#crawling back to civilization lol

[johnnyutah]

gonna play the witcher for a few hours and then maybe write some lynnmanda.. we’ll see :3

[holllandtrash]

haunted | daniel ricciardo

pairing: daniel ricciardo x driver!reader (part 2 to fragile line)

Can't breathe whenever you're gone Can't turn back now, I'm haunted

you're racing. daniel isn't, but he's not gone either, is he? word count: 7.6k (im so sorry) warnings/tags: angst really, more incorrect f2 stats but whatever, time jumps again, platonic love all around, not as big of a rollercoaster as part 1 but just wait till part 3 lol

“Do you know?”

“Do I know what?” You asked, wondering why that was the first thing your teammate said when you opened the door to your flat. 

Lando didn’t even bother with a ‘hey, how was your day, what’s up’, he was just straight to the point, only you had no idea what the point was. 

He was still on a high after coming in second place the other day, so you let the impoliteness slide. Usually Lando didn’t look like a mix between a sweaty mess and a confused child, but you assumed he was like this because whatever was on his mind was important.

“You haven’t- did you-” Lando stammered over his words. “When’s the last time you checked your phone?”

You felt around in your pockets and glanced over your shoulder with a bit of a shrug. If you were being honest, you hadn’t looked at your phone in a few hours. Your morning was spent training and running errands now that you had some time and were home for a little while before the next race. You were still carrying a lot of energy after your successful finish in Silverstone that sitting still and scrolling through your phone was the last thing you wanted to be doing right now.

“Can you just find your phone, please?” Lando asked, because he didn’t want to be the person to break the news. He came over to talk to you, to walk you through it, to be someone to vent to if you needed it, but the last thing he wanted was to be the one to say it. 

It took a minute, but you found it in your bedroom, the screen lighting up and vibrating with each notification. As you walked back towards Lando, you scrolled through them all, trying to see which was the most important. 

Eventually, you landed on one from the official F1 app.

Daniel Ricciardo Replaces Nyck de Vries

Daniel Ricciardo was returning to the grid.

Daniel was coming back. 

But did he ever really leave in the first place?

You hadn’t spoken to him since that day in Monaco, almost a year ago now. The day your relationship fell apart, crumbling to pieces around you. 

You thought maybe, maybe, he’d call you before the next race or at least try to find you somewhere in the paddock to have a civil conversation but that didn’t happen. 

Of course, neither of you had time for a conversation anyway.

Daniel released his video 24 hours before media day in Belgium, announcing he would be leaving the team. It broke your heart watching it in your hotel room, knowing he was only a few floors up and probably struggled to record it. You could picture him retaking it a few times, just to get the words right, his tone right. He didn’t want to paint McLaren as being at fault for this decision, even if that was the case. 

If you weren’t the driver who was set to replace him, you would have been there in that room giving him encouraging nods and telling him to just speak to the fans. You would have been there when his head fell back against the wall in defeat, eyes closed as the weight of his unknown future crashed down on him. You would have crawled onto his lap and held him, telling him that another team was going to be desperate for him. 

Instead you were in your own room, watching the video like the millions of other followers he had. The only difference was, none of those followers asked themselves if they were to blame. 

It was just you, wiping the corner of your eyes and asking yourself if this was your fault. 

Surely when your news dropped, people would start pointing fingers, people would talk. 

Daniel Ricciardo trained her, they would say. He helped her get to this point and now she’s taking his seat. 

They’d throw assumptions into the wind about how this was probably your plan all along. 

It wasn’t, of course. Your plan was to get a seat in Formula 1 and see Daniel as friendly competition when you stepped onto the grid. You wanted to keep the support system alive when you moved up, knowing you had someone watching your back when you climbed out of the car. You wanted to be able to go home with him at the end of the night on Sunday and watch the race back with him, playfully critiquing each other's moves and ideally celebrating your victories, together.

You never wanted to leave him without a seat. 

But part of you must have known he wasn’t driving next year, right? You never brought up the contract, he never talked about leaving, nor did he talk about potentially moving to another team, which seemed like something you’d talk to your partner about. 

Daniel said nothing. You said nothing. And in the back of your head you knew he wasn’t signed to another team, you just didn’t want to accept it. 

You didn’t want to admit that part of that was your fault. 

Zak Brown put you in the worst position possible. He was giving you the chance to make your dream a reality, but in doing so, you were losing the one person who shared that dream with you. 

It shouldn’t have been hard to put on a smile during that post-race interview in Spa. You finished second, your hot streak had continued despite the turmoil your heart was going through. So not only was the adrenaline pumping through your veins from the podium, but McLaren had decided that morning was the perfect time to announce you were replacing Daniel. 

They didn’t word it like that, though. They just stated that you were to race for McLaren for 2023. No mention of Daniel, even if that was all anyone had questions about. 

“Second place in Spa, how are you feeling?” The reporter asked as you struggled to get comfortable in the white leather chair, your trophy at your feet. 

You weren’t surprised he, Richard from the official FIA reporting team, jumped directly to you, bypassing any questions for Liam Lawson who finished third. No one had yet to get a comment on your official move to F1, not having any time this morning since the news was announced. 

“It's exciting, it’s good to be back as well,” you nodded, turning to Felipe on your right who nodded as well. “A break is always needed, but there’s really no better feeling than getting back behind the wheel.”

“You’ve never podiumed here before,” Richard pointed out, “There’s quite a difference in performance from last year to this year, we’ve all noticed.” 

“Is there a question in there somewhere?” You laughed, not caring at all if it sounded forced, and you knew it did because Liam raised his hand to mouth to hide his chuckle and tried to play it off like he was just scratching his jaw. 

“Well it’s just no wonder that McLaren has snatched you up for the 2023 season, with how much you’ve shown this year what you’re capable of. Care to comment on that?” 

There it was. The first official request to talk about McLaren. 

“I mean, we’ve all seen the news at this point,” another laugh but this time it was more out of discomfort. 

You looked at Felipe, he nodded again but it was short and encouraging, silently telling you it was okay to take the spotlight even though it was him who had won this race. 

You cleared your throat, thinking about what the PR team from McLaren told you. You’re focused on Prema. McLaren knows this. McLaren is supporting you while you finish your F2 season and by all means, shut down any topic regarding Daniel Ricciardo. 

“Really, I’m just focused on finishing the season off strong with Prema,” you told Richard, feeling your smile start to slip because how could you be excited over that or a trophy when you knew what he was thinking and what the whole world was thinking. 

You prayed he wouldn’t bring it up, but the media world was hell. 

“And Daniel’s departure-

Liam promptly lifted the mic to lips, cutting off Richard before he could finish that thought. “We’ll all miss her, I think that’s safe to say. But maybe it’ll be a bit easier for the rest of us to podium when she’s gone.”

Quiet laughter spread through the audience and you just turned to Liam and mouthed a quick ‘thank you’. He didn’t say anything back, just dropped his head to your shoulder for a second and smiled, playing up the whole we’ll miss her statement. It wasn’t an act, though. Most of the guys you raced with had stopped you at some point this morning sharing their congrats and giving you a hug, telling you that you deserved that spot in F1. 

Even Felipe said it and meant it, and he was on the fast track to win this year, also eyeing a spot in F1. You had a good support system in this series. 

He dropped his head to your other shoulder and your lips fell into a playful pout, raising your hands to the sides of both driver’s faces. It made a cute photo. The F1 social media team really played into the love you had from your competitors. 

You had a lot of support in the paddock, surprisingly, from other drivers. 

Mick found you before his own race started. He was your first teammate during your rookie season in F2, it only made sense he was the first current driver to congratulate you.  

“You deserve it,” Mick told you, arms tightly wrapped around your body as he gave you a comforting embrace that almost compared to the one you were craving from Daniel, but still something was missing. 

Mick’s contract was up at the end of 2022, and no one knew where he was going but he assured you that no matter what, he’d be on your side. 

You sort of interacted with Lando on Sunday after your feature race. When you passed him in the paddock, he held his hand out for a fist bump and gave you a wide smile. The cameras caught it, they caught everything apparently, and it was the first photo you saw on social media when you got to the airport late Sunday evening. 

First of many celebratory fist bumps, McLaren’s caption said. It was a nice photo, truly. 

Too bad the comments were anything but. 

Not McLaren hyping up the fact that Danny’s girlfriend is replacing himIsn’t she only fourth in the driver standings in F2 lol We don’t want her we want the honey badgerEven worse when you think about the fact that they are literally in a relationship and she’s taking his seatNo class from any of them

No one seemed to know that you and Daniel were done, but how would they know? Your relationship was private, your break up would be too. 

Your break up. 

And then it hit you. Right there in the airport. After the adrenaline of a podium had worn off. After the excitement of signing with a new team had passed. After you were finally left alone after being surrounded by your team and drivers and press all day, you broke down. 

It was embarrassing. The only saving grace was the fact that you were sat in the corner of the premium lounge, facing the windows, so at least no one could see you cry. You weren’t quiet though, you knew your faint sobs could be heard from anyone within a 3 metre radius.

And you knew how immature this was, crying in an airport. But when you felt things you felt them with every fibre in your being. You were overjoyed beyond words, shaking when you got first podium in F2, and then feeling that multiplied by fifty when you won in Monaco. 

You were madly in love with Daniel, despite only dating for a year. It wasn’t young love, puppy love, a whirlwind romance, or any of those sappy headlines. You were head over heels, ready to spend your life with the man who lifted you up above the rest of the world. Who not only put you on a pedestal, but made sure other people did too. He was always in your corner, even before you started dating. He loved you long before you even realised you could also love him. 

As an athlete, as a future world championship contender, as a friend, Daniel loved you. 

The day you knew you loved him, you knew you were screwed, you both talked about the risks. 

Fragile line, you called it, walking a tightrope, he joked. There was such a huge margin of error, so many things that could go wrong by falling in love with, not only a driver but the driver who mentored you. 

The media would turn against you. Sponsors would shake their heads. Your future could have been jeopardised. You’d be labelled as a poor role model for girls in motorsport. 

You walked a dangerous and delicate line with Daniel, but you didn’t think it would snap beneath your feet. You never thought you’d be the one to break it. 

So yes, you were full on sobbing in the airport as you waited to board your flight to Amsterdam. 

“Pretty sure podium winners aren’t usually this distraught.”

You heard the British accent and immediately sat up, wiping your eyes and sniffling to at least try and make it seem like you weren’t crying. You turned your head and watched as Lando sat down next to you on the dark blue chair, resting a leg over his knee. 

You didn’t say anything, you just stared at him, worrying that if you did try to talk, all that would come out would be more cries. 

Lando reached into the front pocket of his backpack and pulled out a travel size pack of tissues, tossing them to you without so much as a word. He waited a few minutes as you composed yourself, using some of the tissues and pocketing the rest for later. 

“You okay?” Lando asked, sounding concerned for your well being because he had a point, podium winners aren’t usually this distraught. 

“Am I okay?” You repeated back followed with a playful scoff. “Do I look okay?” 

“You look awful.”

“I feel awful.”

Lando nodded, clearly unsure what to do in this situation. His current teammate, his friend, was leaving at the end of this year and his new teammate, a girl he had barely had 5 conversations with, was having a breakdown in the airport. 

Lando, whether he liked it or not, knew he would be caught in the middle of whatever this mess was for the next few months or so. 

He knew you and Daniel were an item. Daniel told himself shortly after Silverstone, and only because Lando had asked, simply curious.

“You and Y/N,” he started off, hesitantly, seeing the two of you interact much more flirtatiously then you had before. “You two are..” he didn’t know how to word it. 

Daniel just winked, “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

That pretty much confirmed it. And then when you started showing up in the back of the McLaren garage during race weekends, Lando sort of accepted it, quickly getting used to seeing you around. 

You were always friendly with each other, but your attention was always on Daniel, too. Lando saw the way you were quick to rush to his side after a difficult race. How you were the first one Daniel looked for when he stepped out of the car, eyes searching the sea of orange for you. Lando heard the way Daniel talked about you, the way he praised you, telling everyone who would listen that you deserved a spot in Formula 1. That man had a note saved on his phone of your stats, race wins, qualifying times, records broken, all of it. 

Daniel loved you. Everyone who knew him saw it, and Lando was no exception. 

So one could imagine the uncertainty he felt as he approached you in the airport. Surely you and Daniel weren’t together anymore, right? Or were you somehow going to work through this? Could you work through it? Taking his seat?

Lando, like everyone else, was dying to know. 

“Has he said anything?” You asked him before Lando had a chance to get a word out. That question alone confirmed that you and Daniel weren’t on speaking terms at least.

“About you?” Lando asked and when you nodded, he saw the devastation hit your eyes as he shook his head. “Honestly he wasn’t very talkative today, left right after the post race stuff.”

“How is he?” You then asked. “Has he- is there any word on him finding a seat next year?” You pulled your knees up to your chest, staring hopefully at the British driver. 

It pained Lando to shake his head again, “Not yet, but it’s still pretty early. I’m sure he’ll find a seat.”

You nodded, praying that Lando was right. When you dropped your chin to your knees, averting your eyes when you felt the tears well up again, Lando’s chest grew tight. He felt bad for you. This was a hard position for you to be in. 

“It’s not your fault, you know,” Lando assured you. “Danny’s one of the best there is, but the results just aren’t there. Zak didn’t see any point in continuing if it’ll just end up being more of the same.”

Lando tried to be encouraging, really, and you were thankful for that, but he got the hint after a while that you just didn’t want to talk about it. Before leaving you alone, he gave you his number and told you that if you needed anything, to just reach out. 

You were always friendly with Lando, but that was the start to your friendship.

It was Lando who shared your picture when you claimed first place in Zandvoort, celebrating your success with a cheeky caption stating how he better see you bring the hot streak to McLaren next year. He was the one who interrupted your post-race interview in Monza, spotting you in the paddock being interviewed by Will Buxton. Lando, despite needing to follow his own pre-race schedule, came and draped an arm over your shoulder and playfully interrupted whatever Will was trying to say.

“Look at that,” Will laughed when you struggled to shake Lando’s arm off of you, “Future teammates. Lando, how excited are you to be working with this incredible talent next year?”

“Oh extremely excited,” Lando answered, leaning into the mic gripped between your fingers. “She won’t be able to keep up with me though.”

And that it was it. He ruffled his hand through your hair and took off again.

He checked in on you between races, whenever a new headline was trending, whenever someone from social media had the audacity to compare yours and Daniels stats and pin you against each other as if there wasn’t already enough you were struggling with.

Lando didn’t want you to come into the new season already feeling defeated. He was still friends with Daniel, he always would be, but he had a kind heart. He wanted you to know that he wasn’t on anyones ‘side’, but more importantly, he saw you as a driver, as his next teammate. He didn’t see you as Daniel’s ex who was now stealing his seat like half of the world did.

It was also his car that you drove during the practice sessions in Austin and Abu Dhabi. Lando happily stepped aside for you, giving you a supportive pat on the back and strategically blocking your line of sight towards Daniel as he got ready for his sessions as well.

You still hadn’t spoken. You hadn’t even looked at each other. You tried, honestly, to catch his eye but he refused to even glance your way. He was in and out of that car so quick, finding any excuse to leave the garage while you were there.

It hurt. You knew his mind was made up. He was upset, he was hurt, he wanted nothing to do with you and seeing you in his garage sent him spiralling.

All you saw was Daniel turning his back on you, but what you didn’t know was this situation was giving Daniel constant headaches. He couldn’t look at you, the girl he loved, and watch you climb into the McLaren knowing that you’d be doing that throughout the entire next season and he wouldn’t.

All he ever wanted was to see you in a Formula 1 car, but not like this. 

You stood in Lando’s side of the garage during the last race. You wore your McLaren jacket, you had the orange headphones on as stared up at the screen. Your back was towards Daniel’s car, so you missed the way he did actually look at you. It pained him to see how well you blended in with the team, his team. He almost told himself it looked like you belonged there, but he quickly put his helmet on and climbed into his car, gearing up for the race.

He finished 9th. Lando finished 6th. And with that, the season ended.

Daniel was done.

You watched him celebrate with those closest to him. You stood off to the side and thought about how if things were different, you’d be clinging to him, sweaty race suit and all, waiting to congratulate him in your own way back at the hotel. You would tell him you loved him, that he didn’t need McLaren. You’d joke and say that you two could form your own team, because that’s what you should have been till the end, a team. 

But that wasn’t the case anymore. McLaren was your team now.

It was only a matter of days until Daniel spoke to the media about his departure. 

“I can’t speak ill of her,” Daniel said, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. He knew that coming on this podcast that he’d be asked about you and your contract. He was advised against it but the second his working relationship ended with McLaren, he agreed to talk, to share his side.

“But she’s the one who took your seat,” Jaycee so politely pointed out. “As happy as I am to see a female in Formula 1, it’s bittersweet knowing a driver such as yourself is left without a spot.”

Daniel sighed into the mic in front of him, “McLaren handed her her dream on a papaya platter and she grabbed it. I think a lot of drivers would do the same in that scenario.”

“But it stings a little more, doesn’t it?” Greyson, her co-host asked. “Because you two were-

“Friends, yeah,” Daniel interrupted. “Yeah we were close.”

“You mentored her,” Greyson pushed for more of an admittance as to what their relationship was. “You were seen with her and the Prema team during a handful of weekends. She even said you were her mentor.”

Daniel naturally hesitated, “I saw her potential early on and I wanted to help her grow. I really did want to see her in Formula 1, despite what anyone says about the situation she’s an incredible driver.”

“Everyone who follows Formula 1 knows you have a strong connection,” Jaycee said, subtly trying to pry for more as well. “After her Silverstone crash in 2021 you were in her garage. And then you were seen in Monaco together a few weeks later. You two weren’t just friends in the paddock, you worked closely together outside of race weekends too-

“Did your girlfriend take your seat or not?” Greyson blurted out, earning a glare from Jaycee on his left, but he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He wanted to know, the whole world wanted to know what was going on between you and Daniel now that you were signed for McLaren. 

And you had to give props to Daniel, he played it off about as smoothly as he could. 

“McLaren sees more potential in her than me,” he said, still smiling because that’s who he was. A people pleaser, always grinning, always a breath of fresh air. “If they can give her what they promised me, then that’s good for all of them. Do I like how the situation went down? No, but that’s the reality of Formula 1. You’re not safe unless you’re winning and I wasn’t winning.”

“And your relationship-

“She doesn’t need a mentor anymore, does she?” Daniel asked, disregarding any ideas of the two of you dating. “She made it to Formula 1. That was what she wanted. I wish her well.” 

That was the closest thing to confirmation of your break up that anyone would get. 

And the interview ended shortly after that, doing wonders on Spotify and Apple Podcasts. You listened to it also, just waiting for Daniel to say something horrible but of course he didn’t. That wasn’t him. He was the good guy. He was the hero. He got you to Formula 1 and was holding his head up high, wishing you well and thanking McLaren for the last 2 years. 

You wished it ended there, the conversations surrounding you. It should have ended there. 

But fast forward to the awards dinner at the end of the year, just shortly after the last race of the season. 

You sat with your mum at a round table with Felipe and his partner and few other people involved in Formula 2. 

You had finished second in the standings, not first like you had dreamt of, but Felipe told you that first place in the championship would come in F1, don’t worry. 

And you weren’t sure who had made the seating chart, but from where you sat, you could easily see Daniel at his table, only a few metres away from your own. He sat with some of his friends and some people from his personal team. He was also purposely avoiding looking in your direction, knowing that if he did, he’d be making eye contact for the first time in months. 

He’d see your stunning features and bright eyes standing out among the rest. He’d see the low cut, thinly strapped black dress, showing off the collarbones he used to mark with his lips, the trail between your breast and down to your navel that he used to make with his tongue. If he looked at you, he’d think of all the ways the night would have ended if things were different. 

If he looked at you, he’d be reminded that the girl he loved was the one who broke him. He’d be reminded that as hurt as he was by your actions, by taking his seat, he couldn’t forget the memories you made, the moments he shared, the way he used to admire you. 

He didn’t love you anymore, though. He couldn’t. He forced those feelings out, replacing them with regret for ever deciding to help you because if he hadn't helped you, it wouldn’t have been you that took his seat. 

So Daniel looked at the stage, his friends, his food. He didn’t look at you. 

He didn’t even look at you when you walked up to collect your trophy, choosing that moment to be the perfect time to walk up to the open bar. He ordered a few more drinks and a shot on a whim, downing it back before walking to the table, 2 freshly poured glasses of rum and cokes in hand. 

Daniel got drunk that night. He didn’t mean to, but it helped him deal with all he had going on. It was a good way to end the 2022 season, to put it behind him. You, McLaren, all of it. 

Someone should have stopped him when he noticed you about to leave at the end of the night, a white coat draped over your shoulders. That should be my blazer, Daniel thought, thinking of the countless nights he had given you his jacket for warmth. 

You were in the middle of a conversation with someone from Prema when you felt a tug in your arm. When you looked up and saw it was Daniel who was pulling you off to the side, your heart sank. There were no butterflies anymore, just a lot of anxiety and guilt eating you from the inside. 

You could tell he hadn’t thought through what he was going to say. For a split second, his gaze was soft, almost like he thought about congratulating you for a successful season. For a moment, proud Daniel was back and for a moment, you got your hopes up. Maybe this line you broke could be fixed.

It was a bad sign when his eyes grew cold, features hardening along with them. This man, who was all you wanted, stared at you like you were a stranger, and maybe you were now. 

He opened his mouth and the room around you fell dark and quiet. It was your mind playing horrible tricks on you, putting a spotlight in this moment in time so it would haunt your memories after tonight. You knew the earth was still spinning, that people around you were still moving, but you couldn’t trust anything, frozen in this space with Daniel. 

“I hope you’re happy,” Daniel spoke softly, but his words cut through you like a knife. If someone told you that your heart was bleeding, you’d believe it. That’s certainly what it felt like.

He didn’t want you to be happy. He didn’t want you taking his seat. He didn’t want to see you live out his dream. He put on a beautiful charade for the press, but deep down you knew, he saw you as nothing more but a mistake. He no longer wanted you to succeed, despite telling the world he wished you would. 

"Daniel-"

You automatically reached for him and he flinched backwards. It hurt, seeing him react how he was. He didn’t want you touching him, he just wanted to get one more word in, wanted you to know that he was still bitter and would be for a while. 

You stood there and watched him walk away, haunted by the pain and broken trust in his eyes, a look that would become burned into your mind during your restless sleeps. 

And then there was the week where you just didn’t sleep. The week after Daniel’s contract with Red Bull was announced. 

He wasn’t driving with them, but he wasn’t leaving Formula 1 either. 

He’d still be around the paddock during selective race weekends. He’d be there, putting on a show for the fans because everyone loved him. Everyone wanted him on the grid, and if he couldn’t race, at least he was still there in the garage as a reserve driver. 

The same excitement couldn’t be said for you. 

Despite forming a close bond with Lando really early into the pre-season, it helped that he was only two years younger than you, you were not met with open arms and loud cheers. 

You had some supporters, a lot actually, but nothing compared to Daniel’s fans. You were pulled alert and critiqued for every move you made. You could understand the questions that circulated when you didn’t even finish the first race in Bahrain, retiring early because of an engine problem. Did Zak really make the right move by replacing Daniel with you? What could you bring to the team if this was how you started the season?

But it was the talk about what you did off the track that really got to you. You didn’t care if people weren’t a fan of your driving, you knew F1 fans had their favourites and you knew you weren’t everyone’s. 

However social media had a way of spinning everything. You lost count of the ridiculous rumours. Apparently, you were now replacing Daniel with Lando because that playful interview you did talking about red flags in relationships really gave away the fact you were sleeping together. 

Oh you were also sleeping with Mick Schumacher, because you had a thing for reserve drivers, it seemed. And the way he found you after your second race without points again in Saudi Arabia made it so obvious that you were with him. 

And you couldn’t forget about how big of a bitch you were, choosing to not acknowledge Daniel in Australia when you walked past him in the paddock. It was his home race, he was the reason you were even racing, and you couldn’t even stop and give him a smile? 

These rumours were truly getting annoying.

Of course, you couldn’t come out and tell people that Lando was seeing someone because it was so new and private and not your story to tell. No one cared that Mick was your teammate at Prema in 2020 and you guys had always been friends. No one would believe you if you said that you didn’t even see Daniel in the paddock, being too engrossed in your conversation to notice that the Australian was walking past. 

You grew to hate seeing him during race weekends. 

It was a constant reminder of what could have been. 

What if you had waited a year and signed with McLaren then? Would Daniel still hold this hatred towards you if his contract played out like it was supposed to? 

What if you signed with a different team like Williams instead, and someone else replaced Daniel? If Oscar Piastri had taken his spot, would Daniel be this resentful still to see you driving? Or would he happily walk by your side in the paddock, him in Red Bull polo, you in your Williams racing suit? Would he have accompanied you during the race weekends when he didn’t have Red Bull duties?

Was there ever a scenario where he stood in your garage and watched you race? Cheering you on, despite what place you finished? Despite where he was in his own career?

Or was that just a far fetched dream? 

Because let’s face it, if Daniel was still racing this year, it would be hard to support you and focus on his own season. How could he be happy if he DNF’d and you finished in the points? How could you be happy if the media would say that you were only using Daniel to get ahead? 

If you had signed for Williams and Daniel was still replaced, it would be difficult for him to watch you race, to watch you do what he loved. How could he be in your corner when he no longer had a corner of his own to stand in? 

Maybe you were doomed from the start. Fragile line, you said. How true that was. It was always going to snap.

You heard through the grapevine that Daniel had said you taking his seat before his contract was even up was the worst thing you could have possibly done. 

Was that in regards to McLaren? To your relationship? From a sportsmanship standpoint? You had no idea. You just knew Daniel wasn’t impressed that you were racing and he wasn’t.  

You hated seeing him during the few races he attended. You were petrified to run into him in the paddock, in the pit lane, in the hotel for christ sakes, you didn’t want to see him. At one point, you were desperate for even just a smidge of attention from him and now you felt sick whenever you heard he would be in attendance.

You went five races in a row without scoring any points. You could practically hear Daniel’s smug expression when you crossed the finish line each time. He was probably eating this up, knowing you were the one struggling now. 

The only difference was, you didn’t have him to turn to after a shitty run in the McLaren. 

Lando tried to be helpful, but he was struggling too. People called the car a tractor and honestly, so did you and Lando in private. You had a group chat with your personal trainers and the four of you called yourselves the farmers. The jokes made and lighthearted conversations shared were the only silver linings during this depressing start of a season.

Monaco was better, sort of. 

You finished 10th, so at least that was a point under your belt. 

But Daniel was everywhere. 

He loved Monaco, he lived in Monaco, of course it was no surprise he was there that weekend.

You found yourself jogging past his flat the Thursday before the race, and you didn’t do it on purpose but it was the same route you had taken all of those times you had spent days on end at Daniel’s. Sometime he joined you for those morning runs, sometime you’d return and he was making breakfast.

But you came to a stop on the opposite side of the street and stared up at it, recognising his balcony instantly. You saw the plant in the corner that you had given him a few months into your relationship and despite him claiming he wasn’t a plant guy, he managed to keep it alive.

Your heart felt heavy. All you wanted was to knock on his door and be welcomed in with wide arms and that stupid smile of his. You wanted to not feel anxious when you saw him in the paddock. You wanted to not be holding your breath every time you got out of the racecar, wondering what Daniel thought of your run. 

You were simultaneously on edge at all moments while also still dying to make him proud. You didn’t think that would ever go away.

Even during the weekends he wasn’t there, you were looking over your shoulder constantly. Even if you knew that he was on the other side of the world, he was still on your mind. He haunted your thoughts from the moment you walked into the garage to when you got out of the car at the end of the race weekend.

Lando called you out on it that Thursday in Silverstone.

“You’re in your head,” he told you, seeing how your main focus wasn’t racing, it was Daniel. You were unsure what he was referring to though and Lando just rolled his eyes, “Well actually, Daniel’s in your head. And he’s keeping you from being the driver I know you can be.”

That was all he said on the topic. 

And he was right.

You were so worried about Daniel. About what he would think of your races. About trying to avoid him during the weekends he was there. About still trying to make him proud but not too proud where he resented you more for taking his seat. About the hundreds of scenarios that could have happened if you had made a different choice.

