait to tick off and be done with.”

Robbe opens his mouth, but no words come out, his sleep-fogged brain taking its time to sort through Sander’s word.

“Wow, you really think that?” Robbe hates himself for the hurt lacing Sander’s words. “You really think I don’t miss you? That I don’t count days until I can see you again for real, are you serious, Robbe?”

“Don’t get mad at me,” he asks in a small voice, biting his lip to keep it from wobbling.

“I’m not-”, Sander cuts off, lacing his fingers on the back of his lowered head, clearly frustrated and at loss of what to say next. “I just thought we were honest with each other, that we were communicating.”

The comment stings, even if it wasn’t meant to, and Robbe swallows the bile rising in his throat. Sander’s disappointed, he can see that, but he’s honestly not in the right state of mind right now for long talks about his feelings and insecurities.

“I should go.”

Sander's head shots right up at that. "Robbe, wait-"

"Don't worry about me." He sends him a forced smile before shutting his laptop and pushing it away from himself, breathing shakily as he hides his face in his hands.

Several notifications ping on his phone, but he ignores them all, knowing they're from Sander.

It's funny how this morning he thought he couldn't feel worse.

***

Friday 6:20 pm EST from Sander

Please pick up so we can talk

Or text me

Robbe?

I'm so worried

Friday 6:45 pm EST from Sander

I love you okay? ❤

Friday 8:03 pm EST from Sander

It's 2 am at yours so I hope you're asleep but I just need you to know that I love you and whatever it is you're going through we'll deal with it together okay?

Friday 8:07 pm EST from Sander

I think about you everyday and I miss you everyday

And it doesn't matter my trip here was supposed to be fun or whatever

I'm still your boyfriend and me being away doesn't change the fact that I want to be there for you

You should know that by now

You're not some kind of duty for me, it breaks my heart you'd think that

Your problems matter to me

I'm here, always, remember?

Please text me when you wake up ❤

Ik zie u graag Robin ❤❤❤😘

[apocalypseornaw]

Ending/Beginning

For the enemies to lovers square on @girl-next-door-writes make me feel bingo

Inspired by the show revolution (sort of) y'all I'm nervous AF to post this cause it's reader x OC but i hope y'all like it

Word count: 10,247 it long

Warnings: Cursing, violence

The apocalypse, the end of the world. Everything as it was known coming to an end. No matter how you wanted to describe it that time was now. You never would’ve dreamed that the end of the world wouldn’t have been fire or ice. No the world ended a lot quieter than that. No dead rose, no monsters crawled out of hell. Electricity simply went away, all the power sources that ran everything went off grid. You watched as the world slowly plummeted into turmoil. You had your group, all of you would fight to the death for each other, you believed that somehow humanity could survive the problem was not every group believed as yours did.Good and evil, things that at one time had clearly been black and white were now washed in shades of grey.

You were on guard duty, walking the length of the walls that surrounded the compound you called home. A team had left a few days before and had yet to return. You were getting more anxious as the days drug on. You finally spotted movement towards the east and ran quietly along the wall so as to not bring any alert to anyone walking below. When you spotted the group missing some of its main members breach the treeline you felt the knot in the pit of your stomach double in size.  “OPEN THE GATES” you screamed quickly climbing down the ladder running the moment your boots hit the dirt to meet the horses as they came inside. “Where are they?” you asked Sam before he ever got the chance to dismount. Your eyes flicked across the group that were with him clocking the injuries on each person, Sam included. You’d grown up with the Winchesters brothers, all three of you practically being raised by Bobby They were the closest thing to family you had and Dean’s absence along with Charlie’s and Garth’s was glaringly obvious to anyone. 

“We were ambushed. They took them and left a message for Bobby” he explained coming to stand next to you before handing his horse off to someone else so they could see to it that the animals all of you had come to rely on was taken care of. “Which is?” you pushed but he glanced around at the growing crowd “Not here, come with me” you followed him through the compound not falling behind despite his height advantage on you. You had a feeling what fate had befallen your friends and the rage gnawing at you was growing larger every second that passed. 

When Sam grabbed your arm and pulled you into Bobby’s quarters he glanced up from cleaning a gun and smiled when he saw the two of you but his face quickly fell when he realized Dean was not in tow and that Sam had visible injuries. “What happened?” he asked and you cut your eyes at Sam silently echoing the same question. “Kaper’s men. They found out about the power core” “SON OF A BITCH” you growled kicking a chair across the floor. 

Josiah Kaper was about the furthest you could get from Bobby as a leader went. Where Bobby was trying to push for a way for humanity to somehow dig itself out from under the shit show that had developed in the world Josiah wanted nothing more than to find a way to benefit from it. 

He had three sons David the oldest who from your run-ins with him honestly didn’t want to be associated with his father’s name he’d even helped you out of a tight spot years back when everything started falling apart in the world. Then was the middle son Jonah who was ruthless and heartless. You had a scar running the length of your left arm from the only run-in you’d ever had with him. Had Dean not been so quick on the trigger you wouldn’t have walked away, a few members of your group hadn’t. Dante the youngest son who was closest to your age you’d never had any run-ins with but this attack was personal. Bobby wanted the power core to develop a better hospital system. You’d lost a few people simply for the fact that without any power source the doctors you had didn’t have the equipment they needed to perform some surgeries. Not to mention having to stay off the radar of the militia, didn’t want any of them getting it in their heads that your group had anything they may want.

Dean had figured out a few alternatives but even the best mind couldn’t solve everything on it’s own. Josiah on the other hand, you could only imagine what he wanted with the core. 

