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ninthcircleofprythian · 5 months ago

Text

Unbound

Part 5 - As The World Caves In

Summary - Not having a mating bond didn't stop the love Azriel and Celeste have for each other or their commitment. When an unknown magic lingering from Celeste's past causes her to lose all memories of the last century, will they be able to rebuild their life without a bond tethering them together?

Word Count - 8.2k

Warnings - character in pain, mentions of past abuse/DV, flashback dream, mentions/allusion to torture, vomiting, description of wounds, wing amputation, mention of blood, character has a panic attack, mentions/allusion to sex, seizure, memory loss, character injuring another character, talk of/description of scars.

Author's Note - make sure you checked those warnings y'all. We are getting into the thick of it now.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Hair braided and skin burnished into a rosy pink from scrubbing, Celeste sat back in bed reclining against the headboard. Az had insisted on carrying her like an invalid and she had given up on insisting she was fine. In fact she was beginning to question herself whether she was fine. The pain that had dulled temporarily was beginning to ramp up once again. Pulsing with a deep throb behind her eyes and now settling into her front teeth. She rubbed at her lip, testing the pain’s response to applied pressure.

The click of the door opening caught her attention and Azriel entered, carrying a tray with some food. He circled the bed, moving to place the tray on the nightstand instead of over her lap. The smell that wafted from the steaming bowl was actually making her feel a bit queasy but she held that to herself.

“Just let her take a look, okay?” He asked gently, knowing that healers usually made the worst patients and expecting her refusal. He met her look with concern as he took a standing position on the other side of the night stand.

Before she could gather his meaning, a knuckle rapped on the half open door followed by a lilting voice. “Knock knock.” Sweet, willowy Marin trailed in with her tote already being slipped from her shoulder. Dropping it onto the chest at the foot of the bed, she began digging inside.

“Isn’t very often we meet like this,” she bantered, carrying a hint of humor. “What exactly did you get yourself into since earlier this afternoon?” She dripped a couple drops of oil into her palm from the bottle she dug from her bag. It was mostly used as a conduit to aid in gathering information through touch.

“Nothing. I came right home after I left you,” Celeste responded with a shrug.

Marin rubbed her hands together slowly, testing the soft heat of the aided magic between her own palms first. “And when did the headache start?”

Celeste shot a questioning look in Azriel’s direction wondering what exactly he told her before she came into the room. Marin caught the gaze and answered. “You were rubbing your temple earlier when I saw you,” she motioned for Celeste to lie back. “But he did tell me what he knew, as he should have.”

Azriel felt a flicker of admiration at her perception of Celeste’s pain earlier. He didn’t know as much about her as he did Selah, only that Marin was known to be a bit of a partier, frequenting Rita’s nearly as often as Mor.

Picking up on the tense aura radiating from him, Celeste addressed Azriel from her reclined position. “Az, sweetheart, stop hovering.”

Arms crossed and wings tense, shadows closing the distance between them he responded, “I’m not hovering.”

“It’s okay,” Marin smiled. “It doesn’t bother me.” She laid her fingertips gingerly to Celeste’s forehead, holding her smile with a nod toward Az. Turning to assess her patient, she gave Celeste a sly wink. “So when did the headache start?”

“This morning after I left the house,” she responded, eyes drifting closed. “I thought it was still from the hangover the night before.”

“Did you feel well when you woke up this morning?” Marin’s fingers continued their trailing sweeps. Azriel’s shadows had inched over and were now following her fingertips. “Curious little things aren’t they?” Marin said with a giggle.

“Az.” Celeste admonished. “You’re hovering.”

“I am not,” he said stoically.

“They’re cute.” Marin lifting one finger to swirl a little vortex of shadows before continuing her palpation down the side of Celeste’s face.

“They’re not puppies,” Az spoke sharply.

Celeste whipped her head in his direction. “Azriel!” She immediately regretted the movement, hissing in a breath between her teeth.

Az dropped his crossed arms and rocked forward into movement, smoothly bringing himself to stand just behind Marin’s shoulder. Marin’s hands had pulled back and she rubbed them together once more.

“Where exactly is the pain? And what does it feel like?” she queried.

Celeste settled herself into position again before answering. “Right here,” she said, pointing above her eyebrow. “And behind my eyes, like a throbbing ache. And right before you came in I felt it like a pulse in my teeth. The light bothers me too. And my neck feels stiff and painful when I move too quickly.”

Az’s brow furrowed into a deep crease as his shadows again gathered over him.

Marin resumed her feather light touches, this time focusing along Celeste’s scar. “How exactly did you get this?”

Celeste tensed at the same time Azriel did. A creak of the leather coming from his siphon gloves as he balled up his hands. Her scar, while she had accepted and grown to love it, wasn’t something she spoke about often. Hardly ever in fact. Azriel was obviously aware of its origins and she had recounted the history to Nesta in confidence. She had alluded to her past with the others through a handful of conversations but left them to assume based on the context of how her scar had come to be.

“You don’t think that has anything to do with my headache do you? I’ve had it for well over a century,” she stated.

“Mmm, it’s unlikely. But I am picking up a strange energy that seems to only be coming from the scar,” Marin’s face squinted in contemplation. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“What kind of energy?” Azriel stepped closer. The shadow’s earlier warning rang through his thoughts as that same wispy strand made its way to curl around his ear again. Az’s face tightened in concentration trying to pinpoint further the feeling it conveyed to him.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Marin answered, eyes still on Celeste. “But it’s old. It’s been there since the injury was made.” She moved her hands to her lap. “It’s alright. You don’t have to tell me if you aren’t comfortable.”

Celeste’s heart pounded in her chest at the same moment a small spark of rage hit her. The fear she felt at even the mention of her scar’s origin made her angry. She was tired of that fear popping up randomly and controlling her.

“No, it’s fine,” she stated forcefully. “My previous–” the word husband had nearly slipped out, so used to referring to Azriel. She swallowed before continuing. “My previous–partner did this. He was extremely cruel and—”

Az reached in front of Marin, whose eyebrows had raised slightly at the mention of a previous serious partner. He placed a scarred hand over one of Celeste’s and squeezed, his face grim and eyes burning a heated golden green.

“And he slashed my face as punishment for one of the times I tried to escape.” Celeste swallowed thickly again fighting back the tears, squeezing the hand in return.

Marin astutely honed in on the word escape and the implication that the attempt wasn’t the only one. She sighed a heavy breath and gave Celeste an apologetic look, but didn’t comment any further.

“Well your heart rate is good. I don’t detect any signs of bleeding, swelling or injury,” she stood to collect her things, sidling past Az’s wings. “And you are free from infection. I’ll leave you this.” She pulled out a vial of tablets and deposited it into Azriel’s waiting hand. Celeste recognized it as a curative for motion sickness. “Take one every four hours for the dizziness and pressure. You can continue the papavera if you feel you need it but I would only take half doses. If you don’t feel better in the morning, let me know.”

“Thanks Marin.” Celeste called as Marin reached the door, Azriel trailing behind her.

“Would you like me to get you home?” He asked, obviously attempting a less severe demeanor.

“Thanks, but it's alright. I’d prefer to walk.” Marin flashed a brief smile before slipping out the door.

Azriel allowed her to let herself out and returned to the bed, tipping one small red tablet into his palm. “Take this.”

“You scared her.” Celeste noted as she reached for the water next to her and grabbed the pill. Throwing it in her mouth and swallowing, her eyes didn’t leave Azriel’s face as she mentally chided him.

“I didn’t scare her,” he responded seriously.

“You hovered,” Celeste managed a weak pull at the corner of her mouth.

“I didn’t hover,” he spoke softly, knowing she was trying to lighten the mood with humor. “Are you–,” he started to ask.

“I’m fine.” It came out more harsh than she intended. She felt a strange mix of fear and anger swirling briefly as she answered. “It’s–just.” She drew in breath before sighing resignedly. “I’m fine.”

Azriel didn’t utter a word, knowing she was no longer referring to the pain in her head, holding that mask of perfect neutrality as he stole another squeeze against her hand.

Later as velvety twilight darkness fully enveloped the room, a single faelight burned above Az’s nightstand, the tip of his wing carefully positioned so that it wasn’t glaring into Celeste’s eyesight. She reclined, head tilted back, still propped against the headboard as Az shuffled through the stack of paper he was reading. He plucked out a small map, holding it side by side to whatever report he was studying, his roving eyes referencing between the two.

Celeste slowly rolled her neck toward his side of the bed, staring wistfully at his strong profile as she studied the emotions in her own mind.

Noticing her look, Az shifted his wing up to further cover the light. “Is it bothering you? I can be done now, it’s not important.” He dropped the papers to his lap as he began gathering them into a neat stack.

“Do you think my scar has anything to do with the pain?” Her voice was hushed in the quiet room.

He used the beat of a moment it took to set the papers aside on his nightstand to subdue the flare of anger that sparked in his chest. “I don’t know,” he said, now turning to face her. “The energy Marin mentioned is intriguing though.”

Celeste sat and digested that for a moment, rolling it around in her brain as if she hadn’t just sat there doing the same thing for the last many minutes. “Yeah. Intriguing,” she said, still barely above a whisper.

Azriel held the space quietly, waiting to see if her rolling thoughts would produce more words. He didn’t move to touch her or urge her into speaking. It was always her choice how much she wanted to talk about these things and he knew she hated feeling pitied over it.

“How come I’ve never felt it though? This energy? Don’t you think I would have known it was there?” Her eyes held a tender pleading in them, almost willing him to have the answer.

His own eyes narrowed, trying to gauge the thoughts that were swirling behind her dark eyes. “I’m not really sure,” he started. He thought of the possibility that the object used to create her scar had held some sort of magic unknown to Celeste. Thinking of magical objects, his thoughts flashed to that fearsome mask that Nesta had once placed on herself centuries before. How the powerful pull of that mask had bled into her very being, changing her to the point of being something else, no longer able to distinguish herself from the mask. He mentally shook the thought away, careful to not allow the internal shiver to slip past his own mask.

“Sometimes objects can carry a magic that can be imparted to other things,” he pondered aloud, eyes remaining unfocused.

Celeste jumped at his words like she had been touched by a shock of faelight. Heat rushed to her face and the burn reached her eyes in a flash. “I’m not an object,” her voice wavered, well above a whisper now.

Immediately realizing his choice of words, Az no longer held the space but shifted abruptly to meet her. One arm slid along her shoulders to pull her body to him as the other curved up along her face to press her into his chest. “Sweetheart, I didn’t mean it like that,” his voice low and close to her ear. “That’s not what I meant. At all.”

His fingers folded themselves into her hair, rubbing at her scalp. She allowed the reprieve of his warmth to surround her. She knew that wasn’t what he meant. In the depths of her soul she knew that Az had never viewed her as an object, something to be possessed. The anger that built inside the cavernous void of her chest wasn’t at him, but herself. She knew she was loved here, in this life she had built for herself. She knew she was cared for and free and most importantly, safe. She loathed the creeping feeling of fear that popped up into her safe little bubble. She hated that the memories of her past sometimes bled into the life she had drowned them out with.

It was in the rare times like this, when the emotions made her body harder to read, that Azriel wished for a mating bond. If only he could feel what was storming around inside her. He wished for a golden thread connecting the deepest parts of their souls so he could feel her feelings instead of interpreting them. He hated feeling helpless in knowing how to help her. He wished he could shoot his own feelings down a bond to her instead of relying on the words that came so hard for him.

Celeste shuddered against the hard muscle of his chest, a poorly stifled sob escaping her. “I know,” her voice quivered. “I know that’s not what you meant.”

He felt her wipe her face along his chest, nuzzling as if to burrow inside his body, trying to settle inside his ribcage. The emotional chasm that she had once opened there, throbbed. If it were physically possible to tear himself open and let her in, he would have. He pulled both his arms tighter around her.

A few beats of silence passed, both of them sitting in perfect stillness before she sighed a heaving sigh and pulled to sit up. “I’m tired,” she voiced, moving to slide her body down the mattress. Azriel grabbed the edge of the covers, lifting them to allow her to settle comfortably. Propped on one elbow she leaned toward her nightstand, fingers grabbing the tiny bottle of papavera still sitting there. He notefully watched her measure out a dose before tossing her head back to swallow it.

Turning over to extinguish the faelight still burning, he heard the glass bottle being replaced on the stand. Darkness immediately took over and he moved by feel alone to curl around her folded body, spreading a wing like a cocoon over them both. Slowly the shadows broke the silence as they danced along Azriel’s ear, echoing the same question he had already asked himself.

Which pain is she trying to dull?

She was cold. She felt her shoulders dance a small shiver as she reached behind her, grabbing for the covers that Az was no doubt hogging. Instead of soft fabric, her nails scraped against even colder cement. Her eyes flew open in confusion but her sense of sight was only met with the pitch black of night.

Pushing up forcefully against where the mattress should have been beneath her only added to her bewilderment before a searing hot slice of pain rendered her nearly unconscious. Celeste lay there, arms folded beneath her chest, heaving on the cold floor and willing herself to not vomit.

A dream. This is a dream. It’s not real.

The pain and the feel of the hard surface beneath her crashed through her memory. She remembered this. She didn’t want to be here.

This is a dream. It’s not real.

But it certainly didn’t feel like a dream. The fuzzy edges of sleep that normally pervaded her mind in dreaming weren’t there. The almost weightless feel of her body that happened as she moved was not present. Pushing up again, she willed her brain to wake up, hoping that clamoring from the bed would kick start her mind into reality.

“This is a—” she spoke aloud as she shoved upward. Again, she was assaulted with the blinding hot pain that collapsed her. A pain that was originating directly between her shoulders.

“It’s not real,” she wept openly, forehead to the floor.

“I assure you,” a slithering voice echoed in the cement chamber, a ball of bluish faelight now rising to the ceiling. “This is very real.”

Whipping her head to one side, unwilling to attempt rising again, Celeste was met with the one face she had hoped she would never see again.

“No,” she sobbed, nearly retching. The feeling of the soup she ate earlier rising, burning her throat. The sensation rattled her sense of reality.

“Yes,” Tyrik corrected. His thin frame sat upon a low stool, much too low for his height. He was leaning over, legs spread far apart, elbows propped atop his knees. One hand was held open palmed toward the ceiling, controlling the movement of that small ball of light. In the other, he twirled something thin and flat in his fingers. “I did have to get a bit creative. But it was only to teach you a lesson.”

Celeste had ceased repeating her mantra over and over in her head. She felt as if she had no control over her mind and how to shake herself out of this nightmare. Feelings she had buried long ago were taking over and controlling the synapses firing in her brain. She didn’t feel like herself. She didn’t feel like the version of herself that she had worked so hard to transform into. Everything about what was going on around her flooded her nervous system and she felt the shift latch into place. The shift to the shaking, cowering, terrified Celeste. She just laid there, resigned to the forces at play around her.

“I will say it did pain me some to have to resort to such measures,” Tyrik continued deviously. “What a shame to see such a magnificent looking set be destroyed.”

Celete’s attention was drawn to his hand, the one that had been toying with the thin object. Tyrik swept his fingers across his temple, moving to rid his face of his long strands of sandy hair, before tucking the object behind his ear.

Her heart stopped. All the blood in her limbs ceased to circulate. Her body was washed over with a shocking cold, not from the floor or the room surrounding her, but from the outright panic. Behind his ear sat a long, thin feather, almost the same sandy color as the hair surrounding it, but flecked with deep points of brown. This time she couldn’t hold the wave back any longer as she barely turned her head in time to purge her stomach onto the stone floor.

“It does seem to have had the desired effect though,” Tyrik droned on, his coal black eyes not meeting Celeste’s at all, but staring almost hungrily at the large open wounds along her back. “You definitely lost the fight you had in you earlier.”