Because of all of these thoughts, that seat at McLaren was still very much Daniel’s. You allowed it to be.

You needed to stop telling yourself you took his seat because that’s what it would always be then, his seat. Lando stood up, patting your knee after dropping those few words and you decided right then and there that it was your seat. 

You wouldn’t let Daniel haunt you anymore. 

And qualifying was where this new mentality really showed. 

You were buzzing with energy when your engineer told you that you had gotten P3 and were starting on the second row for tomorrows race. You climbed out of the car in parc ferme and ran directly to Lando. He hugged you, he was proud of you. 

“That’s the driver we all know,” Lando said when he pulled his helmet off. His hand was on your shoulder, both of you were wearing identical smiles of pure joy. “Where the hell has she been all this time?”

You didn’t even have an answer, too excited about what this meant for you, for the team. You post-quali interviews went by in a blur, your hands were shaking the entire time. You blacked out during it, still trying to process the fact that you had finished third in qualifying, but you did remember Lando reaching over at one point and dropping his hand to your knee. It was polite, it didn’t mean anything more than a playful stop shaking you’re making us all look bad, but god did the media run with it. 

You didn’t let anything on social media get to you, telling yourself that you had to stay focused for the race. In fact you even gave your phone to your trainer, Oliver, asking him to take it for the night and to just wake you up in the morning.

And Oliver was a good trainer, he had also become a good friend since you joined McLaren so you trusted him with your phone. 

Which meant he knew your password. 

So when he saw your phone light up that night with a text from Daniel, Oliver panicked. He knew the right thing to do would be to just leave it alone, you’d see it in the morning. You’d see the message. The short but seemingly sweet;

P3, nice job

But a text like that would send you spiralling and you didn't need that before one of the most important races of the season for you, Oliver knew this. He knew you were supposed to be getting over Daniel, he knew how much the Australian just being in the paddock messed with your mind. He knew you had to focus on racing.

There was so much uncertainty with the text. Was this him extending an olive branch? Was he genuine, or was this supposed to be taken with a bit of salt? Oliver could read it both ways. Either Daniel was truly happy for you, or this could be dripping with sarcasm. P3, sure, but remember who’s seat you’re in.

Oliver decided to delete the text. There was no trace of it when he handed the phone back to you the next day. 

Maybe that was for the best, no one knew. 

All you knew was you were starting third today.

All Daniel knew was you had ignored him, and now you were walking right past him down the paddock, side by side with Lando as you talked about today’s race. Daniel turned his head and saw the two of you, drawing his own conclusions. 

Whatever was going through his mind, one thing seemed certain. You didn’t need him anymore. You had the seat, the team, someone new supporting you, why would you still need Daniel?

You went about your day, the same pre-race rituals. Lando checked in more than normal, it was an exciting day for both of you, but he knew he was also a good distraction to keep your mind off of Daniel, he knew you would be struggling to keep from thinking about him. 

“It’s you and me,” Lando told you right before the race. “It’s our day, yeah? We’ve got this.”

Lando was in your corner. You were in his. 

Which meant you were there to celebrate after the race when he took home second place. You had claimed fourth, which was also something to be proud of, and you were, but you were also craving that podium. You could almost taste it, it was so close. 

“Next time,” Lando assured you, having full confidence that you’d be holding the trophy at the following race. He handed you a bottle of champagne, telling you to drink up and enjoy and for once, you did. 

You were happy. You finally felt like you could accomplish something amazing at McLaren, despite the horrible start. Lando had gotten a podium, yours was coming, you could feel it. 

You didn’t think about Daniel at all that night. It was the first night in a long time where you didn’t see his face when you closed your eyes. 

And you would have loved to keep celebrating after that night, to keep the high of Lando's podium and your 4th place finish last until the next race, but all good things must come to an end. 

You stood in front of Lando now, unsure how to take the news about Daniels’ return. Were you allowed to be happy for him? Of course you wanted to see him in a seat, this was the ideal situation, both of you driving this season. What would this mean for the two of you moving forward?

But he had done the exact same thing you had done by replacing a driver before their contract was up.

Daniel made you feel awful about that decision and now here he was, making the exact same one. He was no better than you. He was no hero, he wasn’t the good guy. He was a driver, desperate for a seat, as were you. As was every single person wanting to race in this series. 

You were on the same playing field now.

He was going to be at every single race for the rest of the season, as a competitor on the grid. Something you once dreamt of, both of you dreamt of, was finally coming true. 

But that’s all he would be. A competitor. Another driver. Another car to overtake. You always thought that when this moment came, you’d still be a team when you left the track at the end of the day and that just wasn’t the reality you found yourself in. 

“He’s back,” Lando said, hands shoved in his pockets trying to gauge your reaction. 

Daniel was returning to Formula 1, but you knew he was never actually gone in the first place.

He was in your thoughts, your dreams, your memories, he was everywhere all of the time. Even when you crossed the finish line in Silverstone, there was still a part of you that was wondering if Daniel was watching. As much as you tried to avoid him, your eyes still scanned every single crowd for him.

And now you didn’t need to look anymore. 

part 3 gone

----

taglist: @yunnie-f1 @torossosebs @whatthefuckerr @jspitwall @oconso @tsarinablogs @landowecanbewc @somanyfandomsbruh @christianpulisic10 @storminacloud @sunnytkm23 @formula1mount @azxulaa @icarus-nex @spideyspeaches if i forgot someone im so sorry

[daechwitatamic]

Of Ruin: Chapter 16 || KTH

(banner by @itaeewon)

Of Ruin (Masterpost)

Rating: NSFW - minors dni Genre: vampire!au magic!au royalty!au, s2l, slow burn, eventual smut, angst and fluff

Summary: Taehyung of House Rune, Prince of Infracticus has been cursed. You’re the human world’s leading curse-breaker. It should be simple. But unraveling the curse becomes the least of your problems in the face of a world on the brink of civil war… and the love you start to feel for the prince.

A/N: Thank you endlessly to @sailoryooons for betaing!!! 💕

//

Section Warnings: ig major character death but that’s kind of a technicality, vampire biting, blood drinking, vampire biting, fangwarming??? lmfao, fluff, what i hope is a plot twist lol wc: 5.1k

The passage behind the thrones leads to a corridor not far from Taehyung’s wing. It’s close to the section of rooms that are meant to be yours now. Yours, for your new life as an Infracti. For your new life as the King’s sperasa, until you become Queen.

You’d agreed that doing the ritual in your wing would be best, so that they won’t have to transport you - newly turned, probably unconscious - through the palace.

You are afraid.

You let yourself feel it, don’t deny yourself the right to float in the crawling sensation of terror clawing its way up from your stomach. Taehyung’s hand in yours can’t dispel it. Your pride in him and your love for him, mighty as they are, can’t dispel it.

You’ve become accustomed to fear in your time here. You press on.

In your main room, still unfamiliar to you, Taehyung holds you close, one hand on the back of your head and the other around your waist. You let him hold you, close your eyes.

“Brave,” he whispers.

“I don’t feel very brave,” you admit quietly.

A knock on the door comes and the Queen enters, followed by Jimin. Behind him is Seokjin of Score, and Namjoon. Taehyung arranged all of this once you and Dr. Kim had explained what would be needed.

Namjoon finds you and approaches, face solemn.

“You ready?” he asks quietly as you look over the written countercurse together.

“Have to be,” you say. “Are you?”

He nods. “We can do this,” he asserts.

“And then you get to go home,” you say.

He nods, looking up at you from the parchment. “I’m going as soon as we can confirm it worked,” he tells you, a bit of apology in his tone. Like he’s sorry he isn’t staying with you - even though there’s no way he could.

“Good,” you say, meaning it. “Tell your grandfather… Thank you for everything. And… Thank you, too. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

“It was an honor,” he says, quietly, then adds, “I’m grateful, too.”

You feel yourself choking up, and you will it away. You need to be clear-headed, professional. There isn’t room for this - not now. You’ll have to be sad later. Still, you tell him, “I hope I can come see you both soon. I’ll try - as soon as I’m able to be around humans.”

He smiles sadly. “Don’t come until you’re sure you won’t eat us.”

“I promise,” you say, smiling a little. 

He regards you seriously again. Behind him, Taehyung seems to be organizing the items you’d asked for, going over the directions again. Namjoon says, “This might be goodbye for a while, huh?”

“If the countercurse works,” you agree.

You both seem to hover on the precipice of a hug goodbye. In the end, he gives you a final clap on the shoulder, and then the plan is lurching into motion around you.

The Queen has the things you need - the metronome, a jar of ashes.

You set the metronome to a slow rate, and then usher everyone into place in the open space of the room. Then, you sprinkle the ashes in a perfect circle around the group, locking you in with the magic. No one speaks. They just watch you work, ranging from curious to subdued.

When the circle is perfect, you pull out the parchment with the countercurse and explain one last time.

“This is the point, right here,” you say, pointing and showing the paper around the group of Infracti, “when Namjoon will take over the incantation. The ashes will keep the magic close-by, but you need to close the circle as quickly as possible or we’ll lose the connection.”

“We’ve got it,” Seokjin assures you, steady. “Don’t worry.”

“Okay,” you say, pulse thundering. You wish there was anything you could do to stall. You wish there was a blanket you could pull over your head. You wish there was someone from the future who could come tell you that everything would work out, that things would go as you intend.

“If anything goes wrong,” you add, “break contact as fast as you can, and break the circle of ashes to let the magic out. The quicker the better.”

It is the Queen - though, she is not that anymore, now that her son has been crowned - who lays a cool hand on your arm.

“Nothing will go wrong,” she tells you evenly. “We are all here beside you.”

You nod, wordless.

“I’m going to start, then,” you say, but you have to clear your throat once to make it audible.

You mutter a spell you’d looked up just for this, and your parchment obeys the command, hovering mid-air between you and Namjoon, supported by nothing. Namjoon stands to your right and the Queen to your left, and you press your palms to theirs. With everyone in place, you make a perfect circle, with Taehyung straight across.

“Breathe with the beat of the metronome,” you instruct. “Inhale… exhale…”

You breathe in time with everyone around you until you feel your magic rise up, flowing out to mingle with theirs. It takes some time before you feel ready to start the incantations; with Taehyung all the way across the circle it takes a few minutes before you feel his magical signature touch yours through the flow of everyone else’s. But it is unmistakable when he does, the warmth and belonging that accompany the sensation couldn’t be from anyone else.

When you feel like your magic and his are secure, thoroughly immersed with each other, you begin the incantation. You speak slowly and carefully, feeling the familiar sensation of the curse beginning to untangle. You keep your eyes on the page, try not to get distracted by the others.

There is no room for error - you can’t die twice.

There is no snag this time, no pull behind your navel that tells you the curse is fighting back. When you say your last line, you take your hands from those next to you and step into the circle.

Across from you, Taehyung steps forward too.

Around you, the remaining four step closer and fill the gaps you’d left behind, their hands meeting to close a small circle around you and Taehyung. Namjoon’s deep voice picks up the incantation where you left off. He’s borrowing, pulling magic from the Queen and from Jimin, who flank him.

You meet Taehyung’s eyes. Your heart is in your throat. There is so much you want to say to him. That you love him. That you trust him. That he’s worth this sacrifice.

You can’t speak, though, not during the incantation. Instead, you step close to him, breathe him in, and let him envelop you.

He wraps his arms around you, just as he had before everyone else had entered your rooms. He would have to hold tight, he’d warned you, to keep you from moving too much when your body began to instinctively fight him. And then, after, to hold you up when your legs inevitably give out.

He’d also warned you it would hurt.

You are afraid. 

You are afraid, but Taehyung is cradling you between his arms like you are precious, so you take a breath and nod.

Taehyung leans down and nuzzles the spot on your neck that he tends to favor. You stifle your cry when his fangs puncture you, letting out a mangled groan of agony through gritted teeth. You’re glad for his inhuman hold around your back, because your knees do go weak for a moment before you will them back into compliance.

There is no pulling sensation, and no welcome rush of venom. Instead, Taehyung’s hands tighten around you like a warning and then the location of his bite goes white hot.

You hear yourself scream.

The heat spreads, up your neck, down your chest. Your eyes roll back, your throat rasps as your scream continues. Your legs give out, useless beneath you. 

You feel yourself start to fight, hands clawing at Taehyung’s sides, body beginning to twist and tug. Taehyung’s hold is true, and you get nowhere. Your lungs burn and your scream dies to a whimper before starting anew after you drag in a breath.

Everything is on fire - from head to toe you are aflame. Your muscles strain to aching as your body tries and tries to wrench itself away from the pain.

Darkness creeps in the edge of your unfocused vision as you kick fruitlessly at Taehyung’s immoveable legs. You hear yourself gasping out sobs between shrieks of pain. You can see less and less, the black swirling at the edges of your vision taking over by the second.

Before the darkness closes in on you, you will yourself to focus, choke down the next scream that crawls up your throat.

You want to see him. You want to see him before you die. 

Your eyes fight to find him against the blurriness, and you blink away tears. His mouth is wet with your blood and his cheeks are wet with tears, but when he sees you looking at him, he presses his forehead to yours, and his hands on your back unclench and soothe up and down instead.

There he is, you think. My King. My love. And then you let the darkness come.

—

Taehyung looks around the meeting room, then closes his eyes and rubs a hand down his face.

His cabinet, a mix of his father’s people and some of his own, wait him out.

“Three weeks,” he repeats hollowly.

The Infracti he directs that at nods. “Yes, Maiesti. The council needs time to deliberate. This is, as you know, a bit unprecedented.”

Taehyung purses his lips. It’s true; never before has a King - or former King, technically - been put to trial. Dethroned, murdered, cast away - yes. But not like this - a trial, a ruling of guilt, a council deliberating on what sentence he should serve. A sentencing that could take nearly a month, apparently.

“Very well,” Taehyung frowns. “And what of the other trials?”

An uneasy look passes through the room.

Taehyung sighs. “I asked for this myself,” he points out. “You don’t need to be afraid to talk to me about it.”

A woman at the table inclines her head in deference to her king. “Your trial has been scheduled the week after your father’s sentencing. We thought we ought to give you time to help your sperasa recover.”

That’s where Taehyung would rather be right now, in your dark rooms with you, and everyone in his cabinet knows it.

“Thoughtful,” he murmurs, because it is, because it’s not his cabinet’s fault that he murdered innocent humans while under the power of the curse, not their fault that he wants to answer for it.

“Hoseok and I will be fully prepared to represent your defense by then,” a dark-haired Infracti seated near Jin tells him. “I’m confident in our outcome.”

They move on to discuss the third trial - Seokjin’s father, the leader of the Scores. Seokjin listens politely, but the tips of his ears go red until the topic changes. 

Taehyung ticks the trials off in his head, all three, ducks in a row.

“Let’s meet in four days’ time,” Taehyung suggests, glancing around to see if anyone objects. “The trials were my first order of business, but we have a lot of work to do restructuring things around here.”

Everyone at the table nods, and once Taehyung gives a few cabinet members specific directions for tasks to handle in the next week, they disperse.

“Off to see your feral beast?” Jimin teases, as he and Taehyung follow the trickle of people out into the corridor.

Taehyung can’t help but grin, big and boxy. “I like her like this. I’ll almost be sad when she settles down again.”

Jimin laughs at this. “It’s only been a week since you turned her. You have at least another week or two before she calms down.”

Taehyung’s expression slides into a grimace. “Hopefully I’ll still be around once she’s settled and not rotting in the palace prison.”

Jimin’s face goes unreadably blank. “You don’t have to do this, you know,” he says, suddenly somber and quiet. “You’re the King. You could call it off - no one could say anything.”

Taehyung shakes his head. “I need to.”

Jimin purses his full lips at him, but doesn’t retort. Taehyung thinks that Jimin understands, even if he doesn’t like it.

“Yoongi will defend you well,” he says finally. “I’m sure the sentencing will be light.”

“I want the sentencing to be fair,” Taehyung says petulantly. “That’s the whole point.”

“It will be,” Jimin argues. “You were cursed. No one is going to hold that against you.”

Taehyung twists his mouth but doesn’t address this. They’ve been walking as they talk, and they near the doors that lead to your rooms. They’re heavily guarded - Taehyung counts seven Infracti but he knows there are more - mostly to keep you inside.

Jimin tells him goodbye, and the guards move to let him enter. He’s careful to slip through the crack in the doors quickly; the guards are careful to be ready, just in case you get through.

Your rooms are dark, the lamps all unlit, the heavy curtains closed and drowning out any sunlight that might filter through. Normally, Taehyung might expect you to have a fire crackling in the hearth, but part of turning includes several days of unbearable heat, and he’s not sure you’re past that yet.

You come out of nowhere, slamming into him from the shadows to his left, and Taehyung lets himself get knocked to the ground, landing squarely on his ass.

“Ouch,” he says, pouting at you.

Straddling him, rearing back so he can see the column of your throat working in the darkness, you curl back your upper lip, bare your brand-new fangs at him and snarl, the sound snapping and cutting.

He grins. He loves you like this. It makes him feel proud.

“What is it you need, my Queen?” he teases.

Your scowl at him, fangs hanging over your lower lip; you haven’t mastered putting them away yet, and Taehyung thinks it’s the damn cutest thing in the world.

“Drink,” you say, a demand.

“Are you thirsty?” he coos. Your scowl deepens. He knows your consciousness is cloudy right now, a haze of thirst and want and heat obscuring your finer thinking. But you’re in there, behind the haze, and each day a bit more of you shines through.

“Drink,” you insist again, petulantly.

He wishes he could take you hunting - deer, maybe even a bear. He’d loved to see you in action - he has no doubt you’d be a formidable predator, and it sends a thrill through him. But it would be too dangerous; if they happened across a human, you’d have no control. Not yet.

Maybe someday.

Instead, Taehyung flips you without warning, laying his body heavy over yours. You begin thrashing immediately, snarls rolling through you like seismic activity, but he’s stronger and he manages to hold you in place.

He gives a sharp whistle and your doors open. Your thrashing intensifies as you see an escape route, but the guards who wheel in two carts are quick, and soon enough the doors are shut again. Taehyung lets you up, and you skitter to the door, hands working at the knobs. They don’t budge.

You whirl around, looking at him furiously.

“Look,” he says happily, unphased by your anger, “they brought you drinks!”

Eyes narrowed suspiciously, you peer at the carts. There are a few items of blood-food, but unsurprisingly you pass them over. There are carafes of dark liquid, and if you wanted you could just drink. But Taehyung knows what your body is craving - just blood won’t be enough to sate you. Your fangs are tingling, itching to pierce, itching for warmth. You won’t feel better until that need is met, too.

The bags, just big enough to be cradled between two hands, are simply called Prey - a little joke by their inventor, none other than Jimin. They were created for newly-turned Infracti, meant to satisfy both needs at once. The pouch is not real skin, though it feels close enough. The blood inside is real.

You hold one between your hands, claws digging in like it might escape, and bring it to your mouth, piercing the pouch and beginning to drink. You let out a happy little sigh, and Taehyung comes to wrap his arms around you from behind.

“There,” he soothes. “Drink all you need. You’ll feel better.”

You work through three pouches before you stop, dropping the deflated Prey onto the cart it came from and turning to Taehyung with wide eyes, and the cutest fang-adorned pout.

“What is it, my love?” he murmurs, brushing a hand over the top of your head soothingly. “Don’t you feel better now that you’ve had some to drink?”

You nod, then reconsider, frowning and shaking your head.

“What’s not better?” he asks, moving to pull you into a standing cuddle.

Your frown deepens and you raise a hand and rub at your mouth, fingers sliding along your protruding fangs with a squeak.

“They hurt?” he asks sympathetically.

“Bite,” you mumble around your pout.

“Alright,” he tells you. “Let’s get comfortable.”

You loop your arms around his neck, and he takes a second to smile into your hair, holding you close. He likes you like this, too driven by your needs to be proud. He likes that you need him, that you want him, that the part of your brain that might make you pretend otherwise, or at least act like it’s less, is currently silenced by your bloodlust.

He lifts you, and you wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you deeper into your wing, seeking out your bedroom. The blankets are rumpled, half-thrown on the ground, like you’d tried to sleep but had eventually kicked the blankets off and gotten up to pace, instead.

That’s probably exactly what happened.

He settles back against the pillows and you straddle him, arms still around his neck. You bury your face against his chest and whine.

“I know,” he tells you, rubbing a hand up your back. You hiss at the contact, pulling away from where you’d been hiding your face.

��Hurts,” you complain.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, trying to touch more gently. He knows your muscles are sore, skin hot to the touch as your body adjusts. “You can bite if you need to bite.”

“You sure?” you ask, and Taehyung notes that it’s one of your first multi-word utterances. A sign that you’re making progress, coming out of the fog a little.

“I’m sure,” he tells you.

You nose at his neck, and he strokes lightly down your back until you find a spot you like.

It’s only a sting when you pierce the skin of his shoulder, over his deltoid, for which he’s thankful. You don’t drink - sangru can’t be ingested - but leave your sore, sensitive fangs buried in his flesh. You wrap yourself around him even tighter, settling in and closing your eyes as you feel relief for the first time all day.

Taehyung tries hard to hold still so he doesn’t knock you loose. He’s glad he can do this for you, help ease your way. 

He still finds it incomprehensible that you’d give up your human life for him. He holds still, and he whispers to you that it’ll get better soon, that Potato misses you, that he loves you.

After a while, he feels your breathing even out. He shifts gently, wincing as your fangs slip from his shoulder, the wounds starting to ooze tar-black sangru. Unbothered, he moves you gently into a more comfortable sleeping position, smiling when you hum in your sleep. Then, even though he’s slept all night ever since the curse was undone, he closes his eyes and lets himself drift away with you in his arms.

—

You lay still when you awaken, slowly taking inventory of each thing that hurts. Your head isn’t pounding - that’s a first, since the night Taehyung had turned you. You flex your fingers, roll your shoulders, stretch your legs towards the end of the bed. Things are stiff, but not painful the way they’d be the last few times you’d woken.

You rise gingerly, making your way to the windows, drawing back the curtains and filling the room with light. You blink against it, letting your eyes adjust.

You’re in your own rooms, your new wing in the palace. You wander from room to room absently, trying to familiarize yourself. You feel a little lost, a little out of place. You hadn’t inhabited these rooms for long before turning, and now you’ve been out of it for so long that you don’t even know what day it is.

You’re standing in the middle of the main room - with couches and an unlit hearth, just like Taehyung’s wing - staring absently at nothing when one of your tall doors cracks open.

You almost sag with relief when you see Satuel peek her head inside.

“Hi,” you breathe, deflating.

“You’re up,” she says, sounding a bit surprised. “It’s harder to keep track of you now that I can’t hear your heartbeat from outside.”

This makes you smile. “What day is it?”

She tells you as she comes inside, and you start counting on your fingers. Almost three weeks to the day since you’d performed Taehyung’s countercurse.

“Can I get you anything, Maiesti?” she asks.

You feel your face heat. “You shouldn’t call me that,” you say, a bit aghast. Your voice is rough from disuse. “I’m only Prince Taehyung’s sperasa.”

“You will be Queen soon enough,” she says in that cool, even way of hers. “What can I bring for you?”

You hesitate. “I’m very thirsty,” you admit.

She gives you a quick bow and retreats, and you sink into a chair, a bit dazed. Now that you’re noticed it, the thirst is powerful, and you find it hard to think about anything else.

Satuel doesn’t leave you suffering for long. She returns with a cart full of options - pitchers, Prey, and various pastries that must be blood-food.

You choose the pouches, the Prey, since they relieve both the thirst and the tingling need to bite. Though, you notice absently, the tingling isn’t so bad today.

While you drink, Satuel catches you up on what you’ve missed - the former King’s guilty verdict, Seokjin’s father’s trial underway, Taehyung’s own trial impending. Word that Namjoon made it back, that he’s doing fine settling back into his old life. That Taehyung has been here every day, helping you adjust, in between meetings with his new cabinet.

“Maiesti will be pleased to see you feeling more like yourself,” she notes.

“Do you think he’ll be long?” you ask, a bit wistfully.

Satuel gives you a knowing smile. “I think if I tell him you’re awake - really awake - he’ll leave his cabinet mid-meeting to come dote on you.”

You flush.

“Should I inform him?” Satuel asks, almost teasingly.

You wonder if, somehow, she has ended up as your friend.

You hesitate. “Could I… go see him? I’d really like a walk.”

You clean up before you go, and you’re pleased to find that you remember your way through the palace from these new rooms. It’s startling to walk down the corridor - your gait is awkward, your legs wanting to go faster than your brain thinks they can. But, of course, your brain is wrong - it needs time to catch up to what your body can do now.

You pause at the door of Taehyung’s meeting room, listening.

“I just think,” Seokjin is saying, somewhat hotly, “that there needs to be some weighting to the representation. The great houses should have more say than the lesser houses. We’re the ones here doing the work, we’re the ones here solving problems. The lesser houses can have a representative, but court families should have more.”

“I disagree,” someone else says, their tone carefully polite. “Beginning this new venture with an imbalance of power will only invite trouble. The lesser houses will be resentful from the beginning. It could brew into conflict. We don’t want to replace one monarch with a group of monarchs. Your Majesty, you wanted equality across Infracticus - that means you must start with equal.”

“You both make valid points,” Taehyung muses. “How do we decide? Should we vote?”

You step into the room. A few cabinet members look up, eyes widening. Another does a double take, at first deeming you unimportant and then looking again when they register who you are.

Taehyung lets out a noise like a laugh, a smile breaking across his face. “My love!” he cries. “You’re well?”

“I know my name today,” you tell him. “So that’s something, right?”

He starts to push his chair back, but you raise a hand to stop him. He halts mid-motion, clearly confused.

“What if you appointed representation by breaking up the land instead of by house?” you suggest, jumping uninvited into the conversation you’d interrupted. “I’ve seen it done that way above - it works, more or less. Then it doesn’t boil down to do the Runes get one or two, it would simply be that the Runes living in a designated area have the same representative as anyone else who lives there, too.”

Taehyung’s smile, if possible, triples in size. He finishes standing, pushing his chair away. He points at Seokjin mirthfully. “Discuss this suggestion in my absence,” he commands. “My Queen requires my attention now.”

Out in the hall, he sweeps you into a hug, swinging you in a circle. You laugh, slapping half-heartedly at him until he sets you down.

“You,” he says, “are the bravest, smartest, most beautiful Queen Infracticus has ever seen.”

“I’m not Queen yet,” you point out.

“We’ll start planning today,” he says, and then falters. “That is… if you want. I didn’t mean to rush you. I just got excited.”

You can’t help but smile, slipping a hand into his. “No,” you say shyly. “I do… want. Should we wait, though - for after your trial?”

He sobers. “Yoongi thinks it’ll be over in a day,” he says quietly, not meeting your gaze now. You squeeze his hand, reminding him that he’s not alone in this. “The Elders will testify that I was cursed… Namjoon is willing to testify as well… some of my guards, who kept me in my rooms…”

“I could, too,” you offer.

He nods, but it doesn’t seem like he’s saying yes. “If it comes to that,” he hedges. “But, like I said, Yoongi doesn’t think it’ll be much of a case. I’ll be relieved when it’s over, either way.” He shoots you a conspiratorial look. “And then, yes, we can start planning our events.”

“Events?” you echo.

“Wedding,” he ticks off on his fingers. “And then we’ll have to have a coronation for you.”

“I’d rather do it all in one go,” you admit. “I don’t like being the center of attention.”

He smiles indulgently at you. “You’ll get used to it,” he says. “If it helps, from now on, it will never just be you in the center, at least not alone. Wherever you go, you’ll always have me.”

And it does. It does help.

—

“Come on!” Taehyung’s voice is boyish, downright gleeful, as you struggle to keep up with his long legs.

“Where are we going?” you call to him, but your voice is lost by a strong ocean breeze, the sound carried away and drowned beneath the cries of the gulls and the crashing of waves.

In truth, you’re going slow on purpose, trying to savor this: the ocean you get to live beside, Taehyung laughing and carefree in a way you’ve never seen before, a sense that you belong right here.

It’s hard to wrap your brain around the truth that you don’t need to savor it, don’t need to make it last - you’ll have more time here than you can imagine.