“Give me a team, we’ll get them back without having to deal with Josiah” You spoke without a second thought. Either of the three they’d taken would come for you so you owed it to them. “What’s your plan?” Bobby asked so you shrugged “They know I’m one of yours, same as Sam and Dean. Makes a bullseye on me so I play decoy while my team locates and releases Dean, Charlie and Garth” “And if they manage to get their hands on you too?” Sam questioned so you shot him a wink “Oh ye of little faith. Don’t worry Sammy they’ll never get close enough to lay a finger on me” Bobby stared you down for what felt like an eternity before nodding “Ok but sweetheart do me a favor?” “Yes sir?” you asked so he half smiled “Make it back in one piece”

"I'm coming with you" Sam spoke and you shook your head motioning to the visible marks on him "No you're gonna go to medical and get checked over. I'm going to go poke around and see if the ones I have in mind for this are up to it, I have no doubt they will be but I still give them the courtesy of asking" 

------

You knew Alicia and Max would be at the front of the line to volunteer to go as soon as word spread. They had long since been your best friends and considering Charlie was Alicia’s girlfriend there would have been no leaving the twins behind even if they hadn’t been on your top pick to go. 

Kevin and Claire were easy picks as well. Kevin, that damn kid you swore could blow up a mountain with some baking soda and vinegar. As fair as for Claire there hadn’t been a lock you met she couldn’t get through fast and easy.  Rounding out your band of misfits as Bobby so lovingly called you all was Benny. He was a big dude, a damn good fighter and not scared of a lot. 

“So what’s the plan?” Sam asked looking at the map you’d spread out across the table in his and Eileen’s quarters. “I know Kaper and I know Dean. If they’re managing to actually hold him, Garth and Charlie, it's gotta be here” you pointed to a building near the northern wall of Josiah’s compound. “The problem is where as we as a group try to steer clear of the militia, he supplies them with pretty much anything they want to look the other way on him pilfering anything he can from the old power sources that’s been uncovered where the rest of us are barely scraping” “So you’re looking at the possibility of heavy firepower” Eileen guessed and you nodded glancing up to make sure you were facing her as you spoke “That’s where I come in. I draw their fire so to speak here” you pointed to the end of the compound furthest from the building you suspected your people were being held in. “By yourself?” she questioned and you knew she didn’t like your plan anymore than Sam or Bobby had. “I’ll be fine Eileen. I promise. By the time they realize I’m there everyone else will be in position. Once they have our people I’ll draw them out further and chunk a few of Kevin’s presents out amongst their ranks just to stir some fun up”

“And if something happens to block your path back around to meet up with everyone else?” Sam asked so you shrugged nonchalantly “Well I can honestly say I will make em earn it and I fully expect the lot of you to give em hell in return” “You’re insane” Eileen reasoned and you smiled at her “That, my dear is part of my charm!”

-------

Kaper’s compound wasn’t set up much differently than the one all of you lived in, the only difference being where when your compound was first established you went for the comfort of the many while it was clear Josiah went for the comfort of himself. His people had well enough living quarters but the building in the center was twice as plush as everyone else’s and while there were guards on their walls the same as yours he also had guards in front of his quarters.

The cement building against the northern corner of the wall was where they kept prisoners. There had been more than one scouting mission around Kaper’s compound to have a basic understanding of what was where. Luckily for your group there was a series of caves not far from the compound that could offer you shelter off the main road while you strategized one final time before actually putting your plan into action.  

------

You tied your horse Helios at the head of the cave then walked deeper in where Benny had built a low fire. He was crouched down looking at the map you’d gotten Alex to sketch out. “Tell me this plan one more time” You could feel the twins and Claire watching you when Benny spoke. Kevin was doing some final touches to his part of the plan so he was preoccupied. You squatted next to Benny and pointed towards the prisoner quarters. 

“That’s where they’ll have Dean, Charlie and Garth” he nodded so you then pointed towards the eastern gate that was closest to Josiah’s quarters “I’m going to get their attention here, draw the main guards out. I’ll use a few of Kev’s low grade toys so as to cause more chaos than actual loss of life, just enough to make everyone look at me. In the meantime all of you will head in over here” you pointed towards where the western and northern wall met “There’s a weak spot unless they’ve fixed it in the last month which I seriously doubt. Even if they did, Kev has a corrosive to make a hole big enough for all of you to slip in, find our people and get the hell out” “Promise me one thing though darling?” he asked so you tilted your head to look at him “Name it Lafitte”

“If something goes south where you’re concerned wait for me at the gate because the moment Dean finds out I agreed to let you do this I won’t be far behind”  You offered him a small smile “Oh come on now he won’t kill ya” he raised an eyebrow that was clearly a nonverbal way of disagreeing but Kevin walked over about that time and handed you a canvas bag “The pipe bombs won’t cause a lot of damage but if you get in a tight spot grab a few of the round ones and chunk em. They’ll take out anything within a ten foot blast zone” You thanked him then stood up and glanced around. Claire held your gaze for a moment while both twins gave you a sharp nod “I’m not one for rousing speeches so I’ll just say wish me luck and remember if all else fails give em hell and make em earn it” 

Claire rolled her eyes “Christ Y/N, Dean gives better pre-fight speeches than that!” you shrugged “And that is why I’m going to get him back” 

------

You stopped at the perimeter of the treeline that was your last bit of cover before the guards would spot you. You and Benny had agreed on a five minute mark to make sure they were in place. You pulled the old wind up pocket watch out of your jeans and glanced to see it had been exactly five minutes. Well now or never.