Celeste couldn’t go without air any longer, her brain forcing her to gasp a forceful breath which she then shuddered out into another heaving sob. The pain was becoming too much. Maybe if she could control her arms once more she could push herself to the point of unconsciousness and slip out of this gods awful hellscape.

Before she could gather the willpower and strength to do so, Tyrik rose from his seat approaching Celeste across the short distance between them, his voice hardening. “I want you to remember, my pet,” he said as he moved into a squat next to her face. “I could have let you bleed out. But what a waste that would have been.” Tyrik trailed his knuckles down her cheek as Celeste screwed her eyes shut. The stench of his cloying sandalwood scent made her gut lurch dangerously again.

“Let this serve as your reminder,” he breathed, closing the distance between them, fingers still dancing along her cheek. “Of the so few options you have left next time.”

He abruptly rose to standing at his full height. Celeste kept her eyes forced closed, not watching him leave. With a flick of his wrist he poised the ball of faelight against the far wall before slamming the heavy door into place. The sound of grinding metal setting the lock still rang in her ears long after he was gone. Celeste just remained frozen, taking up her mantra again.

This is a dream. It isn’t real.

After a long measured silence, she had nearly convinced herself that when she opened her eyes she would be awake. Even though she could still feel the frigid cold under her, she expected the warm light of morning to be filling her room. The room she shared with Azriel.

Azriel.

My husband.

The thought of him hit her squarely in the chest with a pounding reminder that she had escaped. This prison was no longer her life.

Az. My husband.

“Azriel, Az, Az.” She pleaded her new mantra aloud and she willed her eyes open wildly. Instead of the soft light of day, she was met with the harsh blue of the faelight—and what it was left there to illuminate. Her reminder.

Beautiful flaxen wings, soft feathers spread as if about to take flight, attached to still dripping cartilage and bone. Separated from the body they belonged to and nailed haphazardly into stone.

She had no time to think or plan her movements, her body’s response to the gruesome sight taking over her muscles, shoving herself full force from the floor with a choking gasp.

As she bolted upright from sleep Celeste’s brain didn’t even register the bright light of late morning spilling in through the windows. Gagging down the urge to scream she began gulping down air in retching gasps. Her mind was still telling her she was trapped as her legs flailed about in the tangle of sheets. Ripping them from her body in a panic, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and nearly toppled forward, grasping the nightstand with her left hand to catch herself.

She sat there holding that position as the fog of sleep and the dream evaporated and she had willed herself to stop hyperventilating. With a strong squeeze of her hand, Celeste gripped the edge of the table grounding herself back to reality. Swiveling her stare toward the same table, she assured herself that her senses weren’t deceiving her. A shimmer of sapphire caught her attention.

Her ring. The one given to her by Azriel on that Solstice long ago. A shock rocked through her and she nearly choked out a laugh in relief, the mantra of his name still echoing inside her brain as she continued to calm her nerves. Releasing her grip on the table she clutched her hand to her chest in reassurance as she fingered along the band’s edge. The slip of paper on top of the nightstand caught her attention.

I cleared your schedule.

-Az

His slanted neat script was scrawled along the paper. Short and simple and to the point. As she stared at those two little letters of his name, she felt that deep void in her chest shrink and the lingering panic swept away.

Righting herself to stand, she had the jarring realization that the floor wasn’t about to tilt from under her. The memory of last night trickled back to her and she discovered that the pain in her head was gone. Not a single twinge or throb remained.

Celeste made her way into the washroom on slightly trembling legs. As she brushed her teeth she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were bright without any darkness beneath them from lack of sleep and she felt well rested but noticed she was still a bit shaky as she dropped her toothbrush back into the holder.

From the bedroom she heard a familiar soft swooshing sound, the subtle displacement of air that told her Azriel had just winnowed into their room. Peeking her head around the doorframe she saw the shadows nearly covering him beginning to dissipate. Before they could even reveal his full form, she tread across the room throwing her arms around his waist.

A forced exhale of air escaped him on impact as he rocked back on his heels, momentarily startled by her intensity. “Hey,” he said as he slipped his arms around her in return. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” Her response came out slightly muffled as she pressed her nose into the front of him, breathing in a deep inhale. The familiar scent of chilled night air and cedar flooded her senses. The scent of Az.

It was just a dream.

Az. Az. Az.

“You sure?” he asked as she felt his arms pull her tighter against her.

“Yeah. No headache or dizziness or anything.”

Azriel’s hands moved to her shoulders as he gently nudged her back to study her face. The concern and disbelief were evident in his features.

“Really Az. I feel great.” She said, “I just had a bad dream, that's all.”

She relaxed into his embrace once more, turning her head against his chest. Azriel pressed his lips to the top of her head and drew her in tighter, his thumbs moving in sweeping arcs along her back.

Pulling in another breath of him, Celeste was reminded of the Night Court woods. After escaping Tyrik she had snuck through the ports to stowaway on a boat and made the long journey over the sea. Even after landing in a new land, Prythian, the paranoia and fear still had a hold on her and Celeste was determined to put as much distance between her and her former captor as possible. So she traveled through darkness and rough weather for weeks until she no longer felt the urge to keep going. One night in the woods, staring up at the most beautiful night sky she had ever seen, she had finally felt safe. Celeste had often wondered over the years if there was some connection. Some cosmic reason why the person she chose to spend her life with and the place she first felt safe both smelled the same.

Az broke the silence, the rumble of his voice vibrating against her ear. “Hungry?”

“Starving.” She answered, pulling away with a smile.

As they descended the stairs together Az’s hand slipped to the small of her back from habit. Reaching the bottom of the stairs Celeste found a familiar face perched at her dining room table.

“Good morning sunshine,” Cassian sing-songed at her as she made her way to her seat.

“Morning, Cassian,” she responded before turning to Azriel as he placed a plate in front of her. “I told you if we fed the strays, they would keep coming back.”

Azriel let out a throaty chuckle as Cassian’s face went from shocked to playful in a heartbeat.

“Somebody woke up chipper today,” he said slyly. “And for your information, I already ate. I just have some time to kill before–well, before nothing.”

“You ate here earlier this morning.” Az retorted. As he took a seat beside her, Celeste reached out and rested her hand on his thigh, giving a small squeeze. His own hand settled on top of hers. Before he could even bring his mug to his lips a harsh knock sounded on the door.

“We’re moving,” Azriel directed at Celeste in jest even as he moved to answer the door. As much as he griped about the constant intrusions, he actually loved it. Having his family close by and comfortable enough to gather in his home uninvited was one of Azriel’s secret prides. The lack of Celeste’s smile at his joke however gave him a second of pause. He observed her eyes unfocused in thought with her fork hanging empty mid air before his lingering shadows along her arm started her back into the present. He felt that little seed of worry beginning to bloom as he moved to open the door.

“Hello Nes,” he greeted. No response came, instead Nesta went storming into the dining room, shoes clacking loudly upon the floor and her face pulled into a serious scowl.

“So this is your plan is it?” She raged at Cassian as Azriel resumed his seat at the table. “To come begging pity at your brother’s house because you're hungry instead of apologizing?”

“You know I can’t think clearly on an empty stomach, my love.” Cassian smirked at her with a childish gleam in his eye.

Nesta’s growl came out as half a scream in frustration directly at him as Celeste reached to the sideboard behind her to grab the coffee urn. “Coffee, Nes?” She asked calmly.

Spinning on her heel and raising a pointed finger towards Celeste, Nesta spat through gritted teeth. “And you –”

The movement jerked Azriel into motion, the wing closest to Celeste flaring out in defense as he slid his chair back in preparation to stand, hands grabbing the table. “Easy,” he warned. The depth of his voice sent a chill over Celeste’s skin. She knew he didn’t see Nesta as a threat but the events of last night had him on edge. She ran a soothing hand down his arm before slipping her hand into his.

Cassian smirked even wider at his brother as Nesta took a huffing breath and dropped her hand to smooth her skirt. “I thought you were on my side,” she continued to Celeste. The sharp daggers of her glare softened, showing a glimmer of hurt. “And here you are feeding him while I’m trying to hunger strike him into an apology.”

Celeste leaned toward the end of the table where Nesta stood rigidly, grabbing her hand in consolation. “Nes, honey, I am on your side.”

“Wait a second,” Cas interjected which she pointedly ignored before continuing.

“But I can’t fight this fight for you.” Celeste squeezed her hand before dropping it and returning to her coffee. “Also, I don’t think that is how a hunger strike works.”

With a heavy sigh, Nesta slumped into the end chair and crossed her arms. “I was out of other ideas.”

Cassian straightened himself to his full seated height. “For the record I would just like to state that I didn’t do any–”

“Admit the defeat brother,” Az interrupted as he gathered Celeste’s empty plate. “It’s for the best.”

“I know,” Cassian said in reluctant defeat. “But I just can’t help riling her up sometimes. It makes the apology that much sweeter.” He threw a heated stare at Nesta as she whipped her head towards him.

“Is that what this is about?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “All this for the make-up sex? Seriously, Cas?” When his continued silence was his only response, she rose from her seat slowly. “Home. Now.”

Celeste tittered a laugh into her hand as Az wrinkled his nose at the scents that had permeated the air. Before Cassian could make it to the entryway, he spun around clutching his head.

“Damn you Rhys! The worst fucking timing.”

Celeste’s eyes swung to Azriel as he barked out a laugh, then watched his eyes slowly unfocus as he was now receiving the same incoming message inside his head as Cassian.

Before Nesta could scream in frustration herself, Celeste sidled up to her. “C’mon Nes, I finished that book I was telling you about. You can borrow it. I’m sure you can find some great ideas in it for later.”

“Fine.” Nesta huffed as she joined Celeste climbing the stairs.

As they climbed the wide staircase, Celeste began to feel her heart pound harder with each step. Just a few short steps from the top and it had reached a racing thud in her ears and her vision began to dim. She clutched at her chest with one hand and gripped the banister with the other.

“Celeste?” Nesta paused, her voice laced with concern as she gripped Celeste’s forearm in an attempt to steady her.

“I’m ok. I just –” Inhaling deeply, Celeste tried to gather herself. One deep breath in and out had the blackness receding from the edges of her vision. The next and the thudding reduced to a light canter in her chest. “I think I just need to sit down. Help me to the study.”

“We have to head over to the River House,” Az’s voice carried through the entryway as he and Cassian filed out from the dining room. “We will –”

Just as her final footstep landed at the top of the stairs, Celeste felt a thrum of pain shoot through her, encompassing her head and zinging down her spine. She didn't even feel the clash of marble against her kneecaps as she slammed down and doubled over in pain with a yelp.

“Celeste!” The panic was immediate in Azriel’s voice as he leapt up the stairs, Cassian on his heels. Nesta was clinging onto her waist in an effort to keep Celeste from tumbling backwards down the staircase.

“I don’t know what happened.” Nesta’s voice wavered. “She was dizzy or something and then just collapsed.”

“Celeste, sweetheart.” Landing onto his own knees in front of her, Azriel slid his hands to cradle her face. “Talk to me.”

Celeste could hear the fear in his voice. She was trying to concentrate on the feel of his hands against her skin and suck in a deep breath before her own fear took over. She was willing herself to suck in a gasping inhale, feeling her chest heaving but no air moving as another thrum of pain clanged through her and with a rasping scream everything went black.

Everything was happening out of order and flying by in quick succession as if the memories were a deck of cards being shuffled. The pain was too great to make sense of anything. Tyrik’s voice said words that were unintelligible. Her bloodied wings stretched out and nailed to the wall. The bobbing blue of the faelight. The searing pain was no longer just in her shoulders but it was everywhere, everywhere, everywhere. This time when she pushed herself off the floor there was no more pain, just black - and quiet.

Celeste’s eyes slowly peeled open, her body felt as if it was weighed down. The waning evening light filtering into the room. A single tear slid down her cheek and into her ear, but that's the only thing she felt. Lying on her back she dully registered there was no pain in her shoulders but it felt as if she had been crying for days. Her head was pounding and the light hurt her eyes. As still as possible, she surveyed the room around her, one she did not recognize. This wasn’t the cold windowless room buried beneath the estate. A flare of panic rose in her chest knowing it must be fairly dire for her to be up here in one of the guest rooms.

I was caught. Again.

Celeste fought the urge to sob as the panic flared again and threatened to obliterate her stillness. One deep sly inhale through her nose and she mastered the emotion, shoving it down forcefully knowing that any impulsive reaction would only bring harsher punishments.

“Hey,” a whisper soft voice pulled her attention. “You gave us quite a scare.”

The tow haired female was sitting elegantly to her left, leaned forward slightly, her face hopeful with a sad concern creasing her brow. Another striking female stood beside her, similar in look but with more rounded features, her hand clutching on the shoulder next to her. Although Celeste did not recognize them it didn’t scare her. She usually didn’t remember being seen by the healers, their faces all blending into a blur of the tragedies they are called to mend.

The sound of the healer’s voice triggered a movement that caught Celeste’s attention. A dark hulking pair of wings stirred from the back corner of the room, whipping around to reveal a severe face. The worry clearly written across it confused her.

He probably faces punishment if I die.

His long strides brought him to the foot of the bed in a heartbeat, scarred hands gripping the footboard and strange shadows hovering over his shoulders. A second male popped up from the seat he had been occupying during their conversation, broader in frame and even more imposing. Side by side, winged and staring down at her with bright hazel eyes.

Guards.

The word slammed into her thoughts, inciting that flare of fear once more. Their job to assure her cooperation no doubt, or to enact punishment on Tyrik’s behalf. Either way, Celeste’s outcome is not ideal. She didn’t recognize these males either, but their sheer size and muscular build tells her they are here for one thing. Brute strength.

Dread crested again, this time proving harder to push away, but she tried anyway knowing it could mean her survival. Tears fell steadily now and Celeste pushed herself to sit quickly, startling the faces surrounding her but needing to move her body to expend the jittery energy.

“Celeste,” the scar handed male uttered gruffly. At the same time Celeste blurted out, “Is he here?”

She hadn't spotted Tyrik’s face in the room. The question brought an even more tightened and confused look to that dark male’s face. Snapping her attention back to the healers, Celeste found their brows drawn in similar confusion.

“Where is he?” She questioned them, no longer holding down the racing panic. “How mad is he? Please don’t put me back there.” Her voice wavering and reaching a crescendo of fear.

The sitting healer jumped up from her seat, grabbing for Celeste’s hand. “No one is putting you anywhere, honey,” she said in a rush, her nimble fingers caressing Celeste’s hand in a grip. The words didn’t register, the fear of her mind having overridden every thought process other than her survival.

“Nes, I don’t think–” the second healer started but her words were clipped off, startled by Celeste’s next move.

With a quickness, she pulled herself into a kneel, the soft mattress giving way under her knees. Immediately noticing the sensation she expected was missing. The searing pain between her shoulders was gone but this realization only served as tinder to the fire of her panic.

“I won’t try again. I swear I’ll obey. I’ll do anything. Just please don’t take me back there.” Celeste was sobbing beyond control now, her hands grabbing at her face feeling for the raw wound, only to find smooth, raised skin where the weeks old slash should be. The confusion launched her into the height of panic and the next sob came out in more of a scream.

Now beside the bed, the scarred handed male reached out and attempted to grab her wrist. “Celeste–” his voice came out tight with worry. “Sweetheart.”

Before she could even process his plea, another body rushed through the door. This male unwinged and with searing violet eyes.

“What the–” Rhys started, but chaos erupted.

Feeling as if she was being cornered, Celeste screamed. A guttural, begging scream as she scrambled backwards, slamming her back into the headboard. Azriel’s extended arm, having just grabbed hold of Celeste’s wrist, was met with hot pain as she tore her nails down his forearm in long ripping gashes, her eyes feral like a wild animal.

Rhys swept in and herded Feyre and Nesta out of harm’s way just as Cassian swiftly wrapped his arms around Azriel from behind, pulling him back across the room over his roaring protests. In his own panic he clawed at Cas’s hold, the beading blood from his arm smearing brightly over them both.