Then, you recognize the stone steps he’s bounding down. He’s taking you to his stables.

“Potato missed me too much?” you tease, finally catching up. He grins at you in response.

Inside the stable, he tugs you past Potato’s stall, giving her a quick pat on the nose as he goes.

“Ta-da!” he crows, leaning over the wooden door to the stall, peering down into the space below. You follow his gaze and gasp, hands flying to your face.

“Taehyung!” you shriek. “No way!”

“You’ll scare her!” he chides, but he’s laughing, reaching to unlatch the door so you can properly meet the baby amarisca that stands in the stall. Her coat is royal blue, her hooves navy, and her eyes as black as Taehyung’s.

You sit on the ground and let her come to you, trying hard not to squeal and scare her even though you’re absolutely vibrating with excitement.

“I can’t believe you did this for me,” you all but sob, so happy you’re almost incoherent.

“You need to name her,” he points out, sitting down next to you, hay and dirt be damned.

“Noodle,” you say immediately. “Her name is Regency’s Noodle. Taehyung, oh my god!”

You almost lose it again when she presses her nose into your hand, and Taehyung beams, his smile as bright as the sun.

You’ve come a long way in your transition. You can go almost the whole day without drinking, mostly needing one end-of-day “meal” (four or five Prey pouches) to get you through. You’re more steady on your feet, practicing zipping around lightning-quick the way you’ve seen others do. And your magic is stronger, too. You’ve been thinking of asking Taehyung if there’s a more formal way you can train in magic, once things are settled.

There’s a lot still to come. Your wedding, your coronation. And though the cabinet has been hard at work, King Taehyung has yet to announce that he plans to dissolve the monarchy and create a more democratic system in its place. Neither of you - none of the cabinet members - expect the news to go over smoothly.

Whatever happens, you’ll face it together. It helps that Seokjin is so involved, practically Taehyung’s second-in-command.

“When she’s big enough,” Taehyung promises you, “we’ll race to my island. We’ll travel to the ends of Infracticus together - I’ll make sure you see it all. We’ll ride together and see all the places you grew up reading about.”

“And then what?” you ask, half-teasing. You have an eternity to fill, after all.

“Whatever you want,” he promises. “We’ll do whatever you want, My Queen.”

And he slides his hand into yours, where it fits like it belongs.

—

Taehyung’s hand is in yours when he meets with you and the Infracti who will defend him at the trial, Yoongi and Hoseok of Cleave. 

“I was… going to keep this to myself,” he admits, shoulders rounded with shame. “But I need to know that I truly answered for what I did. And I can’t do that if you only know part of the truth.”

Yoongi looks at you, like you might have some answers. You do not. 

Taehyung wilts just slightly more. He glances sideways at you. “My love,” he murmurs, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“Maiesti,” Yoongi says, voice low with warning. He trails off. 

Taehyung fiddles with the rings on his fingers, unable to look anyone in the eye. “The whole truth,” he says, so quiet that you and Yoongi both lean closer to hear him, “is that the curse… it wasn’t what I intended - something went wrong -”

“What happened, Taehyung?” you ask, knowing it when you see him start to spiral into half-thoughts. 

He braces himself, and then tells you both what happened five nights before you’d arrived.

Before you came to Infracticus, Taehyung had spent an entire night in the deepest archives the palace held. He had thrummed with energy and desperation, as if stopping his father’s actions faster could also undo them. As if finding a solution quickly could absolve him, earn forgiveness.

He’d slapped a palm over the page when he found what he was looking for, after hours of searching, reading for so long that his eyes watered and begged to close.

A curse. A curse that would end his immortality, give him a human lifespan.

“If I die young, without an heir,” he had argued with absolutely no one, his voice echoing in the empty, stone room, “then the crown cannot pass on. After my father, it goes to no one.”

It didn’t solve the problem now, he knew. It meant Sunjae would continue to rule unchecked. But someday. Someday, Taehyung would die, and then Sunjae would die, and then the crown would be free.

He’d rest easier knowing that even if every plan he thought up eventually failed, at least Sunjae would be the last. Taehyung would spend however many years he got trying to stop him, and if nothing worked then at least he could die knowing that after Sunjae, it would end. The monarchy would cease to exist. Something better could rise from its ashes. It had to.

He had stood and pulled the book closer to the edge of the table so he could see it clearly and began borrowing, pulling magic from the world around him. He’d end his immortality, he’d kill his immortal self. For his people. For Infracticus.

“I am Taehyung of Rune, Prince of Infracticus,” he had told the empty room. He would bring his father down. He would end his house’s rule. “But perhaps I can be of Ruin, too.”

<- Prev

thank you so much for being here!! i hope you enjoyed this crazy world as much as i did. may scuttlebug tae live on forever in our hearts :')

[atlabeth]

i'm with you | nikolai lantsov

summary: everything is falling apart around you, but the world is quiet for a moment as you and nikolai share a sunrise together.

a/n: this is a lil sequel to bad luck! it takes place 3 years after at the beginning of siege and storm, after rusalye is killed and the darkling is mutinied off the volkvolny lol. idk where this came from but i really wanted to write something for nikolai because im done with finals and kept my 4.0 and he makes me happy! so i hope you enjoy this short lil thing

wc: 1.5k

warning(s): fem!reader, slight bit of angst, mentions of death and fighting, but this is very light hurt/comfort so nothing really bad goes on

“I should have known this is where I’d find you.” 

Nikolai’s voice rang out from behind you, clear and strong in the silence of an early morning. Nothing but you, him, and the sea, the way it had been for nearly three years now. 

You weren’t ready to lose it.

“I needed some time,” you said, gaze remaining on the horizon, sunrise on the brink. “A lot has been going on.” 

“An understatement,” Nikolai said wryly. His footsteps could hardly be heard against the wood as he walked over to you, choosing to lean his back against the railing in opposition to you supporting yourself with your forearms. He didn’t look at you, but his presence was more than enough. “How have you been holding up?” 

“Better than most can say,” you said. “Certainly better than our guests.” 

He chuckled. “I believe the Sun Summoner has wished death on me more than once.” 

“Have you seen the way her tracker looks at you?” you asked. “That man wants you dead.” 

You could see his grin out of the corner of your eye. “A spirited pair, to be sure. I’m lucky they haven’t actually made an attempt.” 

“As if I would let them get close,” you said wryly. “I take my duties as your second-in-command very seriously.” 

This time, you felt his eyes on you. “A misfortune you’ve been only my second for these past few weeks.” 

You sighed. The vast expanse of the sea, just beginning to glow with the light of the sunrise, seemed much lonelier. 

The past month had been… difficult, to say the least. And certainly lonely. 

The Darkling—General of the Second Army, Grisha of the greatest renown, and one side of the Ravkan civil war—had hired Nikolai’s crew to take him and his Grisha through the Bone Road in search of the mythical sea whip Rusalye. Nikolai decided to go along with it, but the plan he’d cooked up with you and the crew was something truly idiotic. If you all could pull it off, though, it would be the start of Ravka’s saving grace. 

The general was not a generous man beyond the coin he put up. He practically took over the ship, ruminating with an imposing power everywhere he went. You supposed it wasn’t difficult to lead an army when you could intimidate your way through everything in your path. 

And he recognized you. Looked you over in a way that made your skin crawl, greeted you by name, asked if your parents knew where you were. You resisted the urge to spit in his face—years of etiquette lessons worn into your bones were the only thing that kept a practiced smile on your lips. 

He just wanted to get under your skin, try to unsettle you, maybe hoped he could reveal your truth to anyone who still might not have known to sow division in the crew. You lied to his face and all he did was chuckle and move on. 

The Darkling left you alone from then on, but Nikolai refused to take any chances. He made the decision to hide your relationship, to hide any form of closeness beyond your being his second—”the last thing I need is you being targeted for any mistakes I make,” he’d said, and you had no objections. 

The Darkling had unnerved you since the first time you’d met him as a teenager. The insanity that flickered in his eyes any time his hunt for the Sun Summoner was brought up—the insanity fully displayed when he finally had her in his grasp—was enough to make you keep your head down wherever and whenever possible. 

That was not to say it wasn’t difficult, though. The first night you spent alone rather than in his cabin was difficult, and you’d wondered if the ship had truly always been this cold. Your finger felt bare without its ring, and you always worried the necklace would somehow slip into view. Your hands itched for your dagger each time the Darkling threatened Nikolai, and you were sure his calming words afterwards were the only thing keeping you from doing something truly foolish. 

And now he was fully your enemy, Rusalye had been turned to fetters, and the Sun Summoner and her mystical tracker were below deck in a very shaky alliance. 

Things were certainly never boring with Nikolai, at least. 

You were snapped out of your thoughts when he said your name, and you finally looked over at him. 

“Are you sure you’re alright, milaya?” he asked softly. “Tolya did patch up all your wounds, didn’t he?” 

“Perfectly,” you confirmed with a nod. “It’s just…” 

“Talk to me, my love.” Nikolai reached out and took your hand, the callouses from years spent as a privateer a comfort by now. “You know I’m here for you, more now than ever.” 

Your gaze dropped down to your joined hands, and you let out a loose sigh. “We’re going back to Ravka,” you finally managed to say. “Back to the noble world.” 

“It does feel strange,” he murmured. “After years on the sea, free from any expectations. Free from being a Lantsov.” 

“Years away from my parents,” you said quietly. “They probably think I’m dead.” Your gaze flitted back up to meet his eyes, and you were struck by the warmth in them. “And I would have been, had it not been for you. Dead or much, much worse.”

“You can’t think like that,” he urged, pulling you closer. “You made your choice—we both have. And they brought us back together. That means they couldn’t have been wrong.”

“I left them, Nikolai.” Your chest tightened and you looked back out to the boundless waters. “Without a single word.” 

“I did the same,” he said wryly. “You somehow managed to forgive me.” 

You huffed a laugh and shook your head. “I’m just not the same girl I was when I left. I don’t want to be that girl—that duke’s daughter that smiles and curtsies her way through everything. I’m worried that they’ll try and push me right back into that box.” 

Nikolai scoffed. “As if they could even try.” 

In your silence, he gently tipped your chin so you could meet his eyes. 

“You’re my second in command,” he said. “You’ve taken quicker to all of this than any member of any crew I’ve seen. And when you’re focused on something, you’re a sure sight to see. You’re not the girl that they raised—you’ve forged yourself into your own woman. If they have any sense at all, they’ll be the proudest parents in all of Ravka.” 

“I hope so,” you admitted, “more than anything. All of this— learning to sail and command and fighting by your side— it’s made me feel more alive in a few years than a whole childhood in Ravka’s court.” 

“And I consider myself immensely lucky that you somehow find enjoyment in all of this the same as I do,” Nikolai said with a slight laugh, taking his hand away from your chin. “Truly, I don’t know how I was fortunate enough to find you again after messing everything up once.” 

Your lips quirked in a slight smile. “And I consider myself immensely lucky that you stayed in love with me after all that time.” 

“The only thing easier than falling in love with you is staying in love with you,” Nikolai mused, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I could sail the Bone Road for a thousand years and that would never change.” 

“That’s another reason I don’t want to go back to court,” you said, heat blooming in your cheeks. “You’ll charm every person you come across with those honeyed words.” 

Nikolai smiled. “And yet I could only ever mean them for you.” 

“I just don’t get how you’re still so confident,” you said. “We’re going back to Ravka in the midst of a civil war. The Darkling’s on our tail, and he won’t stop until he’s gotten his very bloody revenge.” 

“But we’re going back together,” Nikolai clarified. “As far as I’m concerned, anything is possible so long as we’re together.”

“How are you always so sure of yourself?” you marveled. 

He shrugged. “It’s very difficult not to believe in myself when I’ve got you by my side.”

“Saints,” you murmured, your smile growing, “I’ve missed you more than you know.” 

Nikolai pulled you into a kiss and your eyes fluttered shut as his lips met yours, your hands falling into familiar places on his body as you all but fell into him. It had only been a few days since your successful mutiny against the Darkling, and open affection still felt slightly strange. Any remaining qualms were fully kissed out of you, though, and when you pulled away, out of breath but glowing from the inside out, you could hardly contain your smile. 

“Trust me,” Nikolai breathed, “I know.” 

You grinned as you leaned against his side, and he pulled you in close with an arm around you. You rested your head on his shoulder, and for a moment, the countless voices of doubt inside of you fell silent as you watched the sunrise together. 

“We’ll figure it all out. I promise.” His voice was little more than a whisper in your ear, and yet it warmed your body just as much as his touch. “I’m with you until the end, milaya. No matter what.” 

And you believed him.

[everythingne]

KINTSUGI - AKIN TO A PRIDE VERSE - MV1

When brought to panic by ruthless reporters, Reina snaps and hits a reporter out of instinct. In desperation, Hana flies Max to London help her daughter out of a depressive episode caused by Reina thinking that she's more like her father than she ever wants to be. And Max realizes some things about who you call family.

warnings: reporters grabbing reina, mentioned rumors of domestic abuse, mentions of child abuse and past/current broken metacarpal (hand) bones (wow look at me being sciency?), many assumptions about max's childhood, reina has a whole break down, reminder this isn’t a romance series, also btw I changed reina's age to make her 20 (legit go back and look LOL) and that totally isn't something for silly foreshadowing purposes no no, my comeback after going to college LMAO

I'M FUCKING SCREWED. I'm so fucking screwed. I can feel the anxiety coursing through my arms as I stand there, my teammates off to my side as we try and fight through the media pen. We weren't even supposed to be here but Ollie Bearman had decided he was bored and dragged me and Kimi Antonelli along to see some other drivers by wandering along the pit lane. We were all pretty civil with one another, save for one or two weird rivalries here or there, so we were quick to amass a group that eventually Trident broke up when they needed Richard back.

And then media had shown up, and we'd gotten quickly swarmed with no real way out.

Luckily, Kimi had called someone from the paddock to come get us and help us out so as we slowly pushed through the crowd as politely as possible, someone was actively coming to us.

And then I had gotten split off.

"Ollie!" I shouted, trying to grab his attention, but my voice is lost among those of the reporters who chase after him. How theres so many reporters here, I have no idea. It's not normal. And then again, nothing about this season really was normal because of the whole siblings thing.

"Miss Matsumoto!" someone shouts and a camera is shoved in my face, I try to keep a calm composure, nodding sharply in greeting as I try to continue through the crowd, "How are you feeling about your race tonight?"

"I think I'll be alright," I nod, pulling the rim of my hat down a bit further, "My team has grown a bit with Max's personal trainer giving us some tips for my physical training and it's been really interesting seeing how just changing my diet and training has made drive different."

"How is your relationship with Max?" Someone else shouts and a smile happily crosses my face, okay, I can do this. Just keep talking and just keep pushing forward. Do what Max taught you.

"He's been incredible, a lot kinder than people give him credit for." I make sure to point that out as I walk. A few more questions about Max are tossed my way, what exactly he's been teaching me (how to train for Formula One specifically, different ways to keep my brain sharp, physical training adjustments, how to cope with the drastic difference between F2 and F1, which both Logan and Oscar had already told me about), if I've met Kelly and Penelope (I have, Penelope adores me for some reason), who I've met in Red Bull (Daniel, Max, Christian, Geri, a few engineers, some other drivers who now raced for other teams, and such.)

And then someone asks something that makes my stomach crawl, "Can you tell us why we haven't seen your father in the paddock this season even though his racing company is one of your main sponsors?"

"It's only the third race. I'm sure we'll see him in Sakura." I smile, trying to keep my voice level, but the reporters have found something to latch onto. I took too long to respond.

"How is your relationship with him been impacted since moving in with your mother?"

"The timezones make it hard to speak, but he is still my father, so," I shrug, trying now a bit more desperately to shove through the crowd. They're not letting me go. I can hear Kimi telling someone to move, his voice is sharp and annoyed, but the reporter doesn't listen.

"Is it true your father abused you?"

"What?" I gape, but reporters flash cameras and shove over each other to get to me. My reaction fuels them.

"Is Project Matsumoto a real thing, or just a mimic of Project Verstappen?"

I can't even recover from the last question as I gasp out, "I'm sorry?" I don't even know what they're referencing.

"Did Red Bull pick you to be Max's sibling due to your similar childhoods?"

I can't get words out now, the berating is on, and all I can do is try and back away. I can see Ollie waving a hand, trying to beckon me through the crowd, and now FIA officials are coming to move the reporters away. It's a mess of shoving and screaming, people in my face as they repeat themselves until their voices pitch to shouts and screams. I can't move through because any step I take is immediately countered by a shift in the tide of cameras and voices, blocking my path.

"Was your fathers attitude is Sakhir last year reflective of your childhood with him?" "How did your parents divorce effect your racing career?" "Is it hard to be living away from your Japanese roots?" "Why did your mother accuse your father of emotional and physical domestic abuse when they divorced?"

A reporter steps forward and grabs me and I rip back from him. Ollie's shoving a reporter to the side, trying to grab me before he's closed off by the ocean of people around me.

"Is the rumor of your fathers mistreatment of you true?" The man asks again, trying to grab me and I stumble back in a panic. My hat is pulled off by him instead, and I just let it go as I bring my arms to my stomach and wrap around myself.

"Please! Everyone, wait--!" I cry out, the obvious panic in my tone making my skin flame with embarrassment.

"Answer the question!" The same man shouts, shoving a reporter aside as raising his hand with his microphone. All I see is the raising of a fist in the shadow of my father, and my brain reacts before I can really think about what I'm about to do.

Crack!

I gasp as soon as I make the connection. It's hard. Max's training paying off well. Ollie's infront of me, grabbing my wrists and gently pulling me to the side until he can get me out of the crowd. Prema's around me in seconds, closing me off as I stare at my hands and feel the blood seeping across my knuckles.

I'm so screwed.

They get me into the paddock, voices over my head and slipping through my ears. I'm sat in my drivers room, Ollie and Kimi being peeled from my sides to go off and get ready for the race. I can't hear, can't think, a constant ringing ruining any conscious thought. My knuckle is split. My ring finger. I stare as one of the medics begins to clean up the wound.

Not even the sting can pull me from the thoughts racing through my head.

I hit someone. Struck a man out of fear. He had grabbed me, knocked my hat off, I had every reason to hit him. Yet, I had hit someone. I could hear my father's voice ringing in the back of my head, warnings of inheritance and passing down genetics I had shaken off to make myself feel better.

I was not my father. Never would be my father. I was so sure of that. Until today.

When the medic lets go of my hand and sets it on my lap, I feel fear strike my bones. And when René comes to get me, my silence is terrifying to everyone. I stand silent, straight faced, not even cracking a smile. The cameras watch me twice as much, I react a thousand times less.

Max is sitting on his bed, Penelope happily napping on his chest as he watches the pre-race bullshit for Reina. He had off today, oddly enough, and Kelly had gone out to do some sort of PR management event which left him to watch little Penelope. No problem at all.

The pre-race is what he's expecting, he can see Ollie dragging Reina and Kimi around and amassing a small group of F2 drivers outside of Trident. He laughs when Kimi hoists Reina into his arms, loudly announcing her by her nickname of Little Lion and making the rest of the boys cheer. What he isn't expecting is when they break up from the rest of the drivers to return to their paddock. Ollie's leading Kimi and Reina back when they get cut off by a mass of reporters. F2 hadn't been prepared for their usual amount of media to almost multiply by ten, and apparently it had been causing all sorts of issues.

Like this.

The questions are easy enough. He feels a weird swell of pride when he notices how easily Reina answers the reporters compared to before he'd started teaching her some media techniques.

And then the questions shift.

He can see Reina's panic after the first question, actually he sees it as soon as the word 'father' is brought up. He sits up a bit, gently readjusting Penelope as he turns the TV a bit louder. The camera swings away for a moment to show Ollie and Kimi pause when they realize Reina's not there, and their quick turn around before the camera swaps to show Reina.

She looks horrified. Max feels a burn in his chest as he sits up and leans forward, almost willing Ollie through the crowd. He can see multiple Prema people attempting to shove through, but every attempt is in vain. Nothing is working. It's a Sisyphean task.

Then the reporter tries to grab Reina and Max has to hold himself back from getting up and shouting at the TV. Not that it's gonna change anything. Reina steps back, and her eyes are darting around, trying to find a weak spot to escape. She can't, Max realizes, as the reporters close in.

The next thing he sees is her arm jut forward, a loud crack sounding over the speakers. His jaw drops, the sight of Reina hitting someone so foreign to him. Silence falls over the crowd as Ollie grabs her and pulls her away, someone else shouting for her to come on as Prema swarms her in a protective bubble. The feed cuts there and leaves Max on a cliff hanger for thirty minutes until they are just about to start the race. The anthem is playing. But, the Reina he sees on the screen is not his Reina.

She's silent, stone faced, frozen still and almost robotic. She moves soft as a dancer, but her gaze is sharper than an ice skaters blades. She wins, sure, but he can't get her haunted look out of his brain. She carries it even through her podium, not even able to smile when she hoists the trophy above her head.

The call from Hana the next day is expected. The invite to their flat in London is not.

"She just needs someone who understands what she's going through." Hana had pleaded on the phone, "I know it's wrong of me to say it, but you were treated a very similar way when you first got into F1 and especially when you started winning. You had a similar past, you both have similar struggles. She needs your help, Max.”

Max had wanted to suggest a therapist, a psychiatrist even, but he knew Reina would rather throw herself in front of a Le Mans car, probably the Porsche 936, than talk about her problems. Which left the question of if she would even talk to him.

But he tells Christian and Geri what's happening for a second opinion, and he is told he should go.

So he's on a flight to London three hours later, about a weeks worth of clothing packed haphazardly. He thinks he forgot a toothbrush and aftershave, but he doesn't care to check. After careful conversation, Hana had agreed to let him get a hotel close by, so he could give Reina space. Hana had been so certain Reina needed him, but Max wasn't even sure if Hana had tried to reach out to her daughter herself. Apparently Reina wasn't eating, doing her training, or even the sim. She had been in bed except for when she was forced out, and luckily there was a bit longer break than usual, it gave Max time.

He gets to the flat around eleven in the morning, twirling the keys of his rental car in his hand. He tells Hana he's coming inside and she gives him the code to the lobby and to the flat. The second one isn't needed, the woman is waiting for him in the hall.

“Thank you so much for coming out here.” Hana sighs when she sees Max and he’s shocked to see the usually classy woman in such a disheveled state, he gives her a hug in greeting but allows her to ramble through it.

“I’m sorry that I’m such a mess, I just—Reina hasn’t done this in so long it’s genuinely frightening to see it again.” Hana wipes her face, sniffling as she shakes her hands to sort of shake it off, “I’ve been trying to get her to do anything and she just won’t, she’s usually twice as active after a race, not sedimentary! I don’t know what to do—“

Max cuts off her rambling with a soft, “Hey, relax. You’ve done all you can. You go and take care of yourself, I’ll talk to Reina.”

It must be what Hana needs to hear (it’s something he’d been told by his mom when comforting Victoria growing up) because Hana barrels into his chest in a hug, thanking him probably thirty times in a row before stepping back and letting him in.

The apartment is gorgeous, Max can’t lie. It’s got big windows and tons of natural lighting, bright bold colors in decorations he’s sure Reina picked out. Which, he guesses, makes sense, because it will become her apartment soon. Hana points him in the direction of Reina’s room, but seems so genuinely distraught she can’t go near.

And this is where he’s stepping off the dock.

He hesitates to knock, but does eventually. It’s soft enough he’s sure Reina won’t hear it, but then he hears the most broken, teary and bitter, “what?” from the other side of the door.

“It’s Max.” He presses his hand to the handle, eyes staring through the wood as he leans in to the door itself, almost as if trying to see Reina through it, “can I come in?”

There’s a long enough pause he thinks she’ll say no. But theres a soft, "okay."

He pushes the door open to the darkness of Reina's room. One Himalayan salt lamp is on in the corner, providing a slightly warm glow to the room. The blinds are drawn tight, blackout curtains hastily thrown over them, and Reina's head is the only part of her body that's visible under her mass of blankets. Her room isn't quite messy, just cluttered with partially empty water bottles and a plate of cold breakfast. He remembers this. The shutting yourself off part of this all, of being raised like they had. Or, the lack thereof.

"Mornin'." He says simply, walking over to sit on the edge of her bed. Reina blinks a few times, like she can't even believe Max is there, and slowly sits up.

"Why are you here?" Her voice is groggy but not in the sense of just waking up, it sounds more like shes been sobbing for hours. A claim backed up by the redness of her swollen eyes and sniffly nose.

"Your mom called." He doesn't sugarcoat, never has, "I saw the punch. What did the FIA give you for that?"

“Five second penalty. Kimi was behind by six. Didn’t matter.” She grumbled, looking over at him from where she’s bundled up. She looks miserable, and though Max knows he’s started to crack through to get her to talk, he needs to keep trying.

“Did they fix your brakes?” Max asks and Reina nods, then sits up and sighs.

“I know you didn't fly all the way from Monaco to London for small talk. What’s wrong?” She asks, scrubbing at her red cheeks as she crosses her legs and grabs a large plush Hello Kitty and buries her face in it.

“Your mom said you’re not handling it well,” Max hums, leaning back on his hand and looking over at Reina as she curls a little bit tighter around her plushie.

“I hit someone.” She whines, “I hit him.”

“He grabbed you.” Max says, looking over at Reina and letting out a tiny non-committal hum, “the reason the FIA gave you such a little punishment is because it’s self defense.”

“But Max, I hit him.” Reina emphasized and Max blinked. What the fuck was she getting at here? His confusion must be all over his face because she shifts slightly closer and he can see where she'd split one of her knuckles open. Hana hold told him the finger was technically broken, but Reina refused to wear her brace on it. Something about having already worn one in the past. Not that Max would know. But when Reina goes to ball her hand into a fist, he notes her pinkie and ring finger don't close. Daniel's injury rings in his mind for a second, but he shoves the thought away as Reina continues to repeat herself, more broken, more panicked.

“Reina," Max attempts to soothe her, scooting a a bit closer to place a hand on hers, hiding the injury from her sight, "what are you getting at here?"

"I..." She stammers, eyes darting around his face, and then she huffs out a question he's not expecting, "Are you afraid of being like your father?"

Max blinks. The silence encompassing the room for a long while before he sighs out a soft, "Yeah, terrified."

"Me too." Reina nods, flexing her hand again. Max watches the way her eyes dart down to her injury and he realizes she's trying to cue him in. It's like a puzzle, and he has to put together the pieces to get the picture. She doesn't say anything next, leaving Max to figure it out himself, so he just watches Reina.

She's fidgety, fingers tapping along her injured hand, but he notes she keeps poking her pinkie. She'd injured her right ring finger, not the pinkie, so he's not sure what she's trying to do. She's not concerned over her current injury, but the past one. His eyes trail along her clothing, her mothers old NASCAR jersey, the rest of her hidden under mass amounts of fuzzy blankets. Her hair is braided back, greasy, and knotted, her skin is dull but still clear save for one or two pimples in her hairline. She wasn't taking care of herself, he could see that, it was a classic depressive episode.

Max meets her eyes and sees shes trying to pick him apart too.

But why? What did she need to know? Max was pretty open with her, he'd told her more than he told most people. Geri had encouraged it, hell she'd even asked if she could tell Hana some stuff from when he first got to Red Bull. The first time he'd snapped at Christian, expecting to be shouted back at, but was shocked at his calm tone. The first Christmas, when he had no one to go to, and Christian invited him to their home and though Max was slightly out of place he'd stolen the attention of the kids in a heartbeat. That was the day he'd become almost like a fifth kid to the Horners. Geri had asked if he was comfortable talking about his childhood with Hana, and he had, though it was a difficult conversation. She'd asked wonderful questions about healing and growing up and moving on, asked how much moving to Monaco and being on his own at eighteen had helped. Being on his own was freeing, he'd said that much, and though he kept some parts out he knew Hana could piece it together.

Hold on.

Max had snapped because he thought Christian would be like Jos when he'd failed to overtake on a turn.

Max hadn't had anywhere to go that Christmas because it was the first time he was celebrating without any family in the same home.

Max became an unofficial Horner because his own familial issues.

Max had moved to Monaco to get away from his father.

Reina was afraid to be like her father.

Reina was always looking to Max for validation, even with how short they had known each other.