You clicked your tongue and Helios trotted forward. The guards spotted you the moment you left the cover of the trees and hollered “STOP THERE. WHAT’S YOUR BUSINESS?” you stopped but slid your hand into the canvas bag “I CAME TO DELIVER A MESSAGE” you lit the first pipe bomb and chunked it over the wall. It landed at the first guard’s feet causing him to topple backwards down to the dirt.

The guards and inhabitants of the compound went into a flurry of motion so you rode down the wall throwing just enough pipe bombs over to ensure every guard was paying attention to the “threat” at the eastern wall and not the rescue party at the northwestern wall. 

Once the gates opened and guards started pouring out, some on foot but most on horseback you lit one more pipe bomb and threw it in their general direction before hollering “CATCH ME IF YOU CAN ASSHOLES” then clicked your tongue again gently kicking Helios' sides as she took off at a gallop for the trees hearing the shouts of the guards following you. ‘Good keep all your eyes on me’ you thought to yourself as you leaned down closer to Helios to avoid limbs that were threatening to whip across your face as you rode deeper into the woods.

------

Benny and Claire had told you they didn’t need longer than eight minutes to get in, find your people and get out. Of course playing a game of solo mouse versus about twenty guards who were the cats was easier said than done.

Helios went around a tree and muscle memory alone was the only thing keeping you on her back. You fumbled for the watch again and saw six minutes had passed. Christ you still had two more minutes to keep them close enough that they would stay in pursuit but far enough that they couldn’t catch you. 

You were getting close to the lake that was nearby so you headed in that direction. You had two pipe bombs left in the bag and two of those round ones for a tight spot as Kevin had put it. When you got close to the water’s edge you slowed her enough to let the guards catch up slightly and muttered a prayer under your breath before throwing one of the round ones into the water’s edge then kicked her sides again. She tore out in a gallop and you could feel the water from the blast hit your back followed by a lot of cursing. From the sounds of it you hadn’t killed anyone but you’d discouraged their chase and hopefully disoriented them enough that by the time they got back to the compound the smoke would have cleared. 

------

Dark was falling and they’d never attempt to go after all of you once it fell completely. You had the advantage, your people were more used to the dark than Kaper’s because you only used the power sources you had sparingly. Your plan was to double back around to the caves where everyone was waiting for you. Benny was under strict orders that if you weren’t there within ten minutes of them arriving to knock Dean out if need be to make him leave you behind.

You didn’t expect to see a lone rider waiting not far from the lake. You thought your eyes were playing tricks on you when the large black horse first moved, thinking it was a trick of the light and a shadow. A horse that size shouldn’t move that quietly.

You clicked your tongue and tugged the reins in the opposite direction but when Helios pitched the other way the black horse simply gave chase. Shit who the hell was that? You could hear your heart beating in your ears. You had no choice but to lead whoever it was away from your people. There was no telling the shape everyone was in considering if they managed to keep those three contained they may have even gone to the extent of drugging them.  

You had to slow when you got into the thicket of the woods because in the lowering light you could barely see where you were going. You felt something hit your left shoulder hard a half second before you were falling from Helios trying to brace yourself against the shock of the fall. You grunted when you hit the dirt then rolled to be in more of a defensive posture. You could hear the other horse slow before the sound of boots hitting the dirt hard met your ears.

You clicked your tongue trying to get Helios to circle around but before you could get back onto her you heard someone say “I’ll be damned, a woman did all that?” you spun to face the voice and cursed when you saw the gun pointed loosely in your direction. He was a couple inches taller than you, nice athletic built and clearly a fighter. There was still enough light you could make out the bit of stubble gracing his jaw line and the way his eyes held you made you fight the urge to look away. There was something vaguely familiar about him.Hell had he not been pointing a gun at you and from Kaper’s group you would’ve called him attractive but at the moment he simply had a target on him for you to figure out how to get out of this spot with both of you still breathing. 

“And to think we’re called the weaker sex?” you replied with a defiant tilt of your head despite the fact that his gun was out and pointed and yours was still resting at your lower back. He chuckled slightly “You’re one of Singer’s. Y/N isn't it?” you smiled and held your arms out “How can you say that for certain that I'm not just simply a thief that happened along at an opportune time?” “Because I know for a fact that Dean Winchester along with two more of Singer’s group was in our grasp”

It suddenly hit you why the man across from you looked vaguely familiar “You’re Kaper's other son” he nodded slowly “Dante Kaper at your service sweetheart” You narrowed your eyes at him “Stow the sweetheart bullshit. I’ve got a scar from your brother and I was one of the lucky ones that day. I know the type of man you are” He nodded then motioned to his horse with the gun in his hand “Well in that case why don’t you hop on up there?”

“Kill me first, that’s the only way” He reached out to grab your arm and you let him because you knew getting close enough was your only chance of getting free. He pulled you back against his chest “I don’t want to hurt you but the same way that your people hate mine, you just blew up half our wall and knocked most of my guards on their ass” “Oh well” you muttered before throwing your elbow back as hard as you could at his midsection and was rewarded with the sound of his gun being dropped to the dirt as a grunt left him “Should’ve known it’d be a hand to hand thing”

You  spun around to face him and narrowly avoided his return blow. You swung on him but he caught your arm then swept your legs out from under you when you went down you managed to kick your leg out as soon as your back hit the dirt and it connected with his leg. “Son of a bitch” you groaned, pushing yourself to your feet. You started to make a run for it but Dante recovered faster than you would’ve hoped. He was on his feet and grabbing you before you could make it two steps. 