“I know,” Cas whispered lowly in his ear. “I know.”

Celeste continued her wild pleading from the bed. “I won’t try again. Please, don’t let him kill me.”

Rhys turned his wild look towards Marin and Selah who had hurried in the room behind him as he continued to usher his mate and her sister towards the door.

“Do something. Now.” Pure High Lord command in his voice.

Quickly assessing their patient's crouched form, Selah attempted to approach Celeste calmly, hands raised to show she wasn’t a threat. “Hey, it’s ok. Everything is ok.”

There’s no way out of this. I’ve injured a guard. I’ve tried to escape again. He will never trust me. He’s going to kill me.

Celeste’s mind snapped and in that instant she decided that she would rather die at the hands of a stranger than have Tyrik ever lay hands on her again.

With surprising quickness, she launched herself from the bed and onto the body of the approaching healer.

Selah went down with a startled yelp, head crashing into the floor with a thud. A wild scream tore from Celeste’s throat, sounding terrifyingly close to the cry of the wild cats that resided in the mountains outside the city.

On instinct, Cassian released his wrapped hold on his brother, knowing that his urge to rush to her in this moment would be too strong even for him to hold back. Cas was strong, but not strong enough to keep his brother from his wife in this state for long.

As his arms pulled back however, Az stumbled. Clutching his still bleeding arm, eyes glazed over, Cassian recognized the shock immediately. The split second decision was made as he rushed to Celeste and poor Selah, still trapped under her.

From the doorway, Rhys’ own instincts jumped in. He swiftly took Cassian’s place, planting himself between Azriel and the action behind him while sending out a pulse of power around them both before Az could gather his bearings and join the charge.

Cassian’s muscled arms attempted to repeat the hold around Celeste, but she was wild with fear, screaming and flailing out of his grasp. He didn’t want to hurt her, his heart was already in his throat at the idea that she was terrified of him. Instead, he grabbed at the shirt she had been changed into, slipping his arm through the slits at the back meant for Azriel’s wings, and hauled her still kicking onto the bed.

Silently, he thanked the Mother above that Marin was at the ready, poised for action. The needled vial slipped into Celeste’s shoulder before Cas even had time to hold her still. Her thrashing mellowed in just a breath, her wild heartbeat racing the sedative along her body. With a final sluggish kick of her feet and a heartbreaking whimper, she slid into drugged slumber.

“So how much do we tell her?” Feyre asked from her seat by the fireplace, hands wringing in her lap.

“First we need to know how much she remembers,” Rhys stated from next to her, hand placed comfortingly on her knee. “Then go from there.”

A wretched noise escaped Azriel’s throat, despite his attempt at suppressing it, his hands gripping the back of Nesta’s empty chair for dear life. Cassian sidled closer from his place next to him, tucking his own wings in tightly to make the move. He was careful not to tread on the edge of Az’s dragging wings and threw his arm over his brother's slumped shoulders. Az’s shadows briefly scattered before returning to envelope them both.

They had all gathered in the cozy living space of Az and Celeste’s townhouse, chairs cobbled together from the dining room and pushed into all the available space. The entire Inner Circle, minus Mor, and a few of the healers from the group Celeste managed. After the panicked flurry of finding out something had happened to the alarming ordeal of Celeste waking up, they were all more than a little shell-shocked.

“And how exactly do we do that? She woke up fighting like a caged animal.” Amren said flatly from her spot on the sofa. “Not exactly a good time to start peppering her with questions.”

A low attempt at a growl came from Azriel in warning. Cassian tightened his grip along his shoulders in a squeeze. Leaning into his side, he pressed his head into Az’s temple and whispered something softly to him.

Feyre briefly noted what a sadly beautiful painting that snapshot in time would make but dismissed it quickly knowing no one would want to commemorate a time like this.

Rhys had already given a severe violet look in Amren’s direction in a warning before continuing. “Well, we at least know where she thinks she is, so that gives us a start. We need to —”

“We need to convince her she is safe.” Nesta’s firm voice interrupted from the doorway, returning from her bedside vigil. “She needs to know she is safe before anything else.”

Azriel’s head snapped up upon hearing Nesta return. Catching his intense stare she added, “Selah is with her.” The comment meant only for him and his worry. She continued, addressing the rest of them. “She thinks she’s still back in Valhallan. We have to assure her she is safe, which means you can’t be there when she wakes up again.” She nodded toward Marin.

During the chaos that ensued with Celeste’s wild panic, Marin had done the only thing she could think to do and sedated her.

Marin nodded weakly back in acknowledgment. “I–I’m sorry,” she hiccupped. “I didn’t know wh–what else to do.” One of the other healers reached out and clasped Marin’s hand in her own.

“You did the sensible thing,” Amren stated matter of factly.

Rhys shot her another severe look before placating Marin. “Don’t be sorry. You didn’t want her hurting herself or anyone else further. There weren’t a lot of options at that moment.”

“You can’t be there either,” Nesta indicated toward Rhys. “It’s obvious she thinks she’s still back there. She saw you and panicked and she will probably remember your face when she wakes again next time. She’s terrified of males in general right now.” Her last statement hung in the air hinting.

“I’m not leaving,” boomed Azriel.

Nesta didn’t respond. She didn’t waver either.

“I’m. Not. Leaving,” he exacted ominously, that calmly cruel mask slipping naturally into place.

Nesta again didn’t respond, instead she slipped her gaze to her clasped hands resting along the sofa back. She may not have had any qualms about pushing her own Illyrian’s boundaries and directing him around but she wasn’t stupid enough to voluntarily go toe to toe with the Shadowsinger.

“I’ll stay with you,” Elain said as she turned from her seat on the sofa next to Amren to meet Nesta’s eye line. “We can wait together.” She suggested it as if there were no question that Nesta would be the one to be there when Celeste awoke again, because there was no doubt about it.

“Me too,” Feyre volunteered, still twisting her hands in her lap. “But–what about another seizure? How can we be sure it won’t happen again?”

Another grieved sound escaped Azriel’s throat as his mind shuttered back to Celeste’s collapse on the stairs. Before she could say one word to him through her pain she had passed out, his hands barely catching her before her head could hit the marble. He had watched helplessly as her whole body had trembled and seized, Nesta stopping him before he could gather her in his arms with the command to not move her. It had felt like an eternity before Cassian could get the healers to their house.

“We can’t,” the healer beside Marin piped up. “At least not until we can assess the situation better. She needs to be stable for that.”

Nesta drew in a deep breath and held it a moment to steady her own nerves. “Then we keep her calm. We make sure she knows that she is safe and keep her calm,” she took another steadying breath. “That’s all we can do right now.”

“Alright,” Rhys said, reluctantly taking charge of the conversation. “Selah, Nesta, Elain and Feyre stay. Everyone else, we can reconvene later if needed.”

“Notify me of any news,” Amren stated as she rose to leave. “And Shadowsinger…” she looked toward Azriel, her usually stiff persona softening a touch before slowly adding, “We will get through this.”

The animosity from earlier melted as Az nodded at her, his face lined with grief.

As everyone filed out, Azriel ducked away from his brother's arm and dropped himself down in one of the now empty armchairs by the fireplace. Cassian remained standing, facing his brother from behind the other chair.

Elbows on knees and gripping his face in his hands, Azriel whimpered out, “I knew it was worse than she said. I knew something was really wrong.”

“You couldn’t have predicted this.” Cassian offered consolingly. “You had no idea this would happen.”

@mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @chairofchaos @weekendlusting @pit-and-the-pen

@sarawritestories @ceoofyearning

#azriel x oc #azriel x original character #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel angst #azriel fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #acotar #acomaf #acofas #acowar #acosf #acotar fandom #unbound

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alltheirdamn · 11 months ago

Text

A Bounty for Reward (Mando x f!reader)

CHAPTER 4

Summary: It was bound to happen eventually, right? Warnings: SMUT (finally, finally, finally!!), masturbation (f & m), unprotected PIV sex, creampie, mentions of blood & violence, language, umm.... missing anything else?? Word count: 6.5k A/N: I told y'all it was coming 👀

You woke up with a raging headache. Which fucking sucked. But your back had finally stopped aching, and you thanked the Maker that Mando let you use his bed. Last night had been weird between the two of you; something unspoken and tense. You clenched your thighs while you remembered how hard he was when he spoke to you. Maybe your grogginess had played tricks on your brain, but you could still picture the outline of his cock straining against his pants. Being stuck on this ship with him was slowly starting to wither away your self-restraint. For most of your life, you retracted away from any man and their advances; you hated how they stared and spoke to you. Kesi had weaponized your body until you became hollow inside. Men disgusted you. They had only wanted one thing, and you were forced to give it away. But something about Mando made you rethink how a man could act and make you feel. And it was fucking confusing.

The sound of the cockpit door opening only amplified the throbbing inside your head. You wanted silence— for the first time in forever. As badly as you craved his presence, you craved the solitude even more. Which made no fucking sense since you had spent the majority of the last several days alone.

“Sleep okay?” Mando’s modulated voice broke the silence.

“Hmph.” You rolled over, pulling the blanket over your head. The throbbing wouldn’t stop, and it was driving you crazy.

“Wanna get off the ship?” He asked.

Of course, you did. You wanted nothing more than to feel the sun on your skin again, to breathe in air that wasn’t recirculating around you. Peaking out from under the blanket, you saw Mando staring at you; helmet tilted to the side. Was he amused with you?

“Yeah,” you sighed, wrapping the blanket around you as you sat up. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

“Good. Get dressed.”

Something about the dominance in his voice had you clenching your thighs together again. He watched you unwaveringly as you stood and grabbed your pants from the floor next to the bed. Your head still throbbed, but now so did your cunt. He was screwing with your mind.

Mando stalked away to open the ramp as you finished putting on your shoes, and you followed him mindlessly.

“Put this on,” he demanded, handing you your hooded jacket, long since abandoned after the first night.

You slipped it on, pulling the hood over your head. The idea of leaving the ship had you buzzing with excitement. You knew you were on Nevarro, and maybe you could find an escape–although a small part of you was reluctant to leave. There was a cocoon of safety in Mando’s grasp, but you wouldn’t give up on the hope of freedom just yet.

The sun glared down on you through parted clouds as you trailed behind Mando’s armored body. He had instructed a group of men to carry out the bounties from the carbonite chamber, and now you followed him into the heart of the city, where you were overly aware of the commotion as Mando walked through the crowds. Some eyes lingered on you, and the paranoia began to set in. Was anyone searching for you? You still didn’t know where Kesi had gone, and the fact he was still alive set your nerves alight. You quickened your pace to match Mando’s, afraid of falling behind and into the blur of bodies.

“Where are we going?” You asked.

Mando focused on the busy streets as he nodded toward a cantina tucked away into one of the alleyways.

“Guild business?” You guessed.

“Something like that,” he huffed.

You trailed him inside, drowning out the mindless taunting of men outside the entrance. You had grown accustomed to their snide remarks and sexualized jokes; it didn’t phase you. But you noticed how Mando sized each of them up, and their words and laughter died out as you walked past.

The cantina was loud and crowded with what you assumed were other guild members. You were acutely aware of their weapons strapped to their belts. Unease coursed through you as you remembered you were still wanted, and it only made you want to stick closer to Mando. He led the way towards an empty booth near the back of the cantina, gesturing for you to sit. You slid into it, tugging your hood further over your forehead and eyes.

“Stay here.”

You swallowed, nodding as he turned from the booth and walked away. He joined a man a few stalls over, sliding into a spot with a direct view of yours. It was unclear whether Mando was staring at you or the man before him, the direction of his helmet giving away nothing.

Minutes passed by without issue, and you grew fidgety in the booth. Your eyes darted around the cantina, wondering how easy it could be to slip out and run. You had done it once before with Mando, but you hadn’t been successful. But he hadn’t been preoccupied last time. He wouldn’t abandon his meeting just to catch you, right? It was laughable even to think he’d let you slip away. Sighing, you shrunk back into the leather padding, slowly returning your gaze to him. His helmet was cocked sideways, facing directly at you. Maker, your heart plummeted into your stomach. He could paralyze you from that stare alone.

So, you played along.

You gave him a slight grin, leaning your chin into your hand as you eased forward. You watched him, transfixed, and noted how his body straightened. Whoever he was talking to was blissfully unaware of your effect on him. He gave a nearly imperceptible shake of his head, and you chuckled. This was fun. Like last night, you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip and observed how tense his body became. He had been so awkward last night with you, and you had considered it may have just been who he was, but maybe it was more than that. Maybe you turned him on, and warmth bloomed in your stomach at the idea of it. Having that sort of power over a man–let alone a Mandalorian—was thrilling.

The teasing was entertaining until it wasn’t. Shortly after garnering another shake of his head, a drunken patron fell into the booth, his drink sloshing onto the tabletop. You retracted back, hugging your arms to your chest. The man gave you a toothy grin, his words slurring as he introduced himself.

You lied about your name, offering a polite smile. He took another gulp of his drink, slamming it down all too charismatically.

“Y’sure are beautiful,” he slurred. “Would like to take you home.”

“You wish,” you rolled your eyes.

The stench of his breath wafted toward you as you squirmed in the booth. His drunken smile from before was replaced with an apparent frown, clearly displeased with your remark. Reaching over the table, he pawed at your body, trying to find anything to grab. You lurched forward, sending a resounding slap across his face.

“Don’t fucking put your hands on me,” you growled. Fuck, you wish you had your vibroblade again.

A few heads turned at the sound, their voices hushed as they regarded the scene between you and the drunken man. He was pissed off now, reaching out for you again, this time more successful with a quick grab of your wrist. You reached for his drink, shattering it against the table. Gripping a piece of the broken glass, you held it at eye-level toward him, a snarl forming on your lips. He held up his hands in protest, eyes glazed over in fear.

“Do it!” You shouted. “I fucking dare you!”

The crowd around you grew silent, but you could only focus on the glass tightening in your grip. It pierced your skin until you felt the slice of it dig into your palm. The blood dripping from your hand unphased you as your heart thrummed with adrenaline. Let him fucking come near you. Let him try to touch you again. A glint of silver danced in your peripheral, and Mando approached the booth with a hand on his blaster.

“Out,” he demanded, grabbing the man by the collar. He tossed him to the ground with little effort, his helmet glancing between him and you. You lowered the shard of glass to the table, wiping your palm against your pants. Mando’s chest rose as he inhaled, and he silently extended a hand towards you. Your impulse was to flinch, but you trusted him not to hurt you, so you took it willingly. His gloved fingers wrapped around yours, and you trailed him out of the cantina without another word.

Pulling you into the alleyway, Mando pushed you against the wall and surveyed your body. Your breath hitched as he grabbed for your injured hand, turning it over to inspect the cut. It was still bleeding, but you had long since forgotten the pain. Everything had been a blur. Tugging it from his hold, you cradled your hand into your chest and stared at the black visor.

“I’m fine,” you insisted. “Just a cut.”

“He touched you.” It wasn’t a question.

You only nodded, scanning the alley for any stragglers from the bar. You hadn’t meant to get so angry or violent, but it seemed to be an ongoing thing with these unwanted advances. Kesi had ruined you in the worst way possible. Staring up at the passing clouds, you forced your tears back and focused on breathing. Mando would never take you back out of the ship now that you had gone and made a fool of yourself.

“Stay here,” he ordered.

Mando had been acutely aware of her presence inside the cantina. She had been taunting him with small smiles the entire time as he tried to focus on the conversation with Karga. Had last night sparked something between them? It was clear she was trying to push his buttons, see how far she could take the teasing until he snapped. At this rate, it wouldn’t be fucking long. Under the protection of his helmet, he found his eyes wandering towards her each time she shifted in the booth.