Reina's injury, from what little Max knew, was caused after she had crashed out of a race--in heer drivers room. The last time she'd seen her dad after she'd left their house in Fukushima.

Shit.

"Reina." Max starts, not sure if he even knows how to approach this. He'd been the messy one, the one to snap, the one to shout, the one to lash out. It was evident of an 'avoidant attachment style' from his childhood or whatever the hell that meant, therapists always confused him with technicalities. Max wasn't gentle, he wasn't soft like this, he was hard edges and half-broken promises. How does one avoid their own sharp edges when trying to handle something so soft? How can Max be sure he won't break Reina?

"What happened to your pinkie?" He asks, gently prodding the knuckle with his own. Reina meets his eyes. He can't find her in her own gaze.

"Boxer's fracture." She murmurs, "Like Daniel's."

"I know that, but how did it happen?" He pushes and when Reina freezes up, he whispers, "Listen, it's just us right now. I'm gonna keep you safe, yeah? Like a real brother would."

Max had enough experience protecting Victoria.

"My dad." Reina starts, then swallows and closes her eyes. She leans forward, seeking out Max, and he moves so she can rest her head on his shoulder, staring down at her hands covered by his, "Last year, when I crashed out towards the end of the season. I was living with my mom by then, so I never really saw him. I didn't even know he was at the race. I got to my drivers room and we got in an argument. My mom tried to split us up and he slapped her so hard she fell over. I pushed him to get him to leave her alone and..."

Reina struggles to find the words and whatever she had gone through is a thousand times worse than Max could've ever expected.

"He grabbed me by the wrist, I grabbed a door to get away and he slammed it on my hand. Broke my metacarpal in two places, I needed surgery, so I never finished the season. Finished thirteenth."

Max is still. So still he's not even sure he's still breathing. Reina sniffles, and Max feels her tears hit the back of his hand.

"You don't wanna wear the brace because it takes you back." He says and Reina just lets out a soft hum. He doesn't know what to do. So, he does what Geri had done the few times she'd had to comfort him. One arm around her shoulders, the other on her head, and he pulls her taught to his chest to cradle her there.

The sob she lets out shatters his heart and he tries to pull her impossibly closer. They're flush to one another, theres no more space to close, but he still tries as Reina breaks and shatters in his hands like fine china. He attempts to piece her back together but there's not enough of him intact to repair her. Max, for his benefit, has dealt with Penelope's tired melt downs and so he gives Reina a waterbottle and wipes her tears, lays her down admist her blankets and tucks her in tightly. He sits on the floor by her face, running his fingers through her hair as best he can, gently running his thumb along her shoulder.

He can tell shes not just crying because she'd hit someone, but theres more to it. And an hour or so later, when the tears subside, she finally opens her heart to him.

"I hate my dad." She whispers after maybe five minutes of silence, no longer broken by her sniffles.

"I do too." Hate his dad? Hate hers? He's not sure. But he stands up to open her curtains and blinds, hands itching to do something rather than just sit silent. The noon sun warms the room almost instantly, and Reina lifts her head to shift into the sun. He turns and speaks as he bends down to pick up a stray bottle, "Why do you hate him?"

"Just... everything he put me and my mom through." Reina sighs, "There's a lot he did I can never forgive him for."

"What did he do?" Max sits down again and Reina reaches out to his hand, which he obliges, and she pokes at his fingers.

"When I was growing up, I started karting in Japan with my father. He wanted me to race rally cars since I was born, even with his obvious disappointment I wasn’t a son. I competed for the first time on my fifth birthday, and won. I got scouted that day and my dad completely changed. It went from a little hobby I could have to a future career, especially when my mother learned she was infertile after my birth." Reina speaks monotonously, eyes distant as she recalls, and though Max has read up on her past he knows he's getting a new raw look at her life.

"My dad finally got me in rally when I was ten, a year before the divorce. I did it for three years. The worst three years of my life." Reina shifts so she's laying on her back, looking up at the ceiling and avoiding Max's eyes, "everything that my father had just simply said became physical. Every single time I made a mistake, I was hit. Every time I talked back, ignored him, walked away, did anything he deemed to be incorrect, I was hit. Sometimes just a whack to the back of my head in annoyance, most of the time closed fists. The only thing I was allowed to do was race, extracurriculars, and school. And that includes sleeping, eating, showering, and such."

"On my thirteenth birthday, my mom came to visit us in Japan for a race I had in Fukushima. I finished second because of some dirty play and my dad was so angry at the company for not catching that, he took it out on me completely. My mom and her boyfriend at the time saw the entire thing, a huge fight broke out, the cops got called, it was a whole thing.

"My mom sued my dad for only my custody, no payment, nothing. And he dug his own hole, the court found out he was spending all the money my mom sent for me on himself, I had saved years of evidence... my mom ended up getting full custody without a challenge, and a payment that amounted to all her payments of child support and then two years worth of payments of my fathers child support in advance. That all happened around the time I switched to Formula racing. The entire time I've been racing Formula I've been living with my mom and my dad has been sending child support."

"When he got... aggressive with you, was it always physical?" Max hums and Reina shakes her head. Max slowly starts to undo one of the braids to redo it, trying to ignore the greasy feeling on his hands, and she leans into his touch so much he has to pause as he feels her face rest against his arm.

"No, it was just shouting until I got into rally and then every once and a while he’d hit me. And the most he did before I got into rally was slap me once when I was like, six? But it was mostly just him ignoring me or screaming at me, or making me race to exhaustion." Reina sighs as she then rolls to curl up against his side and Max adjusts so that he's half laying down with Reina curled up on his chest. It's similar to the way he'd gotten the youngest Horner kids to sleep when he'd visit or babysit over the years.

"My father is one of the worst people on the planet," Reina stares out the window. Max hums non-committedly, moving a little bit closer as Reina speaks in the most dead tone he's ever heard as she says, "and I have always been his favorite punching bag."

"I was my father's favorite too." Max admits and Reina nods.

"What was he like?"

"Just a lot more manipulative and way less physical. A lot of it was just him ignoring me, leaving me places, shouting at me, pressuring me. A lot of manipulation when I'd call him out on it." Max hums, finding the braid he'd half undone to fully pull it out. Reina grabs a brush off her nightstand and hands it to him so he can start to brush out her hair. It's weirdly remnant of Victoria and Penelope. Reina hums and as Max brushes out her hair, he feels the way her body relaxes.

“So did you pick me or did Red Bull?” Reina asks maybe five minutes later and Max hums, fingers finding loops of her hair to slowly braid it again. Practically hearing Geri’s voice instructing him on how to braid because it was ‘something good to know for Penelope.’ He was glad he had listened to her. It was a good thing to know.

“They told me I was gonna train you, then told me I was gonna train Ollie.” Max hums, “Ollie’s great but… I dunno. I just knew I should mentor you. Call it divine intervention but I knew.”

“Im glad you chose me.” Reina murmurs against the fabric of his hoodie and he realizes how odd this moment is. He’d packed up in thirty minutes, gotten on a two hour flight, and spent an hour coaxing his mentees trauma out so he can help her. He could’ve just said he was busy, and yet he’d already given so much of his heart to Hana and Reina he knew he couldn’t just abandon them. Reina needed him just as much as he needed her.

"I'm glad I did too. And... listen, Rei, you hitting this guy because he scared you doesn't make you an abuser." Max watches as Reina picks her head up, resting her chin on his sternum to watch him, "and Reina, you being afraid of being like your father tells me you will never be."

"But I just... I hit someone like he hit me and it was just an echo. He always told me I would grow up to be like him." Reina closes her eyes and Max takes a hand to cup her face, running his thumb along her wet undereyes.

"But you hit out of fear, not out of anger or with the intention of abusing someone, thats the thing that will never make you like him."

Reina nods, and Max knows it'll probably take him the whole week to convince her of that. But, as Reina lays her head back down with a soft thank you, he feels like he's done enough. Only twenty four hours ago he had Penelope sleeping on his chest. Now Reina’s in the same spot, her hand reaching out to cup the setting sun with her injured hand.

“Kintsugi.” She says softly, then sits up. Max watches her, head tilting as she moves to her closet and swings the door open. Grabbing a stool, she clambers up to the top shelf and starts rustling around. From his vantage point on the bed, Max can see deep scars running the inside of her leg and wonders briefly where they’re from before Reina settled back in front of him on the couch. She sees him looking and swallows, digging something out of a box from her closet.

“Also from my dad.” She says, eyes flickering up, “same day my mom was in Fukushima.”

“Ah.” Max nods, and lets Reina continue to rustle. He wants to ask questions, but he’s curious as to what she’s doing. She sets down her brace and a thing of gold paint and hands a brush to him.

“What is this?”

“Okay. It’s kinda stupid because this is no where close to what you’re supposed to do, but hear me out,” Reina raises her hands in defense. Max let’s her have the floor, he’s not gonna judge her.

“Kintsugi, it’s a Japanese art of repairing broken pottery or dishes or whatever with urushi lacquer mixed with powered gold or whatever and I don’t have lacquer and this isn’t technically broken but!” Reina pauses her rambling, chews her lip, and looks away from Max and to the window, “When I had my first hand brace, my Jiji—my grandmother, she painted it with this beautiful gold design. She told me it was my kintsugi. That I was broken, and that she was mending me. And… she’s always been my biggest support. Besides my mom, Jiji sacrificed so much for me, almost all her salary went to helping me get into F4 because my dad stopped helping me pay for racing until he started sponsoring me last year. And… Kintsugi is our thing. If she breaks anything she waits for me to fix it.”

There’s something hanging here, something so vulnerable, so Max asks with plenty of pause to show his trepidation, “Why did you give me the brush, then? Where’s Jiji?”

“In Washington.” Reina hums, “And… you… you’re a really big supporter to me. And you mean a lot to me, Max. I’ve only known you for half a year now but… you’ve helped me with a lot. And you sacrifice a lot for me. You flew all the way here to help me because my Mom asked. And don’t think Christian didn’t tell me about you trying to anonymously sponsor me.”

Max laughs softly, “Guilty as charged.”

“I want you to paint something on it. Anything. I have a—“ Reina starts to dig again, “a gold marker too. I do this all the time with things I break—like my phone cases or my hair ties. This is a whole bin of knockoff Kintsugi.”

She hands Max the marker and then rolls off to the side to curl back into her blankets, but rests her head on his thigh. Max sits and stares at the brace in his hand, rolling it around in his grasp as he thinks of what to write. There’s about a thousand things that ring through his head, and none he can settle on.

And then he gets an idea.

While Reina watches him focus, the golden light of the sun haloing him, she wonders briefly if she’s found her own form of Kintsugi in him. Sure they weren’t perfect, and both deeply troubled in their own right, traumas rooted deep within them, but they had each other and that was what they needed.

And Max knew he found Kintsugi in Reina.

Reina sits up when Max hands her the brace back, making an odd face when she sees its written in Dutch.

“laat u niet definiëren door uw naam. Do not be defined by your name.” Max says simply, and Reina looks up at him and tears prick in her eyes immediately. When Max helps her put it on, he adds a bit more gold flare to the boring black brace and smiles.

“Now you can wear it, yeah?” he says, and Reina leans up to wrap her arms taught around him. He laughs softly and hugs her back, letting her bury her face in the side of his neck.

If she sobs, he doesn’t comment, just lets her lay there until she’s run dry.

A week later, Max is unpacking in Monaco when he notices something new in his bag. He finds a small little keychain, a little blue ribbon tied to a clasp he knows he can snag on his keys. It’s in Japanese, but the note attached makes him smile a little watery smile.

‘Max,

Thank you. That’s all I can say. For everything you were supposed to help me with, and everything you chose to do on your own. I hope I can return the favor.

Reina.

ps. it says ‘do not be defined by your name.’ just like my brace,’

The keychain hangs off the zipper of his work jacket instead. And if anyone asks—and Yuki is the first to ask the meaning since he knows what it actually says, he simply smiles and says it’s a gift. No other explanation needed.

Except for when Geri asks, and he tells her the whole story, and then Christian ‘yells’ at him for making Geri cry.

reinamatsumoto made a new post!

liked by gerihorner, logansargeant, maxverstappen, and 458k others...

reinamatsumoto: [come back soon, big brother]!!

viewing translation from japanese

tagged: maxverstappen

misshanatanaka: [so sweet! glad having him by helped sweetheart!!]

user1: CAPTOIN HAS ME IN FUCKING TEARS

user2: MAX IS HER BROTHER !!!!!!

logansargeant: did our sushi date meaning NOTHING.

⤷ reinamatsumoto: GOD YOU WANT A POST FOR FUCKING SUSHI??

⤷ logansargeant: YES?

⤷ oscarpiastri: please rei he's pouting.

⤷ reinamatsumoto: fine. anything for my favorite white boys.

⤷ user6: my favorite prema survivors <3

user3: CRYING OVER HER CALLING MAX HER BROTHER. OH. IM SO NOT WELL.

user4: so are we gonna talk ab her punching a reporter? bc shes hot for that.

oscarpiastri: PERONI??? FOUL.

gerihorner: so so so cute!!!!!

⤷ reinamatsumoto: thanks mom!!!

⤷ maxverstappen: thanks mom

user5: logan crying in the comments is so real

yukitsunoda: [max is a big softie!]

⤷ reinamatsumoto: [I KNOW !!!]

taglist (thank you for your support!!)

@vellicora @justsomejess @struggling-with-delia

[bittenbyyou]

Inferior Flames (1)

MCU!AU | MCU!Peter Parker x Stark!Reader | MCU!Spider-Man x Stark!Reader

genre: enemies to lovers, angst, slow burn, lil cute moments

description: Your father wants you to knock Peter down a peg. OR Peter is bitter because you’re an Avenger and he’s not.

word count: 3.6k

warnings: Tony Stark being your father is already a warning as to how ridiculous he could be lol, mentions of Spider-Man: Homecoming, references from Captain America: Civil War, idk where this would fit in the MCU timeline per se b/c I’ve only recently started watching all the Marvel movies. 

a/n: maybe it’ll be a series? idk, if you like it, lemme know!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

“Firefly, I need a favor.” Your father plopped onto the couch next to you, so you paused your show with the TV remote.

“What is it?” you asked, turning your body to give him your undivided attention.

“You know Spiderling, Spider-Boy?”

“Peter Parker, Spider-Man? Yes. How do you still not know his name?”

“My names are better.”

“Uh huh. Wait, he’s the one that rejected your proposal to become an Avenger.” You nudged him with your elbow, flashing a smirk.

“No, no. I don’t do rejection.”

“But he did turn you down.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to alleviate his frustration. “Sure. Whatever. Anyway, the kid wants to be an Avenger now. Been texting Happy nonstop about when’s the next mission and he’s wanting to see me tomorrow.”

You blinked twice and stayed quiet, a blank stare on your face as to why this was an issue. When he didn’t say anything, you gestured for him to elaborate.

“I don’t think he’s ready,” he added, crossing one arm over the other.

“You’re serious? Dad, you’ve never shut up about him ever since you gave him the suit. Even when I was abroad, I’ve seen what he can do. He’s amazing. You wanted him to be an Avenger.”

“I’m aware. But he said no and now… the ball is in my court.” The shit-eating grin on his face was soon replaced with a chuckle that sounded almost sinister.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, he turned me down and now he wants me back. God, I’m making him sound like an ex-girlfriend.” He shivered in disgust and you rolled your eyes. “Anyway, I get to turn him down now. It’s great.”

“So you’re turning him down because he turned you down first. Petty much?”

“Hey, that is not what’s going on here.” He turned his attention to the paused TV screen instead of meeting your judgmental gaze.

“Dad, that’s exactly what you’re doing. You’re really letting your pride stop you from recruiting someone as amazing as Spider-Man? Let Peter join.”

“What, are you in love with him or something? You think he’s so amazing?” he asked while doing jazz hands at the word “amazing.”

You wouldn’t call it love; it was more along the lines of admiration. During your time abroad, your father filled you in on all his adventures and antics so if anything, it was his fault as to why you were somewhat enamored with Spider-Man. Deep down, you knew your father adored Peter, so it was only natural you did too.

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

“You can’t date anyone until you’re 21.”

“I’m telling Mom you’re being ridiculous.”

“I already told your mom and we’ve already established that I’m ridiculous,” he said proudly, as if it was a badge of honor.

“You told me you were proud of his decision to lay low.”

“I am. I was. But now the tables have turned and what kind of person would I be if I let him in so easily? The others think I’m crazy recruiting a 15 year old.”

“16 now actually,” you corrected.

“God, this is like deja-vu.”

You giggled. “I’m the same age as him and you’ve been wanting me to join too.”

“Don’t remind me. You were the first person to ever turn me down and I’m still recovering. I’m waiting for you to crawl back and beg me, saying ‘Dad, please! Let me be an Avenger!’ Like the kid is doing now,” he said, using a high-pitched voice when he was imitating you.

“Good luck with that. I have no interest in being an Avenger.”

“See,” he said, pointing his index finger at you, “that right there is why I need your help.”

You crossed your arms in the same way he did, skeptical of where he was going with this. “Go on.”

“I want you to pretend to be another recruit who wants to be an Avenger. I’ll tell him there’s only one position and make him work for it.”

“Dad…” you said sternly.

“What? He doesn’t know you’re my daughter. And I’m trying to protect him too. The kid’s been going off doing things on his own and not thinking clearly. He can wait on becoming an Avenger.”

“He stopped Vulture. He kept looking for those weapons when no one else would.”

“He’s reckless.”

“You’re using me to make him jealous.”

“A little,” he said with a shrug. “But I’m also looking out for him.”

“Uh huh.”

“He’s coming here tomorrow and I want you to battle him. If he beats you, he’ll get to join.”

“This is so stupid.”

“It’s genius, really.”

“You’re making a kid fight for something that you already want to give him.”

“No. Not yet.”

“You know he can’t beat me.”

Your father leaned in and pecked you on the forehead. “Exactly. Him losing will help him work harder to be better. This’ll give him that push he really needs. So will you help me?”

“Let me get this straight. You want me to fight Peter Parker and make sure he loses just so he doesn’t get to become an Avenger even though deep down, you want him to be one?”

“Precisely.”

“That’s the stupidest idea ever. And it’ll hurt his feelings.”

“No, it’ll build character. He needs to understand it’s not that simple. You can’t ask to become an Avenger and get it.”

“... But he can… because that’s what you wanted in the first place.”

“He turned me down so it’s only fair that he proves to me how much he wants it. Like a test. I’m testing him.”

“No. Dad, I’m not doing that.”

“I’ll enroll you in school right now instead of waiting for the following year.”

You sighed, contemplating his ridiculous proposition. He had adopted you when you were 10 on one of his missions overseas and has kept you a secret from the public. As much as it pained him, he could not bring you home right away because you required guidance on using your powers responsibly. You had to remain abroad for a while longer until the adoption forms went through and your mentors felt you were ready to leave the tiny village where you resided.

However, he and his wife Pepper, kept in touch and always checked in. He showed up every birthday and made it his mission to be a part of your life. Now that you were in high school and your powers were restored, he flew you into New York City right away.

It’s been a few months since your transition and you absolutely loved it. The Avengers who resided in the compound were very welcoming and so far, they were the only ones who knew of your existence along with your mom. Your father had yet to announce your identity to the world because he didn’t want the spotlight to overwhelm you. Originally he planned on having you relax a bit and then enroll you in public school next year, but going earlier was enticing to you.

“... Which school?”

“Spider-Man’s.”

“... Fine.”

“You do have a crush on him.”

“Shut up, Dad.”

The next day…

Upon entering the foyer of the Avengers Compound, Happy led Peter to where Stark was. The man stood in the middle of the main entrance hall, sporting a classy suit and sunglasses. Peter clenched his fists in determination, carefully reciting the words he wanted to say in his head since the car ride over.

“Hey kid. What do you want?”

“Mr. Stark,” he squeaked. He shut his eyes in humiliation, clearing his throat and lowering his voice a bit to sound more confident. Once his eyes fluttered open, he puffed out his chest and said, “I changed my mind.”

“You changed your mind,” Stark deadpanned.

“Yes. I want to be an Avenger.”

“You understand why I’m skeptical.”

“Um… yes, but—”

“Look, you turned me down last time and am I used to rejection?” Peter opened his mouth to answer but was immediately cut off. “The answer’s no, but I respected your decision. All that talk about looking out of the little guy—great—so what changed?”

“I’m ready for more than that now.”

“No, you’re not.”

“That’s not what you thought when I took on Captain America,” Peter argued.

“Trust me, kid. If Cap wanted to lay you out, he would’ve.”

Peter furrowed his eyebrows at the realization that he got off easy, questioning his entire existence.

Stark pressed his palms together and pointed at him. “You really want to be an Avenger?”

The boy nodded eagerly. “Yes.”

He inhaled sharply through gritted teeth. “See, here’s the thing: there’s someone else.”

Peter’s face fell, heartbroken at the thought of being replaced. “What—What do you mean there’s someone else?”

“Well, after you turned me down, I recruited someone else. If you really want to be an Avenger, prove to me you’re better than her.”

“Wait, her?”

“Yeah. You think you got what it takes?”

“Well it’s rude to attack a lady—”

“No. Gender equality’s a thing, right? You beat her up, she beats you up. You both end up in casts—”

“Casts?!”

“Suit up and let’s go.”

With no other choice, Peter obeyed and did what he was told. His thoughts were racing at the thought of battling someone to prove his worth. But this was his dream and he had to get out of his own head. After he finished suiting up, Happy led Tony and him to the outdoor training area that featured a wide-opened space with reinforced surfaces.

It had strategically placed obstacles to encourage agility and tactical thinking during battles. Additionally, the area incorporated holographic projectors to create any virtual landscapes to simulate specific scenarios for the Avengers to train in.

And that was where Peter’s eyes landed on a figure in the distance. You, who was practicing your combat skills with a large kung fu spear. The way you moved was calculated, graceful, like a beautiful yet deadly dance. You performed many high kicks and flips, mesmerizing Peter as your hands maneuvered the spear so flawlessly around your body. Your father and Happy watched you, proud smiles plastered on both of their faces.

“That’s who you’ll be battling today,” Stark said, clapping his hands together once to catch your attention. You stopped what you were doing and landed in a perfect split with the spear parallel to your body, noticing your father and Happy’s presence. You got up and rushed over, your eyes quickly finding its way to the boy in the iconic red and blue costume.

“Hi D-... Mr. Stark. Happy.” You turned to Peter, loving the fact that he didn’t have his mask on yet so you could finally meet him as him. He was far cuter in person, you weren’t going to deny that. “I’m [Y/N].”

Your dad wanted this “test” to be authentic, so you couldn't tell Peter you were, in fact, a Stark. Plus you didn’t look like a Stark anyway, with you being adopted and all. It’d be a cinch.

“P-Parker, Peter. Parker Peter—I mean, Peter Parker,” Peter said softly, shaking your hand. God, you were so pretty that it made him a fumbling mess. He wondered if you two were the same age.

“Great. Now that both you kiddos are here, you both know what you have to do, right?”

You and Peter looked at each other and exchanged awkward smiles. “Mr. Stark, I’m not comfortable battling a… um…”

“Girl?” you finished. “I’d be more worried about yourself, darling.”

The way the word “darling” rolled off your tongue caused Peter’s face to redden like a cherry.

“I’m not saying girls can’t battle, I’m just saying I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Are you going to hold back if the enemy is a woman?”

Peter opened his mouth to say something but to no avail.

“You said you wanted to be an Avenger. There’s only one position available, so we’re going to be testing you both. Happy will launch the simulation sequence and then you two will be fighting one-on-one,” your father explained.

“Good luck,” Happy said, trying hard not to laugh. The two men walked a safe distance away where they could observe you both.

“What’s the simulation sequence?” Peter called out before putting on his mask.

“We’re going to be launching drones at you,” Stark called back from afar with cupped hands.

“Drones?!”

“Yeah, we want to see how much you’ve improved!”

“In 3, 2, 1!” Happy shouted as he pushed some buttons on his phone.

You and Peter both stared up at the sky as a swarm of drones lined up in a similar fashion as the game Space Invaders.

“May the best Avenger win,” you said, sending him a wink. He laughed nervously as you immediately launched yourself in the sky. Peter gasped in awe.

“She can fly?!”

Hovering in front of the drones, you closed your eyes and pressed your index and middle fingers together, forming a "V" shape. Bringing the fingers perpendicular to your forehead, it felt as if you were beckoning an unseen force. With unwavering focus, you opened your eyes, and the spear you held multiplied tenfold, floating effortlessly beside you. Extending your arm forward, you pointed confidently at the drones, issuing a resolute command for the spears to launch their attack. Explosions scattered throughout the sky as you managed to wipe out half the drones with one attack.

“And she can multiply things. Great,” Peter huffed, launching a web at one of the drones to join you.

“She’s going to destroy him,” your father said, chuckling to himself.

“Kid, come back. Don’t be such a sore loser.”

Peter shook his head while removing his mask, muttering self-deprecating thoughts to himself at his performance. You watched as he walked away, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Did I go overboard?” you asked, a tinge of guilt eating away at your conscience. Your father chuckled and waved off your concern with a flick of the wrist.

“No, you did great. He’ll be fine.” He went after Peter and placed a hand on his shoulder to prevent him from going any further. “Hey. You put up a good fight.”

Peter spun around, exasperated and using his hands to express his frustration. “I lost. There was no way I was going to win. She can fly, she can multiply things, she can use telekinesis, she can breathe fire—is she part dragon? How was I supposed to compete with that?!”

You saw him pointing at you from afar, giving him a small smile but was only reciprocated with a frown.

Tony put on a contemplating face. “Is she part dragon…?” he mumbled. “Anyway, I told you that I had to find someone else after you said no. And she’s earned her place. I’m sorry you’re disappointed, but you lost fair and square.”

“But—”

“No buts. You aren’t ready. So lay low, be a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, and work your way up. Go to school, focus on classes, and finish that homework you’ve been putting off.”

“I don’t need to go to school.”

“Yes. You do. Even she goes to school,” Stark said, pointing over in your direction.

You went over to where Happy was, your eyes still glued on your father and Peter. “Happy, he looks so heartbroken.”

“I know. But it’s for the best. Kid’s too eager and knocking him down a peg might do him some good.”

“I feel bad.”

He patted your back and gave you a reassuring smile. “He will be okay. Your father appreciates your help.”

You immediately straightened your posture when you saw Peter come over with your father.

“Anything you want to say to [Y/N]?” your father asked, giving Peter a gentle nudge from behind.

“Congratulations,” Peter said, mustering up as much strength as he could to give you a smile. Because he really was happy for you, but it hurt for him. The smile didn’t reach his eyes and the pitiful gaze in yours wasn’t helping.

“Thanks. You did really well.”

“Yeah, but I have all the bruises,” he joked, pointing at his face in a circular motion. You took a step forward and placed your palm out in front of his face.

“May I?”

His eyes widened in confusion, but he nodded anyway. An ember glow emitted from your hand and all his bruises healed in a matter of seconds.

“You can heal people too? What on earth can’t you do?” Peter was both fascinated but also very annoyed at your perfection.

“I can only heal minor bruises,” you said quickly.

“Of course,” he muttered.

“Happy, take him home for me.”

“Got it. Come on, Peter.”

“Bye Peter,” you said, giving him a shy wave. He only gave you another meek smile before walking away. You glared at your father, who only let out a sigh of relief.

“Great job, kiddo.”

The next day at school Ned practically crashed into Peter, who was at his locker minding his own business.

“Dude, dude, dude!”

“Whoa, what is it, Ned?!” Peter said, a hand on his chest from the sudden heart attack that was his best friend.

“There’s a new girl and she’s so cute. Have you seen her yet?”

Peter closed his locker shut, wracking his brain for a moment when he saw an unfamiliar face today. “No, I haven’t. What’s her name?”

“Uh… I can’t remember. Was it [wrong name]? Or maybe [another wrong name]?”

Peter looked down the hall and somehow amongst a cluster of students, he spotted you walking towards him. Like a moth to a flame, his eyes somehow went straight to you and only you. Irritation overcame him as he remembered the battle from yesterday. How you beat him so effortlessly, so ridiculously cool and being all perfect. And now you’re at his school? What, were you mocking him?