The moment he spun you around to face him you swung and connected a solid punch to his jaw. He staggered just a moment then kicked out and managed to connect with your stomach. You went with the blow letting your own momentum take you down. You were counting on his arrogance being his downfall and that proved to ring true when he came to stand over you “Guess you can’t hang with the men huh sweetheart?” “Don’t you wish” you replied, kicking out hard to catch him dead center in the crotch.  The moment he went down to his knees you took off running and whistled for Helios. She came running up so you hoisted yourself onto her back “Let’s go” she galloped away and you could barely hear the hollered curses from Dante as he faded from your sight.

------

When you got closer to the caves you checked the time that had passed and cursed under your breath. God if they had to knock Dean out to get him to leave you behind it was going to get really messy when he came to. 

You slowed Helios down to a trot and whistled the tune you and Benny always used when you were on the same team. After a few seconds you heard the whistle repeated so you urged her forward.

You hopped down at the head of the cave and saw the other horses tied up. You tied her next to Claire’s horse then walked into the cave entrance. The moment you came into view you were snatched into a hug from Charlie. “Y/N!” you couldn’t help but smile at seeing her mostly unscathed. There were clear signs of the fight when they’d been taken but beyond that it appeared as though Kaper hadn’t attempted to torture them. You’d gotten there before that point. 

Once she released you Garth was there slapping your hand in a high five “Now that’s what I call a rescue mission ma’am!” you winked at him but your smile quickly fell when Dean stepped away from the corner where he’d been talking with Benny. Your eyes skimmed across him clocking the cut over his eye, the bruising on the side of his face and just how bloodied his knuckles were “I call that insanity. What the hell were you thinking?” you grimaced slightly at his tone bracing yourself before saying “I call that pulling your ass out the fire, same as you’ve done for pretty much all of us” 

He studied you for a second before a grin split his face and he pulled you into a hug “Kid you are completely insane but damn I would’ve loved to see Kaper’s face when those pipe bombs started going off” you touched your stomach where you caught a boot from Dante and Dean tracked your movements with his eyes “What happened?” Benny who had been silent stepped up behind you and when he touched your left shoulder it was only then that you realized the branch that had knocked you off Helios had torn through your jacket and shirt. “I officially met Dante Kaper”

“Did you kick his ass?” Max asked and you shrugged “I’d have to say that meeting was fifty, fifty. I got away from him because he underestimated me and got kicked in the family jewels as a reward for it” Alicia covered her mouth as she laughed “In that case I’d say you won it” You glanced around eyeing the lot of them. Out the rescue team from the looks of it none of them had even been in a fight. Benny’s knuckles weren’t even bloodied. Kevin was a little windblown but that was because he’d been at the forefront of any explosions they’d set off. “All of us are in one piece and can make it home. I call that a win” 

Ninety percent of the time you tried your best to abide by what few rules were in place. You as one of Bobby’s surrogate kids had to be on your best behaviour to show everyone else in your compound that all was treated equal but when a meeting was being held to arrange an escort to Denver for a supply run to the encampment there and you weren’t invited it more than pissed you off.

You stood in front of the meeting room door for several minutes trying to talk yourself out of what you were about to do. It didn’t work of course. You started to walk away then said screw it and shoved the door open. Bobby,Sam, Dean,Benny and Jody were sitting around a table marking the route off. “Took her longer than I thought it would” Benny admitted with a nod to Dean.

Jody raised an eyebrow at you “Y/N? Bobby said you weren’t feeling too well” you cut your eyes at Bobby who shook his head “Don’t even start kid. You know you can’t go on this run” “Why not? When have I suddenly become persona non grata?” “When you went a few rounds with a Kaper” Dean answered for Bobby.

You barked out a harsh laugh then drew the chair from next to Sam and sat down “Then I guess you nor Charlie nor Garth is going on this run either then? Because while they didn’t see the crew that busted you out they know you got out” 

Sam sighed and turned slightly in his chair to face you “Still turns back around to you Y/N. Since they in fact didn’t see the crew they probably assumed you set some sort of timer to bust the whole in the back wall before getting their attention on the front. Them taking the three of them goes against the agreement set forth by the militia so they can’t exactly report it but they more than likely have a grudge against the person who blew half their wall up and knocked most of their guards and one of Kaper’s sons flat on his ass”  You leaned forward on your elbows and glanced around the table.

Dean and Benny immediately shared a look from the expression on your face and Bobby closed his eyes with an exasperated sigh before you ever spoke “So you’re telling me that lil ol me gets the credit for pulling off a rescue mission, destroying their over the top wall that wasn’t even very functional to begin with and kicking Dante’s ass all on my own. Hmm sounds to me like I need to go along Kaper’s men may think twice about messing with the crew if they spot me with them”

“If we don’t let her go we all know either she’ll saddle Helios and follow us anyways or get into something worse” Dean finally said and Jody winked at you “Well you boys may need some backup” “Don’t encourage her!” Bobby groaned then waved a hand at you “Go grab your gear. Dean will round up everyone else” you stood up and winked at Jody before walking out.

------

You were riding behind Benny towards the back of the wagon. It would be left with the encampment so the trip back would be cut by a day. Everyone was talking to whoever was closest to them or just keeping an eye on the surrounding area. Once the supplies were handed off and inside walls the militia weren’t as prone to mess with them but out here in the open it was a more free game.

There was a reason why you, Alicia and Max had spent weeks mapping out the natural caves along any routes all of you took. If you couldn’t find an old building with a garage area for the cart you would park it inside of the cave then make camp outside of it where anyone looking to steal would have to go past whoever was on guard at the moment and everyone sleeping.

“Benny you got this for a minute?” you asked and he cut his eyes at you and nodded “Yeah I got this darling. Guess you’re gonna poke at Dean a lil bit?” you grinned and clicked your tongue so Helios headed in the direction you pointed her which was the head of your group where Dean was looking as stoic as ever while keeping an eye on his surroundings.