And then someone slipped into it with her. He stiffened, watching their interaction unfold in front of him. Karga was blissfully unaware of the spectacle as he rambled about taking more pucks, yet Mando had long forgotten what they were discussing. His hand itched towards his blaster as the man leaned forward into her, only to be shocked to see her send a sharp slap across his face. Rage filled his veins when the man did it a second time. But then the sound of glass shattering rattled around the loud cantina, silencing everyone. Her voice raised above everyone as she dared him to touch her again. Mando took note of the glass in her hand and quickly vacated the booth to step in.

A multitude of thoughts swarmed his mind as he hauled her out of the cantina into the alley. First, someone had put their hands on her. Second, she was a force to be reckoned with when angry. And third, she was bleeding. Mando didn’t know which made him more upset. But the fear in her eyes was enough to make him see red.

And he had been itching to kill someone since he returned for her on Tatooine.

Mando pulled the blaster from his hip as he entered the cantina again. The tension in the air was palpable as he stalked towards the man still cowering on the floor. He aimed the blaster at his chest, unphased at the sheer terror in the man's eyes.

“Mando!” Karga yelled, stepping over the man and into the direct line of his outstretched arm.

He lowered the blaster, glancing between Karga and the man. His finger twitched against the trigger, just waiting for the moment to shoot.

“Now, now,” Karga bristled. “No need for violence here! Right?”

Mando’s jaw clenched, and he stepped towards Karga. He held up his hands in defeat, giving Mando one of his signature grins.

“Just let it go, Mando,” he urged.

But Mando couldn’t let it go, no matter how badly he wanted to. He had never been a man to act so impulsively, but the sight of her shaking and bleeding was enough to fuel the rage inside his heart. Every fiber of his being screamed to protect her.

“Move,” he gritted out.

“Walk away,” Karga demanded.

But Mando didn’t falter, nor did his grip on the blaster. He held it at waist level, flicking it to the side until Karga got the hint. He didn’t give a second thought to it as he put a hole in the man’s chest. The rage inside him didn’t let up, but he forced his weapon back into its holster and exhaled for the first time in minutes.

“I’ll be back in a week with more bounties,” he nodded at Karga.

Karga had nothing to respond, his focus on the dead man lying on the cantina floor.

Mando returned to the alley, finding her still standing paralyzed against the wall. Her eyes were rimmed red from crying, and his rage was replaced with some form of guilt that slithered its way into his heart. He should have known taking her here would be dangerous. But she had been trapped within the confines of his ship for nearly a week, and he wanted to grant her some freedom—even if it wasn’t exactly what she wanted.

“Let’s go,” he grumbled, extending his hand.

She hesitated. But then she slipped her delicate hand into his, and he led her out of the city and back to the Crest. Mando still buzzed with the lingering anger from the cantina, but he shoved down those emotions and forced himself to focus on her. She was quiet as he guided her to sit on one of the crates, and he searched his med pack for some bacta. He found what he needed, including something to bandage her hand, and crouched in front of her, reaching for her hand. Reluctantly, she let him take it, unfurling the tight fist she had made. The cut wasn’t deep, but enough to scar— a scar that could have been avoided had he not been so selfish in taking her with him. He wanted to give her a moment in the sun, a moment away from this fucking ship. This space between them was growing smaller, and he needed to find any way to create some distance. But they were just spiraling closer together.

“It’ll sting,” he muttered.

She nodded, sniffling back more tears. He sprayed the wound and felt her body twitch from the pain. He unraveled the bandage and started wrapping it around her hand. It felt so small in his, so soft, and his fingers worked slowly as he tied it off. Rubbing slow circles over her palm, Mando lifted his head to look at her, only to find she was already focusing on him. Those big doe eyes stared straight through his visor and into his soul—picking him apart piece by piece.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He mindlessly drew those circles over the bandage until her hand closed around his. With a soft squeeze of her fingers, she drew his hand to her lips and gently kissed his knuckles. The breath stalled inside him, watching as her lips grazed over his gloves. Despite all he had done, all he was, she was giving away small pieces of herself to him. And he selfishly wanted more. But he was undeserving of it, and everything he was raised to become shouted for him to stop.

“I killed him.”

Her mouth stopped moving against his knuckles. He pulled away and stood over her, her eyes trailing up his body. There wasn’t an ounce of remorse or fear in her eyes when he said those words—instead, a smirk played on her lips.

“Good. Fucker deserved it. Could’ve done it myself if you let me.”

Mando laughed, a genuine one he hadn’t heard in a while. She continued to surprise him.

“You ever kill someone?” He asked, piecing back together his medpac to stow away.

He looked over his shoulder to see her shaking her head. Something about it relieved him, knowing she didn’t have death on her hands, but she was willing to do it. Mando wondered if her being around him long enough would change that, would make him the dangerous one.

“I’ve wanted to,” she sighed, standing from the crate and moving towards him. “So many times.”

They were only feet apart now, and Mando felt the thrum of his heart in his chest growing faster. Her hair was disheveled from the hood on her jacket, and without thinking, he reached out to tuck a strand behind her ear. She didn’t flinch from him for the second time today. He felt triumphant knowing he had won her trust, even in the smallest of things.

“I hope you never have to,” he spoke.

Her eyes were still glossy with earlier tears, but a firmness in her look told him enough. Someone had used her before—in what way, Mando could only guess. He had started piecing together the things she had offered him, and nothing amounted to being a criminal. She didn’t sell spice, she didn’t use it, she hadn’t killed anyone… She wasn’t worth a bounty. Not that she wasn’t worth it, just that she didn’t deserve it.

“How many have you killed?” She whispered, breaking through his spiraling thoughts.

“Enough.”

“What does it feel like?”

Mando sighed, letting his hand fall away from her hair. “For a Mandalorian, survival is everything. If death forces us to defend and survive, then it is the only answer.”

“It’s part of your Creed, right?” She asked.

Sharing something so intimate and sacred with someone other than a Mandalorian felt foreign to him.

“This is the Way,” he nodded.

“The Way,” she echoed.

Then she let out a small laugh, the corners of her lips creasing into her cheeks. Mando cocked his head to the side, trying to understand what about this conversation was so comical.

“I think that’s the most you’ve said to me,” she grinned.

He couldn’t help but smile to himself, too. She was starting to fester her way under his skin, force him out of his comfort zone, and slowly enjoy the presence of another for the first time in his life. He sort of enjoyed it.

“Bacta might wear you out a bit,” he cleared his throat, quickly changing the subject. “Bed’s all yours.”

She frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. Mando made quite the effort not to stare as her forearms pushed up her breasts.

“Where will you sleep?”

“Cockpit,” he replied. “Don’t sleep much, honestly.”

“Take the bed,” she insisted. “I’ll be fine on the floor.”

It was tempting—sleeping near her. But Mando didn’t trust himself; didn’t trust he wouldn’t find his way into the bed with her when she clearly didn’t want that. He wouldn’t abuse the trust he had built with her, no matter how much he ached to be between her thighs. Fuck, he needed to let off some steam.

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “Gonna use the refresher and be on my way.”

She nodded slowly, clearly not convinced, but relented. Retiring to the bed, she gingerly crawled in and wrapped herself in the blanket. Mando watched as she tucked her injured hand close to her chest and noticed her eyes still locked on him. If she looked at him any longer, Mando would lose his cool.

Ducking into the refresher, Mando let the water rain down on him and flood his mind. He was achingly hard, and it wasn’t long before his hand wound around his cock, stroking slowly. He tried hard not to picture her, her big eyes, or how she’d bite her lips. He tried not to think of her legs wrapped in his sheets or the swell of her breasts under her shirt. But the harder he squeezed his cock, the stronger those thoughts became. He imagined how tight she’d feel around his cock, and the noises she’d make. He stroked himself faster, feeling his muscles tense on the precipice of release, and with one long stroke, he was grunting into the tile walls and spilling himself onto the floor.

You tried to erase the sound of his orgasm from your mind; you really did. But Mando had long since retired to the cockpit, and you found your uninjured hand snaking down past the waistband of your pants and sliding through your wet folds. You hadn’t imagined those noises—you knew that. You had spent years listening to the disgusting sound of men orgasming, but this was different. His voice was rough and unmodulated, and fuck if it didn’t make your core ache with need. It had been so long since you had touched yourself like this, and part of you knew how embarrassing it was. You were trapped on the ship with your bounty hunter, rubbing circles around your clit imagining how his tongue would feel instead.

Fuck.

Your body wound itself tight as you teased your way closer, basking in that momentary bliss before your climax crescendoed, hoping, for your sake, your noises would be quieter than his. Burying your head into the blankets, you exhaled a moan and felt your body spasm around your fingers. Maker, it was the best orgasm you had in a while. And all you could think about was him.

Your body was exhausted from the short time on Nevarro, but the bacta was slowly wearing off, making your hand throb in pain. You didn’t regret what you did. And you were telling the truth when you said you wished you had killed him. Maybe that would make you a murderer like Mando, but you wanted to reclaim yourself piece by piece, even if that meant some people had to die.

Restless in the small bed, you found yourself climbing the ladder to the cockpit and knocking softly on the metal door. A moment passed before it slid open, and Mando looked over his shoulder at you silently.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you explained. “Can I join you?”

He grunted in response, tilting his helmet towards the empty seat beside him. You squeezed yourself through the small space, taking note of the control panels and functions. You weren’t thinking about stealing his ship, but knowing how it operated was interesting. Plus, the mechanic in you was just eager to see such an old ship and its hardware. The cargo hold had been your sanctuary the last several days, and having a new scenery was a nice change. Seeing the galaxy expand around you in a vastness you couldn’t fathom was even nicer.

“I’ve never really seen the galaxy like this before,” you commented, leaning forward to watch the stars pass.

“Really?” Mando asked, his visor focused on the space in front of you.

You shook your head, a tinge of sadness crawling up your chest. “No. Any time I’ve traveled to different planets, I’ve always been… put away, I guess?” You cringed at even the thought of it.

Kesi made sure to hold you in the shittiest part of a ship when he took you to and from spice trades. You were confined to solitude before meeting his clients and then deposed just as fast. The last few years of your life were spent between ships, inns, and shady cantinas. That’s why you craved your life back on Coruscant—you could go anywhere and do anything.

In your peripheral, you saw his head turn to you. Your emotions were bubbling to the surface, and you continued to stare out the windshield at the stars instead of meeting his gaze. You didn’t fully trust yourself not to cry. You didn’t cry often; you wouldn’t let yourself succumb to those emotions, but something about the admission left a lingering feeling deep within you.

“It’s—,” you laughed, trying to shake back the tears. “It’s not a big deal. Really.”

“Kesi hurt you.”

Mando said it plainly like it was a fact and not a question. There was no use holding back the tears, but you turned away to wipe them, hoping you could still look strong. You were learning how to take back the power that Kesi stole from you—including your own emotions.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you said, tucking your legs into the seat.

Mando gave you a stiff nod and leaned back in his chair. Silence surrounded you, wrapping you both in this strange comfort that you didn’t necessarily hate. You enjoyed the quiet, even with him beside you.

“Where are we going?” You eventually asked.

“Adelphi. Got a bounty there.”

“Can I join you?”

“No,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

You weren’t surprised he said no. Bounty hunting was his lifestyle, not yours, and you had to continuously remind yourself you weren’t anything but a bounty to him. But the lines were blurring between being a bounty and being… a friend? Maybe calling him a ‘friend’ was a bit extreme and premature, but you were enjoying the company as much as you could tolerate it.

You still wished to regain your freedom, but for now, you’d enjoy being in his presence.

The nav panel started blaring for the descent, stirring you awake in the chair. You hadn’t even realized you’d fallen asleep, but the planet before you was bright and proved to be a new day. Mando flew the Crest through the atmosphere and towards a deserted beach. The landing was smooth, and before the wheels could finish sinking into the sand, Mando was out of the chair and moving through the cockpit. You followed him into the ship's hull, watching as he collected his sniper from the armory wall and slid it over his shoulder. He grabbed one more thing before shutting it and turning to you. Extending his hand, he revealed a wrist comlink and motioned for you to give him your arm.

“It’s synced up to mine,” he explained, lifting his wrist. “I’ll notify you when I get close to the ship so you can prepare the chamber.”

He wasn’t taking you on the hunt…but letting you help, which meant a lot.

You let him slide the comlink onto your wrist, and you turned it over to inspect the technology. You’d never used one before, but you had some basic knowledge to get you by. When he called, you would answer; simple as that.

“Won’t be more than a few hours,” he assured you.

“Okay,” you nodded. “Um, be safe.”

Mando tilted his head to the side, and you imagined he was smiling at you. Maybe he was, or maybe he was just as stoic as his voice and body language. Either way, you meant what you said because without him… well, you didn’t really know. You could take the ship. You could fly back to Coruscant. But would you be safe?

“Be good,” he ordered, his voice strained.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, as it did every time he was more authoritative with you, and you wondered how many times you could get off before he came back. Idiot. Forcing yourself out of your mind and into the present, you watched him walk out onto the sandy beach and close you back into the confines of the ship.

Just a few hours, you told yourself.

Hours later, Mando com’d you to open the ramp. You had busied yourself with the carbonite chamber again, trying to find solutions for the valve issue. You sat down your tools and glanced at him as he made his way into the hull, his beskar dripping in the afternoon sunlight. He had his bounty in tow, this one alive and heavily bruised. His skin was flushed red, even more so with the trail of blood that leaked down his chin. The bounty’s eyes never left yours, his teeth barring a smile scary enough to make your skin crawl.

“Keep moving,” Mando grunted, shoving the bounty toward the carbonite chamber. His helmet glanced at you, confused by the tools at your feet. You shook your head in response, nonverbally giving him the ‘okay’ to use it.

“I didn’t know you kept pets around, Mando,” the bounty’s voice was hoarse, a cough spurting more blood onto his clothes.

Mando was quick to push the bounty into the chamber, his hand punching the buttons to capture and freeze the tattered body that stood in front of you. There was a momentary pause in the freezing process, but then it started up again to continue. Mando’s helmet looked down at the tools again, slowly raking over your body to meet your eyes.

“What’s this?” he asked, an edge to his tone still noticeable.

“I wanted to see what else I could do to help with the freezing component,” you explained, shifting your weight under his glare. “I thought I would fix it before you returned. It stalled a moment right now, but it just needs a simple system restart to help the carbonite process run smoother.”

“Hmm,” was all he responded.

There wasn’t much space between you and Mando, the smell of smoke intoxicating the air around you. His chest rose and fell with heaviness as if he was recovering from running miles— which he probably had. There was something so infatuating about his demeanor after a hunt; the combative urges inside him still burning under his armor. The emoting rage still fizzled inside his muscles as his hands tensed at his sides. His stare had you paralyzed, your body pressed against the wall of the cargo hold. Something inside you flickered, your core growing warmer the longer he stared. There were so many unspoken words, so many lingering needs. The silence stretched longer, and you began to worry something was wrong. He wasn’t saying anything; he was just standing there.

“Mando,” your voice was meek, more than you expected. All your confidence was forlorn; wanton need taking control of your body.

He stepped closer, hands placed at either side of your head until he had you boxed in, his thigh nudging your legs to spread apart. Instinctively, you did, grinding your hips upward against his knee as he positioned his body in between your legs. You should’ve been embarrassed, but you couldn’t help yourself from giving in to the urges that lingered inside you. His helmet angled down to look at you, and you felt the amusement of his stare even through the visor. You would never see his face, but the fierce need to know the look in his hungry eyes consumed your thoughts. Maker, to see the way his eyes danced with rage and desire was enough arousal in itself.

“Tell me to stop,” he choked out. “You shouldn’t want—.”

“I want this,” you whispered.

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of his chest press against yours. The smell of combat still lingered on his clothes, and you knew he had hurt someone just hours before returning. He should scare you; you should be terrified of Mando in all aspects. But you were undoubtedly infatuated with him, constantly under some spell that continued to draw you in. He intrigued, puzzled, and challenged you to defy all hatred you once had for any man. The closer you got to the fire, the further your emotions were stripped away, burning in the chaos he created around you.