“Ned,” Peter said, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Is that her?” He pointed at you and nodded his head in your direction.

Ned looked over in your direction and snapped his fingers. “Yeah! That’s her.”

“Dude, that’s the girl,” Peter muttered.

“Huh? What girl?”

He thought about how he sulked on the apartment balcony, venting to Ned about you. “The… girl… remember what I told you over the phone yesterday?”

It took a few seconds, but Ned’s brain finally clicked. “She’s the one that beat you? Her? Oh my god, you didn’t mention how cute she was!”

“Will you keep your voice down? She’s coming this way!” Peter opened his locker again and hid his face behind it. Ned shook his head in disapproval.

“Are you embarrassed? Come on. Challenge her again.”

“I can’t.”

“I’ll do it for you.”

“No, dude, stop. You aren’t supposed to know about her. Mr. Stark will kill me.”

“But she goes to our school.”

Peter hid his face in his locker until you finally passed. He let out a huge sigh of relief, feeling like he had dodged a bullet. That was, until Ned shouted out, “Hey! New girl!”

You stopped at the familiar label people were referring to you as. Once you turned around, you saw Ned’s huge smile while Peter still cowered in his locker. The boy you were walking with scoffed at Ned’s boldness.

“You don’t need to engage with them. They’re nobodies.”

“That’s not very nice, Flash,” you said, frowning at his poor choice of words.

“If we’re nobodies, why is she friends with Peter then, huh?” Ned exclaimed loudly. If a black hole could open up and swallow Peter whole, now would be the time.

“What, you know Penis Parker?” Flash asked you, incredulous at the new information. Peter carefully pulled his head out of his locker enough to take a tiny peek at you. He wondered what you were going to say.

“Yeah. I know Peter, Flaccid Flash,” you replied, bumping into his shoulder deliberately as you made your way over to Peter and Ned. The entire hallway filled with laughter at your stinging remark.

“Hi. I’m [Y/N]. I think we maybe got off on the wrong foot. How about we start over?”

Peter looked at your extended hand as if it was a foreign object, standing still as a statue. When his brain finally registered what you said, Ned had beat him to it, shaking your hand so fast like he was in the presence of royalty. “We would love to start over. I’m Ned. Peter’s best friend.”

You let out a laugh. “Hi Ned. It’s lovely to meet you.”

Without thinking, Peter grabbed your other hand. “Come with me.”

You didn’t have time to react and he led you to the nearest empty classroom, thankful class hadn’t started yet.

“What are you doing here?” he interrogated, letting go of your hand. You leaned against the wall, crossing one foot over the other.

“I go to school here now?”

“But why here?”

“Because… it’s a nice school?”

Peter placed a hand on his forehead, his jaw clenched as he thought of what to say next without sounding like an ass. “Look, you beat me and you’re an Avenger fair and square. I’m happy for you, really.” His words became soft and broken towards the end. “But seeing you reminds me that Mr. Stark will never be impressed with me. So can you give me space?”

His voice was frail but sincere. You got off the wall and gave him a nod. “Okay. I’ll leave you alone.”

“Thank you.”

Before Peter could leave, you asked him one last question. “Sorry, but could you tell me where gym class is? I have it first period.”

It took everything in Peter not to curse out loud. He had to fight back his bitterness and said through gritted teeth. “Yeah. I have it first period too.”

You smiled to yourself, trailing closely behind him as he led you both to your first class. Together.

Reblogs and thoughts are appreciated! Thank you!

Update: I might be in the middle of writing a part 2. :) Your support means a lot!

[badbatchsprincess]

Heated ~ pt.8

Pt.1 ~ Pt.2 ~ Pt.3 ~ Pt.4 ~ Pt.5 ~ Pt.6 ~ Pt.7 ~ Pt.8 ~ Pt.9 ~ Pt.10 ~Pt.11 ~ Pt.12 ~ Pt.13 ~ Pt.14 ~ Pt.15 ~ Pt.16 ~ Pt.17 ~ Pt.18 ~ Pt.19 ~ Pt.20 ~ Pt.21 ~ Pt.22 ~ Pt.23 ~ Pt.24 ~ Pt.25

Masterlist

Summary: This is an ABO Bad batch!Poly x Omega Reader smut with a plot. This takes place as an AU before order 66. Y/N previously served under the 501st before being transferred to Special Forces 99. This is her adventure with these rowdy Alphas in a quickly changing universe.

THIS IS AN ABO AU ABOUT THE BAD BATCH (NO CANON OMEGA!) Due to the unfortunate situation of her name being Omega… Omega the child from the canon series is not going to be apart of this fanfic/porn with a plot. I feel obligated to put this warning in because it makes my skin crawl thinking anyone could make that mistake. 

Warnings: Kidnapping, themes of Non!Con! beware, canon type violence, Y/N badassery, murder, Crosshair is turned on by Y/N committing murder, sorry but we know he would be, I don't make the rules I just enforce them.

I don't know why I loved writing this chapter so much it was so fun like imagining and creating a civilization in the star wars vibes. Also having a tiny homage to slave Leia iconic outfit lol don't mind me.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Still recovering from your heat, this long ride to wherever the Mimbanese were taking you was wearing you down. You shifted uncomfortably, feeling incredibly sore between your thighs, not to mention the pain in the rest of your body. Having four alphas at your disposal for a week had done sinful things to your poor body. 

To say you were sore was an understatement. 

Now your back was starting to hurt as his rifle bit into your spine with every gallop.

You had planned to lounge around for a few days before expecting to properly get back on your feet, but your plans had been derailed and now you were in the hands of a stranger and a strange people. 

You were aware of the fact you were experiencing anxiety, but the last remaining embers of your heart still licked at your hindbrain dulling your senses a bit. All you could think about were your alphas. 

They must be so worried.

~~~

The red clay earth rapidly changed, and soon a lush jungle neared you. The other riders sped up, forcing a tight formation as the animals approached an opening in the jungle wall. As you passed through, you noticed the flora and fauna matched the red and oranges of the mud fields too. Over the thundering sound of hooves, you could hear bird species screeching in the trees above and a rustling as the leaves danced in the wind. 

You were trying to take everything in knowing this information may serve in your escape.

It didn’t take long for you to reach a clearing. 

Upon approach, you watched the jungle reveal a massive stone wall that seemed to go on forever. You gawked as massive gates opened, allowing the war party to pass through before closing behind you with a massive locking mechanism falling into place. 

You looked around, noticing villagers everywhere watching you strangely as the clan leader continued on his path to wherever he was taking you. You looked nothing like them; you were positive that's why they were staring so intensely. Then you realized the clan leader was taking you somewhere specific.

Up ahead, there was another tall wall inside the perimeter wall. More guards opened up the double doors, and you gasped. 

Inside, there was a massive temple surrounded by gardens and billowing trees taller than those in the jungle outside the city. 

All around these grounds were other females clad in crimson fabrics pausing what they were doing to watch you.

The Clan leader trotted to a stop, allowing you to take in the sight in its totality. 

You were suddenly lifted from the saddle and settled into the grass below. 

You looked around frantically, trying to find a potential escape, but you were greeted by other women… some human… you looked at them confused before they parted, making room for a smaller Mimban elder who scuttled over to you. You sucked in a breath as she approached.

She exchanged some words with the clan leader, who bowed his head in respect to the woman. She pushed forward, analyzing you with a scrutinizing eye. The clan leader then seemed to be explaining his actions while gesturing to you. 

You swallowed thickly, feeling your anxiety eclipse whatever numbness you might of had.

She then took your hand into hers and studied the bruises around your wrist. You were certain those belonged to Tech. Then she clicked her tongue as she moved your collar to see Crosshair’s love bites.

She turned to the other women and said something before turning back to the temple. Very quickly, they flocked to you. You squeaked as they gently pushed you to follow the elderly woman, suddenly running their hands over your own in a friendly manner.

"Where are you taking me?" You asked, hoping they might understand basic.

One of the human girls whispered, "Don’t worry, you’ll be okay. It’s safe here."

You just looked at her, studying her face. It was painted with red designs, and her hair was plated back, showing off her dainty neck and collarbones. She donned a flowing red dress with luxurious-looking fabrics showing off her pale skin.

"Where is here?" You asked as the temple entrance approached. "I want to go home. Tell them to take me back to my pack."

"Are you mated?" She asked, taking your hand.

You shook your head no.

"Then you’re better off here," she nodded.

"But my alphas…" You whined, stepping inside the ancient building. The stone walls instantly made the temperature drop ten degrees and you shivered.

"They’ll understand soon," she gave you a sweet smile, taking the lead bringing you to the heart of the temple grounds.

~~~

"We gotta follow them!" Wrecker roared, feeling like his insides were being torn apart. 

Like his brothers, he was horrified to watch you be wrenched from them. Taken from the nest with brute force. 

"We are, Wrecker!" Tech snarled, looking at his data pad.

"They just took her! They fucking took her!" Crosshair was losing his mind. For the sniper engineered to be patient and still, it seemed his alpha instincts overrode his basic programming. He couldn’t deny the way his skin crawled with worry.

"What do they want with her?" Wrecker winced. "Why would they take Y/N?"

"I don’t even want to think about that," Crosshair hissed as his thoughts went to the absolute worst.

"Do you have their position?" Echo asked, looking to Tech.

"I do." He showed everyone his datapad. During the struggle, when he realized you were being taken from them, he slipped a tracker onto one of the guards. "It seems they took her to a city called Alise."

"How far?" Hunter growled.

"A few hours on foot," Tech replied, doing the math in his head, “We might be able to get there by sun down.”

"Let’s pack up and get moving," Hunter sprung into action.

They geared up and restocked their supplies before following the endless sets of hoof marks in the clay earth. Crosshair and Hunter hadn’t seen anything when they scouted a few days ago. He was hoping Tech’s info was correct.

~~~

"I- Ah!" You screamed as the Mimbanese women plunged you under the warm bathwater. You came back up coughing and sputtering, trying to wipe your eyes to see.

They had brought you to a natural hot spring inside the temple, and without warning, had stripped you down to your birthday suit. You didn’t even have time to feel embarrassed before you were being guided to the water, where they swarmed you with various scrubbing tools and soaps. 

You looked up at the girl who had spoken to you moments before, but she just curled up on a fabric draped lounger with her friend while they talked, as if you weren’t being waterboarded by strangers just a few mere feet away.

You looked around, noticing there were only women here. The temple seemed to be a sacred space of sorts, as more of that same fabric was draped around the columns and ceilings. The floors were covered in red carpets, and lounging furniture was littered everywhere.

A warm cloth was brought to your skin as some sort of exfoliating cream was buffed into your flesh. More skilled hands worked some hair cleanser into your scalp. You fought back a sigh. It felt really nice to have someone else clean you. 

It’s not like your alphas didn’t care for you, but they’re still men at the end of the day, and their hair washing skills were limited.

The warmed mineral water was doing wonders for your soreness. If anything, that made this a little enjoyable you felt yourself disarm a bit at their touch.

When they were satisfied with the job, they helped you out before cleaning themselves. You were brought over to the girl from before, and she stood up, extending a hand to you. You wrapped the crimson fabric around yourself a little tighter as she led you out to one of the windows. Here, were multiple vanity tables with mirrors and various creams and potions. She sat you down as her friend perched herself on the stool next to you with a kind smile.

"What is your name?" She asked, picking up a wooden comb from the table.

"I’m Y/N," you said quietly.

"Hi Y/N, I’m Taryn," she then gestured to her friend who had golden hair, "That’s Starla.”

"Where am I?" You asked, rubbing the fabric wrapping over your damp face.

"The city is called Alise," Taryn said, moving your hair to your back as she started gently running the comb through your tangled locks, "But this place is called the fortress." She waved the comb around at the temple.

"Why was I taken?" You shivered, fighting back tears. The only thing you wanted was to be in the arms of your alphas in your comforting nest right now.

"Tarook said he found you in the mud fields?" Taryn said, watching you nod in confirmation. "Anywhere outside the fortress isn’t safe for the women. They built this place to keep us safe."

"What’s in the mud fields?" You asked.

"Monsters," Starla said gravely, and you gasped.

Taryn gave her a disapproving look, "The men keep us safe here. They bring us everything we could need. There’s no need to worry."

"Can I leave?" You asked, and Taryn just eyed you through the mirror.

That was a no, you guessed.

"Who are these women?" You looked around.

"The elders, mothers, and the unmated," Starla said, "This place is a sacred site to their religion, but they use it now to protect us from the outside."

"Do the men ever come here?"

"Partners, sure. But not unless they’re mated. This place is just for us."

Taryn finished off a simple braid going down the back of your head and tied off the ends before standing to get Starla’s help finding you something new to wear. When they came back, they held various pieces of crimson fabric, and they got to work wrapping you in it.

You were thankful they covered your private bits, but the rest they let be exposed. The pieces all flowed into a skirt but left large slits on both sides trailing all the way up to your hips. The Mimban breeze blew the fabric softly and teased your legs. 

You looked in the mirror, hardly recognizing yourself. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a dress on nonetheless something like this. You felt like one of the pin ups on in five’s bunk.

"So you blend in," Starla smiled and grabbed one of the pots on the vanity. She dunked her fingers in the red paste and brought it over to your face where she drew two thick lines from under your eyes all the way down your cheeks to your neck.

"You have an alpha?" She asked, noticing the love bites decorating your shoulder.

"Four. Actually," you were hit with sudden sadness, hoping you get to see them again.

"Four?" Starla’s eyes widened in shock but slightly impressed.

"Well, actually, there’s a fifth, but he’s platonic," you sighed, fighting back tears.

"Tarook took you from them?" She asked, a little horrified.

You nodded, "They tried to stop him, but there were too many."

Starla looked to Taryn, who looked a little distraught at the idea.

"That would explain these," Taryn picked up your wrist gently.

"I had just gotten through my heat when I was taken from them," you felt a tear slip, "I just want to go home." You gave them your best begging eyes hoping they’d take pity on you.

They sighed, sympathizing but in the end nothing came of it.

"I’m wondering if Tarook thought you had been hurt," she turned over your bruised wrists, "He might be strict, but he does care for us."

"My alphas are warriors. They can be a little rough, but they’d never hurt me," you sighed, pulling your wrists back and holding them close to your heart, "I don’t understand why your leader would do this."

"The fields are close to the Alooke," Taryn said.

"The Alooke?" You hadn’t heard that word before.

"They’re a clan of monsters," Starla whispered, "They’ve been terrorizing Mimban for generations. Alise was built to keep them out. They came from a nearby star system and have been taking the Mimbanese and killing them for sport."

"If you’re taken. You don’t come back," Taryn sighed.

You swallowed thickly, wondering how lucky you had been for the past two weeks.

"They particularly target women and children," Starla said, gesturing to all of the women moving about the temple, "That’s why they built the fortress."

"But you’re prisoners," you whispered.

"It’s better than the alternative, and we’re treated well."

You sighed in frustration. This was archaic, no matter the reasoning. A cage was still a cage regardless of title.

You had to get out of here. Alooke be damned.

"Will you show me around?" You asked, watching some of the elders locking arms and walking through the various corridors. You needed to learn this place and learn it fast if you were going to make an escape.

"Sure," they smiled and did the same. The three of you left the bathhouse to explore the inner city.

It was a lot larger than you had realized.

The inner city had multiple temples and many smaller private living domiciles. They showed you their rooms that they share with a few other human girls on the upper floor of the smaller western temple. 

Between these ancient buildings, the gardens flowed along with a river that cut through the center of the city. The inner city was big enough you couldn’t see the walls from the other side. It gave the illusion that you weren’t trapped in a cage. It seemed like two thousand women resided here from what you estimated. They all wore the same color and had similar face paintings. 

They seemed to be content. They laughed and gathered playing games you had never seen before in the little grass areas. There was an abundance of fruiting trees and gardens. 

It almost seemed… like a utopia? No wonder they had no desire so leave.

Starla and Taryn found an empty bench under a huge tree and plucked a few fruits from a nearby basket handing one to you. It was a perfectly ripe meiloorun.

"Women from outside Mimban usually have an occupation," Taryn said, biting into the juicy fruit, "What do you do?"

“I’m a medic for the Grand Army of the Republic," you bit into the fruit, moaning at how sweet it was. You hadn’t had a fresh meiloorun in years, and the GAR ration packs tasted nothing like this, "I was stationed with the 501st battalion for a few years since the start of the war, then I transferred to my unit now. They’re a small group of commando soldiers. We’re sent on special missions that the other soldiers can’t do."

"Wow," Starla said in wonder, "So you’ve been all over the galaxy?"

You nodded, "I’ve been to many places. Each a little stranger than the next," you laughed quietly.

"Do you enjoy it?" Taryn asked with a hint of skepticism, "It sounds dangerous."

"Sure it’s dangerous," you smiled, remembering all of the adventures you’ve been on, "We’ve encountered pretty much anything you could think of. It is kind of nice not being shot at, I’ll admit. But I love my boys, and they work really hard for the GAR."

"War is hard," Starla sighed.

"It is," you agreed, "How did you both end up here?"

"My family was trying to flee Separatist occupation when I was brought here as a child," Starla explained, "The Alooke took them, and the elders took me in and raised me here."

"Similar story for me too. My family tried to rebuild a new life here when the Separatists showed up to try and start up a mining operation. Republic forces got us out in time. My mother is mated and lives in the outer ring with my father," she gestured to the gates.

“You know the GAR?” you asked.

Taryn nodded. “The clones, right?”

“Yeah,” you smiled.

“Brave warriors,” she nodded.

“I wonder if it was my boys,” you laughed. “What color were their armor?”

“Green,” she reminisced.

“Ahh no, that wasn’t us.”

“How crazy would that have been,” she smiled, taking your hand and resting it in her lap.

As the crimson moon rose, the inner city of Alise was cast into eerie darkness. Torches and lanterns were lit to keep the gardens out of darkness. You were all summoned to dinner with a sound bell ringing from the main temple. 

You and your new friends made your way through the gardens before stepping up the temple steps to wash your feet and hands before entering. 

Once inside, you smiled seeing how many women of all ages gathered, including children. They played music, danced, and sung while the others ate. It was shocking to see, but nonetheless, it made you happy. There weren’t many places in the universe like this you realized.

Starla grabbed your hand and led you over to where the prepared food was. It consisted of some things you’d never seen before, but she eagerly filled your plate before her own and marched you three over to a pile of stacked pillows to lounge on and watch the festivities.

“Is it always like this?” you asked, digging into the delicious food.

“Yeah,” Taryn smiled. “We have a very close community.”

“I can tell,” you smiled. Okay, fine, maybe Mimban wasn’t so bad. You were slapping yourself for being too judgmental. It must be the hormones. 

~~~

"I don't see her," Crosshair remarked, peering down his scope at the massive city below. The rocky hillside they perched on provided a perfect view over the jungle.

"There are two rings," Tech informed, looking at his data pad. "The inner ring has ancient Jedi temples. I think she'd be in the outer ring; that seems to be where the villagers live."

"Jedi?" Wrecker asked, pulling out his scope.

"Yes, that's what I said," Tech replied, grabbing his own to peer down.

"Notice anything strange about this town?" Crosshair drawled clearly noticing something.

"What..." Hunter zoomed in with his lenses.

"There are only men," Crosshair observed, moving his scope to survey the rest of the city.

"Where are the women?" Hunter asked noticing the crowd in the streets is only men.

"What's that?" Wrecker asked, ignoring Hunter's question.

"What's what?" Hunter looked to Wrecker.

"The temples," Wrecker zoomed in. "There are people walking around."

Crosshair honed in on the flickering lanterns of the temple. "The women…”

They all adjusted their macro binoculars to focus on the inner city. That's when they saw all of the women happily skipping towards the main temple grounds, holding hands and dancing to what they assumed was music. They were covered head to toe in crimson, looking joyous and happy.

"She has to be there," Hunter declared.

"Assuming the clan leader isn't holding her hostage himself," Crosshair added, not entirely convinced.

"I don't think he would," Tech interjected, reading through the information about the Mimabnese. "I think Alise was built to protect their women. It says here that they have a long history of battling off a pirate stronghold called the Alooke. The pirates colonized this land and have been enemies of the indigenous for many generations, stealing their women for breeding."

Hunter didn’t like the sound of that one bit…

"So, you think they're keeping her in that temple?" Crosshair asked, looking through the various corridors from the outside. He couldn't really tell the difference between the various females; they were all wearing the same thing.

"Most likely," Tech affirmed.

"Alright, let's get moving before—" 

Crosshair cut off Hunter, "We got movement in the north."

On the other side of the city, a dust cloud formed in the distance. Upon closer inspection, they noticed dozens of speeders making their way from the direction of the Marauder.

"You don't think they found our ship, do you?" Echo was getting a little worried now.

"It would be likely," Tech informed. "I'm guessing it's those pirates."

"They didn't bother us for two weeks. I don't think it's reasonable to think they'd start today of all days," Hunter watched them heading full speed for the city.

"What did that guy say to us earlier?" Echo narrowed his eyes through his binoculars before turning to face his squad. "He said that this place was no place for a female. Then he took Y/N…”

"Don't remind me," Hunter said, growing angry.

"No, I think he knew they'd come."

Crosshair crossed his arms. "We were sitting ducks for two weeks. If they were going to raid us and take Y/N, they would have done it already."

"Not if they didn't know she was there," Echo pointed out.

Suddenly, they realized you barely left the ship because of how upset you had been after the crash. The only time you had left was to help push the ship in the earlier days.

Echo pointed to the city again, "You saw their reaction when she popped her head out. They were shocked, and they had been watching us for who knows how long before I noticed."

"You think they saw her go into the city?" Hunter asked.

"She was fresh out of heat. No doubt they're hunting her scent trail," Echo's mechanical heart started beating a little faster, realizing you had probably unintentionally led them right to the hidden city.

"Why would they attack the city? It's massively fortified," Crosshair noted, observing all of the sentries patrolling the upper rim of the walls and the guard towers looking outwards. There were only two gates, one on the north end and one on the south. The place was like the citadel. "They'll sustain massive casualties."

Echo shrugged. "Maybe for an omega, they would risk it?"

"Then we need to go," Hunter stood up, grabbing his pack. “Now."

~~~

You smiled, holding hands with the little girl who led you around the dance floor. You didn’t know why the little Twi'lek girl picked you, but you couldn’t deny her. Her mother seemed content letting her play with you, so you just smiled and followed her lead.

Starla and Taryn clapped along with the music, giggling as they watched you enjoy yourself.

When the song was over, it seemed that everyone was eager to retire to bed. 

The girls walked with you back to where you’d be staying with them until the this whole thing can be resolved.

Once inside the large converted bedroom, they helped you build a pallet of pillows and blankets like their own by the breezy airway. 

You washed up before bed in one of the metal basins, and Starla helped you take the pins out of your hair, freeing your now dry and clean locks.

With a quiet goodnight, you curled up on the pallet and pulled the woven blanket up over you. 

You sighed, feeling a bit of anxiety over the whole situation. Dinner was a good distraction, but now that you were left to listen to the river down below and the call of the night birds, you were left with your own thoughts.

Were your alphas coming for you? Were they already here? Or were they injured in the struggle? 

What if they needed you to heal them and you weren’t there? You were starting to feel the tears again as the pull of your heart pained in your chest. You knew they were coming. 

They always came for you.

You tried your hardest to find a comfortable spot that would allow you to close your eyes and try to forget the situation you were in, but you couldn’t help but hear some kind of commotion outside. 

It was like there was a shift in energy, and it forced you up into a seated position. You looked around at the other girls, but they seemed to be comfortably asleep, not hearing what you were.

Something made the hair stand up on the back of your neck as you tried your hardest to listen. You wished you had Hunter’s hearing, but whatever was making your body alert, you knew it wasn’t good.

Standing up, you wrapped the blanket around yourself and stepped out from under the cover of the marble columns onto the exposed patio. Your hair whipped around in the breeze as you looked out over the inner city. 

The torches and lanterns danced in the breeze, casting orange light everywhere. That's when you noticed something moving in the distance: the wall just off to the right had guards jogging back and forth, guns in hand.

You narrowed your eyes, making sure you were seeing the right thing, when you felt Starla near, rubbing her eyes and approaching you. “Are you okay?” she whispered.

“Something’s wrong,” you replied, pointing to the wall guards.

She squinted her eyes, trying to see in the dark. When she realized the guards were not in their normal watch positions, she gasped and skittered back into the room, waking Taryn.

Was it your alphas? You wondered, feeling a bit of hope fill your chest. They were coming to rescue you from this gilded cage.

Taryn awoke a little grumbly, but her attitude changed when she finally saw what was happening.

“There’s been a breach,” her eyes widened like saucers. “Go warn the others,” she turned to Starla, who sprinted out of the room.

“What do we do?” you asked, stepping back from the patio and back into the bedroom.

“We hide,” she said, leading the way to a red carpet hanging on the wall.

“Do you have weapons?” you asked.

She just gave you a look.

“This place is so ass-backwards,” you shook your head and followed her as she lifted back the tapestry, revealing a narrow passageway.

From beyond the stone walls, you heard a loud warning siren go off, letting you know Starla was successful. The blonde came running back shortly after, squeezing into the passageway with the two of you.

Just beyond the narrow pass was a small room with a candle and matches, which Taryn lit to light up the room. 

From inside, you could see the ancient carvings from a time long ago. It seemed like a meditation room if you were correct. There were star maps of the entire galaxy and ancient primordial beings that seemed to be carefully depicting the beginning of the Jedi.

 You’d seen this particular mural before on Coruscant… This place was a Jedi temple?

Your thoughts were cut short by the sound of blaster fire.

The two girls yelped upon hearing it, but you were just trying to figure out how many guns were firing. It was way more than five, you deduced. It wasn’t your boys; that was for certain. 

This was something else entirely.

“We need weapons,” you whispered.

“We’ll be fine,” Taryn held Starla close, trying to console the girl. “They’ve never made it to the inner city before.”

“We don’t even know how to use blasters,” Starla trembled.

“Well, I do. We won’t last long without them if whoever that is out there is as bad as you say they are,” you were listening to the gunfire and the screaming. 

These were all sounds you were used to, and something was telling you this was no normal siege. It was starting to sound like the front lines of Felucia. 

“They won’t find us here,” Taryn’s tone was confident despite her panicked features.

You just sighed and leaned against the wall, waiting for the blasters to silence.

~~~

Hunter was panting heavily by the time they made it to the outer wall. “The pirates have drawn their fire. Let’s get up there before they come back,” he said.

Crosshair loaded a repelling cable into firepuncher and pulled the trigger, watching it latch onto the rim of the upper wall.

Quickly, the five soldiers scaled the wall like they had hundreds of times before. Hunter hauled himself up first, checking if the coast was clear. When it was, he motioned for the others to swing over the edge, grouping up into formation as they jogged in the opposite direction of the action.

Just as Crosshair had said, there were only men in the outer ring, and they all seemed keen on grabbing their weapons to join the fight. 

From what they could see from the wall, the pirates managed to make it past the blockades with some kind of repurposed Separatist battering ram. It must have been left over from a previous battle.

“Over here!” Echo called out, finding a stone stairway that led down into the city below. They began quickly running down the large flight of stairs. That was until the battering ram sounded again.

“They’ve breached the inner city,” Tech said, using his infrared to see how many pirates were trying to rush the guards into the temple grounds. Luckily, most of them were being held back by the Mimbanese, and only a small handful slipped through.