He barely acknowledged your presence but you knew that he knew you were there. “Are you really mad at me for getting you out?” you asked and he shook his head. 

You knew he wasn’t but you were going to make him say the words out loud. “I’m pissed off at you for putting yourself at risk like that. What if those guards would’ve caught up with you? Or what if Dante would’ve actually won that fight?”

“Then you would’ve come and got me. It would’ve gone a lot bloodier than my method but I have faith that worse case scenario you would’ve made Kaper regret the day he was born” Dean was quiet for a moment before finally looking at you “Y/N..dammit you’re in the same category as Sam. I can survive losing a lot. I don’t know if I can survive losing either of you. Before you say it I know you’re plenty capable. I’d rather have you at my back then most men I know but that doesn’t change the fact that if you would’ve gotten killed saving my ass..I would’ve slaughtered every man in that place” “What about the women on his guard?” you asked and he narrowed his eyes “Don’t be a smartass just say you see my point” 

“I see your point but that’s the same reason why I couldn’t leave you there. Dean you almost killed Jonah. If I hadn’t been bleeding that bad you would’ve. You’re a high value target for Josiah so I’m not gonna attempt to lie to you I’d do it all over again but I do honestly see why you got pissed at me so can we call truce now?” he nodded and held a hand out so you shook it with a laugh “Glad we got that settled now let me get back to my post before Benny starts talking to his horse again”

------

Your group was about two days away from the Denver encampment. You’d stopped to make camp for the night. There was an old housing development that got abandoned when the end happened so it was a bunch of half built houses that had been mainly reclaimed by nature. There was one at the end that only had a few finishing touches to the place so that was where you picked for the night. The cart was parked in the garage so everyone made beds around it. All of you had slept in worse places.

“Y/N you and Sam take first shift then wake me and Benny up for second shift” Dean announced so you nodded in agreement as you pulled your jacket onto your shoulders “Aye aye Cap” then nodded at Sam “C’mon Samuel” he shook his head with a laugh but followed you out the side door of the garage that led back outside.

------

The full moon was nearly bright enough you could read by it. You were on your third trip around the house keeping an eye on the perimeter. Every time you’d pass Sam one of you would tell the other some stupid joke or random fact to pass the time. There was only another hour left of your guard shift then you could take over Dean’s bed to catch a little sleep before finishing the last leg of this trip.

Once the cart was dropped off your group didn’t have to take the main road home and weren’t as high value of a target for the militia or the road bandits. Even in this day and age you had people that would rather steal then even attempt to provide for themselves in a halfway honest way.

It was a bit disappointing that the one thing you could still count on was that mankind could still be major douches regardless of the time. You were thinking of another weird fact to tell Sam considering your fact of what raccoons could fit inside of made him swear to sleep on his back from here on out every time he slept outside would make you laugh for a week.

A movement towards the woods a few houses down caught your eye. You weren’t quite sure what it was but actually hoped for bandits versus Militia or any of Kaper’s men. You knew Sam would be coming around the corner of the house in a minute and if you mentioned it to him he’d want to check it out with you but you couldn’t leave the house completely unguarded.

You whistled one sharp note and Sam whistled back before coming around the corner quickly “What’s wrong Y/N?” you nodded towards the treeline “I think I saw something. I’m gonna go check it out. Don’t leave guard post unless you hear me scream then feel free to tell on me to Dean and bring everyone running deal?” He followed your line of sight then looked back at you “You’ve got exactly two minutes” you grinned at him “I only need one Samuel” then headed towards the treeline being careful to make your footsteps as quiet as possible.

You reached for the knife at your side. You had your gun tucked at your lower back but if it turned more into a close quarters deal the knife would be a better option. The moment you stepped into the shadows of the trees you felt a hand grab you and you were slammed backwards into a tree. Before you even focus to try to see the assailant you had your knife at their throat.

You realized you were looking up into none other than Dante Kaper’s dark brown eyes “You know you’re something else Y/N” he grunted flinching slightly from the pressure you had on the blade. “Been called worse by better Dante” you replied putting as much venom as you could in your voice and he smiled despite the fact that you were nearly drawing blood “You need to move your people. The militia is headed this way. They’ll be through before daylight”

“How do I know this isn’t a trap to make us move so your people can attack us down the road?” you asked and his grip on your arms tightened slightly “If I wanted your people dead I could’ve shot you and Dean's brother then burned the garage to the ground besides I kind of like having someone around to give me a run for my money. Makes life a lot more interesting”

“And why do I tell Dean we need to move? Can’t exactly say a Kaper said so” you replied easing the pressure slightly on his throat. He glanced down at the blade then slowly released your arms “You’re a resourceful woman. I’m sure you’ll think of something” you stared at him for a few breaths before putting your knife back at your side “If this is a trap you better hope they kill me fast because I’ll make sure you regret it” he had the audacity to wink at you before saying “See? Now comments like that make me want to keep you alive just because that much fire deserves to be fed”

He disappeared into the woods and a few seconds later you heard his horse moving away and cursed yourself for not clocking that big of a beast. “You bastard” you whispered to the night then realized the two minutes had more than likely passed so you quickly breached the tree line again to be back in Sam’s line of sight before he could wake Dean up.

