#i need to lay on the floor for a while and let everything seep back into the earth

[sapsolais]

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[capuccinodoll]

The Invitation

Before the sun hits (chapter one)

Hi there, this is the first time I post something here, so I hope you like it! It's defenitely going to be a fun story to write. This is going to be a Joel series, so feel free to send any ideas and suggestions, as english is not my first language, so I apologize if there are any mistakes (if there are, don't hesitate to let me know so I can correct them), x.

DECEMBER 15th.

The window was misted over, softening the pale, nocturnal landscape outside. Winter had started creeping in, slowly but unmistakably. The asphalt below gleamed, slick from the recent rain, and a thin wisp of smog slipped through the narrow crack in the window that your mother had just opened.

"The heat is suffocating me," she murmured, and you nodded, understanding. You couldn’t really blame her; she'd spent the first twenty years of her life far away from Austin's warmth.

Inside, the living room felt warm and inviting. Soft, golden light illuminated the white walls, which were lined with family photos, each one a little piece of your history. In the corner by the window, the Christmas tree stood, decorated with a quaint charm that somehow stole the room’s attention.

Your father stepped into the room behind you, his smile wide and content. He wore a green sweater dotted with white stars and red hearts, holding his phone against his ear with exaggerated enthusiasm, his hands gesturing wildly as he spoke.

"Like a kid at Christmas," your mother observed, and she wasn’t wrong.

The holidays hadn't been your favorite for the past few years. They’d been tangled up with messy breakups, the stress of school and work, and a handful of regretful decisions. Like last Christmas, when you decided to leave early for New York instead of staying with family, and ended up drinking cheap wine on the cold floor of your new, empty apartment—far from home, and even closer to a personal catastrophe. Not that you could have known that at the time, of course. 

"Joel is coming," your father announced suddenly, snapping you out of your reverie. "And Sarah too. Remember her, honey? She was this tall the last time we saw her," he said, holding his hand at his waist.

Of course you remembered Sarah. She had stayed with you for a weekend when you were twelve, while her father took care of her brother Tommy in the hospital. She’d been eight then—funny, wide-eyed, a little whirlwind of curiosity. The two of you had spent the weekend browsing your local library, eating far too many sweet treats, and giggling over childhood crushes on the Twilight cast.

"Of course I remember her," you replied, feeling the weight of those intervening years. "It’s been a while, though. She must be an adult by now."

"She turned twenty-one last July. I saw it on Tommy’s Facebook," your father added.

"He’s not coming?" your mother asked, but before you could catch the answer, you found yourself slipping out of the room, seeking a moment of solitude.

Upstairs, your old bedroom welcomed you with silence as you shut the door, muffling the voices from downstairs. You let yourself collapse onto the soft bed, feeling a heavy weariness seep into your bones. You hadn’t quite figured out how to deal with everything yet, but you kept promising yourself that you’d sort it out after the holidays. As you lay there, staring at the ceiling covered with old movie stills and band posters, Eddie Vedder’s frowning face seemed to stare back at you, almost judgmental. 

You’d made a mistake. That was it. You hated your job, and you’d made a mistake. New York wasn’t what you thought it would be—at least, the people in it weren’t. The city had chewed you up, spat you out, and left you feeling raw and disillusioned. But your parents couldn’t know that, not yet. It would break their hearts to learn that their only daughter hated her career and needed a fresh start. They’d worked so hard to make this holiday special. Your mother had even won the family bet on Halloween, the one they did every year, where the winner got to choose the Christmas and New Year’s destination. She’d picked Canmore—her hometown in Canada—where she promised a true winter wonderland that would let everyone leave their troubles behind, if only for a little while.

Leave everyday life behind, you thought. It was exactly what you needed: three weeks away from New York, away from Austin, away from anywhere that already knew you. Maybe the snow would help wash it all away.

*

"Sweetie, it’s time for dinner," your mother’s voice interrupted your thoughts. She stood at the door, her smile tender, with Eddie Vedder’s glowering face staring over her shoulder from the poster on your wall.

"What time is it?" you asked groggily.