“We need to hurry,” Echo urged.

~~~

The noises suddenly changed when you heard a massive pounding. It sounded like metal on metal, and you knew they were going for the massive doors protecting the inner city.

“They’re coming,” you said, slipping out of the shelter to confirm your suspicion. Taryn tried to grab you, but you were too fast. Nudging past the tapestry, you jogged over to the balcony, peeking out slightly just to see the gate had been basically disintegrated, and the guards were openly firing against a horde of what you could tell were pirates—the Alooke.

Running back to the safe place, you very carefully arranged the tapestry back to normal as you slipped back inside.

“They’re inside,” you whispered, blowing out the candle, leaving you in total darkness.

Starla started whimpering like a scared pup. You put your hand on her shoulder, trying to quiet her, but it wasn’t helping much. 

You flinched when you heard women’s screams echo throughout the hall and knew they had infiltrated the temple and they were close. 

 It wasn’t long before they’d kick down your door. You just prayed they would move on and not notice your hiding spot.

You closed your eyes, saying a silent prayer to the Maker, hoping they’d take mercy on you.

You jumped when you heard the wood of your bedroom door smash open into the stone wall with a bone chilling bang. 

Taryn covered Starla's mouth with her hand, keeping her silent. You took a deep breath, trying to still the racing adrenaline in your body so you could hear over the pounding in your ears.

You heard the man tear apart the room, throwing everything around, growling as he yanked apart the bed pallets frustrated.

“I can smell you… Omega,” he rumbled, making your stomach drop. “I know you’re in here. I know you’re close…”

He continued destroying the room, knocking over the furniture and smashing the pottery of flowers, and you cursed yourself for not thinking about the fact you were totally unmedicated and nothing was suppressing your scent. You were positive it was pungent. 

“I smell alpha on you too,” he chuckled, “too bad he’s not here to save you,” he threatened. 

You heard his boots getting closer to the tapestry as he rooted around in the box of body jewelry next to your hiding spot.

You looked to the two cowering girls. You knew what you had to do. You knew it was a matter of time before he discovered you. At least if you acted now, you’d have the element of surprise.

Leaning forward, you grabbed the metal candlestick and flipped it upside down before returning to the narrow passageway.

Taryn tried to plead with you, but you just shook your head, trying to convey that you had a plan… kind of… you knew Hunter was absolutely going to chew you a new one if he ever found out you were this dumb.

Nudging the tapestry aside, you saw the ugly creature prowling around the center of the room, admiring all the gold shiny jewelry he had found. 

Adjusting your grip slightly on the candle holder, you crept forwards silently, leaving the safety of your hiding spot and approached him in practiced silence.

Rearing back, you went to make the swing and brought down your makeshift club hard, connecting with his wrinkly head. He let out a bark and doubled over, feeling his blood start to rush from the injury.

You raised your arm again to finish the job. He was quick enough to spin around and grab your wrist, holding the weapon. You yelped as he squeezed, forcing you to drop it.

“There you are!” he spat, “Nice of you to come out. You’ll do well. Onka will be pleased to have a new toy.” His free hand shot out to grab at your throat, and something in that moment changed, and suddenly your weeks of combat training kicked in like instinct.

With a growl, you dodged his hand and used your knee to hit him in the gut. He grunted and tried to wrangle you again, but this time you spun around and used your weight to roll him over your back onto the wooden lounging table. He let go of your wrist as he collided with the hard surface, forcing his back into a painful arch with a pop.

You backed up and arched your leg into a high kick, bringing down your heel to his sternum. You heard a crack and knew you hit your target. The man wailed in agony, gripping at his chest as it was no doubt broken.

It was loud enough. Another man entered the room curiously to find you standing over his comrade. You only had a second to react before he rushed you. Grabbing a large metal dish Starla used to hold her combs, you reared that thing back before whipping it across the pursuer's face. 

He snapped to the side, spinning around, trying to recover from the strike. 

His cheek was bleeding, and you were panting. Thankful for the freedom of movement this makeshift dress offered, you got back into a fighting stance, waiting for his move.

“An omega that can fight,” he sneered, raising his fists, “That’s new.”

“You have no idea,” you adjusted your grip on the plate.

He narrowed his eyes, studying you before he flinched. You decided he was taking too long to make a move and flung the plate at him like a frisbee, watching it connect with his neck. He stumbled back, shocked and struggling to breathe, when you launched yourself at him like a wild tooka.

Just like Hunter had showed you, you leaped up onto him, wrapping your bare legs around his shoulder and chest before twisting yourself down, taking him with you.

Hunter always told you that because you’re smaller, you have to bring the fight down to the ground if you want a chance at winning. You knew you had to keep this man on the ground or else he could over power you.

You rolled, throwing him into a spin on the ground. He grunted and reached out, grabbing your bare ankle, yanking you down with him. He tried crawling over you, but you kicked him in the side of the face, hearing his jaw snap viciously.

You crawled away, grabbing one of Taryn’s hair forks, holding it like a shiv.

When he tried to grab you again, you spun on him, driving the fork into his arm and twisted, hearing him scream in agony.

Just as you thought you were making some headway, the one from before got up, grabbed you by the hair, dragging you out onto the balcony and away from his friend. You screamed, feeling the burning pain as he yanked on your locks mercilessly.

“You’re one hell of a problem, aren’t you, sweetheart!” he grabbed your neck, squeezing it harshly. You scrambled and clawed at him feeling the oxygen start to leave you.

You spat at him, watching it land on his face and drip down his scaly cheek.

“Feisty,” his friend laughed, pulling the fork from his arm and letting it fall with a clatter.

The other let go of your hair to wipe his face off.

“I’m fucking her first before we give her to Onka.” He snarled, “fucking payback for the struggle.”

You bared your teeth and he just laughed spinning you around forcing you over the balcony railing at the hip. You kicked back connecting with this shin making him howl. He grabbed your hair again, smashing your face into the stone roughly. 

“Damn bitch!” He started running his hand over your hip before reaching the high slit in your dress. 

Just as you thought it was all over, you heard the sound of a single blaster shot and the tell tale sound of a body hitting the ground. 

You couldn’t see what was happening but you nearly cried when you heard a familiar voice. 

“Fucking drop her.” Crosshair’s menacing voice cut through the air like a vibroblade. 

You were suddenly yanked up and whipped around, being used as a human shield. In front of you, you sighed in relief upon seeing Crosshair’s mask and firepuncher aimed right at your attacker. He slowly approached, stepping over the dead pirate.

You felt dull metal being pressed to your head, and you knew it was a blaster. “Don’t come any closer,” the pirate warned.

Crosshair stopped his advance and stood scarily still.

“Is this the alpha I could smell on you earlier, sweetheart?” He leaned down to whisper in your ear, “What a pretty little thing you are, so many men fighting to have you.”

Normally, you would have been frightened to be in a situation like this, but looking at Crosshair now, you knew no harm would befall you. You knew he would do what needed to be done. You had full trust in the sniper. 

Your tense shoulders fell, and you became eerily relaxed feeling the calm wash over you.

“Hand her over, and I’ll let you live,” Crosshair spoke through his vocoder.

“No chance,” the pirate laughed before coughing due to his fractured sternum, “Put down your gun, and I won’t shoot her.”

Crosshair waited a moment, calculating the risk before deciding to slowly set firepuncher down on the ground, deciding your life was the top priority.

“Kick it to me,” the pirate ordered.

Crosshair begrudgingly kicked his beloved rifle into the center of the room. The pirate huffed, satisfied.

You were then violently shoved down onto your knees with a cry as the pirate pushed you over to have a go at Crosshair. You felt his steel-toe boot bite into your side as he kicked you.

The Pirate wasn’t ready; Crosshair was too fast, too trained. Before his boot had ever left your side, Crosshair lunged at him, knocking the blaster from his grip. The two men fell into a nasty brawl.

Gaining your senses back, you watched your beloved alpha fend off the pirate to the best of his ability. 

The ugly fucker grabbed a knife from his belt and swung it at Cross. You watched in horror as Crosshair dodged him masterfully, but your adrenaline was on overdrive. 

Without much thinking, you crawled over the debris of the room and grabbed firepuncher. You held up the rifle, tucking it into your shoulder and raising yourself to your knees, bringing one foot forward to plant confidently on the floor. 

Raising the gun up into the air, you felt your heart calm and your breathing still. 

In that brief moment of clarity, you aimed the weapon, putting the god-ugly pirate into the crosshairs of the scope before pulling the trigger.

You watched that blue plasma bolt pierce right through the back of the pirate’s skull as he collapsed on the ground mid-swing. 

Crosshair stood there in awe as the smoke from the blast still lingered in the air. He felt like the air had been punched from his gut seeing you kneeling there holding his gun with that determined look in your eyes. He felt the blood rush south realizing you had just saved him... with his gun. He wanted to throw you down on these cushioned floors and ravash you. Shaking himself back to his senses, he took a deep calming breath in.

You took a deep breath too, setting the gun down as Crosshair leaped across the room to kneel down on the floor and embrace you.

You tightly wrung yourself around him, finally feeling the adrenaline wear off and the tears start to flow.

“Cross!” You sobbed, squeezing him.

“Mesh’la,” he took his helmet off, setting it down to the side, and shoved his face into your neck, holding your head like you were the most precious thing to ever live.

“Are you hurt?” He suddenly drew back to get a real look at you. He finally had a second to take in what you were wearing. If the situation wasn’t so dire, he’d probably have a boner right now. 

Your bare legs knelt on the ground, and your nearly naked torso shone in the moonlight, and that damn red on you. It was making his blood warm seeing his little omega on display like this.

“I’m okay,” you replied, grabbing his face and bringing his mouth to yours in a heated kiss. He leaned over you, supporting your back with one hand and holding the two of you up with the other, he squeezed you tightly to his chest plate.

“Y/N?”

Crosshair grabbed his gun in a flash between your bodies, placing the end on his shoulder rifle rest for stabilization. You were still dazed from the kiss when you noticed the others had come out from hiding.

Taryn and Starla squeaked with the gun being pointed at them clutching onto one another.

“It’s okay,” you said, placing a hand on the rifle, “They’re friends.”

Crosshair slowly lowered the gun and looked back at you, “We need to go.”

“Where are the others?” You asked, letting Crosshair help you stand up. He put his helmet back on with a hiss.

“They’re fighting off the pirates. Echo spotted you from the balcony. I ran up here as fast as possible, but we have to go while we still can.”

“What about them?” You asked, looking to your frightened friends.

“We don’t have time,” he ushered you out towards the balcony.

You looked over your shoulder, pointing to the discarded pirate blasters, “Use those!” You pointed to the weapons. Taryn scrambled to grab them as Crosshair wrapped a strong arm around your back, bringing you to his front.

“Hold on adi’ka,” he said, aiming another repelling cable towards the floor above. You wrapped your arms around Crosshair as he engaged the lift, bringing the two of you off the ground. Once you were up, you noticed Echo squatting on the roof, firing at the wall filled with invaders.

“Echo!” You smiled, still holding onto Crosshair.

“Hey, Tiny!” He nodded at you, continuing to squeeze off more rounds, “Glad to see you… what the hell are you wearing?”

You looked down, forgetting about the strange revealing attire.

“Later!” Crosshair growled.

He grabbed a zip cable grip, placing it onto the zipline from the top of the temple over to the wall across the way.

“Don’t let go!” He said, grabbing you again.

“What?” You asked before squealing as he whisked you off your feet, letting the grip slide across the cable carrying you over the war zone towards the wall deck. He dropped the grip, landing the two of you safely on the wall. Your bare feet hit the stone with a stumble as you shook with renewed adrenaline.

“I got her,” Crosshair radioed in as Echo zip-lined across the gardens to the wall, “meet us at the rendezvous point.”

You felt Echo put a gloved hand on your shoulder before falling into formation, leading the way. Crosshair held your hand as he dragged you through the chaos. Fire and plasma blasts flew everywhere. The entire city was under siege. You watched in horror as the Mimbanese fought with everything they had. 

They were fierce warriors; you could give them that credit despite their strange customs.

Your feet were definitely getting cut up from running over the debris, but you couldn’t feel much over the adrenaline. Before long, you were nearing the outer wall as Crosshair and Echo ducked behind a vendor cart, pressing you between them.

“Now what?” You asked, holding onto Echo’s flesh arm.

“We wait for Hunter,” Crosshair said, throwing one of his reflector pads on the wall to keep an eye on the action behind them.

A particularly loud explosion had you clenching onto Echo.

“I don’t know how you guys do this every day!” You flinched as more debris rained over the vendor cart.

“Part of the job, Cyra’ika,” Crosshair checked the locator on his vembrance, “They’re close.” He got up, holding his rifle ready to fire but lowered it seeing Hunter, Tech, and Wrecker arriving on stolen speeders.

When they pulled up, Crosshair led you to them. You went to throw yourself at Hunter, but Crosshair shoved you onto the back of his speeder instead, “Reunions later! Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

You snuggled up to Hunter’s back, clinging onto his armor as Crosshair slid in behind you. The Sargent gave your leg a little pad letting you know he was happy to see you.

Echo jumped onto Tech’s bike while Wrecker’s had two massive engine parts strapped to the back. Presumably stolen you deduced. 

In a flash, Hunter whipped the speeder around, taking off, leaving the war zone behind.

You sped through the smoke as you neared the city gates. Crosshair kept a firm hand on your head, shoving your head down when a stray bullet whizzed by. 

You gasped, seeing it explode into a basket of fruits to your left.

“Careful,” he growled.

You reached an arm back, putting it on his thigh plate, giving it a squeeze as a thank you.

Once you passed through the gates, you finally could release a big exhale. You watched the city of Alise disappearing into the background as Tech navigated you all back to the Marauder. 

You knew it would be a long journey, but you finally felt free. You leaned back into Crosshair, letting your head lull against his shoulder. 

He wrapped a hand around your waist, keeping you close. You were finally back with your pack, back with your alphas. Everything was right again…

You felt the way Crosshairs gloved fingers slipped onto the slit in the pathetic excuse for a dress you were wearing. 

You could tell he disapproved as his fingers slid inwards realizing you had no panties on. But the other part of your grumpy alpha was turned on beyond belief. 

Having you in his grasp again was making his heart race and his codpiece incredibly tight. He couldn’t help himself but to drag his hands away from you core and explore higher, he ran his hands over your exposed sides and back then up your chest to where Taryn had tied a flimsy piece over your breasts. Then he thumbed the piece that wrapped around your neck holding everything together. 

You squirmed feeling yourself get wet the more Crosshair touched you. It didn’t help having the humming speeder between your legs as he returned back to massaging your exposed thighs. 

Hunter felt you squirming around and tilted his helmet to the side to make sure you were okay. What he didn’t expect to see was you tucking your head into Crosshair’s neck under his helmet as he groped you shamelessly. 

He shook his head going back to focusing on getting everyone back to the ship. He’d deal with Crosshair’s horny ass later. 

~~~

What felt like an eternity later, the Marauder was finally in sight. When Hunter slowed down the bike to investigate the damage, it was apparent that a large group of raiders had been there. 

There were footprints all around the ship, including inside. From what you could see, nothing seemed to be taken except for a few items of clothes strewn about outside, no doubt used to confirm your identity and scent.

“Stay here,” Hunter instructed as he got off the bike with the others to ensure the ship was indeed empty.

You stayed on the bike with Crosshair as he got up to take his helmet off and kiss you properly. You sighed into the kiss, feeling his firm grasp on your chin. His strong hands ran down your sides squeezing your exposed hips he stood between your spread thighs. You whimpered feeling a jolt electrify your entire being.

“Thank you,” you whispered, pressing a small kiss to his lips. “For finding me…”

“You put up a hell of a fight, Adi’ka,” he smiled, kissing you again, this time with more force, making you whine with need as he ground his hips into your throbbing core.

“Alright, quit making out,” Echo interjected, walking back towards the speeders.

You pulled away, blushing, letting Crosshair scowl at the ARC trooper for inturpting. You had heard about the post battle need to blow off steam. Some troopers went to 79’s to drink, some found hookers, and others well.. you weren’t entire sure. But you knew it was real, the adrenaline was making you want to jump Crosshair’s bones. 

“What happened?” Echo asked, putting his hand on his hip. The others quickly returned, wanting to know as well. “Where are your shoes?” The arc trooper raised a brow.

“They took them,” you replied, looking down at your wrecked and bloody feet.

“Okay, start from the beginning,” Hunter said, kneeling down in front of you to look at your injuries, pulling a shard from the ball of your foot gently giving your ankle a little rub.

“That crazy man took me. His name was T-Tarook or Tanrock or something like that.” You waved you hand dismissively,  “Then we were riding for hours on that stupid horse before we got to the city. Then they brought me to an old lady who took my clothes and forced me into a bathspring. 

They dressed me, painted my face, then let me go into that garden prison. I met two human girls who had been victims of the war who ended up there with their families. 

Nothing else really happened. They fed me and brought me into their community. There were so many I couldn’t believe it. Then they converted these old Jedi Temples into living spaces and that’s when Crosshair found me. 

Well, actually the pirates found us first and I tried my best to fight them off, but in the end, Crosshair saved me. Echo and him got me out and now we're here… I still don’t know where my shoes are though,” you sighed, feeling exhausted; it had been a wild 48 hours.

“An old lady took your clothes?” Echo repeated amused.

You shook your head. “It was so strange.” You were trying to understand the whole ordeal.

“Does that explain that?” He gestured to your barely there attire. You nodded again crossing your arms over your hardened nipples.

“Looks like something the Hutts would like,” Hunter commented, crossing his arms.

“I’ve seen more clothes on a stripper at 79’s,” Crosshair joked. You slapped him.

“I didn’t exactly have a choice if you didn’t notice,” you scowled at him. “Now, will one of you carry me inside so I can change?”

“Sorry to break it to you, Mesh’la, but… they took most of your clothes,” Hunter nodded in the direction of the ship.

“Fucking perverts.” You growled, “They better not have taken my favorite civvies!” You slid off the speeder and into the mud feeling it squelch under your toes no longer caring about getting dirty. You were already covered in plasma powder and maker knows what. 

"Hey, I'm just glad you're okay, Pip!" Wrecked exclaimed, pulling you into a massive bear hug and rubbing his chin on the crown of your head scenting you. You relaxed into his embrace, allowing him to set you down gently.

Tech then gave you a quick embrace, followed by Hunter, who tilted your chin up to get a look

at the blooming bruises around your neck. He gave a disapproving huff, but you just smiled and placed a reassuring hand on his chest. He let you go and watched as you made your way back to the ship, your long legs shuffling through the clay, fussing with the fabrics flowing from your waist.

They all watched you trot to the ship eagerly, a little mesmerized by the outfit. Hunter then snapped out of it and pointed to the stolen engine parts, "Alright, let's get these parts installed and get the hell out of dodge," Hunter said snapping the others out of their stares. 