He ran to meet you halfway “What was it?” you shook your head “I don’t know but we need to move. We’re close to a few caverns we can make it to one and still rest a bit before hitting the road again” he stepped in front of you before you got your hand on the door leading into the garage “Woah Y/N if it was nothing why are you hell bent on moving?” you met his eyes and took a deep breath “You trust me right?” “Of course” he answered a quick reply built on years of both of you trusting the other’s instinct. You hated lying to him but something told you Dante was being honest and you didn’t want to chance the supplies that were desperately needed in the Denver encampment being confiscated. 

“Let’s get them up then” you finally added so he stepped to the side and simply followed you into the garage.

------

Surprisingly enough when you woke Dean to say you felt like your team needed to move he didn’t even attempt to question you. He simply gave out orders and the lot of you moved silently through the woods to the caverns you’d pointed out on the map.

Once everyone was settled back down at the cavern though you noticed that Dean and Benny both had pulled Sam to the side of the group and the three of them kept throwing glances in your direction. What were you supposed to tell them if they questioned you further? That you were taking an enemy at his word because why exactly? You weren’t even sure yourself why you’d believed Dante besides the fact that he was indeed telling the truth that had he wanted any of you dead it would’ve been simple enough to do.

You pushed the thought out of your head and curled up next to Helios for the night. By the time the sun was peeking out onto the ground your team was already on the road once again. 

------

“So successful drop off done now for the trip home” you said riding between Sam and Dean. Dean glanced over your head at Sam and nodded once. You watched as Sam fell off and matched his pace with Benny instead no doubt giving you and Dean room to talk or rather Dean room to question you.

You remained silent for a few moments before saying “Well get on with it” he cut his eyes at you then looked back ahead of him “Get on with what exactly Y/N?” you sighed running your fingers through Helios’ mane “Asking me why I moved us in the middle of the night” “And why exactly was that?” he questioned and you felt a knot in your stomach start to form. On one hand you didn’t want to lie to Dean about anything but on the other hand you’d done the one thing all of you had sworn to never do..you trusted a Kaper. Even as far as David Dean simply avoided.

You shrugged “I just had a bad feeling. Best case scenario we ride back through and nothing is touched meaning I overreacted to a bad feeling” “But if we ride back through and proof that the militia has been through is there I’ve got to explain why you’ve either suddenly grown psychic powers or why the little birdies flying around have decided to start conversing with you” 

You were stunned into silence simply because you’d never actually had Dean accuse you of anything. It was a strange feeling but you also became acutely defensive “What exactly are you accusing me of?” you asked and he turned fully to look at you trusting his horse to remain on the path he’d been pointed “Someone was in those woods last night when you went to check it out. You can lie to Sammy but you can’t lie to me. Who was it?” At your silence he cleared his throat then looked back at Sam who came up to join the two of you yet again “Sam you and Benny take lead. Me and Y/N are gonna fall to watch the rear and have a little chat since she’s apparently now being shy of groups”

You cut your eyes at Benny when he came up to take your spot at the head of the group “You good darling?” you nodded once then clicked your tongue to get Helios to follow Dean. 

Once the two of you were at the rear of your group with no possibility of anyone over hearing a conversation Dean got his horse close enough to Helios that had the two not been around each other for so many years they never would’ve willingly rode that close “Now talk to me.You know I’ve always backed you up but I need to know who told you we should move?” you sighed and refused to meet his eyes but answered “Dante” you barely looked in his direction but saw his jaw clenching and unclenching “Please don’t be mad at me Dean. I had my knife to his throat but he had a point. He could’ve fucking sniped me and Sam then barbequed the rest of you if he had wanted to!” 

“So? What are you trusting him now?” Dean’s voice was sharper than you’d ever heard it pointed at you. He reached across the space between the two of you and snatched your jacket off your left arm to show the thick jagged scar that started at your wrist and disappeared underneath the short sleeve of your shirt “His brother did this! I found you nearly dead. Sam held you in his arms the entire ride back to our doctors and you know what? I heard him pray Y/N! Who the hell he was praying to in all of this I don’t know but we thought we would lose you. We lost Jo, Ash and Rufus that day! A Kaper did that! Out of every possible enemy in this world the god damn Kapers have been a thorn in our side for longer than anything! You really think you can trust him? Even David is only passable because he got away from Josiah and we haven’t heard anything from him since. Dante went back to his daddy’s compound and probably reported that Bobby’s girl was stupid enough to trust him!”

You felt hot tears spring to your eyes at his words. You turned your head stubbornly so he wouldn’t see them and took a few deep breaths before replying “I don’t trust him Dean but I had to weigh the options and protecting all of you was the most important thing” your voice broke slightly as you shrugged your jacket back up on your arm. Dean reached as if to touch your shoulder but you flinched away from him “Not right now Dean. I know you just want to protect me but I just can’t right now”

“Chief, are we checking it out?” Benny called from the front nodding towards the path that would take you back out to where the housing complex was. Dean looked at you then announced “Everyone wait here for a few. C’mon Benny” you watched them ride off then locked eyes with Sam. The look on his face alone was enough to ask if you were ok. You gave a sharp nod.

Within a few moments Dean and Benny were rejoining your group. You didn’t look in Dean’s direction when he came back to ride at your side but he still offered “For what it counts the militia destroyed it and left their mark” “Why did he warn me?” you asked honestly shocked that Dante’s warning had rang true. “That’s the question isn’t it?”

The moment Bobby heard that Dante had reached out to you and in fact actually told the truth about the militia coming through you knew that would be the end of you being allowed out on any day to day tasks. You had no idea why he’d even been in that area that night or how he’d located your group let alone why he’d want to actually protect your group. Hell you’d fought him the first time you met him then that knife had drawn a line of blood from his throat while he gave his warning. It was a predicament to say the least and and left you feeling like a fucking leper considering only Sam, Dean and Bobby knew so to everyone else they simply say you sticking close to the compound with no good reason as to why.