Taking control, you brought his hand down to your hips, guiding it to your zipper, and moved it slowly under the elastic waistband of your underwear. The leather of his glove was warm to the touch, catching softly on the slick skin of your cunt. His fingers took control, dipping between the wet folds and slowly teasing your entrance. Instinctively, your hips bucked forward, the need for his fingers inside you growing stronger. He knew it, too, as his fingers circled your clit slowly— agonizingly. The ache in your core grew stronger, your heartbeat drumming loudly inside your ears.

“Please,” you begged, your head falling against the wall.

Mando’s free hand moved to pull your face forward, his hand encapsulating your jaw with a firm grip. His thumb traced over your lips, teasing your mouth open and gathering the saliva that pooled on your tongue.

“Please, what?” His voice darkened, the monster inside him lurking around the corner. All he needed was a nudge; then, you could have what you wanted.

“Fuck me.”

As if a switch flipped inside of him, Mando’s hands moved to yank away your pants, tearing the fabric of your underwear in the sequence of events. It didn’t register in your head how quickly he was able to shove you up the wall and collect your legs around his waist. Your thighs squeezed against his hips, flesh meeting the cool touch of his armor. It rippled goosebumps up your body, the temperature spiking higher in your core. A low growl left his throat as he undid his zipper, angling the length of his cock against the soaking entrance of your cunt. Everything inside you clenched around him, a stinging pain lasting only a second as your body stretched to fit his thick cock. Maker, it hurt, but he felt so fucking good.

The cargo hold around you grew louder with the mixture of your whines, his grunts, and the disgusting sound of your cunt around his cock. He wasn’t just fucking you; he was wrecking you with each thrust that pounded into you harder every time. Mando’s strength leveraged his control as he gripped your hips high enough to angle himself right at the apex of your cunt. Everything around you blurred into a haze of euphoria and rapture as he brought you to the brink of an orgasm. He could sense it, too, the thrusts coming into a steady rhythm as it hit your core with feverish force.

“Fuck, Mando,” you gasped.

The shudder that erupted from you paralyzed his movements, your cunt clenching with each throb that rippled through your body. Your nails dug into the fabric of his suit as you muffled a scream into the cowl around his neck.

“No,” he bit out, yanking you back with a fistful of hair. “I want to hear you.”

Mando pulled you from the wall, tossing you down against a wooden crate, toppling a few loose items in the mix. Burying himself to the base of his cock, Mando placed your legs over one shoulder, folding over you as he drilled into you with a force so blindingly hard you couldn’t hold back the screams that escaped you. He was ripping into you, the brute force of his thick cock bringing you to the edge of another orgasm. A gloved hand carded through your hair, gripping the tendrils under the nape of your neck until you had no choice but to stare into the visor of his helmet while you came wholly undone.

Another orgasm tore through you, tears pouring down your cheeks as you gave way to the release that shook your thighs. Mando let out a satisfied moan, his hips rocking into you slowly, his body tensing up as he spilled himself inside you. He filled you perfectly as if every part of him had been made for you and you alone.

Mando remained there for a moment, a firm hand rubbing your calves to soothe the tension in your legs. Your head fell back against the crate's edge, your eyes blacking out to the space around you. A thin layer of sweat pooled on your chest, small trails falling down your shoulders and neck. Everything smelled of smoke and sex, and your core clenched again with lingering aftershocks of his thrusts. Mando stifled a grunt, feeling your body respond against his cock, and you felt it growing harder again inside you.

“Maker,” he exhaled, fingers trailing up your legs as they kneaded the plush skin of your thighs. He dug into your hip bones with bruising force, a small yelp leaving your throat.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he whispered, bowing his head over your body.

You moved a leg shakily over his head, situating it on his other shoulder. You had him framed between your legs, staring at the perfect outline of a terrifying man. He could kill you— hell, he even had every reason to do it if he wanted. But instead, he was infatuated with you, the power your body held being a stronger vice than the power to kill you. That power thrummed in your veins, and you desperately latched on to it, afraid you’d lose it again like before.

Reaching a hand down, Mando made small agonizing circles around your clit. Thrusting himself into you, this time working slower and deeper, his movements were focused on making you cum again. His cock slipped in and out messily, the mixture of his cum and yours being the perfect lubricant to fuck you with.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he grunted, his thumb pressing down on the bundle of nerves that throbbed harder with every stroke.

“I’m gonna cum again,” you cried, biting your lip to stifle another scream.

His movements deepened, his hips grinding against your ass as he took you to the base of his cock and kept you there. His weight trapped you, the pressure on your clit sending your mind reeling as you focused on the surge of another release pounding in your abdomen.

“C’mon,” he crooned, his thumb rubbing harder, “You’re right there, cum for me.”

His voice shot you into another wave of release, your mouth crying out for him. Your legs clenched around his neck, drawing him deeper inside you as the throbbing in your ears grew louder. You could hardly hear him as he punched out your name, cumming again inside you.

Slumping over your body, the heaviness of his helmet rested on your shoulder as both your chests rose and fell with heavy breaths. His fingers tangled in your hair, smoothing strands from your sticky forehead. You were disgustingly sweaty, the tattered shirt sticking to your skin along with the dirt that rubbed off from his armor.

“You’re fucking heavy,” you chuckled, pushing against his chest plate.

Mando let himself rise momentarily, only to fall back onto your chest lazily. Coughing out a laugh, you nudged his side, urging him up from his position.

“Not yet,” he huffed, helmet settling against your shoulder again. “Just wanna stay here a minute.”

Please stay, you thought to yourself.

#mando x f!reader #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian #mando #din djarin #smut #idk please like it

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thebibliosphere · 1 year ago

Note

I have a question about MCAS if you've not already covered it and have the spoons for it. When your (or anyone else in generals) symptoms started, or at least when you first noticed them/looked back on things and realized they were probably MCAS related, did they start slowly and less severe with like, gut upsets, intolerances, and a little itching, or did it go straight to anaphylaxis reactions?

(Full disclosure I'm asking cause I have POTS, am in diagnosis hell for likely hEDS, and have been noticing more and more foods that make my tummy pipes unhappy recently, and I'm wondering if there's anything I should be on the look out for.)

And give the dogter mop a kiss on the head for me!!

MCAS is progressive; very few people start out with instant anaphylaxis unless they have true IgE allergies. For myself and many others, it started out as small things like upset stomachs, itching, headaches, mild allergic reactions, etc. Not everyone experiences anaphylaxis with MCAS, but if it goes untreated long enough, it can progress to that.

If I had been treated 'early' (they didn't know it existed when I was a kid), it likely wouldn't have progressed to anaphylaxis or any of the other complications I've suffered. Sometimes, an illness can make it ramp up in intensity as well, so that's something else to watch out for. Covid in particular seems insidious for it.

If you're already noticing one or two things and already have POTS, I'd suggest asking your POTS doctor about doing a trial of antihistamines. Some POTS patients find relief in following the MCAS starter protocol, which is usually 10mg of cetirizine (Zyrtec), 20mg of famotidine (Pepcid) twice a day, and 25mg of Benedryl at night. If that helps your POTS, further investigation into MCAS would be warranted.

(Please note I'm not telling you what meds to take. I'm letting you know what the MCAS starter protocol is in case your POTS doctor isn't aware of it so you can talk to them about it.)

Best of luck, friend, and consider Dogter Mop smooched on your behalf!

#chronic health tag

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zoeykallus · 1 year ago

Note

Ello Zoey!! 👋

Sorry if this is too much or not,

Can I request some HCs of the bad batch’s fem! s/o being clumsy. They always see y/n trip, and sometimes catch her by the back of her shirt, to make sure she doesn’t fall.

Aloha!

Sounds kinda cute, let me give it a try 😁

The Bad Batch x Fem!Reader HCs - Clumsy

Fluff/Fun

________

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

________

>Master List<

________

Hunter

His senses, his perception, are always alert and very attentive around you. Actually, you are not that long together yet, but nevertheless, you can no longer count on your fingers how many times he has already saved you from injuries and greater damage. Be it tripping at an inopportune moment, dropping dangerous objects or accidentally leaning against unsafe/dangerous objects. Of course, he can't be around you 24/7, so he frequently tends to minor wounds you accidentally inflict on yourself, like cuts while cooking, or minor burns and bruises. Hunter, meanwhile, has developed yet another sense, another antenna, that is solely concerned with you. Whenever he's near you, his neural pathways buzz as soon as you trip, falter, or drop something, and he's on the spot in a flash. Luckily for you, he likes to do that and even if he sighs more often or breathes a sigh of relief when he can prevent the worst from happening, he'll never complain. "I got you, darling"

Echo

He sighs as he grabs you in the back of your jacket and pulls you back, keeping you from falling off the ramp. "Sometimes you scare me Love, one of these days you're going to fall when I'm not around and crack your skull or something," he says grumbling. You smile crookedly and say, "I'm trying not to do that." "So far you're not doing very well," Echo says, kissing your cheek. Tending to minor cuts, bruises and the like on you are already routine for Echo, as is the quick grab to keep you from falling. His reflexes and senses can't keep up with Hunter, but he's not too far off either. In any case, around him, it's extremely rare for anything to happen to you, despite your clumsiness. He is constantly worried and expresses it, but at the same time he is tireless in protecting you, sometimes even from yourself.

Wrecker

You are lying on the floor. Somehow you tripped over something, maybe even your own feet, hit your head and went down unconscious. "Hey, sweetie, you okay?" You open your eyes and look up into Wrecker's face, which hovers over you with concern. The next moment, you're carefully picked up by two strong hands and set down on one of the bunks. You blink and say, "Yeah, I think so, fell and hit my head". Wrecker raises his eyebrows. "Again? Now that's what I'm starting to worry about," Wrecker says as he carefully examines your head. He finds a bump, but no open wound. "Maybe Tech or Echo should do a scan, just in case," he says seriously. Wrecker always keeps an eye on you when you're around him, and his strong hand keeps providing protection and safety, but you keep managing to accidentally hurt yourself. "I have a headache," you say softly, rubbing the bump gently. Wrecker kisses your forehead and says, "I'm not surprised, but don't worry, sweetie, we'll take care of it." Wrecker is very patient and a total softie when it comes to you.

Tech

He is engrossed in his Holopad, eagerly calculating a few things to follow up on one of his hunches, when he hears a small noise, accompanied by a surprised little exclamation, followed by a slightly louder rumble. He blinks. Lowers the holopad and finally sighs softly. "My love?" He hears your voice from the hallway, "Um, yeah, over here. Could you maybe help me out for a second?" Tech hastily puts the holopad aside, stands up and walks into the hallway. His eyes widen in surprise when he sees that you've managed to stumble into the utility closet and got tangled up in Hunter's fishing gear. Tech says dryly, "My dear, you really do have a special talent." You sigh, "Don't joke around now please honey, just help me instead". Tech shakes his head but comes closer and starts untangling you from fishing line and other items and finally pulls you out of the chamber. "I really can't let you out of my sight," he says gently and at the same time reprovingly. You shrug your shoulders and reply meekly, "I'm really not doing this on purpose, Tech." "It's okay," he says with a smile, kissing your cheek, fishing a plastic bait out of your hair, and adding, "I'm just glad you're usually lucky enough to avoid major injury."

Crosshair

He hears a clang, then a rumble. "Let me guess, you're home again, honey?" he asks dryly without looking up. You say just as dryly, "No, I'm a burglar". With a sigh, Crosshair gets up from his chair and walks into the kitchen. You've managed to knock over a vase and an end table, tearing your pantyhose in the process. "A pretty talentless burglar," he says, grabbing your arm and pulling you back to your feet, "Did you hurt yourself?" You shake your head and sigh. "No, I don't think so." Crosshair crouches down and looks at your leg, just a run in the tights, no scrapes in the skin underneath. He stands back up, kisses your cheek, maneuvers you around the debris, and finally picks up the pieces. Crosshair usually counters your clumsiness in his own way with jokes and sarcasm, but always watches out for you, and takes care of your wounds and the property damage you cause. He grumbles now and then, but he is much more patient and caring than he sometimes pretends to be.

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaw

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

@dangraccoon

@jediknightjana

@pb-jellybeans

@antishadow2021

@sleepycreativewriter

@projectdreamwalker

@1vlouds

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djarintreble · 1 year ago

Text

cost of attachment || c. kestis

summary: It's been years since you've seen your friend, Cal Kestis. His return causes you to question if leaving the fight is worth his company as well as wonder if you were ever meant to be more. You stumble on what might be the answer to both of your struggles. What is worth more, the fight or a chance of companionship?

notes: My first kestis fic! I’ve been playing jedi: survivor slowly cause i don’t want to finish it! I'm hoping to make this a short series.

tags: Cal Kestis x Fem!reader, jedi: survivor storyline (first 3 hrs of gameplay), angsty flashback, fluff, use of y/n and made up name (kinda like fulcrum for ahsoka), greez plays matchmaker, slow burn (wc: 5k+)

“I can’t keep doing this, Cal. I’m tired.” you cried, a hand going from your hip to gently touch your temple as a headache threatened to appear.

It’s been a long day of trying to convince your fellow jedi that it was time.

Time to let go of the fight.

“We can’t give up…” Cal slowly reached to where you stood and cautiously placed a hand on your arm. He said your name so soft, so gentle, as if he was afraid it would crumble if said louder. “If we don’t keep fighting, who will?”

You looked up at your best friend who you’ve fought along side with for the past 3 years. As two former padawans, you ventured throughout the galaxy hoping to restore the jedi order. The mantis crew was stronger than ever. But even warriors get tired. Now, you wanted nothing more than to forget it all.

Forget the Empire. Forget the purge. Forget the Order.

Except you couldn’t forget. That was a word used in the heat of the moment. All you really wanted was peace. But peace was costly and now it seems it might cost the closest thing you’ve had to an attachment. Someone you loved.

Cal Kestis was far from giving up. His determination drawing to be his weakness.

“No matter what we do. The Empire won’t stop. I can’t keep doing this.”

“So you’re leaving.” He stated softly.

“I don’t have to. We can move forward together. Find a planet on the outer rim, far away from Imperials, maybe Greez can finally open his saloon.” You try to lighten the mood, going to grab Cal’s hand in reassurance. Before you can, he pulls away.

“How can you think that when there are millions of life forms dying at the hands of the Empire? If we stop, who will be there for them?” His passion blinded him. Guided by anger, trauma, and unadmittedly, fear. He had the mind of a seasoned warrior, not that of a young man.

“There are others, Cal. We’ve done our part. We can trust that the rebellion will carry on. You’ve gone your whole life surrounded by war. Don’t you think it’s time to take a breath? Rest? Like actually rest not just meditating and hoping that does the trick before your next excursion.” Your words fell short to the jedi in front of you as he turned around, facing the mantis.

“I can’t stop.” He said, quietly. It only took a few steps before he was at the ramp as he headed back into the ship.

Your training as a jedi helped you in assessing your emotions and not reacting by them. Right now, you wanted to beg Cal to listen to you, to run away, to start a new life. You wanted to grab his hand and admit the feelings you’ve had for him since the day you met back on Bogana.

But you didn’t.

“Then I cannot go with you.” You said, earning a quick turn of the jedi’s head.

He looked at you with a sudden force of emotions. You continued to stand still against the coruscant hanger platform with a straight face. This time he was not afraid to speak your name allowed. He didn’t know how to feel. You really were serious.

“What does this mean then?” He asked, holding back from finishing the question with, for us?

“I have fought my whole life, Cal. It’s time I learn to live. There will always be war. There will always be suffering. If you choose to continue and fight, we must go our separate ways.” You say firmly.

There was a long silence between the two of you. Both scared to be the first one to leave, never losing eye contact.