"Quarter past eight. We’re waiting for you downstairs. Fix your hair a little, Joel and Sarah are here. You should see her, she’s gorgeous!"

"I’ll be down in a minute," you mumbled, your eyes already sliding shut again.

"No, you won’t," she said knowingly. "I know you too well. You’ll fall back asleep the second I walk away." She perched at the foot of the bed, pressing down on your feet, and you let out a frustrated sigh.

With a resigned groan, you forced your eyes open and sat up, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. She waited, watching until you were fully upright before finally leaving. 

In the bathroom, you saw what she meant about your hair—a mess of tangled strands falling around your face, the braid you’d done earlier completely undone. You quickly brushed it out, splashed some cold water on your face, and tried to shake off the haze of sleep. When you stepped back out, your mother was gone, but you could hear the voices from downstairs—Sarah’s laugh, bright and familiar, followed by your father’s. And then another voice, deeper and more reserved. That must be Joel, you thought.

You remembered him vaguely. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a serious expression that never seemed to soften. He was always in a hurry, rarely stopping to chat, always working to keep things afloat while raising Sarah on his own. Your dad used to talk about their childhood, how he and Joel and your Uncle Luke had grown up in the same neighborhood, the four of them inseparable as teenagers. For some reason, you lingered a moment longer in front of the mirror, fixing stray hairs, before heading downstairs to face whatever awaited you.

*

Before you even stepped onto the first stair, you paused, tugging at the off-the-shoulder black dress you’d chosen on instinct—or maybe not. Oh, of course you knew why you’d picked it. How long had it been since Sarah had last seen you? Back then, you’d been the effortlessly cool older daughter of her dad’s best friend. Now, you were twenty-four, slightly adrift, but she didn’t need to know that.

Still, you’d pulled yourself together in record time. Your skin had a soft glow, your cheeks rosy, your lips glossed with a shade of red that wasn’t too loud but just right. Your eyes, framed by delicate makeup, carried an understated glamour. And you’d even worn the choker your mother had given you three birthdays ago, a beautiful piece that added a touch of sophistication. Yes, you looked good.

As you descended the stairs, the murmur of voices grew louder, the conversation below taking shape. In the living room, your father was enthusiastically recounting a recent match, and your mother kept interrupting him, correcting his version of events with affectionate precision. Sarah’s laughter rang out, bright and easy, clearly entertained by their dynamic. Though you tried to make your footsteps light, they were quickly noticed.

“Sweetheart! Finally, come join us!” your mother called, her face lighting up with a wide smile. She was seated on the couch by the window, your dad beside her. Across from them, with their backs to you, sat Sarah and Joel. Sarah turned as soon as she saw you. Joel didn’t.

“I was just asking Sarah if she remembered that weekend,” your dad said, shifting to make room for you beside him, “She was so small back then! This small!” He held his hand out at the level of his face to demonstrate.

As you sat down, you caught your breath. Sarah wasn’t just grown up—she was stunning. Her smile was warm and playful, though her hands rested a little nervously in her lap. But her eyes were the same, wide and full of light.

“Of course I remember! It was such a fun weekend. You were like the big sister I never had,” Sarah said, her voice warm and nostalgic.

“Really? I’m so glad to hear that. I had a great time, too. I can’t believe how much you’ve grown,” you admitted, laughing. “God, I sound so old saying that.”

“At least someone had fun that weekend, huh, Joel?” your father joked, and it was then that your eyes finally found Joel for the first time that evening.

Maybe it was nerves that kept you from looking sooner, or maybe it was something else. But Joel was different—very different. Or had he always looked like this? You weren’t sure if you were about to laugh or choke. The transformation felt seismic.

“Don’t remind me,” Joel said, his voice deep, vibrating in the room. He turned to you then, his gaze locking onto yours for just a moment too long before he added, “Kid.”

During that weekend, twelve years ago, you saw Joel two times max; once when he dropped Sarah home, and again when he came back for her. He looked stressed and mainly angry. But you didn't remembered exactly why. Pretty sure it had to do with Tommy having a fall somewhere. 