Wrecker got to work quickly, knowing there was limited time before the locals or the pirates showed up to poke around and Tech grabbed his welding kit.

~~~

"Are we good to go?" Echo asked Tech, who began the launch sequence. The ship groaned slightly as it pulled away from the surface of Mimban. You sat in your jump seat, feet cleaned and bandaged, wrapped in a blanket, and preparing for the cold of space.

"We’re clear," Tech said, angling the nose of the ship towards the blackness of space.

"Thank the maker!" you cheered, thrilled to get the hell off this rock. “Fuck Mimban!”

You heard Wrecker laugh.

"Launching to hyperspace," Tech announced, pushing the throttle forward to prime the hyperdrive. Within seconds, you were all zooming through space with bright blue and white lights. 

You could cry, honest to the maker. The relief of never having to go back to Mimban ever again was like a weight off your chest.

Hunter chuckled at your enthusiasm, watching you happy dance from your seat.

"We’re at cruising speed," Echo said, unbuckling and turning to face you directly.

You perked up. "What is it, Echo?"

He crossed his arms and smirked.

"What?" You started to feel anxious under his playful stare.

"Oh, nothing…" His smirk only grew. "I just didn’t know you had such…voracious tastes."

Your eyes widened like saucers, reminiscent of the one you chucked at that pirate earlier.

"Oh, don’t play shy now," he pointed an accusatory finger at you. "I had to listen to how not shy you were for the past week!"

You wanted to vanish into the floor. You felt your entire body flush, and you knew they could see it because half of it was on damn display.

"You can’t blame me!" You crossed your arms, trying to defend yourself.

"Actually, I think I can," he laughed. "I thought omegas only picked one…"

"You said you’ve shared before!" You narrowed your eyes at him.

"She wasn’t in heat," Echo smiled.

"Is this what you two talk about when we’re on missions?" Hunter leaned against the galley doorway crossing his arms.

"Well, excuse me, you all smell remarkably similar. It’s a little difficult when you’re all different versions of the same person!"

Echo chuckled. "We all know that’s not how that works, sweetheart."

You couldn’t help but leave your mouth agape. "Can’t you just be happy I’m not dead? Must you tease me before we even get back to Coruscant?”

"I just didn’t know this about you," he stood up, shrugging and keeping his playful tone. "I never would have guessed our Tiny…Little sweet Tiny, would roll like this." He laughed.

You threw the blanket you had at him, making him laugh and bat it away.

"Alright, enough, quit playing with her," Hunter gathered you up, keeping you from playfully smacking Echo.

"She likes it," Echo flicked you on the forehead, making you yip as he sat back down in his copilot seat. "I want all of them," he mimicked your whiny voice with a snicker.

"Ahh!" You screamed, covering your face. "Shut up, Echo!"

"Help me, Alpha!" He smiled and laughed, watching you flail around in Hunter's arms, trying to kick him.

"Are you not wearing panties?" Echo gasped pointing a finger at you. The others whipped their heads around.

"Echo!" You screamed.

"Alright, someone has to be the responsible one and get you cleaned up," Hunter spun you around and walked you to the fresher, “Shower. Then we should probably talk before we get to Coruscant," Hunter said, running a gentle hand over your head affectionately.

"Can I borrow some civvies?" You asked, gesturing down to your dress.

Hunter scratched the back of his head. "They took ours too… sorry, pip." He felt bad. You sighed and nodded, letting him close the door, giving you some privacy.

You sighed. You’d be lying if you weren’t a little anxious about having the talk. The second you hit lucidity again after being in heat, you knew it was coming, but the way Crosshair kissed you at least gave you a little hope they weren’t going to just kick you to the side and pretend like it didn’t happen. 

At least not the sniper; the others? You weren’t as confident. 

Stepping into the fresher, you took a deep breath, letting the hot water wash away the past 48 hours. 

It was going to be an uncomfortable journey back home.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

So I usually HATE when someone puts images of clothes they had visualized for a fic, but because I struggled so much describing the image, I'm attaching my inpso images here (ahh I'm sorry I'm a hypocrite) and also Pip's iconic tray toss (just like daddy Crosshair)

Taglist: @substantial-exposure

@rains-on-kamino

@minimissmoo

@z-and-the-batboys

@aynavaano

@9902sgirl

@sideofhorny

[seastarblue]

Character Intro: Zhao Li Hua

“It’s funny, yknow. Sometimes the people who’d stab you in the back are the same ones you’d save from the same fate.”

Basics:

Pronouns: she/her

Species: Halfling (Human+High elf)

Age: 28

Nickname(s): Li

Voice Claim: On the fence about it

Physical:

5’10” (≈ 175 cm)

Build: Thin

Skin: Beige

Eyes: Dark brown, almost black

Hair: Black, very long (waist length), kept in a singular braid

Special Features: Small watch tattoo on her left wrist, whip scars on her back, one mole under her left eye and another on the top right of her lip, pointed and elongated ears + dialating/contracting irises and pupils due to elven blood, bad hearing (she has a runic aid for that)

Personality:

Li Hua is seemingly outgoing and friendly with most. She guards herself, but she does it with an air of mellowness. She's loyal to no end, stating that she'd do anything for the people she sees as friends. Her face is an open book— it’s very easy to tell what she’s thinking or feeling.

Speaking Style: Li Hua is pretty outspoken, but she does know when to shut up. She swears quite a bit, and sometimes uses medical terms as she was studying in alchemical medicine.

Likes: alchemy, drawing (mostly doodles though), warmer weather, the color green, listening to Kaiden read, coffee (way too much), bantering, the color green, bugs, fucking around

Dislikes: finding out, oranges, the law, the Guard, the Academy, the prison system, not being told the whole truth, waking up/ going to bed early, overly sweet foods, people who don’t like the color green (/j obvs lol)

Main Goal: “They’re not going to catch me again.” (Ur not gonna believe this li but—)

Backstory (under the cut):

Zhao Li Hua was born under a different name, in a different Kingdom called Hlunlah. The nation was rife with civil unrest, and Li Hua's parents sent her off with her uncle to the relatively quiet kingdom of Nialon.

She and her uncle got a small cottage in Daeryn, and there they stayed.  The people of Daeryn were happy to welcome the two, and they flourished in the new town.

Her uncle studied alchemy, and his passion for the science rubbed off on little Li Hua. She took to finding plants and herbs in the surrounding areas, and that's when she stumbled upon her future best friend, Kaiden.

Li Hua was quite content with staying in or around Daeryn for the rest of her life.

Everyone had left, and Li Hua was soon to follow. She'd been accepted into the prestigious Vespar Academy of Alchemy, and was to leave in a few weeks.

There had been malicious rumors spreading about what happened in the Academy's basements, but Li Hua dispelled them as that--mere rumors. One day, however, her curiosity overtook her, and she found herself in the aforementioned basments. 

What she saw there would mar her opinion on the Academy, and the world, forever.

The Academy decided she'd seen too much and was not trustworthy enough to keep everything to herself. They framed her for spreading misinformation and attempting to undermine the Academy and promptly dropped her in Blackfort prison, infamous for being cruel to its inmates, to ensure her silence. Despite this, Li Hua had other plans. They certainly couldn't keep her locked up forever, after all.

Li Hua now spends her days evading the officers crawling around. She says she doesn't fear those "worthless, good-for-nothing pricks", but it's a little obvious she flinches whenever she sees a uniform resembling the ones at Blackfort.

[carnal-lnstinct]

🫨🫨🫨🫨 scourge of the stars??? ONCE AGAIN?

Okay okay I can't even think straight. May I perhaps request Evil!! Evil evil Vegeta with Yandere vibes? X fem reader?? 🤔🤔🤔 He kidnaps her??

Please disregard if this is garbage lol I just LOVE EVERYTHING YOU WRITE

〖 VEGETA X READER 〗 ✦✦Content: frieza force!reader. unrequited feelings. betrayal. threats of murder   ✦✦Warning: implied yandere character trope, implied manipulation, canon typical violence, blood

You find yourself regarded with a cold rage you've never seen before. As you hold your throbbing cheek to nurse the pain, his eyes pin you in place. Knocked back onto the floor from the impact of his fist. This isn’t anything like the mighty Prince who delighted in the devastation he brought to planets and their civilizations. There’s no arrogant smirk or scolding words made to put you in your place and make you feel as small as you do now. He just clocked you without words, catching you off guard and knocking you onto your ass. 

“Tell me, was it so easy?” Vegeta spoke up finally, his tone lacking the charm of his egotism. It was low and icy, sending a chill up your spine and leaving you speechless. Once his words do register, you answer with innocence. What did you do? Why would he sucker-punch you like that?

But he sees through your deceptions and his eyes further narrow, a scowl twitching at the corner of his mouth. “Deciding to betray me.” His words made your chest sink. The truth of your dubious loyalty made its way to him. You don’t know how or from who, but you were sure he would die before he learned the truth of your special orders from Frieza. Even if you and the small group of saiyans served under him, you had your own orders. 

The three were cordial to you since your assignment to them came from a higher place, but kept you at a distance. You even suspected they’d all purposely turn into Great Apes and neglect you in their rampage, leaving you dead. But something grew from all the time you spent on their squad. Not quite comrades, not quite unwanted company. You were content with their nature, and ever so fond of the differences in their personality as far as saiyans go.

What you could gather about their plans for their outing to Earth, prior to Vegeta and Nappa’s journey, you report their true intent back to your Zarbon. The Dragon Balls, the saiyan hiding out on Earth, and the wish for immortality for their eventual incursion on the Frieza Force. Now all reported back to Frieza himself. And somehow, Vegeta knows this too.

Now things were different when he returned from Earth, alone. 

As Vegeta’s foot slowly moved and brought him closer to you, you instinctively crawled backward to keep distance however fruitless an effort it was. The idea of his wish came to mind and filled you with dread if this was just the first action as an immortal, if you were his first victim. Your power level may surpass the other two, but Vegeta was another force altogether. He had you here alone and nothing could impede his wrath. His scowl hardened, “Tell me ‘friend’…Did you agonize over your options or simply roll over like the gutless filth you are and take Zarbon’s word at face value? Did you consider what I would do to you once I learned the truth?”

Your lip trembled as your voice became caught in your tongue, only a weak sound leaving your lips. “Answer me!”

You flinched back, gulped, and lowered your hand from your throbbing cheek. “I-I…Vegeta, you don't understand what he was going to d-”

“Answer me, coward!” 

“...I did consider your feelings, but-” Vegeta’s sharp scoff cuts you off, an instance of guilt in your chest making you wary yet defensive. “You know he didn't give me a choice!”

“You had your choice! You could have stood on your principles and died like a real warrior should! You should have chosen me!” He growled, his eyes becoming something wild as he snatched your collar, practically dragging you before dangling you off your feet. And there, in so few words, he lays out your suspicions of his longing. So farfetched in its nature that the Prince of Saiyans would harbor anything deeper than tolerance of those weaker than him. To see someone so calculated broken down into his emotional impulses…

“Vegeta…I'm sorry.” It hurt to hear him confess in this way, with nothing left to lose. In some twisted way, you did look to the saiyans as your partners. There were more little quirks you kept to yourself than reported back to Zarbon, and you betrayed it all for a nameless reward or promotion you haven’t even seen yet. Frieza was already on his way to Namek by now to find more dragon balls and unbeknownst to you, Vegeta’s plan blew up in his face the moment the namekian of Earth died. An insult to injury followed in tow with Kakarot standing to challenge him. All you can see is the frustration on his face and you feel your fate being sealed.

“If you can't devote yourself to me more than you fear Frieza, I'll do us both a favor and end your miserable existence right here and now!” He punctuated his words with another punch, the broken scouter knocked from your face as you landed on your back again. You’ve never felt so powerless to fight back or run, unable to contact anyone for help. Zarbon nor Frieza would even bother to heed your pleading for help if you could, you’re just another replaceable peon after all. 

You don’t try to soothe this punch, you simply roll over in your shame and spit out the blood. “I’m sorry…” You managed to choke out, your gloved knuckle wiping the remaining blood from your lip.

Every part of his being pulsed with the desire to blow you away with one big blast, air out the entire ship with everyone on it. Vegeta extended his hand out, palm pointing towards your back. A culmination of all his humiliation and suffering channeled through him, appearing as a crackling ball of ki in his hand. Cutting his ties with Frieza was always going to be bloody, but this was not in his vision. He’s supposed to be smarter than to end up doing it this way. He’s supposed to be stronger— he’s supposed to be immortal!

He cursed to himself and the ball of ki grew bigger, burning with his wrath. Your head lowers in defeat with the inevitable at your back and your hands start to tremble in anticipation. 

“Prove it.” The words hit your ears and make your breath hitch, looking back over your shoulder toward the dying ball of ki.

Vegeta clenched his fist tightly once it dispersed, lowering his arm back to his side. Inklings of a festering want he fights to suppress, holding him back. But he’ll lie to himself. It’s anything but an act of leniency, more of a recalculation of his plans. You may know something that Zarbon wouldn’t want him to and he needs every piece of information to keep the element of surprise on his side until he can get his wish. He needs to get to Namek soon and you’re coming with him. You didn’t choose him, but despite everything he is choosing you.

“You desire my mercy? Prove it. I have no reason to trust you, but I’ll allow you to keep breathing for a time. So from now on, you serve only me.” Dumbfounded, you sit up further, slowly turning on your knees to face him.

“Vegeta, you…”

“Don’t go getting any ideas. You have a lot to make up for, filth.” He huffs, turning his bitter glare elsewhere. “You belong to me now.”

Your loyalty can come with a price and Vegeta gave the biggest offer for now. You adjust yourself on one knee without hesitation, lowering your head and crossing a fist over your chest. “...I’ll do whatever it is you need.” Your life over dying doing Zarbon’s dirty work was better than dying here and now. Even if he only needed you for a while longer, Vegeta will keep you close.

[dawneternal]

Just a Favor | pt 7 | Gwynriel

✦ ah, the infamous cabin. should I be embarrassed that this is the longest chapter of this series? maybe lol

✦ Warnings: smut beginning at the ! 18+, minors DNI

✦ Word Count: 2.3k

✦ AO3 Link

✦ Masterlist

Azriel winnowed them just outside the wards of the cabin. Gwyn yelped as the cold air bit into her skin. The shadowsinger was quick to scoop her up and carry her into the cabin before the snow could cling to her.

She let out a girlish giggle as he set her down in the cabin and they looked around for a moment at the decorated walls. All of Feyre's paintings were still intact, though some had faded where the light shone in through the windows. She walked around the room, running her fingers over the colorful pictures as Azriel lit a fire in the fireplace.

Then Gwyn shook out the blanket and spread it out on the living room floor, shrugging when Azriel raised an eyebrow.

"I still want my picnic," She said, gesturing for him to sit.

He kicked off his boots and sat on the blanket, back resting against the couch. He swallowed hard at the sight of her kneeling across from him, her dress bunching up around her thighs.

She pulled the golden loaf of bread and a bread knife from the basket. Her cheeks flushed, aware of his eyes on her, as she cut a slice and coated it in butter.

"I didn't know you made bread," He said, staring at the slice in her outstretched hand. He made no move to take it.

"I'm full of surprises," She grinned.

"Are you sure you want me to eat it?" He asked, eyes flickering between her face and her hand.

"I'm sure that my bread is delicious," She said, wiggling her wrist and pushing it farther toward him.

"I'm nervous," He whispered, searching her face.

Gwyn looked at him for a moment before crawling toward him and climbing into his lap. Azriel blinked, eyebrows raised, as she tore off a piece of the bread and smashed it against his mouth.

"Eat my love bread!" She cried, the ferocity a little terrifying. When he opened his mouth and laughed in spite of himself, she shoved the piece into his mouth.

He kept his eyes locked on hers as he chewed and swallowed, mirth dancing in them, replacing that nervousness.

"I think I like when you tell me what to do," He breathed. Gwyn thought that she could have told him that but she didn't say so.

"Tell me my bread was good," She said instead, looping her arms around his neck.

"It's really good," Azriel relented, taking the bread from her. His free hand splayed across her back.

She leaned against him, tucking her face into her neck while he finished the slice of bread. Her heart hammered wildly and she tried to take quiet deep breaths to calm it. She willed her body to adjust to the feeling of his, his warmth and scent and closeness.

"So you'll be going feral any moment now, right?" She asked after he'd finished and wrapped his arms around her.

"Not unless that's what you want," He chuckled, the sound sending vibrations through his chest and into hers. His body already hummed for more but be refused to let it take over. He would drink this in as slowly as he wanted, as slowly as she needed.

"I think I would prefer things to remain civil for now," She answered, daring to pull back and look at him.

"Then that's what you will get," He said softly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Even just this, just holding her, made his being sing with contentment.

"There are a few rumors I'm curious about, though," She looked up at him through her lashes, a smirk pulling at her lips.

"Rumors?" Azriel's eyebrows ticked upwards.

"Something about wingspan, I think," Her mouth twitched from trying not to grin.

"Oh gods, who told you about that?" He laughed, rolling his eyes.

"Sellyn Drake," Gwyn lied, protecting Nesta from Azriel's scolding.

"You Valkyries and your books," He shook his head, "Any other rumors?"

"Something about your shadows," She said, her voice dropping a note lower. At that, the air between them ignited, all sparks of anticipation.

Azriel held her gaze as a shadow crept up towards her, swirling over the skin between her neck and shoulder. She let out a little gasp, lips parting, a flicker of warmth traveling down the bond.

"You've been thinking about these things?" He asked, just above a whisper.

She blushed, the shade of pink so pretty against her freckles. His body was so warm, skin smooth beneath her fingers.

"Yes," She breathed, leaning in closer, "For a while."

"I've thought about you too," Azriel whispered, and brought his lips to hers.

(!)

Gwyn tangled her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and kissed him back. It was as soft and sweet as their moonlight kiss in the meadow.

But when she pulled back, something in her face had changed. Her pupils widened, her breathing heavy. Azriel tried to ignore the heat in his stomach.

"I don't know what I'm doing," Gwyn warned him, cheeks still rosy,  breathing fast.

"I am an excellent teacher," He grinned, so mischievously that Gwyn could not help her own smile.

Then she kissed him again, open mouthed and hungry. Her hands began to wander as her mouth moved against his. Over his biceps, across his chest, resting on the hollow of his throat. When he brought his hands to rest on her hips, she swept her tongue into his mouth. All the while, the shadows swirled around them, sneaking tastes of Gwyn's skin. Azriel relished the goosebumps and shivers they pulled from her.

The bond pulsed and blood rushed in his ears. He gripped her thighs and pulled her father into his lap, earning a pleased noise from her. She pulled back, darkened eyes searching his, and reached to pull his shirt over his head.

"Are you sure?" Azriel whispered, wrapping a hand around her wrist.

"Yes," Gwyn nearly panted, tugging at the fabric with her free hand. Azriel released his grip and let her toss his shirt to the side.

Then her lips were on his neck, his jaw, tracing his tattoos. Her touch was so gentle, her teeth hungry. His own hands dipped under her bunched skirt, fingers moving up the silky skin of her thighs. She reluctantly removed her mouth from his chest so he could pull her dress away. She helped him tug it off and toss it to the side.

"Gwyneth Berdara," He breathed as he took in the skimpy light blue lingerie set.

"Like it?" She grinned, hands never leaving his skin. His torso was littered with scars and freckles, some interrupting the pattern of those tattoos. She liked it, that she could see those imperfections up close. He seemed less like some expertly carved statue of a god, this way. He was something real beneath her fingers, and he was hers.

The shadowsinger was drinking in the shape of her body, her muscled arms and toned stomach. The lacy bralette, embroidered with stars, barely contained her pale breasts, the thin straps of her panties resting high on her hips and accentuating their curves. Around one thigh, she had tied a white ribbon like a garter.

"You're perfect," He croaked, hands daring higher. He would count every freckle if he could.

"You're gorgeous," Gwyn replied, attempting to lean in again and taste his skin.

Azriel beat her to it, kissing across the swell of her breasts. She arched her back into him, body filling with heat as his fingertips dipped just beneath the waistband of her underwear. The other hand reached up to squeeze her breast hard, the sweet pain of it pulling a moan from her.

"Azriel," She whispered, whimpering as his thumb brushed over her nipple.

Desperate to hear it again, he reached around and unclasped her bra. She slipped her arms through the straps and let it fall away. He took a moment to admire her bare breasts and pink nipples before pulling one into his mouth, flicking with his tongue.

Gwyn rolled her hips against him in response, nails dragging along his shoulders. His lips trailed upwards, and he bit down into the soft skin above her collar bone. He sucked and darkened the mark, soothing with his tongue.

"Touch me," Gwyn whimpered as a shadow curved around the underside of her breast. Another caressed her ear.

"Lay back," Azriel said, his voice low and gravelly. He braced her hips as she shifted backwards and lay down on the blanket.

Azriel bent over her, kissing her feverishly until she pushed him back to catch her breath. He began soft kisses down her body, shadows caressing each mark he left. When he reached her lacy underwear, he locked eyes with her and tugged at the waistband with his teeth.

This was far better than anything she had anticipated. Azriel's honey-colored eyes watching her as he pulled the underwear down her legs and left it forgotten with their other clothes. He trailed kisses over her inner thighs, letting his teeth graze over her skin. He left the ribbon where it was.

Then he paused to admire her center, dripping with arousal. She smelled impossibly sweet.

"Still okay?" He asked, breath tickling her skin.

"Yes," Gwyn gasped, pushing her hips towards him. He grasped her thighs and tossed her knees over his shoulders.

The first swipe of his tongue was bliss. The bond was satisfied, sending her pleasure through to Azriel and echoing back his own warmth and want. She buried her fingers in his dark curls and held back no sounds as he worshipped her.

Azriel soaked in her beautiful voice, light and melodic, humming his name like a song. It only added to his nearly painful arousal but he wanted more of it. So he pushed a finger into her core as he tongue worked against her.

"Fuck," She breathed, fingers digging into his scalp. He removed his fingers and replaced them with his tongue, pushing deep into her center. She cried out, grinding her hips against his face as he brought her closer to release. His own hips mindlessly bucked against the blanket.

Her thighs shook around Azriel's head as she came, waves of bliss carrying her away. The bond amplified it all, gilding the world in golden pleasure.

Azriel sat back on his knees, staring down at her. His lips glistened with her orgasm and he couldn't resist the urge to lean down and make her taste it. She kissed him eagerly, pulling his body down into her. She could feel his erection pressing into her stomach and she was ready for it. His shadows curled around her legs, kissing her ankles and calves.

"Azriel," She whined, digging her hands under the waistband of his pants to drag his hips against hers.

"Yes, sweet girl?" He purred, licking a stripe up her neck.

"Fuck me. Please."

Azriel let out a low sound and stood,  finally getting rid of his pants. Gwyn watched his cock spring up against his stomach, dripping down the side.

"Damn," She whispered. That wingspan thing was definitely true.

Azriel smirked, kneeling down to shower her body in kisses again.

"Turn over," He said.

Gwyn rolled over and rose up on her hands and knees. He pulled her legs down until she was nearly flat on her stomach, holding herself up with her elbows.

"You tell me if you need to stop? If you need anything at all?"

"I promise," She said, voice full of impatience.

Azriel snaked one arm around her waist and the other reached up to cradle her head and neck. At the first press of his tip against her wet cunt, her breath caught in her throat. The stretch as he pushed into her was a mix of pain and pleasure, releasing a harmony of moans and whimpers from her.

He went slowly, letting her adjust as she needed. Eventually she arched her back and pushed her hips against him, urging him in the rest of the way.

"Okay?" He asked, voice a little shaky from her tight walls around him. He leaned down and let his front press into the curve of her back.

"More than okay," She breathed. He could feel her swallowing hard against the palm that held her throat.

He began a steady rhythm but Gwyn quickly decided it wasn't fast enough. She had hiked a knee farther up on the blanket and cried out at how much father it pushed him into her.

"Good girl," He chuckled in her ear as she rolled her hips back. He gave in to the feverish urge of the bond and picked up his pace.

"Yes," Gwyn whined, her nipples pressed against the blanket adding to her pleasure. The sensation of him dragging in and out of her filled her being. She had no other thoughts but him and the deep sounds he was making in her ear and the way they vibrated through her. The beautiful golden thread pulled tight between them, doubling every feeling.

"You are mine," Gwyn whispered, finally feeling the full impact of the bond, "And I am yours."

Azriel growled, his instincts unleashed by her confession. The shadows snuck underneath Gwyn's body and swirled around her bundle of nerves. The extra stimulation sent her over the edge, and her chant of Azriel's name pulled him with her.

Nothing else existed. Even as their bodies slowed and they caught their breath, the world around them was blissfully far away. It was only Azriel and Gwyn, curled into each other on the picnic blanket. She held one of his hands against her lips, humming happy sounds against it. He could feel her contentment through the bond.

She'd meant what she said. She had given him everything, given herself to him completely. He could feel it, the entirety of her being placed in his hands, the bond like a door wide open to her soul. He willed his own door to open. It was the only thing he could do to make it even. To let her see it all. The good, the bad, the broken. He would give it all to her and hope that someday he might even be worthy.

[kawaiianimekitten]

Yandere! Bakugou x reader

Safe

Summery: Bakugou babies you a lot, but finally gives you a chance to escape

Warnings- unhealthy/toxic relationship, smothering, slight dehumanization, mention of nudity (non detailed), near death experience

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

You sit, chined to your bed in childish cloths Bakugou makes you wear. The chains have soft fabric around them so they don't hurt you. You have a few books and a kiddy phone with child lock on it (so he can make sure you don't try to download anything to try to talk to people). There isn't much to do except sleep and dread his return.

The front door opens and you hear little explosions. He's back. After a few minutes he opens the door to the room you're staying in.

"hi, baby, I'm back." He says in a soft voice (well, soft as Bakugous voice is able to get, that is, lol). He sits on your bed and goes to brush some hair out of your face, but you try to bite him.

"Baby. That's not very nice." He says in a warning tone.

"You keeping me here, chained up, isn't very nice." You spit back.

He goes silent. Oh shit you thought. It's never good when he goes silent. Usually he'll just yell, but when he goes silent is when you're in trouble.

"You think I'm not nice? I can show you not nice." He says, unlocking your chains and throwing you over his shoulder. He takes you outside and sets you down. "Go ahead. You wanna be in real world? Go ahead and try to survive it. You wouldn't even last a day."

Around where you're being held captive is a giant forest. At night you would always hear different animals calling out.

"Go on. Try to leave. If you can get back to civilization within 24 hours, then I'll let you be for a bit and let you live your life." You look at him, seeing if he's joking or serious. He is serious, but he also has a look in his eyes screaming "you won't be able to. You'll come crawling back within an hour." You stand up, and look him dead in the eyes.

"Ok, well you better keep your end of the deal when I get back to civilization." You say confideny.

He pulls out his phone and sets a timer for 24 hours. "24 hours exactly. As soon as you turn around I'll start the timer."

Excitement ran through you. The thought of actually being free. Getting back to living your own life. You turn around and go into the woods, confident you'll find your way out.

You've been walking in a straight line, so you know you aren't walking in circles. Your legs are starting to hurt and your starting to get a little hungry. You haven't run into any other problems yet, though, so you should be fine. You bet that as long as you keep walking straight, you'll be out before the sun even starts to set.

The sun is almost down now, and you're starting to panic a little. You decide to try to climb a tree to see if you're close to getting out. You make an arrow in the ground so you know which way you were walking, so you don't accidentally go the wrong way, then you find some vines. You use the vines to help you climb the tree. Just don't look down, and everything will be ok. You think to yourself. After getting high enough to kind of see over the trees, you look around. You see nothing, though. Which makes you panic more. You carefully climb down the tree.

Once you get to the bottom, you sit down for a moment to catch your breath and calm yourself down. You know it'll be dark soon, so you need to find a place to stay for the night. You look around for some wood and rocks and whatever else you can use, making sure to leave a trail in the dirt so you can get back to your spot.

It starts to rain. This is so not good! You're thoughts are racing, trying to think of what to do. You panic and just start running, trying to find anything to take cover under.

It's pure luck that you somehow found a cave and got in right before it started downpouring. You set down the sticks you're still carrying, and separate the dry and wet ones and the semi wet but still dry enough ones and same with some leaves you grabbed. You also still had some vine.

You use the dry leaves and dry sticks to try to start a fire. You've seen many shows where people have done it. Once again, out of pure luck, you were able to get a fire started. It's not very big, but it's enough to keep you warm for a little while you hope.

You lay down to rest your eyes and let your body take a break. You immediately pass out, though, exhausted from all the walking and panicking.

When you wake up, it's still raining. You know you weren't asleep long because you're fire was still going a bit. You put the last few non wet sticks onto it, hoping the rain will stop soon.

You immediately freeze when you hear a growl behind you. Why must you freeze instead of fight or flight. Freezing isn't a good option. After taking a deep breath, you try to convince yourself to turn around and that it was just in your head.

It wasn't just in your head. It's a bear. It doesn't look happy. All animal knowledge left your head. Pure fear. I'm gonna die. Is all you can think.

Suddenly you're swept off your feet and hear little explosions. The bear gets scared of the noise and backs away. Bakugou smirks and walks out of the cave with you, after he puts out the little fire you made. He quickly runs you two back to the house.

As soon as you get inside he takes you to the bathroom. He starts the bath and puts some bubble bath into it, to make little bubbles, before walking out.

He comes back with try cloths for both of you and towels. He strips both of you. You're brain is too fried from everything that happened that day to fight back. After turning off the water, he gently sets you in the bath and gets in with you. He just holds you and runs his hands through your hair.

Tears start running down your face, overwhelmed by everything that has happened. He holds you closer and whispers sweet nothings to you. You're surprised that he's being so gentle with you, rather than yelling or gloating. You slowly drift off to sleep while in Bakugous arms.

You wake up the next day without chains on and not in your room. Instead you have two arms wrapped around you and you're in Bakugous room.

"Morning, sweetie." You hear as you get a soft kiss on your shoulder. "You actually managed to scare me a bit last night. Good thing I decided to go looking for you when the rain started." He said.

He gets up and tells you he'll be back. You crawl under the covers more, still cold from being out in the rain. He comes back after while with breakfast. He sits down next to you and insists on feeding you himself.

"I'm feeding you, baby. You don't have to lift a finger. I'll always be here to keep you safe." He says while feeding you. "You don't have to be scared like that ever again. I'll always be right at your side to protect you and keep you safe." He's not comforting you, he's telling you that you'll never get another chance to escape. You're stuck with him.

Honestly, though... You're strangely starting to kinda be ok with it...

[levis-coffeecup]

chapter 28| The Aftermath

WC-4.5k

Summary

The underground is filthy and dark. Dim lights, dull alleys, and desperate hearts. A place Levi knows as well as the back of his hand, and a place he would do anything to get out of.

Chapters of life roll by and with the turn of a page, things drastically change. In front of him is the opportunity to live on the surface. And the flimsy bridge that he has to cross. From an uncivil criminal to a disciplined soldier.

But life on the surface seems tougher amidst all the mockery, civilities, and the gaping hole left in his heart, after the demise of his dear friends Isabel and Farlan.

Content/Warnings

canon- compliant, canon-typical violence, spoilers for No Regrets OVA, descriptions of PTSD, grief, depression, heavy angst and themes, strong language, self-hate, physical assault.

Author’s Note

Hiii guyssss,

This is the last chapter of the storyyy! And I can't wait for you guys to read it! (it's so hard to believe that I've finally completed this)

To everyone who's continued to put up with my erratic updates, I am so so grateful to have you here!! I hope this story was as enjoyable for you to read, as much as I enjoyed writing it!

This chapter takes place after the Rumbling, (aftermath refers to the aftermath of the Rumbling)

I hope you like this chapter as well! And this ending gives you all the feels lol!

Song for this chapter is The Joys And Sorrows Of Life by Johannes Bornlöf

Chapters

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23

Masterlist | Playlist | Other Works

JUN 854

The city of Jinae looks different without the walls.

The sun is scorching, and the streets are a blur of the heat waves rising from the cobblestone. And somewhere in the distance, someone argues about the morality of the Rumbling.

Mae is tired, maybe it's the afternoon heat, or maybe it's just the baby in her tummy that has made her womb so big. She drags her feet through the alleys of the market, wiping the sweat on her forehead with the back of her hand.

The produce looks fresh, excellent for the apple pie she's planning to make.

Raz trails behind her too, with a pained look on her face. She rests her hands on her knees, taking a moment to catch her breath. "Mae...You need to be at home resting... Instead of wandering in this horrible heat for a pie you want to make."

Mae halts for a minute, throwing a wistful look ahead at what's left of her lover. "But I want to make something for Levi... Don't you see how miserable he looks? He's not even spoken a word to me since he's come back from his mission."

And Raz presses her lips into a thin line, silencing her frustration.

"You know, the smell of my pies always made him happy. He would always take an extra slice when I wasn't looking." A warm smile crawls on Mae's face, and she remembers all the good times spent over pies and tea.

Her gaze falls down at the growing swell of her stomach. It's huge now, so huge that she can't see her toes when she looks down. And a cheeky grin spreads on her face.

She can't wait to make pies for both him and their child.

"Mae please," Raz sighs, tears well up in her eyes, and she increases her pace and catches up to her. "It's painful to watch you like this."

"Don't worry about me Raz," She beams with pride. "I'll be patient with him, I've always been patient with him."

What stands in front of her, is a ghost of what Levi used to be. His face is gaunt and pallid, and his sunken eyes are filled with emptiness. And yet she smiles back at him, patient and faithful.

The love in her eyes never fades, no matter what condition Levi might be in.

A couple meters away from her is an old lady sitting with baskets of apples. "Don't these apples look wonderful!" She exclaims, hoping to pull a reaction out of Levi.

The old lady smiles. "They are very juicy and crunchy, the best batch we've got in months."