“Cal, Y/N, we gotta go. I just got a message from Gerrera. We’re needed on- oh…” Greez scrambled out of the mantis. He was hit with a wall of tension created between the two of you. “I, uh, we gotta go, kids.”

“She’s not coming.” Cal said, his green eyes still locked on you. You were the first to look away, giving a knowing look toward Greez. He knew where your mind was at. He was nothing but proud of your decision and that it was only a matter of time before you left the mantis crew. He saw your bag that held what little you possessed and nodded.

“Right… uh, Cal. Let’s go.” He said, giving you a frown. You looked back up at Cal and swore you could feel his pain. It was enough to almost make you change your mind but you swallowed down the guilt and stood a little higher as Greez led Cal back into the Mantis.

“Please rest soon, Cal. You are worth more than the fight.” You gave a final word catching a glimpse of a nod from the jedi before the doors of the Mantis closed.

It has been 3 years since you’ve last seen Cal Kestis. He couldn’t escape your mind though. He has made a name for himself in the galaxy, known as the Empires most wanted. He still couldn’t put down the fight.

As for you, traveling the galaxy was top priority. Sure you’ve had your fair share of planet excursions but they were always on a mission. You never had time to explore the markets and learn of the different cultures. You wanted to learn shryiiwook on the planet of Kashyyyk while being led through the trees by wookies. You wanted to get a taste of luxury provided by the locals of coruscant. You wanted to taste the fruit you saw on Aplooine since the one time you visited, you were too focused on not getting blasted by Imps.

Leaving the mantis allowed you to do just that.

You kept your lightsaber and remained connected in the force. Of course, you still went out of your way to defend helpless people when your conscious forced you to along the way. But never to the point of recognition or turning the ears of the Empire.

New hair, new wardrobe, new name. Only those who knew you prior would even think to call you by your true name.

Though you left, your contact with Cere, Merrin and Greez never ceased.

Cere resided on Jedha, finding a more discreet way of rebelling against the Empire; recollecting the Jedi Archives. Merrin occasionally helping while also fulfilling her own wishes of exploring the galaxy. Sometimes you’d join her on more discreet expeditions.

Greez fulfilled his wish of opening the Pyloon’s Saloon. This was where resided when you weren’t traveling.

Koboh was a beautiful planet filled with many life forms. As a temporary resident of Rambler’s Reach Outpost, you grew close to the other locals and it became the closest thing you’ve had to home outside of the Jedi Temple and the Mantis. You brought back collectibles from all over the galaxy for Doma Dendra. You’d Nekko-back with Mosey throughout the ruins of Koboh. Even Turgle became tolerable.

Now, you were hours away from your next planned adventure to Cantonica. There, your friend Pamiil awaited you, excited to show you around Canto Bight and the other exciting things the planet had to offer.

You just came back from a day’s trip to the far side of Koboh with Mosey, bringing back shards and new information about recent Imperial activity. Your plan was to trade the shards with Doma for a few appropriate attire for the casino planet and pack your bags before leaving that night.

“Thanks, Doma. Hopefully these help me blend in until Pamiil can fit me into one of those dresses that stops my circulation by the end of the night.” You shrugged as you balanced the clothing in your arms.

“Of course, Corde. Safe travels.” The Waluna shop owner called out, a lighthearted laugh following your comment. You smiled at her calling you by your chosen name. Corde; your late master’s name.

You wondered if Master Corde Orum was proud of you. Would she have approved of your decision to step away from the war? Would she have wanted you to keep fighting until you ended up like her? No, you wouldn’t let yourself ponder on such thoughts.

You carried you new clothing back to your small living place, adding it along with the other materials you packed for the trip. Only the essentials and whatever else you could fit into a small pack. The order taught you how to live a minimalist life and that continued to show through your current way of living. Your space only consisted of a bed, a fresher, a small kitchenette, and a hidden compartment where proof of your former life laid.

It was routine to check in on Greez before you left so you made your way toward the saloon with your pack and a few gifts you collected for the Latero.

When you stepped in, you noticed it was buzzing with noise. The place usually only inhabited two or three locals at a time but it was almost as if the entire outpost decided to have a drink at this hour. You caught Mosey at the first table.

“What’s got everyone in a celebrating mood?” You asked.

“I don’t know. Something about ‘down with the raiders’” she said, taking a sip of her drink. “I heard Turgle talking about someone saving him from Rayvis and now they think we’ll get rid of them for good.”

“Hmmm” you said, concern laced in your voice. “Where’s Greez? He’ll know more.”

“Saw him go back into the kitchen a few minutes ago. Let me know what you find out.”

You said hi to Monk before passing through the kitchen doors to find Greez talking through his comms to someone.

“Hey Greez. What’s going on?”

“Oh hey. Rayvis made a visit while you were gone and caused a whole scene.” He laughed nervously. “With Turgle involved, you know how the town gets.”

“Yeah but I heard-“

“My memory is as bad as an Oggdo. I was meaning to bring some of those baskets down to my living quarters and forgot them back in the saloon. Would you be helpful and grab them for me? I’ll take your bags and go down to make a spot for the baskets.” He flashed a smile and held out two arms directing you back out to the saloon. “Thank you!” he sung with a smile too big to dismiss your suspicions.

With a sigh, you turned around to grab the baskets he was asking for. Sure you had somewhere to be, but you could never say no to Greez when he asked for favors. Especially after how many times he saved your life.

Retrieving the baskets, you made your way down to the living quarters. You depended on the force to guide you as the tower of baskets blocked your view.

“Hey Greez, you really need to start cleaning up the place when I’m gone.” You started, setting down the baskets in a corner and turning back around to find the Latero. “I can’t always be the one who-“

You were caught off guard by the person accompanying Greez.

He had fiery red hair and faded scars ran along his nose and neck along with the freckles that painted his skin. Unkempt facial hair hid the scar on his jaw and gave him a more mature look. His hair was grown out in the back and cut on the sides, shaping his face better than his former style. This was all accompanied by sunken green eyes proving he has not slept in days. As he recognized you, his stature became more defined. BD peered from jedi, head tilted in curiosity before little beeps signifying he knew who you were.

Cal Kestis.

Of course he was the talk of the town. Cal was the most wanted man in the galaxy. Here he was in front of you wearing a stupid smile before shaking his head and managing a more serious look.

“Kestis.” You said, not daring to move from your place.

“L/N.” He replied, taking a step toward you. Your reflexes made you take a step back.

“It’s Corde nowadays.” You stated.

“Corde.” he smiled as he realized the significance of the name.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, it was unclear whether you were happy to see him or not. You couldn’t decide yourself. He must have thought you’d go running into his arms or something as he stood there baffled at your tone.

Shouldn’t he be mad at you? You were the first to abandon him. Last time you saw him, the stinger mantis doors were closing as his eyes burned into yours. Surely he didn’t forget that.

“I should ask the same.” he responded, causing you to cross your arms.

“I was about to leave to Cantonica before Greez decided to play a game of unite the jedis.” You said, peering over at the Latero who clearly wasn’t expecting this. His holofilms made him believe this would be the reunion of a lifetime.

“Would you look at that, Corde! It’s Cal Kestis. Your best friend from the good ole days!” He moved closer to the two of you as he pressed on with his match making agenda.

“I see that. He still hasn’t answered my question.” You said, looking back at Cal.

This act of yours was hard to keep up but it was crucial to not let those hindered feelings for your old friend come back. Who knew how long he would be here. Sure you left him but it was bound to happen since the rest of the crew decided to go off on their own too. It was too much to unpack those feelings again.

“The mantis took a bit of damage after our last mission. I came to find the one person who knew the mantis better than anyone for repair.”

Like you suspected. This was a favor. Once the mantis was fixed, he would be gone again.

You shook the thoughts that managed to creep in and looked at Greez to see where he stood with this.

“I said I would help, Corde. Do you think you can help too?” In response to your immediate grimace, he continued, “For old time sake.”

“If it helps, Greez already saved you of a lecture.” Cal smirked. You couldn’t help but return a soft smile.

“Fine. Only because I owe you.” You said, giving Cal a knowing look. Something to repay the way you hurt him that day. Maybe you even owed it to yourself for not saying more. For losing the chance to say how you really felt about him.

“Alright,” Greez huffed before walking over to his wardrobe. “I wanna show you both something.”

With a press of a button, his circular wardrobe rotated to reveal a hidden passageway. The sounds of the machinery moving echoed into the new cave-like hall, signifying just how spacious it really was. You couldn’t but let out a sound of awe as you peered through. It’s been what- two years since you’ve lived here and you’re just now learning about this?

“This is a smuggler’s tunnel. It came with the cantina.”

BD jumped off Cal’s back and pattered over to the entrance and let out his own beeps of curiosity.

“Now you go ahead and look. I keep a lot of spare parts down there. I’m sure you’ll be able to find whatever you need to get the mantis up and running. Besides, it will be more helpful having two sets of hands.” The double meaning was enough to lighten the mood of the room.

“Alright, Greez. We got it. Pamiil will be fine a few more hours.”You laughed, checking to see if you still had your blaster in case of emergency. Carrying around your lightsaber was too dangerous now. It remained in the small box in your flat.

“Thanks. I appreciate all this.” Kestis acknowledged you both. You responded with a nod.

“Cal, can I tell you one thing?” The latero asked. “It’s really good seeing you again.” You smiled, Greez wasn’t someone to wear his emotions on his many sleeves. He had a soft spot for Cal. You couldn’t blame him though, it seemed you did too.

“Yeah, you too.” He responded. “Both of you.” He looked back at you with a sense of vulnerability.

“Yeah…” You trailed, breaking off eye contact between you two. Cal gestured to let you go first and you gladly took it, walking past him.

“And Greez, I’ll think about what you said.” You heard Cal say from behind. You were curious to just what Greez was lecturing Cal about.

“Hey, uh-“ Greez called out, making you and Cal look back over to him. He pondered for a second before simply saying, “Watch your step down there, be careful. I definitely have a pest problem.”

“It’s not me you have to worry about.” You called out, earning a snicker from Greez. Back when the pair of you would go on missions, that became a catch phrase and always ended with you both coming back to the mantis with some wild near-death story. It’s surprising you haven’t given Greez a heart attack… yet.

It was silent besides the echoes of your footsteps and the occasional beeps from BD when he wanted to scan something new. After a few minutes of following the trail marked with circular arches, you came across a green force field blocking you from going any farther. Before you could say anything, a bogling appeared and attempted to go through, resulting in being zapped. The creature fell back with a sad noise.

“Poor fella…” You knelt down to give the bogling a scratch behind its ears as Cal examined the energy field. The bogling leaned into your hand and purred.

“There’s no way through this.” Cal stated. You pushed off your knees to stand back up and look around the tunnel for another way around.

“Look, through there. There’s an opening. Think we can squeeze?” You asked. Cal raised his lightsaber up in the air to illuminate the opening.

“We can manage.” He shrugs, earning a smile from you. Maker… you missed him.

You pushed through the passage first, using the blue saber’s light as your guide. On the other side laid broken foundations and a small stream that puddled from a waterfall. Just how big was this tunnel, you thought. As Cal made his way through you both headed for another opening that came from the other side of this cave, behind the walls.

“How long have you lived here on Koboh?” The Jedi asked.

“I don’t consider myself a resident really. It’s more of a base camp between traveling. To keep an eye on Greez.” You say, climbing up one of the statures.

“You were never one for settling.” Cal called out from behind you. You smiled.

“Neither were you. Guess it’s a Jedi thing.” You say.

“Where have you travelled?” He asked. You performed an old wall jump across one of the broken passage ways and turned around to watch Cal catch up. As he landed, the structure between the two of you broke off, causing Cal to jump once again over to where you were at.

“Cal!” You yelled out, running to grab him. You held onto his arm as if his life depended on it. He was fine, honestly more than fine seeing how much you cared about him. A smirk painted his face as he said, “Careful… Nobody’s used these tunnels for a long time now.” You let go of him and turned back around to keep going. Really, you. needed to hide how red your face suddenly appeared.

As you turned around the corner, you found the energy field showing that you made it to the other side. Piles of supplies and crates laid around the cave.

“Just how much junk has Greez been hiding around here?” You asked mindlessly.

“Leave it to him to take another person’s junk and… add more junk.” Cal added.

As you went through the stuff to find the replacements Cal needed, he asked his question again. “Where have you travelled to… Corde?” He asked.

“You don’t have to call me that,” You said quietly, “there’s too much history between us.”

He said your name quietly, treating it as if it was fragile. He was known to do this. Honestly, he was always one to hold the things you cared about closely. Your name, your past, your lightsaber… Your future. It’s why he never asked the questions that lingered in his heads. The ones pertaining the relationship you share, why you really left years ago, why he couldn’t get your name out of his head late in sleepless nights.

Hearing your name from him once again made you feel warm inside. A feeling you were scared to meddle with once again.

“I went back to Kashyyyk recently.” You smiled. Looking up from a crate you were examining, you found Cal staring at you with a blank stare and smile. “What?” You whispered. He shook his head.

“How was it? Did you see Choyyssyk?”

“I did. He’s doing well. He led me through the Origin Tree again, now that it’s been recovered. It was beautiful to see when I wasn’t fighting an inquisitor.” You laughed yet Cal’s face made it clear that comment stung somehow. You continued, “And he even taught me a bit of shryiiwook.”

“Now that- I need to hear.” Cal laughed.

“I can’t speak it,” you laugh along with him. “I wouldn’t have a voice if I tried. I just now know when they’re making fun of you.” Throwing a gadget that you think could be of some use his way, you peered over to more gear around the corner and spotted the gyro module. “Is this what you were looking for?”

Cal follows your gaze and finds the gyro. He nods, “yeah, that’s it.” BD beeped, almost in a way to remind you he’s still there. You were still rusty on binary as you always use to let Cal translate for you. Cal understood what he said however and looked at him with a frown. “I know buddy but we have to keep going.”

You didn’t dare ask for a translation, the conversation obviously hinting toward you. Of course you missed the little droid and his red-headed companion.

Following Cal, you pondered on the idea of seeing him again after this. That maybe this wouldn’t be a one-and-done kind of situation. Maybe Cal would see how beautiful Koboh was and finally understand what you meant by settling down and leaving the fight.

These five years have changed you. They’ve always changed Cal. Neither of you, though, was willing to back down from your mindset. You left the fight and he can’t see a future where he doesn’t.

“Well… Here it is. Let’s go bring it back to the mantis to get it all fixed up.” Cal latched the module onto his belt and began to walk back toward Greez’ room. You followed behind quietly, somewhat sad that your short adventure was coming to a close.

“Hey Cal…” you began. He turned around with a smile. Before you could ask him, the step you took caused the ground beneath you to cave in. Before you could bear your surroundings, the floor slipped from beneath you as you fell into the apparent nothingness. “CAL!” you screamed.

Cal screamed your name before tumbling down after you along with worried beeps from BD.

You thrashed around, hoping to grab onto something, anything that would stop you from continuing down the dark path. Cal reached further toward you and grabbed your hand. With what little force you could focus in, you both pulled into each other. With his arms around you, he managed to wrap around so he was the one that fell first. You managed to land on a fallen arch, sliding down a long path that finally revealed an opening to a new part of the cave. The hill bumped you off causing the two of you to roll onto the new foundation. After scrambling around to find your grounding, you landed on top of Cal; your head landing on his chest.

It seemed you both haven’t processed that the fall was over as Cal kept his tight grip on you and your arms clinged onto the fabric of his vest. The sounds of BD’s concerned beeps brought you back to reality. Cal loosened his hold as you sat up, noticing the position you were both in.

You would have felt embarrassed if you weren’t distracted with how this new light made his green eyes seem almost seafoam green. How his red hair seemed to have bright orange highlights after years of many suns exposures. It’s been years since you’ve seen him up this close. So close you could see the way his faded scar on his nose trailed up toward his left eye in a light pink hue. His lips were chapped as they were left slightly open in response to your sudden curiosity.