“Too bad he didn't come to dinner. I haven't seen the bastard in months, though I must say far fewer months than I haven't seen you,” your father added. 

Joel leaned back on the couch, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth, and you took the opportunity to really look at him. He was wearing a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his dark jeans fitting snugly. His hair was streaked with gray, messy in that deliberate way, and God, he was massive. Broad shoulders strained against the fabric of his shirt, every subtle movement revealing the strength beneath.

Your dad had mentioned Joel was a contractor, and now it made perfect sense. That kind of body was built through hard labor, hours spent lifting, hammering, doing things that required strength and grit. His eyes, though, were what drew you in—dark, a little tired, but still sharp, with the lights of the Christmas tree flickering softly in their depths.

“He’s becoming a bit of a hermit,” Sarah teased, her voice lilting with affection.

Joel smiled then, his whole face softening. “Tommy’s with his in-laws this Christmas,” he explained.

“You owe me a couple of beers, Miller,” your dad teased, and Joel shot him a sideways grin.

“For now, be happy with dinner,” your mother interrupted, her voice brimming with excitement. “I’m sure we’re all starving!”

You couldn’t help but glance at Joel one more time as everyone began moving toward the dining room. There was something about him now, and as he rose from the couch, towering over you, you couldn’t shake the thought.

*

He sat across from you, elbows propped on the table, his focus fixed on your father, who was gesturing animatedly from his spot in the left corner. In this softer, golden light, his face appeared more open, less stern. You let your gaze linger over his features, taking advantage of the fact that he seemed wholly absorbed in your father's story. His eyes, which you remembered as dark and unreadable, now looked a little lighter, a warm honey hue emerging beneath the shadows. Faint lines etched the corners of his eyes and mouth, traces of a life well-worn, and you found it unsettling—indecent, even—how much you liked the way they shaped his face. He looked... you didn’t quite know how to put it. Weathered, maybe. But in a good way, like something that had been around long enough to carry a few secrets.

It wasn’t that you were into older men. You’d never been that girl. Your exes had all been within a reasonable margin of your age, maybe three years older, max. But Joel... well, Joel was looking at you now. And you, with your head tilted slightly and your lips just barely parted, were looking right back at him. Like he was a puzzle, a rare artifact you couldn’t help but analyze. Then reality caught up to you, and you straightened abruptly, trying to regain your composure, your face heating up with the embarrassment of being caught. 

You shifted in your chair, trying to steady yourself, but your foot—unsettled by the awkwardness—stretched out a little too quickly, bumping against his under the table. You froze as heat flushed your cheeks, hoping he hadn’t noticed. But Joel's eyes flashed with a brief moment of surprise, which he smoothed over quickly, turning back to your dad. 

He probably thought you were being clumsy, which, in fairness, you were. You glanced over at Sarah, who sat beside Joel, mirroring her father’s posture, absorbed in whatever they were saying. But then you caught the tail end of their conversation and realized they were talking about you.

“We’ve got to make the most of our time with her,” your dad was saying. “She’s a big city girl now. Since she’s been home, she’s been sleeping like the dead. Completely exhausted, isn’t that right, honey?”

“True, true,” your mom chimed in, leaning forward with a conspiratorial smile. “We’ve barely had the chance to chat about her life. I bet you understand that feeling, don’t you, Joel?”

“Mom,” you cut in, a twinge of discomfort in your voice, but Joel’s eyes stayed on you, his curiosity finally directed your way.

“What do you do?” he asked, his voice steady, his gaze unwavering.

You hesitated, feeling strangely self-conscious under his attention. “I’m in marketing area, in Arcor, uh, in New York.”

“The candy company?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. You nodded quickly, like you wanted to get past it.

“Yeah, that one.”

“And she’s been doing very well. We almost didn’t get her to come home for the holidays,” your mom said, eager to emphasize your success.