You were helping Donna and Jody in the armory trying to simply keep your head down until Bobby and the boys forgot about it and let you out again. “What exactly did you do?” Jody asked sliding more shells across to you since the three of you were currently making more bullets. You shrugged knowing that you very well couldn’t tell another soul that a Kaper had saved your necks. You absentmindedly scratched at the scar on your arm and Donna covered your hand with her own “You know that’s a bad nervous habit sweetie” you shot her a small smile “I think I’m just going a little stir crazy. Even just to take Helios out to stretch her legs I’ve got to take Benny or Max and Alicia with me” “Whatever happened those three will get over it soon enough kid. Just keep pushing they love ya” Jody added with a wink.

------

It went on for a while until you were on guard duty one day walking the length of the wall when Xavier, a rider for a nearby compound which happened to be where your hospital set up was, came riding up to the gate. “LET HIM IN!” you hollered climbing down the ladder to meet him.

When he saw you his eyes flicked around nervously “Y/N.. Dean or Sam around?” you shook your head “No but what’s going on Xavier?” he swallowed hard “They’re on the way to do a walk through of our compound. We don’t have the power core completely buried yet” “Shit.Dean,Benny  and Sam aren’t due back till dark” his eyes looked like they very well may pop out of his head “We have an hour tops” you knew that if you came out on the other side you’d never hear the end of it and that was the best case scenario. 

You nodded to his horse “How fast can it move with two riders?” “Fast enough” he replied. As you were swinging your leg up behind him you heard Max holler your name. Xavier glanced back at you but you simply shook your head “Ignore him. Let’s go” you rode out of the gate motioning for it to be closed behind you already planning in your head a dangerous route but if it came down to it you would do what was necessary to save the most amount of people.

------

Dean was seething with anger and underneath that was the fear. The fear of being too late this time. The fear he’d find you dead. Dammit why did you have to be so fucking selfless? When him and Sam had met up with Max on the trail back he knew something was wrong then when Max told him the last he’d seen of you was you riding off on the back of Xavier’s horse he knew the worst was yet to come.

He rode up to the gate of the compound that housed the hospital set up “OPEN THE FUCKING GATE!” He didn't slow down and rode directly up to the door before climbing off his horse and nearly took the door off the hinges as he stormed inside with Sam and Benny close behind. 

He spotted Micheal the doctor that was over the place “Where is she? What the fuck happened here?” The place was a mess but most of the equipment appeared to be whole. There was evidence a fight had happened and your presence or the lack thereof was a sore thumb along with the puddle of blood in the center of the room.  “Dean you got to know I tried to stop her! I told her to stand down but she refused. She was determined to draw their attention from the power core” the shorter man was clearly scared and for good reason. Benny knowing Dean how he did managed to catch him before he broke the good doctor’s nose “Dean brother we need to hear what happened before we kill him” 

Micheal looked at Sam who shrugged “They’re not gonna kill you” When Micheal almost looked relieved Sam quickly added “But we may make you wish you were dead cause you’re probably gonna have to put yourself back together if we find out you hid while they took Y/N” 

Benny let go of Dean and had a hand around Micheal’s throat in the blink of an eye “Now doc me and you ain’t never had an issue but that girl is like a sister to all three of you. What the hell happened here?” “Jonah was with them” Micheal breathed out and Dean felt his blood run cold.

They never planned this to be an inspection. Josiah and Jonah both knew the one way to get at Bobby, Dean and Sam was to go after Y/N. “Son of a bitch. They were probably watching when we left. He planned the walk through to draw her out knowing she’d never stand by”

Benny dropped Micheal unceremoniously to the floor. “Go over what happened and don’t leave a word out” 

Everything hurt.You knew the moment you’d spotted that chestnut horse amongst the inspection crew that it had all been a lie. You’d been lured out and played directly into their hands. “I’LL KILL YOU” you growled diving at Xavier. You’d trusted him and he’d betrayed all of you. “Sorry Y/N they gave me a better offer than being an errand boy”

You had your hands around his throat when the door was kicked in and you heard a gun cock “Y/N let him go or I’ll kill them” you looked up to see a gun pointed towards Micheal the top doctor and Erika the top field medic. You slowly stood off of Xavier eyes never leaving Jonah’s masked face. “Good girl” he cooed then the moment Xavier was on his feet he put a bullet between his eyes. At your look he shrugged “He’s a rat. Don’t need any rats now do we?”

“Gonna take that mask off and let me see Dean’s handy work?” you taunted eyes flicking towards Micheal and Erika. “Are you going to be nice and come quietly or do my men need to beat you in compliance?” he replied so you squared your shoulders and planted your feet “If you plan on taking me you might as well throw your hat into the ring too darling cause this is gonna be one hell of a fight” 

You ended up coming back to consciousness in the newly reinforced cells of Kaper’s compound. You were certain you had a few broken ribs and the entire side of your face was slick with your own blood. You’d held true to your word. You’d given as much damage as you’d gotten and that was at an extreme disadvantage. The last thing you remembered was Jonah’s boot connecting with the side of your head hard. If you survived this you would make sure you were the last thing he ever saw and you had the comfort of knowing if you didn’t survive that Dean would be the last thing Jonah ever saw.

You had managed to push yourself into a seated position with your back against the wall when you heard boots coming in your direction. You were in pain and it would likely be a task to stand on your own but regardless you braced yourself for what would more than likely be another fight. 