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly. You pushed up away from him and suddenly realized how cold this area was. He was so warm.

“Yeah, I- I’m good. You?” Cal sat up onto his elbows with a groan.

“I’ve been better.” He replied honestly. He rolled his shoulders back as he sat up more. You realized he took the fall for you and jumped up to help him.

“Thank you.” Was all you said as you lifted his arm to help him stand up.

“For what?” He asked with a small laugh.

“Looking out me.” You responded, making sure he knew you were serious. He gave you a soft smile. “You always have. Even when I didn’t notice. Like now when you took the fall or all those times you saved my ass back in the mantis days.” Cal gave you a smirk.

“I’ve missed those.” He said, dusting off himself. BD climbed up his back with an agreeing “woooop boop.”

“I have, too.” You placed a hand on his bicep consolingly. “I’ve missed you.” You admitted. There was no more act to play. Now, you couldn’t let Cal leave this planet without knowing just how hard it was for you to leave him that day.

Cal placed his hand over yours. “The day you left… apart of me left as well. I haven’t been the same.” He couldn’t look into your eyes anymore.

“I thought you were mad at me for leaving. It’s why I never reached out. I’m sorry.” Before you could add more, he stopped you; his grip on your hand tightening.

“No. You made the right choice. I didn’t understand it at the time but- seeing you now… it needed to happen. A smart latero once told me, ‘it takes more strength to walk away than to keep fighting.’ I could never be as a strong as you.”

"Cal, that's not true."

"Yes it is. To keep you would mean to leave the fight. And... the fight is all I know." You couldn't respond. He was right. All you could do was wrap your arms around his waist and give him the hug you held back from when you first saw him that day.

You didn’t know where you were but it didn’t matter. Not when it meant you could be wrapped in Cal Kestis’ arms. A place you always wondered would ever become your safe haven.

Time was frozen as you breathed in his warmth once again. You were scared if you let go, you would feel the cold you felt before; the cold that inhabited you for the past few years.

You realized you never settled as you thought. You were still on survival mode under the pretense that you were exploring. To settle, to breath, meant being by his side. It took leaving and experiencing that sense of solitude to realize it. Now, you didn’t want to leave his side ever again. Even if that meant rejoining the fight.

The stubborn side of you thought it was stupid. You weren’t going to change your ways just because your past feelings decided to make an appearance. It was telling you that the second the mantis was fixed, Cal would leave you and you’d never see him again. It would take Koboh three rotations around its sun just to get over the hurt you’d make yourself feel by letting him in again.

But the side of you that was influenced by the force, by the ways you’ve been raised and taught, it told you this was meant to be. The force works in mysterious ways and events like this don’t happen just because. You were meant to see Cal Kestis again. The thought made you squeeze him a little tighter.

Your grip caused him to chuckle as he responded by rubbing your back consolingly. “I’ve missed you, too.”

Finally letting go, you pushed back to scan for any injuries you’ve ignored. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

He rolled his shoulders back again, rolling his head and twisting around waiting for something to pop or hurt. His years of being a scrapper destined him to aching bones and poor posture. So along with his never ending need to fight and not rest, he ignored some of the cracks and soreness. “Yeah yeah I’m alright. Tell you this. The sooner we get to Greez’s, the sooner we can-“ He stops as he looks beyond you. Cal gently moved you out of his way to look.

“The sooner we can what?” You asked, turning to look at whatever caught Cal’s attention. “Oh.”

The vast cave seemed endless. Waterfalls were replaced by old, disfigured structures. It felt familiar. As if you’ve always known they were here. It reminded you of some of the buildings you’ve seen in the distance on Koboh but was afraid to visit alone.

“What is this place?” You asked as you followed behind him. BD responded with a curious 'boop beep.'

“Almost reminds me of the Jedi training grounds.” Cal responded, you gave a nod in agreement. That’s what it was.

"Is this our way back?" You asked.

"Only one way to find out. Care for another adventure?" Cal turned to face you, an enticing smirk plastered on his face. His hands on his hips. BD beeped as in reiterating Cal's question.

You couldn't say no. Especially if it meant more time with your old friend. If this meant you'd be by his side a little longer, you'd wait to see if you would ever become more.

Beyond these caves would soon answer that question as you both worked toward a way to finally put the days of the Empire behind you and breath. Working along side the mantis crew once again to find what you've always longed for.

A home.

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

hi!! thank you for reading this! I said I was going to make this just one part but now I want to write more of cal and corde... lmk if you'd like more adventures between them! maybe they will finally admit what they were scared to this whole time.

corde - latin for "heart" french for "string"

tag list: @emberlei @chaoskrakenuwu

#cal kestis #cal kestis x reader #cal kestis x y/n #cal kestis x you #cal kestis fanfic #cal kestis fluff #cal kestis fanfiction #cal kestis jedi survivor #jedi survivor fic #fallen order fic #cal kestis imagine #cal kestis headcanon #koboh residents #greez dritus #koboh #jedi survivor fanfiction #poncho addict cal #my favorite indie boy jedi

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lifblogs · 9 months ago

Text

Better Late Than Dead

Fandom: The Bad Batch Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Pairing: Tech/Phee Word Count: 1268 Summary: Tech arrives on Pabu for the first time since he was rescued from Dr. Hemlock, and put his mind back together (mostly). A special someone is there waiting for him. AUTHOR'S NOTE: Disclaimer, I have PCS (Post-Concussion Syndrome) so this story could be a mess, it could be great. I don't know, but I tried, and I had fun. First story I've written since I hit my head. I am sooooo nervous about it for some reason. This fandom seems like nothing but kind, though. If you read it, thank you. READ ON AO3

Tech paused getting off the ramp. Once he stepped off onto Pabu he would no longer just be on the Marauder with his family. He would exist in a public space, with people who… might not understand, who would see him differently. He was different.

There were some stares from the crowd, but he couldn’t track all of them, faces blurring and disappearing as he watched. But maybe those eyes were still on him.

Subconsciously, he touched the back of his head, feeling the metal plate there that replaced part of his skull, felt the lines where his scalp had split, where either through injury or one of his many surgeries his brain had been exposed. His new and enhanced left eye (replacing the gouged one from Plan 99) searched the space before him frantically, but he tried to take in what the right saw first: bright, blue skies with white, puffy clouds; a calm ocean for kilometers on end; happy people in colorful clothing—survivors, every one of them. How could such a place exist when he’d been through such horrors in Hemlock’s dark labs? Now it was like this beautiful place only half-existed.

The beauty was what his right eye saw. The left one… He hadn’t had a chance to reprogram it yet. Most of what he saw through it was a dizzying array of heat signatures, structural integrities, and the best places to shoot a target. According to his eye, everyone was a target. This was all superimposed over his regular vision from his right eye. The confusing signals to his brain usually left him with the feeling as if his eyes were being scooped out (half a phantom pain and reminiscent of his real horrors), and it would throb up into his head. With the metal plate added in, he had more headaches than he could manage on most days.

Still feeling anxiety churning in his gut; cold, clammy fear gripping the back of his neck and stripping him bare, he held up his new datapad. Tech decided to do a quick check of his metabolic system, and the absorption levels of his various injected pain meds, and their half-lives. This was done through a chip implanted at the base of his skull. Unfortunately that had required an extra surgery, seeing as that hadn’t fit in the area where he’d needed his skull repaired.

His datapad beeped quietly, and a yellow bar showed up near the top. He’d need to re-inject his left hip soon.

Tech glanced up, the real galaxy around him becoming too real. Coming towards the ramp with a hesitant smile and shining eyes was Phee.

His heart suddenly seemed too big, blood somehow beating hard all across his torso, even as it crawled up his throat. Phee. He really had thought of her, even remembered one instance of Hemlock torturing him for mentioning her name. He shuddered, his mechanical left leg shifting in a way that seemed too obvious and inhuman to him.

Tech wasn’t the same.

Am I even Tech?

No, no. You’ve… you’ve been over this already. Done the work. I. Am. Tech.

And he had thought about Phee in what he had thought would be his last moments. He’d surprisingly had the time to think about a lot of people.

He’d thought about his last-minute realization, and he’d mourned what could have been. And now… there she was. Here he was. Pabu. Safety. Phee.

Tech took a deep breath, tried to swallow back his fear, and stepped down the ramp, all too aware of how he looked now. Feeling clumsy with this changed body, he struggled to put his datapad back on his belt. One last thing to put between this moment and the next, the inevitable.

Phee met him at the bottom of the ramp, letting him step off. For a moment the voices around them dimmed, but neither of them spoke.

Oh no, she’s horrified. She’s disgusted. She’s—

“You look different.”

Blunt, as always.

“Oh.”

“I think I like it.”

“You… do?” Tech asked, caught off guard as he usually was with her. (How could anyone script conversations with a flirtatious, bold pirate?)

She shrugged. Was she… crying?

Some of his vision blurred. His eye malfunctioning? No. His right one. He was crying.

Hesitantly, she touched his shoulder. Tech jumped a little, but let her warm, assuring touch stay there. He wondered what that hand felt like—strong, calloused.

“It’s you, isn’t it?”

Was this him? All these differences, and injuries, and modifications?

Well, he was still Tech, so he supposed that made the plate in his skull him, the chip, the cybernetic leg, and eye. Still… Tech. Just different. A new Tech.

“I suppose.” He was surprised to hear himself speak.

“Then of course I like it! But I have a bone to pick with you.”

Tech almost backed away, startled, as her finger prodded against his chest.

What bone?

What—Oh!

“Seven months?!” she went on, voice raised and rough. “I don’t see you for seven months?! And all I could get out of Mr. Face Tattoo was that you were ‘indisposed.’”

“Sorry I’m… late,” he got out, as if that somehow summed up everything that had changed his life, that had even affected hers.

That’s when a sob left Phee, and her tears spilled, and she cupped Tech’s scarred face in her hand. It was calloused, just like he’d thought it’d be. Something about her touch was reassuring and invigorating all at once.

And it was kind.

Tech hadn’t realized how much he’d needed someone outside his family to support him until that moment. It left him weak in his right knee, and he might have trembled.

Phee sobbed again, and then got out with a smile bright enough to rival the stars, “But still—better late than dead, I always say.”

Tech held her hand against his face for a second, marveling at the feeling, her words. Then he wasn’t sure who pulled who into an embrace, but suddenly she was flush against him, her heart beating fast, chest moving with her sobs, a wild scent of ocean salt, island fruit, and some kind of warm spice surrounding him. With his chin tucked against her shoulder, and her head resting against his he learned her hair was a softness he’d never felt before.

“Though of course you had to lose one brown eye on me,” she joked. He was surprised when it didn’t hurt, not from her.

“I’ll try not to lose the other one.”

“You’d better. What am I supposed to call you now? ‘Brown Eye’ doesn’t sound romantic.”

“We could… make it romantic,” he ventured, voice a soft murmur against her.

Phee laughed, and pulled back, patting his cheek. “Honey, I’m not sure you know what romance is.”

For the first time since Plan 99, months and months ago, Tech laughed—something he’d thought he would never be capable of again. And, he thought, maybe he’d like to do it again. With Phee.

“I’m smart,” he assured her, watching as she wiped away her tears, wishing he could do it for her. He went on, surprising himself, “I’m sure I can learn.”

Phee took his hand in hers, and Tech was startled by how much he enjoyed that her hand was smaller than his.

“Well, come on then,” she said, starting to drag him along, towards society as a whole new person. “You’re gonna have a lot of studying to do.”

Tech smiled, somehow, as he followed her, leaving just a little bit of that dark lab behind him.

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb #tbb tech #phee genoa #tech x phee #techphee #techphee fanfiction #tbb fanfiction #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #star wars tbb #star wars tbb fanfiction #fanfiction #tech #writing #my writing

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pasta-in-the-pudding · 8 months ago

Note

I just read ur Masky angst post and I now need a fic where the reader and Tim both bond over the hallucinations they’ve been having ☹️☹️

The reader starts getting them but avoids telling Tim, then one day he notices the reader staring at an empty window facing the forest. At that moment, something clicks and he just KNOWS. So he approaches the reader and they talk abt it, from then on its them against the world or that weird tall man…

—love ur work btw 🙏

I'm not doing the font thing anymore im tired of it 😭 anyways YES i love this idea!!

Divider credits go to @saradika-graphics! Go follow them and support their work

Thank you so much for requesting!!

Tiresome (part 2)

It saw you, you know it did

You don't think you were supposed to see it, though

Ever since that night with Tim, things have been....different

You find yourself drifting off almost constantly, and when you come back to the present moment you are almost always facing the forest by your apartment

Then the ringing starts

At first it's barely noticeable, just a ringing in your ear every now and then

But it continues ramping up the closer and closer you get to the forest, if you were to sit out on your balcony your hearing would be completely filled with the ringing

The ringing gives you headaches, really painful ones that never seem to go away

You go to the doctor to see if they can give you any prescribed pain meds, but they don't have anything except a recommendation to drink more water and spend less time on electronics

Eventually you get so tired of the ringing that you decide to just pop any kind of pills that look like they'd do something

You eventually reach Tim's mystery pills, he still hasn't told you what they're for, and the label has been scratched off so you can't even see a name or dosage

Nothing else has worked yet, so you decide to take your chances and pop a pill into your mouth

After about 30 minutes, the pills kick in and everything becomes quiet.....still

Life is normal again, not filled by the eerie sense of dread and fear you have whenever you glance at the forest

The ringing is gone

The pills work for a little bit, but then your condition worsens

You begin seeing static at random times, and whenever your vision returns, you are standing right outside of the forest

You begin to take more and more pills per day, and with how many Tim has, he doesn't seem to notice

You've begun to notice a schedule of sorts to your hallucinations, they happen every evening around 6pm and every morning around 7am

Exactly when Tim leaves and returns

You begin trying to resist these weird spells, locking yourself into your bathroom when you hear the ringing

However, if you don't give in, you will eventually get a brain splitting migraine and begin vomiting this thick black goopy substance

You are able to hide your condition for a while though, despite this

One night when Tim gets home earlier than usual, he finally seems to have confirmation in your strange behavior

The sliding door to your balcony is wide open, the cool night air blowing the curtains into the apartment

You are standing at the edge of the balcony, leaning against the railing with an almost empty stare into the forest

Tim comes up behind you, pressing a hand to your back and asking if you're alright

You won't move your gaze away, only dreamily whisper "He's coming to get me"

This is when it clicks for him, seemingly he understands everything at that moment

His eyes widen, he grabs you by your shoulders and shakes you lightly "Hey, hey, listen to me. Whatever you think you see, you don't. He isn't real, he isn't coming for you."

You sleepily look back over to the forest, before your breath catches in your throat and your entire body fills with fear "He's coming to get me" You say with a trembly voice

"He's coming to get me! He's coming to get me! He's coming to get me!" You repeat over and over again, desperately trying to escape Tim's grasp so you can run off

Tim rushes you inside, locks the balcony door and closes the curtains, all while you are still adamant that "he's coming to get you"

He sits you down on the couch and grabs a few pills from a nearby bottle, stuffing at least 3 into your mouth and making you swallow them

"Y/n, you have to listen to me. He is not real. I know he seems really real, but he's not real. He's a hallucination your brain created, just like me, ok?"

It is then that you puke all over the coffee table, the pills coming right back up with it, the same black goopy substance coating the carpet

"Shit, shit, shit" Tim mutters to himself, picking you up and carrying you into a spare closet

The lights begin to flicker and static covers both of your visions

He sets you down in the closet and holds onto you for dear life, shushing you and trying his best to close the door with limited vision

You don't know how many hours or days you two stayed like this, hunched together in this small closet, being unable to see and only being able to pray that he leaves soon

When he does finally leave and your vision clears, you are both quiet for many hours before you finally speak

"He's coming for both of us"

#creepypasta #slender mansion #creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta x you #creepypasta x female reader #tim wright x y/n #tim sutton x reader #tim wright mh #mh tim #tim masky #masky marble hornets #marble hornets

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slvtiny · 3 months ago

Text

Missing Puzzle Piece

Pairing: Hongjoong x afab/gn reader

Warning ⚠️: cursing, mention of sex,lmk if I missed any.