The truth was, you had been busy—insanely, overwhelmingly busy. The holiday season meant one of the biggest sales periods at the company, and even though your salary didn’t quite justify it, you’d spent countless late nights at the office, dealing with the endless pressure from above. Or at least, that’s what you’d told them. They bought it, of course. You were the golden child—never rebellious, never a troublemaker. So they believed every word you said. But when they offered to visit you in New York, you’d panicked. Somehow, returning home to Canmore seemed like the lesser of two anxieties.

“I’ve always wanted to go to New York,” Sarah piped up, her voice carrying a wistful tone. “I bet you never get bored there.”

No, you didn’t get bored. That much was true. Even though the city had left you feeling a little bruised, there was something undeniably captivating about it. The bustling streets, the ever-present hum of life, the art and culture pouring out of every corner—it was beautiful, in its own overwhelming way. If only you had more time, maybe you’d have enjoyed it more.

“You don’t, and it’s stunning, especially at Christmas,” you admitted. “The snow can be a mess, but it’s part of the charm.”

“You say that because you’ve never spent Christmas in Canmore,” your mom interrupted with a knowing smile. “Now that’s as magical as it gets.”

“What’s it like?” Sarah asked, her curiosity making your mom’s eyes light up.

“Oh, it’s beautiful,” she said, leaning in with enthusiasm. “The snow-covered mountains, the twinkling lights, tourists bustling through the shops—it’s like a postcard. And there’s so much to do. I was there just last October, and it was lovely then, too. Are you a Halloween fan, Sarah?”

Sarah nodded eagerly, and your mom nodded back, feeding off her energy. “You’d love it in the fall, then. Canmore is perfect for any holiday.”

Your dad chimed in, a twinkle in his eye. “Speaking of the holidays, what about you, Joel? Got any plans?” His smile was wide, as if he’d just come up with the most brilliant idea in the world.

“He doesn’t,” Sarah cut in before Joel could speak, and he shifted in his seat, visibly uncomfortable.

Your mom’s brow furrowed. “How’s that?”

“I’m spending Christmas and New Year’s out of town,” Sarah explained. “I invited him to join me, but he doesn’t want to spend that much time with my boyfriend’s family. Right, Dad?”

“That’s not true,” Joel objected, sounding almost wounded, like he’d been caught in an unflattering light.

“Well then, you should come with us,” your dad suggested with a grin, clearly proud of himself. “We’ve rented a great cabin, and there’s plenty of room. Sarah can join us later. It’ll be fun.”

“I’d love to,” Joel replied, but there was a touch of restraint in his voice, enough to make your dad frown. “But I was hoping to use the time to catch up on some work.”

“Joel, you can’t spend the holidays alone,” your mom pressed, sounding like she wouldn’t take no for an answer. “We’d love to have you with us. Really, it’s a beautiful place.”

“We’re leaving next Monday and we’ll be back by January seventh,” your dad added for good measure.

“I’ll drive to the airport with Dean and then head to Canmore myself after New Year’s,” Sarah said, giving Joel a pointed look. “Come on, Dad, don’t be a Grinch.”

Your dad chuckled, taking the opportunity to refill his glass. After a quick sip, he leaned forward, eyes twinkling. “Look, Joel, Tommy’s out of town, Sarah’s leaving, so what’s your excuse? And don’t give me that ‘work’ line—it’s the holidays! If you turn me down, I’ll just assume you don’t want to spend time with an old friend who’s missed you.”

Ah, classic Dad, turning everything into a guilt trip. But now, instead of rolling your eyes, you found it amusing, watching Joel squirm a little, unsure how to respond. Even Sarah seemed to enjoy the show.

“Alright, alright,” Joel said, a small, tired smile playing on his lips. “Let me think about it, okay? And don’t try to manipulate me, Evans, you know that never worked on me.”

*

Dinner continued in a comfortably chaotic way, with your dad peppering Joel with jokes and playful nudges about the Canmore trip. Each time, Joel responded with a small, almost imperceptible smile, offering vague, evasive replies that left you wondering if your dad's persistent charm was working on him or not. You caught yourself studying the little shifts in Joel's expression, trying to decipher if he was actually considering the invitation or just humoring your dad.