"Ahh!" Mae exclaims. "It would make an amazing pie filling then, am I right?" She looks at him again, but no matter what she does, the lifelessness in his gaze never changes. And his mouth still remains pressed in a grim line, devoid of any hint of a smile.

Her patience runs thins, and her pregnancy hormones catch the best of her,

"You know it's rude not to reply back, DON'T YOU?" She yells, agitated. She's dripping in sweat, carrying her 6 month pregnant belly, and he can't even acknowledge her presence.

The people around her turn, caught off guard by her sudden outburst.

And Raz pinches the bridge of her nose. "MAE STOP IT!."... She scolds, as she grabs her wrist, and drags her towards the end of the market.

The walk is short and soon the scenery changes. The liveliness of the market drifts into the haunting silence of a cemetery.

And Raz pulls Mae through the hundreds of headstones planted over the grass, until she finds the one of the Lance Corporal. She knows the route like the back of her hand now.

The Lavender flowers they kept on his grave 2 days ago have wilted.

And Mae shudders as she steps closer to it. All her illusions shatter and she's held hostage to the cruelty of the world once again.

"N-No Raz," her voice crumbles, and she takes a step back, nodding her head in denial. " H-he was s-supposed to come back after the w-war."

The silence is haunting. And Mae recalls seeing this scene a million times before, in the dreams that would terrorize her sleep.

"I-its a bad dream... it's just a bad dream." she croaks, almost tripping on another gravestone behind her.

And she waits for Levi's arms to pull her out of this never ending nightmare. She waits to feel his tight embrace.

But there's only silence.

"He wouldn't have left me alone." The disbelief in her voice is palpable.

This is the reality of war. Some are lost, some are sacrificed, and some survive.

But rarely, do they remain whole enough to thrive.

"Enough of this foolishness Mae," Raz snaps.

It's the same routine everyday. With Mae pretending that Levi is next to her and alive, and Raz dragging her to his grave until she breaks down over and over again.

Her fingers latch onto Mae's wrist and she pulls her away. "It's been 2 weeks, and y- you need to take better care of your child.... come home with me right now."

But Mae stands paralyzed,overrun by the possibility of what could have been.

Her mind drowns in dissonance, and her heart outrightly rejects the thought of him leaving.

They were supposed to have two kids. They were supposed to open his tea shop as well. There were dreams she had nurtured with so much patience.

So how did they wilt before they got the chance to bloom?

And how did the plans she held so close to her heart become unattainable?

She feels numb. And she hides her voice in a broken whisper. " H-he can't leave me Raz... I-I gave him everything I could... A-all my love... All my e-energy a-and time."

Far away on the ground, lies a crumbled newspaper.

'Humanity's Strongest shattered to pieces due to a thunder spear explosion' it says. And just below the heading is an illustration of him, bleeding on the grass with scars on his face, and 2 fingers amputated.

The earth trembles. The lavenders grieve beneath their violet blooms. And the roses quiver by the tombs, lamenting the departed who rest beneath the hush of the graveyard.

"Fine then," Raz resigns, as she starts walking away ."If you're gonna keep being such a wreck then go be it. Come back to me when some sense has been knocked into your skull."

And Mae turns to the stone that is left of her lover. The moment draws, there's silence, loss and an unfinished promise.

Its gray falls dull compared to his eyes.

And then she breaks. Falling to her knees on the grass.

Grief leaks from her so violently, it frays her voice.

She sobs like a child who's lost in the dark. And his name falls from her lips like a dying wish. She whispers it over and over, as if saying it enough could bring him back.

Her ears crave to hear his voice. But there's nothing.

Languidly her arms drape around his stone. But the stone is cold. And Levi Ackerman is gone

A shining star in the colossal sky. So beautiful, so unattainable.

And just like she'd told him that day, he ran too fast. He left her behind.

When she opens her eyes again, there's rage in them. She wants to scream. She wants to hurt all over her body like it does deep inside her heart.

"You didn't come back to me, Levi," Her bitterness burns her into the edge of destruction and she punches his stone, until it makes her knuckles bleed. "How dare you break my heart like this?"

The wind turns cold, and darkness envelopes.

The grass is lush, and below that is Levi.

With no more loyalties, promises and responsibilities.

For years she loved the remnants of him. What was left of him after the Survey Corps took his best.

There were tales he didn't pay attention to. There were letters he didn't respond to. And she waited for years, hoping that one day he would come back with his duties behind him.

But the war consumed him before she ever could.

She didn't even get to see his body, before he got buried underground.

"I was saving all along to buy you your tea shop," Her voice shatters... "I almost had the entire amount." She traces over the carving of his name on his stone.

The walls are gone, and the world is at peace, but there's chaos in her life. And peace shall never touch her, not when the pain of losing her lover drags her into hell.

"What sins am I being punished for?" She weeps. Damned, absolved, condemned by her love. "Why am I always the one being left behind?"

The petals of the Lavenders she kept, fly off with the wind. The cold claws at her skin.

The road back is long and home is nowhere to be found.

And Mae lays down on his grave, with the harrowing void in her heart. Hoping the god of death blesses her with a visit soon, just like he did to her lover.

_______________________

The Survey Corps headquarters stand long forgotten.

The bricks, once a vibrant red, have faded to a muted rust, some crumbling and others overtaken by ivy and moss. The windows are translucent now, their glass fogged with grime, and dust.

The sun is long gone, and the headquarters look ghastly. But Mae doesn't want to go back to Raz, not when the sight of her and her husband living happily burns holes through her heart.

It takes her all of her strength to open the heavy door. The handles are rusted, and a cloud of dust welcomes her as she manages to push it open.

The interior of the headquarters is doused in darkness.

The fire from the torches is long blown off. The air is thick with the scent of decay and there's dust everywhere.

These hallways that were once vibrant with laughter and activity, are now soulless. Everyone's gone and an eerie silence has taken their place.

Levi would have hated seeing things this way.

Soon she reaches the gate of his quarters, and her heart shudders as she pushes it open.

The darkness is overwhelming, but she walks into it nonetheless. Just like the cemetery, grief awaits her here too,

All the time she's spent in these quarters makes them familiar. And even through the darkness she manages to walk to Levi's desk and pull a candle out from the first drawer.

The room comes alive with the flickering light of the candle. AndMae's eyes rove around, vision blurred with tears.

The ghost of his love haunts the bedroom, ever present in the bed that they made love in, and the couch where countless minutes were spent in silence.

It's a bitter reminder of how much she has lost.

And she wants to trash this place around.

His promise to save the world, ended up destroying hers.

And now she doesn't know how to live anymore.

Her grief comes crashing down on her, all over again. And Mae sulks, close to regretting her decision to be with him years back.

His room is exactly as she remembers, with a single bed under the window, and a small wooden cupboard on the opposite end.

And as she walks closer to it, her attention is caught by the fabric of his shirt that is pinched between the doors of his cupboard. He must have left in a rush.

She walks towards it, to shut it close. But as she opens the doors, a pile of his clothes falls to the floor.

He must have really left in a hurry, unless someone came in and snooped into his room.

It's a bit of a struggle to bend down, with her pregnant belly. But Levi hates messes and so she sits amidst the clutter of his clothes. Folding them in the same meticulous way he did it.

And that's when she notices the big cardboard box far at the back, kept at the bottom shelf.

It's probably all his belongings or a dump of his paperwork, but she pulls it out nevertheless, hoping to find anything that could give her closure.

The box is heavy and she puts it down on the floor.

The first thing she sees are all the letters she's ever written to him. Stacked in a tidy pile, in one corner.

Her breath catches in her throat. And the more she sifts through the box, the more she realizes that everything inside is just about her.

There's an empty box of a premium tea she got him for her birthday, and there's containers of all the spices she would get to make his food at the Survey Corps less bland.

There are books that she would read to him, and even a tag of a pair of socks she got him for the winters.

Her hands start to tremble.

Levi has preserved everything she's ever given him. Even the dried petals of the flowers she would gift him on his birthdays are neatly kept in an envelope.

Time slows down- and every moment is like a stab through her heart. Their entire journey as lovers passes through her eyes in a painful flash.

And she remembers being beyond the moon when she heard about the successful mission in Marley. Levi was alive, and he'd come back valiant.

She couldn't wait to see him again.

But then he wrote her a letter saying that Sasha was dead and to keep her distance, since Zeke was around.

She never thought that was the last time she would hear from him.

Everything that she once held close has been snatched, ripped apart from her heart. His presence has assimilated back into the soil that he came from

And she can only suffer, until she forgets the texture of his voice, and the butterflies she gets from his calloused touch.

It feels like the weight of the world has come crashing down on her shoulders. The feeling is agonizing. And she buries her head into the teddy bear she gifted him on the day he was shifting.

At the bottom of the box is an unassuming white envelope. It's paper isn't yellow like that of all her letters. And she gulps as she sees her name written on top of if, in his neat handwriting.

It feels heavier than usual, and her hand trembles as she breaks the seal open.

Inside is a single sheet of paper, folded neatly. And as she tilts the envelope to take the letter out, something metallic tumbles out, clinking softly against the floor.

Her eyes widen, and she slaps her hand over her mouth.

It's a wedding ring.... the same expensive, pearl ring that she saw in the market at Mitras.

Guttural sobs leak out of her mouth, and she wonders if the clenching inside her heart will ever stop. Because right now, her grief feels larger than the life she has ahead of her.

And with the last of her strength she opens his letter and reads it.

To my dearest Mae,

I remember the last time I was with you. The morning before I left

There was a heaviness in the air, wasn't it? You were busy making breakfast for me. And I could see the sadness that you were trying so hard to hide. For some reason I was scared to wipe your tears away, because a part of me knew I was the reason behind it.

It pains me to see you sad. It pains me to be away from you as well.

Today as I'm writing this, the world around me is on the brink of collapse. The future is so uncertain, and we don't know if Eren is on our side anymore.

I can't seem to read through anyone's intentions. Zeke is still an emotionless bastard, pretending to have compassion. And Eren... for once all the sacrifices I made seem useless. My squad died for this... Erwin died for this. A war seems inevitable, yes... and that is the only thing I'm sure of.

But this letter is not about me, it's about you.

War....Its destructive, its quick decisions taken against the fear clawing your mind. Its finding a way to win with a blade pressed to your neck. It's something you can never process until it finally ends.  All my life I've known war. All my life I've won things through violence. I've taken quick decisions, not having too much time to ponder. But I hope you know that after a million of quick decisions and unforeseen hurdles , you're the only one that's felt right.

Sometimes I wonder how I got to have you by my side for so long. I can't believe we've come so far together. But I believe my luck has run out and my reprieve is over. I'm a sinned man after all.

Lucky would be the man, who gets to come home to you.

All my life I've known to survive. But you taught me to take a break and live. Thank you for staying by my side, when I gave you a million reasons not to.

You asked me if I believed in the afterlife. And I said yes, because somewhere the concept of all the people I have lost being together, and me having the chance to meet them, gave me comfort. But what is gone is gone. It can never come back. And fantasies like the afterlife hardly bring much solace to me, now that I stand at the edge of this war.

But I still hope that one day I get to meet you again. If not in the afterlife, then in another lifetime perhaps.

If you're reading this letter, then I'm probably dead. There's now way I'd let anyone touch this letter if my body was alive.

So go and be with someone, who'll have the courage to wipe your tears away. Go be with someone who'll be able to give you the love that you gave me. Be with someone who'll write you letters everyday.

The promise we made that night is still etched in my head. And you know how I am with my promises. You best believe that I've kept my part and now it's time for yours.

This letter is long, I can't believe I've written all this much. I hope it makes up for all the things I've kept bottled all along.

This journey has been painful, but if given a choice, I would do it all over again.

I hope that we have left this world a better, a safer place.

So go, live your life. I know you have a habit of sulking, and you're probably crying as you're reading through this. So stay with Raz and be kind to yourself.

Go walk on the grass, when the sunlight is warm.

I'll be watching over you.

-Yours always,

Levi

_______________________

The sunlight slithers past the gaps in the curtains, forcing the darkness of the bedroom to fade away.

The light is overbearing and unwelcome. And Mae struggles to blink her eyes open.

It's been a week since she's caged herself in his room. And she's still here, lying in a pile of his clothes that are slowly losing his scent.

She believes she's cried so much that she's out of tears.

It feels like the pain she feels, has found its abode in her heart and permanently

settled there.

She's lost the privilege of being able to trace over his scars. Or taste his lips as she captured them in a kiss. She'll never be able to hear his voice again. And no amount of memory can make her feel the warmth of his skin.

He's gone from this world, and she has lost him forever.

The storm that ripped her life apart, has finally settled down, and Mae is getting used to living in the destruction it has caused.

She believes that the entire world's grief has been spilt through her eyes.

And the state of Levi's room tells. It's as chaotic as her mental state.

There are pages scattered all over the floor. His cupboard is open, and its contents are littered all around. The bed is a mess as well, filled with the clothes Levi once used to wear. And his blanket is wadded at the foot of the bed.

It's quiet as usual, devoid of the sound of his movements. Outside the window, a twig from a tree drops to the ground.

And Mae watches its fall, still devoid of the strength to step out.

Knocks on the door startle her and she stirs, forcing herself to get up. It's probably Raz.

She came looking for Mae, the next day, awfully guilty and embarrassed for leaving her all alone at the cemetery.

Raz was nice enough to get her food twice everyday. Without her, Mae's corpse would have been rotting on the bed.

But what awaits her on the other side of the door is not Raz. Instead, in front of her stand two burly men, armed with guns in their hands.

They size her up and the mess of the room behind her.

She must be someone close to the Captain. Her state can tell.

All of a sudden, one of the two is stepping closer. With his fists balled at his sides, and an evident scowl on his face. "Who were you to that Traitor of a Captain?" he spits.

And Mae narrows her eyes at him.

They called him a hero before and then they called him a traitor.

The courageous captain. He was rude and selfless, deadly and kind. Proud, humble, strong-willed and reckless. And he was also so much more.

He was the lives he carried on his tired shoulders. He was the strength to keep moving forward even in the moments that broke him

But at the end of the day, when he took off his ODM gear, and stood in front of her without the weight of the world on his shoulders. In his scarred skin, and his broken bones. With the tidiness of a maniac and the patience of a ticking bomb.

It didn't take a genius to realize that Levi was so much more than the glory of his battles.

All of a sudden Mae can taste the salt of her tears on her lips. "He wasn't a traitor...He fought for humanity, all of humanity," she chokes.

He was his bravery, but he was also his restless mannerisms. He was the piece of his mom's gown that he wore as his cravat. And he was the pink on his cheeks when she called him beautiful. There were parts of him that were only hers to love, and to accept.

He was her pride and joy. Her hope in this godless world. And if the Yeagerists weren't around, maybe Levi could have gotten some medical assistance and survived.

"If you are one of the Yeagerists, you're not welcome here." She hisses, absolutely appalled. And then her voice turns into something sadder. "It's not like he can harm you anymore."

And just as she's closing the door, the other soldier steps in, putting his body in the closing gap.

It doesn't take him much strength to push the door open. Afterall he is a member of the military and she's weak from all her grief.

Mae's eyes widen with fear. She would have never thought they would stoop low enough to hurt a pregnant woman.

But he has a softer look on his face, which somehow contradicts his rough appearance. "Ease off, miss. We're not Yeagerists." And then he throws a glare at the soldier before he huffs. "Also Samuel... cool down please."

"We're not Yeagerists, but it wasn't fair for Commander Hange to kill her comrades, and to side with the outside world." Samuel scoffs, brimming with resentment.

Turmoil is thick in the Eldian Empire now. There's always been two sides of a coin, and hostility has spread its claws, holding it's people in the vice grip.

"Sorry, his brother was killed at the Paradis Harbour... in the fight to take the flying boat."

And Mae stays quiet, replaying his words in her mind. She has no consolation in her heart for his loss. The flying boat took off... but Hange never came back, nor did Armin, Mikasa or Jean... For all she knows, they were also crushed, just like the outside world.

Ships were sent two days after the Rumbling to see what was left of the world. But it's been a month and there hasn't been an update yet.

Guess that tells plenty about the extent of destruction caused by Eren. She can't believe she used to once feed snacks to that nervous little child.

"We're the Royal Queen's guards." The calmer soldier speaks out again. "My name is Claus. And we're here to empty out the headquarters... The Survey Corps no longer exists, and so it's the Queens Order-"

"The Captain's belongings will go nowhere." Mae cuts him off. " I'm taking everything with me."

And Samuel laughs sardonically, eyeing her pregnant womb. "And who exactly are you to the captain... a road gig? I'm pretty sure the Captain never married anyone."

And Mae knows she's supposed to defend herself. But she can't. The thought of putting together a few words makes her feel like she's going to plummet.

The world has given her so many trials. It has tested her at every age. She's tired now, so tired that she just wants to rest.

Get up and face the world. The message comes to her like a ray of light, in pitch blackness.

Get up and face the world. That's what Levi has always done.

It's as if she can hear his voice thrum somewhere in the back of her mind.

And that's what she will do. For the part of him that's growing inside of her.

She raises her right hand to make their allegations stop. And the pearl ring in her finger shines bright in the sunlight.

"I'm the widow he left behind."

Author's note:

I see you've made it to the end:)

I know some of you must be surprised with Levi being dead, but Floch was the only one who thought Levi might still be alive, and Floch died, so I think the news that would have gone out to the newspapers would be of Levi dying.

Also let me know if Mae being pregnant came out of nowhere.

I had left small clues of Mae being pregnant in the last chapter (her crying so much because Levi was leaving and wanting him to stay, and her placing his hands on the swell of her belly). Don't know if it was obvious though, please let me know if I should mention it more directly in her thoughts in the previous chapter.

Please let me know what you thought of this chapter. Any comments really make my day, and I would love to know what you thought of the fic!

Many thanks!

Also since I'm a graphic designer and I really want to get into illustration, I will make a book cover for this book and get one copy printed for me (let me know if you would be interested to see that, just incase)

(PS: this is not the last chapter lol. I was just messing with you all lol. Last chapter will be out in 2-3 weeks as I'm still not done with it)

[dwellordream]

thoughts on HOTD episode 3, season 2 (spoilers below)

i think the opening scene between the Blackwood and Bracken boys is very well done. some people complained about not seeing the battle itself, but the general audience is not going to care about seeing these minor characters flung into a battle. cutting between an immature, petty teenage fight that then escalates into a pointless slaughter, leaving both sides massacred, does a much better job of showing us how the civil war is going escalate feuds that would otherwise stay barely civil.

Rhaenys lecturing about peace comes across as a hypocritical when she massacred hundreds of peasants during her escape from King's Landing. but i also think it shows that while people like her, Rhaenyra, and Alicent are horrified by the death of highborn children, none of them are thinking in terms of the toll on the smallfolk. they think about the peace between the nobility- not protecting peasants. the deaths of Luke and Jaehaerys are horrifying, as are highborn men and women dying in battle, but not the slaughter or scapegoating of the peasants for the sins of their 'betters'.

the Alicent/Criston breakup seems to be pretty final, though I wouldn't be shocked if they crawl back to each other before the end of the season, more out of mutual self-loathing than genuine love or passion. I think it's pretty clear that while Alicent was attracted to him all along, their affair was moreso both of them venting their frustrations, repressed sexuality, and hatred (or, in Alicent's case, 'hatred') for Rhaenyra, then any actual epic love story.

the scene where Rhaenyra shunts Rhaena off to the Vale to 'protect' the children and their hatchlings is very well done. without a dragon, Rhaena stands no chance of subverting any Westerosi gender norms. Rhaenyra seems to recognize that, but is also prepared to sacrifice Rhaena's happiness if it means giving her sons a maternal figure. I see a lot of meta about how Rhaenyra is a much happier and more affectionate/gentle mother than Alicent, and I don't think that's wrong, per se, but I also don't think Rhaenyra is as comfortable with motherhood as many fans insist. of course, she's in an impossible situation- she cannot be a queen leading a war effort and also a doting parent. but I wouldn't say being a mother is what brings her the most happiness and peace, either. Daemon has disappointed her again and again as a husband and partner, and while her children adore her, they also find her difficult to live up to.

I'm glad there wasn't an epic battle of Daemon claiming Harrenhal. the castle itself is supposed to be an eerie, demonic, almost living sort of abomination, and so Daemon takes it with ease, because that's what Harrenhal wants. the Strongs themselves put up no resistance, because there's no point, and because they know Harrenhal is reluctant to let go of anyone who enters its halls. Daemon comes across as massively insecure and paranoid despite his easy conquest, both because Harrenhal itself unsettles him, and because he knows Rhaenyra's faith in him is greatly reduced.

someone told Freddie Fox to look to Jaime Lannister's depiction in the early seasons of GoT for his inspiration as Gwayne, and I don't think that was a bad idea, lol. he nails it as the smug, superior, posturing knight, and I'm excited to see what they do with him. of course, Alicent uses him as a tool against Criston, and Criston takes the moment to embarrass Alicent by loudly requesting her favor- I would not be surprised if his resentment towards her boils over by the end of the season, and he begins to loathe her as much as he does Rhaenyra.

I think the scene between Aegon and Aemond in the brothel was very well done. Aegon is probably right when he claims Aemond has only ever slept with the very first prostitute Aegon forced him to 'sample'. emotionally, Aemond is still that stunted, angry, frightened little boy who loathes being laughed at and wishes people feared him. he refuses to directly challenge Aegon out of a misplaced sense of duty and decorum, but has no issue humiliating a sex worker to preserve his own pride.

Daemon's dream sequence in Harrenhal is fantastic. it's the kind of thing GoT refused to engage in because they thought it too silly or esoteric, but I think future ASOIAF-related shows need to lean into the supernatural, not shy away from it. embrace the fantasy of the setting, please! and of course Daemon's ideal version of Rhaenyra is still a naive, impish young girl- who hasn't seen his flaws or his cowardice. he wanted the dream of a happy, perfect Valyrian family with Rhaenyra, but reality is far harsher. he's abandoned his children and made his wife out to be a kinslayer with his actions.

the contrivance of the Alicent/Rhaenyra sept scene is absurd, obviously. however, i disagree with those arguing that it 'ruined the episode'. it is hardly the most contrived scene in the show thus far, and i can forgive its contrivance because the audience wants- and needs- to see a scene like this between Alicent and Rhaenyra- maybe one of their final conversations in private, ever. yes, Alicent could have seized the moment to have Rhaenyra captured or killed outright, but that still wouldn't stop the war. Daemon and Jace would not suddenly surrender- even if they wanted to save Rhaenyra's life, they would know their own lives would be forfeit the moment they surrendered. and honestly, anyone who thinks it would be more 'in character' for Alicent to have Rhaenyra killed right now is kidding themselves. yes, she hates Rhaenyra- and she also clearly still loves her.

i've enjoyed this episode the most out of all this season. a 9/10, in my opinion, and i hope we don't backslide with the second half of episodes.

[valsnonsense]

Trolls AU: The Depths

They say in ancient times, before Trolls sang, they practiced magic. No one knows if these legends are true, as no remnants of the civilization has ever been found.

But no one has thought to look underground...

Decided to finally start posting about my main Trolls AU! Its not so much of an alternate universe as it is a continuation of the main story (with a hint of the Infection AU trend)

I love the idea of ancient Trolls practicing magic before they practiced music like an usual mythology. But like most highly magical races in stories, they flew too close to the sun, and their desire to achieve greater magic causes their downfall.

Very inspired by Hollow Knight, the ancient trolls kingdom lies DEEP DEEP underground. Infested with Trolls infected by their own magic, creatures and animals of enormous size and ferocity, and the descendants of ancient trolls who will kill any outsider that comes near. And above we see the poor fuckin sap who winds up in The Depths after crawling his way out of the body of a giant animal that tried to eat him and the chef (the chef wasn't so lucky)

Creek has been in The Depths since the end of the first movie. Using his small size, he was able to worm his way out of the body of large creature that ate him and the Chef, and wound up deep underground in the ruins of some ancient civilization. He tried for months to find his way back to the surface, but so far has found none.

And after a run-in with a particularly ferocious beast resulting in his back being completely burned, Creek realized there was no getting out. He was trapped. Likely forever. And it's his own fault.

(I also wanted to throw in my own Creek Redesign lol)

Creek remains down in the depths, fighting to survive every hour, every minute. Until one day, a blue troll covered in white patches with plum-colored hair winds up in The Depths, begging Creek for help to find a way out and back to his brothers.

Creek at first wants nothing to do with him. He doesn't trust anything or anyone. He's better off alone. But after considering it... Maybe two sets of eyes and ears will give them more hints to finding a way out. And... It'd be nice to have some company...

(Yes this is a Fleek story cuz I have the Fleek brainrot)

Decided to name this AU "The Depths", since it takes place deep underground (also inspired by LoZ: Tears of the Kingdom)

Creek's lack of an arm is a future event. When he meets Floyd, he has both arms. He'll lose it later on.

[inquisitor-apologist]

7, 8 and/or 27 :)

7: Who is one character you feel isn't appreciate enough by the fandom?

Ketsu! It is very telling how people will create a ton of content for characters that Sabine talked to like twice and then just ignore her Black Mandalorian butch best friend who had huge impact on her.

She’s also a very interesting character in her own right; we get the shape of her backstory and her relationship with Sabine, but everything else is subtext and up to interpretation.

She deserves so much more love than she gets.

8: If you could've added an episode/story arc to the show, what would it be about?

This one’s difficult! I’m tempted to go with something for the Inquisitors (beloveds), but I think that would have to be more of a rewrite than this question’s asking for, so I’ll fall back to what I’ve been saying for years: Sabine should’ve kept the Darksaber.

After her duel with Saxon, she says that she’s not the leader Mandalore needs, and she’ll find the person who is. To me, it really seems like she’s being set up for an arc where she comes to terms with her past and why she feels like she’s unworthy of wielding the Darksaber and leading the Resistance (ie:the Duchess). And they half get there, but then they drop it. So I’d add an episode or two onto the Season 4 Mandalore arc to have her come to that realization and keep the Darksaber.

(And then, after her time on Lothal and before the search for Ezra, she has something to do! She could have an arc where realizes that she could be that leader she was looking for; she’s always stood up for Mandalore before, and she’s got a lot of experience with leading parts of her clan in season 3 and with the Rebellion generally. She could lead the Mandalorian Resistance in the Galactic Civil War—) Getting off track lol

27: Which plot point do you wish the show had expanded on?

World Between Worlds 100%. I think we needed a little more setup (something between ‘there’s a secret reason the Emperor chose Lothal’ and ‘Loth-wolves can do a weird Force-walk through space’ and ‘there is a hidden portal in the Temple that leads to a plane of reality beyond time and space where you can see into and change the past if it’s ambiguous enough’).

To be fair, I might have forgotten some foreshadowing because it has been years since I’ve seen the back half of the series (crawling there at a snail’s pace with my rewatch lol) but I would’ve loved to see/hear more about the WBW. Maybe an old Lothal legend about a door in the mountains that leads to the past, or a mention of how the Temple has a uniquely strange relationship with time, or anything that could’ve given us just a little bit more.

Thanks!

[regulus-blacks-lover]

in for a good crying session so i’d looove to see how prompts 43 & 27 would break me :’) im thinking sirius but whatever sparks the creative juices!! thank you lovely :>

43 “i’m right here. right here with you.” 27 “you had your chance.”

reader x sirius black, 1,152 words warnings: main character death, very sad and angsty, not proofread

prompt list

a/n: oh my god i'm so sorry this turned out so sad?? i had a second idea that's still sad but no death involved if you'd prefer - but i went with the needing to cry type of vibe for now. lmk if you want a redo w these prompts lol

You and Sirius had been living in hiding together for nearly two years, on the run from Voldemort's forces. Despite the danger that lurked around every turn, it wasn't all bad. You found warm places to sleep, and when there was nowhere warm to go, you held onto each other more closely than you already did.

"Do you think things will ever go back to how they used to be?" You asked him one night, both of you laying awake, unable to sleep.

In the darkness, you could just make out the rise and fall of his chest as he contemplated your question. "I'm not sure." He said honestly. "I'd like to think so, I miss our friends, I miss our life... But I'm just not sure."

"I miss our friends too." You whispered.

Beneath the thin blanket, he grasped your hand, threading his warm fingers into your own. "I'm glad you are here with me." He said, bringing your fingers to his lips and pressing a kiss to each one.

"You're not too shabby for an end of the world companion." You said quietly.

A few days later, you were standing guard outside what you hoped was an abandoned house in a muggle neighborhood. Sirius was inside, putting up protective wards around the place. He'd always acted like an idiot at school, but at the end of the day you trusted his protective enchantments much more than your own.

You were allowing yourself to get lost in memories of the days before you'd been on the run, back when you'd had weekly dinners with your friends- back when you and Sirius had dreamed of getting married. Before your dreams became mere survival.

Suddenly you felt it. A chill in the air as all the hair on your body raised. And then he was there. Voldemort, pale and cloaked in a long black robe. He was flanked by two Death Eaters. Behind them floated three ghostly figments. Dementors.

Your stomach filled with lead. You'd barely reached for your wand when it flew out of your hand. The two Death Eaters grabbed you by either arm, dragging you towards Voldemort and the dementors.

You kicked and flailed and pushed against their grasp, but their combined strength was too much for you, especially with the hopeless pull of the dementors in the air.

Voldemort grasped your face, his unnaturally long fingers digging into your skin. "Where is he?"

He didn't have to specify who he was looking for. You already knew. Sirius. His brother, already part of Voldemort's forces. It was rumored that Voldemort longed to have control over both of the Black brothers.

You set your jaw. You wouldn't let Voldemort use you to get to Sirius.

"Where is he?" He asked again. When you still didn't answer, Voldemort sighed theatrically and released his grip on your face. The Death Eaters still held your arms tightly.

"I did try to be civil, Y/N." He said with a sigh. "Do try to remember that."

He nodded at his henchmen and they released you. For a moment, you didn't understand. But the Voldemort was pointing his wand at you and saying, "Crucio."

Your knees buckled and you fell to the pavement, writhing in pain. You fought every instinct telling you to scream or beg for mercy.

"Crucio!" The cold voice came again.

You were on your side now, hands clawing at the pavement as if you could crawl away from the pain he was inflicting on you. Tears flowed down your face and you were panting from the effort to avoid screaming.

The curse came a third time. "Crucio!"

And you couldn't hold back any longer. "Stop! Please stop it!" You screamed.

Your vision was fading in and out as pain continued to rack your body. You heard someone behind you laughing, and then the sound of a scuffle.

And then - your heart lurched. "Stop! Let her go!" Came Sirius's anguished voice. You forced yourself to look up. The Death Eaters had him by the arms. He was fighting them with every ounce of strength he had, and for a moment you thought he'd be able to break free of their grip, but then there came a sharp tug in your hair. Voldemort was pulling you upwards by their grasp your scalp. He forced you to your feet only to press the tip of his wand harshly against your throat.

Your head was forced back so all you could see was the dark sky above, but from the sound of it, Sirius had stopped fighting. "Please. Let her go. I'll do anything." He begged.

"Sirius, Sirius." Voldemort tutted. "I don't plan to ask the world of you. I just need one favor. Consider it an exchange, really. Join me, and I'll let her live. Your brother has disappointed me, see you don't do the same."

"Sirius" You whimpered, Voldemort's wand still against your neck. "Sirius, it's okay." The wand was pressed deeper into your skin as fresh tears began to spill down your face.

"No." You heard him say brokenly. "I can't– I won't–"

"It's okay." You said again.

Voldemort sniffed. "Pathetic. See how little you mean to him? I ask one favor and he can't even do it, even if it would mean saving your precious life."

The pressure at your throat lifted, but your relief was short lived as Voldemort gestured to the dementors. They swooped in on you faster than you would have believed. They were pulling you apart, eating your joy, even before Voldemort stepped away from you.

You were vaguely aware of voices beyond the hurricane of dark and cold that surrounded you.

"Please! Please stop it! I'll do anything, anything you ask!" Sirius's voice was frantic and full of desperation.

"You had your chance to save her, and you didn't. Now you must live with the consequences." Voldemort said.

You were so cold. Your hands had grown numb and your teeth were chattering uncontrollably. You were aware of your body falling to the ground, but you didn't feel the pain as you hit the pavement. And then everything went black.

"I'm right here. Right here with you." A distant voice. Familiar. Sirius. It was Sirius, and it sounded like he was crying. Why was he crying?

You couldn't see him. You couldn't see anything. You were floating away.

A sudden image flashed through your mind; Sirius, holding a broken, limp body. Holding you.

He was cradling your dead body in his arms, whispering over and over "I'm right here. Please don't leave me. Please come back."

But you couldn't. No matter how you tried, you couldn't force that living piece of yourself back into that body.

Cruel laughter sounded, but Sirius didn't pay it any mind. He just kept holding what had once been you.

"I love you." You thought, before every trace of you vanished from existence.