[a/n: This is a scenario, and I may or may not write on it later. It's not proof read so expect spelling errors, if you want to use this in your works then lmk and make sure to tag me in it 😊. Reblogs and comments are appreciated. Feedbacks are welcome as well. I won't keep you long but I will tell you that you might want to keep a tissue or two handy. That's it, I hope you like it]

Hongjoong had lost his group ring again

You did want to propose to him soon

Is it a sign??

How can he wear 2 rings on the same finger without being bothered about it?

You go with him to get the group ring reordered

And when he isn't paying much attention you tell them to put a hold to the making of the ring and make an appointment a few days after

Later the same week you go back to the place. Alone this time.

You pull out your design for the ring you wanted to make for him. You discuss details about its girth and the stone you wanted to get

After that is done you tell them to make his group ring a few sizes bigger than the original and to increase the radius within the infinity sign where the Dimond is set in one of its loops

Your idea was to hide your wedding ring inside the group ring

Well you wouldn't call it hiding since the stone in the second loop would give it away if you'd pay attention to it

You'd rather say he'd just have both his wedding rings together as one on his finger

You'd designed yours to have your birth stones embedded on the inner side where no one but he'd see it. Your diamond would sit on top such that it goes through the loop of the infinity on his group ring

Your diamond won't protrude but it would sit as though he'd had the original ring have 2 diamonds instead

The only difference being the tint your diamond had. You'd had the diamond cut into to engrave your initials into it with a drop of your blood and then stitched up like some pouch of a pact with the devil he'd made.

To get a natural diamond cut and re-harvested in a lab cost you good and if at all the love you had for him was any less you wouldn't have done it

You'd sat through nights and headaches just sitting at the kitchen counter designing the ring of your dreams

You had no problem at all, with the fact that he loved his members so much that you knew you'd make your ring to mold into it and sit like the rings are hugging each other

You loved them too, you couldn't imagine not having them in your life. You couldn't imagine your marriage without the chaos they'd bring, the laughs, the bickering, the love quarrels the stupid comments.

You couldn't imagine proposing to the love of your life without the help of the menaces who got you to fall into your future husband's arms, without their teasing.

You couldn't help but tear up waiting to collect the rings.

Hongjoong was your forever, till death and beyond, if not for eternity and all.

You had the ring, the dress, the hair inspo, the makeup, the nails, the heels, the venue, the plot for your trap to get your Joongie out of his studio, dressed and at the venue and your super supportive beastie Wooie.

5 hours to sunset. Everything is according to plan. Hwa has your Joongie out of the studio and preparing for a shower. You're sitting with Woo having your panic picnic at your apartment while he colors your hair.

3 hours to go. You're dolled up and getting pep talked to in the backseat of San's car which is taking you to the beach villa you bought last summer without telling anyone. Wooyoung had gasped offended when you told him you'd had this villa since late June.

The weather was pleasant, it hadn't rained and the skies were clear without signs of possible rain..

You were shaking, nervous and excited. Palms sweaty, breath heavy, heartbeat so rapid he could rap over it.

Just, as a confused Hongjoong walks up to the trail of flowers you'd prepared as a ramp for him. Nudged by his only hyung he continues to trace the trail.

You kneel on one knee, your hands resting on the other.

He finally walks up to you eyes teary and hands full with the Polaroids you had laid out pinned to the vines along the trail.

He stands in front of you and you look into his eyes. Like a dream to good to be true. But it was your destiny and you had come a long way to be here.

Bringing out the little ring box. You take a deep breath, flip it open and look the love of your life in the eyes.

"I did prepare a speech but I don't remember any of it. All I know is that I love you and I want you and I want to have kids with you and grow old and when we're dead I want to haunt with you. I want you to be mine.

Will you marry me?"

Tears trickle down your cheeks as you look at him. He's frozen, as he blinks his tears away.

He stomps his feet like a little kid.

"That’s not fare, I wanted to ask you first."

You blink at him confused as he kneels right in front of you, drawing a similar box out from his pocket and next to your hand he opens it.

"Marry me."

You're bawling your eyes and so is he. He pulls you in for a quick kiss before letting out his finger for you to put his ring on him as you follow to do the same. You recognize the tinted Dimond and look up to him in disbelief.

"Baby your drunk ass tells me all about your fantasies, I've known you'd want a diamond like no other, one with my sole etched to you forever."

"I fucking love Kim Hongjoong"

"I love fucking you Kim y/n"

P.S.

Attempt at comedy:

Wooyoung pops the champagne and the cork hits your head and then everyone makes Mrs. Kim Shorty jokes some including "you'll have short children since both of you are short".

Tagged: @chocoholicbabe1994 @pirateprincessoz

#ateez x female reader #ateez x you #ateez imagines #ateez drabbles #ateez fluff #ateez imagine #ateez hongjoong #ateez scenarios #hongjoong scenarios #hongjoong x reader #marry me #atiny #y/n #hongjoong x y/n #hongjoong x you #afab reader #gn reader #fluff #rom

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paingoes · 5 months ago

Text

Destroyer - Moonshine

(Masterlist)

dont tell the others, but this is my favorite chapter by far

(Content: fainting, nausea, overexertion, alcohol, crying)

==================

Things were ramping up quickly. The missions now came almost back to back, the temporal limitations of space the only obstacle to their continuity. Delta was out in the field at least once a week. Not every job was as dramatic as the deadly laser light show had been, but they were hitting critical targets for the Empire. After the display at the mech site, money suddenly flowed in. Life aboard the Thorn grew a bit more bearable for the soldiers, now getting reacquainted with the affluence that followed the Empire. Simon had been given better tech to train with and was putting it to good use. Delta snapped the heads off of the dummies without a second thought, perhaps dangerously overtrained in his responsiveness. All the excitement was getting to him. He clenched his fist to destroy the next test-dummy and the next thing he knew, he was on the floor.

“Alright, that’s enough for today,” Simon tilted him onto his side, in recovery position. Delta winced as the shock wore off, a dull headache replacing it. Once his head had stopped spinning uncontrollably, he carefully sat up, trying not to vomit from the exertion. Simon sat cross-legged beside him, offering him a juicebox and some crackers. Anything heavier would’ve just added to the nausea.

“How are you feeling, champ?” Simon asked, nudging the juice closer to him, “Feels like we’ve hardly had time to talk recently.”

“I’m okay, sir,” Delta murmured. His head was between his knees, waiting for the rest of the vertigo to drop off, “It doesn’t hurt.”

“Yeah, but with all the changes, y’know. I wanted to check in on you,” Simon leaned in, trying to study his expression, “Emotionally, I mean. See if you were adjusting okay.”

“I’m stable,” Delta said. This was always the answer that got doctors to leave him alone. They’d pry, sometimes, trying to get a more detailed picture of his mental state. It was all just to evaluate his fitness. He would never give them reason to doubt it. He was stable - and you didn’t have to worry about him breaking down or going postal or anything like that.

Simon looked disappointed. He pulled his bag closer, retrieving a medium-sized paperback from it. The cover was a deep red. He offered it to Delta, who immediately began to flip through it.

“It’s a treatise on empire and succession. I know it’s not what you’re usually into, but it seemed relevant, with all that’s going on right now. I thought you might appreciate it,” Simon shrugged, “I have more once you’re finished with that one. I know you read fast.”

“Thank you, sir,” Delta said softly, placing the book beside him. His eyes flitted up, sensing movement from the balcony. A few people had entered, he didn’t know how long ago. They were watching him. Simon noticed too, a tired grin appearing on his face.

“Just some seniors. Probably want to see what all the fuss is about. Finish your meal, kid. We’re not giving free shows.” Simon patted him on the back. Delta flinched at the touch, then felt ashamed at having done so. He sipped at the juicebox pensively.

============

Delta waited outside of Paris’s door. It’d been a minute with no response, but he heard motion inside. He lightly rapped his knuckles against the steel door, stepping back just in case.

This time, Paris opened it immediately. “The fuck do you want?”

There were other people in the room with him, talking loudly amongst themselves, laughing.

“You said-“

Paris didn’t even wait for him to finish, “I’m busy. Take the day off.”

The door slammed shut in his face.

============

This was fine, really. It gave Delta a chance to rest, catch up on the books he’d been reading. But he found himself strangely restless, wanting to pace along the floors of the ship. It was so much busier than it had been a few weeks ago. When he stepped into the central hub, a wave of déjà vu washed over him. There were the Emperor’s old generals and commanders, each of them orbited by their respective factions. He hadn’t seen most of them since his childhood. He was surprised Paris had even allowed them onboard.

Delta was content to observe from the shadows. Most people went out of their way to avoid him, but with his hair tied up and baggy clothing on, he was not so immediately recognizable. He hovered close to the group that belonged to the General Nezu. Though he wasn’t present himself, Delta recognized many of the staff’s faces. Nezu had worked particularly close with the Emperor, especially towards the end. His people had been spread out across several tables, but as their lunchtime drew nearer, they began to disperse. They localized closer and closer to the leftmost exit of the workspace. Delta noticed the laptop left unguarded.

He didn’t know why he did it. He’d never considered himself particularly sneaky, but then again, he’d never really been given the opportunity. With nobody looking, he used a soft aura of telekinetic energy to slide the laptop off the desk and into his hands. He hid it on the inside of his hoodie, then walked silently and swiftly back to his room. He propped up his chair in front of the door so that it couldn’t be opened from the outside. He put out a little pulse, searching for hidden cameras, making sure none had been installed since the last time he checked. Nothing. He knelt down beside the bed and opened the laptop hinges up, just a little bit, enough to tape up the front camera. Then he opened it up completely.

It hadn’t autolocked in the time it took to reach his room, thank god. The first thing he did was to disable the passcode lock. He’d never been able to use a personal computer before, but Simon had shown him how it worked when he was curious. He’d even given him books on it. Delta sat up abruptly, moving over to his desk. There was a small flash drive in the bottom drawer. He had nabbed it a few weeks ago, but he hadn’t been able to see what was on it until now. He took the compsci textbook out of its pile, sending the others in it crashing to the ground. He startled at the noise, but rushed back to the laptop to finish the mission. He slammed the drive into the USB port, but it didn’t enter. He flipped it over, trying the other side. Still nothing. He flipped it a final time and it slid in smoothly.

The flash drive itself was mostly empty. There were a few folders he would check out later, but for now, he was focused on copying everything the laptop had onto it. It gave him an estimate of 45 minutes. While he waited, he looked through the windows already opened on the screen. One of them was the Empire portal. Another, the site of one of their ship venders. The last was an email inbox with a financial spreadsheet pulled up. Delta ripped out one of the blank pages from the textbook, jotting down the username and passwords of the websites that were open. He saved the email and the password. Then, he clicked around on the browser, searching for other websites with info he could scrape up. But he didn’t know how to navigate the browser intuitively and began to get scared of triggering some alarm. He looked anxiously at the countdown, waiting for the rest of the files to load.

Delta ejected the drive, taking a deep breath. He hid it back in the drawer, then turned the laptop off. He flipped it over, feeling the device with his hands, letting his powers give him a sense of the small mechanisms inside of it. He was now glad for the precision practice; it let him swiftly unscrew the bottom of it and begin to disassemble the computer’s guts, searching it over for any signs of a location tracker. When he found none, he gave a sigh of relief, disconnecting the laptop’s battery. He stored them separately, hiding them in a bag beneath his mattress. Then he sat on the mattress, innocently, trying to look calm. It was enough for one day. His hands were shaking too bad to even type, he wasn’t going to push it anymore. He took the book Simon had given him, rolling onto his side to read it.

============

It was well past dinner time when he finally looked up, remembering where he was. Though he wanted to stay in his room, he figured he should probably go eat something before tomorrow. They sprang missions on him all the time now and they were a lot more miserable if he was undereating the day of. He removed the chair from the door, slipping out into the hall.

He was just outside of the kitchen when he heard a soft sobbing. He did a double take, looking down the hall. In one of the offshoot corridors, all the way down by the end, a figure was collapsed against the wall and crying into their hands. With a start, Delta realized it was Paris. He was piss drunk.

Delta kept walking. The institute he’d grown up in had nurtured certain traits in its students, and empathy was not among them. Nor was excessive emotionality valued in the empire. He filled up his bag with fruit and granola bars, ready to hide out in his room the rest of the night. But as he exited and saw Paris quiet, now toppled over, he felt a small twinge of concern. He hesitated, weighing over the options in his head. Nobody would know if he left, least of all Paris. He wouldn’t even remember any of this in the morning. But it wouldn’t do good to have the prince passed out defenseless, on a ship swarming with his enemies. Delta rolled his eyes, readjusting the bag on his shoulder before heading down the hall.

“Your Highness?” Delta bent down beside the still form, prodding him gently, “Paris?”

Paris groaned. His face was puffy with a drunken blush. Tear tracks were still visible. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

“Leave me alone,” he whined.

“Alright,” Delta stood up.

“Waitno. Please,” Paris said, his speech slurring. He sounded so sad. “Mm sorry. Don’t go.”

He reached a hand out to grasp Delta’s sleeve, but it wasn’t demanding. It was pleading. He looked like he was going to cry again. Delta gently removed his hand.

“C’mon. Stand up,” he offered both hands to Paris, who took them cautiously. Paris stood up shakily. He was both taller and heavier than Delta - and much stronger, even when he wasn’t trying to be. Delta nearly fell over as Paris leaned on him.

“Wherewe going?” He mumbled.

“Bed,” Delta told him. Paris let out a small giggle, before remembering how miserable he was.

“They fucking left meee,” Paris’s voice was both high and raspy. Delta walked him down the hall. He took him into the elevator, confident they would not make it up the stairs. Delta shushed him, which did not work.

“They’re all juss snakes and vipers. They don’t have feeeeelings. None of em care.” His voice was weepy and without venom. “Nobody care. How am I supposed to save this? Is ruined. I can’t.”

The elevator door dinged open. Delta half-pushed, half-carried him out. Paris took the wall for support, which was a great help. They managed to stumble down the remaining length of the hallway until they’d arrived at Paris’s room. Delta had to scan the keycard for him; he was looking at it like he didn’t know what it was. Delta fumbled for the lightswitch, throwing Paris off in the general direction of the bed. Delta shut the door, looking around the room. It was totally trashed, even worse than usual. Bottles laid everywhere, as well as various loose articles of clothing, makeup and face paint. He pinched the bridge of his nose, knowing he’d be the one to clean it up in the morning. Paris was crumpled up on the bed, still fully dressed.

“Do you want to take your shoes off?” Delta asked him, keeping a considerable distance. Paris kicked them off with real signs of struggle, even worse when he had to remove his jacket. With a sigh, Delta unbuttoned the front for him, peeling it off his shoulders. He was slick with sweat and grime. Not seeming to care, Paris collapsed back down on the bed, at least this time managing to get his head on the pillow. Delta moved to bring him a glass of water from the bathroom sink.

“Thank you,” Paris said sweetly as he placed the glass down on the nightstand.

“Don’t mention it,” Delta rolled his eyes. He jumped when Paris reached for his wrist.

“Stay?” Paris begged, “Please stay.”

Delta wrenched his wrist away. “Absolutely not. You’ll beat the shit out of me if I’m still here in the morning.”

“Nuh I won’t,” Paris promised, “Please stay.”

“Goodnight, Your Highness,” Delta backed out the door, flipping the light off.

~~~

Tags: @catnykit @indigoviolet311 @snakebites-and-ink

#whump #living weapon whumpee #whump scenario #whump community #whump prompt #hurt/comfort #h/c #fainting #alcohol #magic exhaustion #crying #destroyer #delta #paris

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