When the footsteps stopped you looked up to see Jonah was standing at the door leading into the cell. He had his mask in his hand and the light from the torch on the wall flickered across the burns the corrosive had left behind on his face. “Damn you’re even uglier than you were before. At least the exterior completely matches the interior now” you grunted holding an arm around your hurting ribs as you forced yourself to stand up despite the pain radiating through you that moving caused.  “Keep talking you little bitch. Even now our group is already at your compound. Singer will be given seventy two hours to either deliver the power core or be delivered your corpse” “Bobby knows you’ll never keep your word. You’ll take the power core and kill me all for daddy dearest to make a play to be over the shambles that’s left of this country”

“But the thing about Bobby and the Winchester boys they don’t think with their heads a lot. They let their hearts do the thinking and you’re family. That whole group is insane enough to risk it all by coming after you. How many more will die this time for you to walk away?” “That wasn’t my fault. It was yours” you threw back and he smiled “And yet here you still stand having survived what? Seven years after them?” “You’re gonna kill me why not just finish me off now?” you asked and his smile turned sinister “Oh but why kill you quickly when I can make you beg for death?”

He pulled a key out of his pocket and slid it into the door when he stepped into the cell you took a deep breath before falling into a defensive posture. Whatever he had planned it wouldn’t go over easy on him.

“There’s not even an option. We hand over the fucking power core” Dean spoke from where he stood at the edge of the room. “How do we know they won’t kill her anyway?” Benny asked and a silence fell over the room because everyone was thinking what Benny had just given voice to “Well what the hell do you suggest Benny? Let them kill her with no qualms?” Max’s voice was laced with anger. Anger at himself for not being able to stop you from leaving and anger at the situation in general.

“We’re already at the eighteen hour mark since they took her. We need to do something and do it now!” Alicia cut in but before another word could be spoken Claire came running into the room “DEAN, SAM” both brothers turned to look at the blonde who was out of breath “The front gate! We need you!”

------

Most of the residents of the compound had been temporarily relocated rather to other areas or the caverns to get the non combatants out of harm’s reach which made it easier for moving around. Erika had bought her supplies and came back to help as well.

When Dean and Sam made it to the front gate they saw that Erika, Alex and Eileen were all three crouched around but couldn’t make out what until they got close enough to see you cradled in Dante Kaper’s arms while the three women worked to triage your wounds.  

“What the hell?” Dean demanded and at his voice you opened your eyes weakly “Don’t hurt him Dean” then your head rolled over to the side. “She’s ok. She just passed out. Dante get her up and let’s get her inside”

------

Erika had kicked everyone out of the room besides Eileen and Alex to work so that left Dean and Sam alone with Dante in the hall outside the room you were in. “Is that her blood?” Dean asked, pointing to Dante’s shirt. The other man glanced down almost robotically “Not all. Some of it is Jonah’s” 

“Excuse me?” Sam asked to ensure he’d heard right. Dante raised his eyes and Dean saw a fire there that almost made him want to like him “I killed him to save her life. I wasn’t there when they took her but the moment I got back to the compound my father called me into his quarters to brag. I found Jonah in her cell he planned to do worse than torture her…” his eyes had found their way back to the door that held you on the other side “I killed him without a second thought. I took her out the back and bought her here where I know she’s safe then I’m gonna go back and kill my father and everyone loyal to him”

“Is she worth that to you?” Dean asked, needing the answer before he allowed himself to give a Kaper even a sliver of trust “Why wouldn’t she be?” Dante replied and Dean gave him a sharp nod “Ok then. Want some help?”

------

You came to again when Eileen was washing the blood off of your face. “Eileen?” you whispered but she saw your lips move and looked up to your eyes and smiled “Thank god. What do you remember?” “Jonah..a blade slicing through him...a horse ride..Dante’s coat being around me and telling Dean not to hurt him”

She nodded “Good no concussion then” you looked around slowly “Where is everyone” you signed a bit sloppy but she got the point. “Waiting for you to wake up” “How long have I been out?” you asked and she grimaced which told you it’d been a while “A week” 

Before you could have a complete freakout the door cracked open and Alicia poked her head in “You’re awake!” “It appears�� you groaned trying to sit up before her and Eileen moved to help you. They shared a look then Eileen signed “I’m gonna go find the boys”

Once she walked out you looked over at Alicia who’d sat next to you “What happened while I was napping?” she laughed “Oh a revolution?” “Huh?” you questioned and she shrugged “Bobby can explain it better but just know our lives are going to be a lot more peaceful” “Where’s Dante?” you asked worry for him suddenly hitting you like a blow to the gut. “He’s fine honey. That’s one of the boys Eileen went to find”

------

You were sitting up with your feet curled under you nursing the glass of water Alicia had gotten you when the door opened again and Eileen walked in, trailed by Dean,Bobby,Sam,Benny and an unsure looking Dante.

Your crew all hugged you then you locked eyes with Dante and shared a small smile “You killed your brother for me” “He was an asshole anyways” he replied which caused a light laugh to spread across the room. “What happened while I was out?” you asked looking at Bobby who smiled “Long story short? Josiah is dead. David is back and over the civilians proven to not be under Josiah’s rule. The militia is being cleared out of dirty members as we speak and we have doubled the side of our hospital set up in the last three days”

You cut your eyes at Dante “What are you gonna do now?” Dean slung an arm around his shoulder and winked at you “Well Y/N not to put words in his mouth but I believe he was hoping to stick around and get to know you a bit better now that you’re not sworn enemies anymore” “If that’s good with you. If not I can always head home now that David is over it?” he offered and you smiled “I think I’d like you sticking around a bit”  His smile told you that was the answer he’d been hoping for.

@girl-next-door-writes

@littlemessyjessi