Soon, your mother reappeared from the kitchen, carrying her signature apple pie, its golden crust steaming. She served it alongside cups of coffee, each in a mug sporting a different Christmas design. When Sarah mentioned how adorable the mugs were, your mother didn't hesitate to gift her one on the spot, complete with a matching saucer, her face lighting up as she watched Sarah’s delight.

But as the conversation continued, you found it increasingly difficult to concentrate. Joel had begun talking about recent renovations around his house, and your mind kept drifting. You imagined him on a ladder, paintbrush in hand, or lugging a heavy toolbox. How would he look after an afternoon of hard work—sweaty, hair tousled, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows? A warmth spread through you at the thought, but then Joel's gaze flicked toward you, as if sensing your thoughts. Caught, you forced a smile and looked away, focusing on your pie as the heat crept up your neck.

After everyone had finished eating, you busied yourself with gathering the cups and plates, carrying them into the kitchen in a self-imposed silence. As you placed them on the counter, a sudden hollowness settled in your chest. It was the kind of feeling that made you realize just how out of place you were—how far you’d strayed from the person your parents thought you were. How long could you keep up this act, pretending that everything was fine when, in reality, your life had unraveled months ago?

You found your phone sitting on top of the refrigerator, where your mom must have left it earlier. You’d been avoiding checking it, afraid of what you might find, but now you unlocked it and scrolled through the notifications: three messages from Ally, your only real friend in New York, and a random email from an old forum. You made a mental note to unsubscribe, then opened Ally’s texts.

Have you seen his Instagram?

He’s a jerk. I’m sorry.

Are you okay?

Your heart clenched, and you hesitated before searching for what would surely hurt. There it was—a photo of Liam, your ex-coworker, arm wrapped around a woman’s waist as she flaunted a ring on her left hand. You shut your phone with a sharp breath, the realization hitting hard. How could you have been so naïve? Tears pricked at your eyes as your mother’s voice drew nearer, drifting through the door from the dining room. You panicked, ducking out the back door into the hallway. No one could see you like this, not when you’d worked so hard to keep up the illusion. If your mom saw you, the whole truth would tumble out.

You made it to the small bathroom under the stairs, and just as you reached for the handle, the door swung open, making you lurch forward. Joel stood on the other side.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” you blurted, keeping your eyes down. “I didn’t know it was occupied.”

You turned quickly, ready to retreat, but his voice stopped you.

“Hey, you alright?”

You turned back to him, forcing a smile. “Yeah, yes, I’m fine.”

He frowned, unconvinced. “You sure? Doesn’t look like it.”

“I... I just had a long day, that’s all,” you muttered, but you could feel your composure slipping. Your eyes were fixed on a button of his shirt, trying desperately not to meet his gaze. But then, without warning, your tears broke free. A soft sob escaped, and Joel’s expression softened as he pulled the door open wider.

Your hand flew to your mouth, but the tears kept coming. Joel placed a hand on your shoulder, the warmth of it anchoring you even as you felt yourself teetering on the edge of losing control completely. He glanced down the hallway, then back at you with a furrowed brow.

“I’ll get your parents,” he offered.

“No!” You reached out, gripping his arm too tightly. “Please don’t.”

He blinked, clearly taken aback, and for a moment, you both stood there, your grip firm on his forearm. You knew you were making him uncomfortable, but you couldn’t seem to care. You could see the confusion in his eyes as he tried to make sense of your desperation.

"You sure?" you asked, swearing you could read an expression on his face that screamed 'Do I really have a choice?'

Determined, you stepped between him and the door and into the bathroom. Joel turned around in confusion, but quickly understood and closed the door behind him.  The moment felt strange, and it was. The room was cramped and the walls enclosed you in a non-existent, completely unfamiliar intimacy. You looked at him nervously and realized that you were on the verge of doing something irresponsable; of course he would tell your parents, of course he wouldn't keep your secret, why should he? If you had to be rational, you'll do the same thing. At the end of the day, they were best friends.   But it didn't matter. The was no space for consideration as the verbal vomit was about to come out.

“I quit my job, and my ex-boyfriend—who also happens to be my former co-worker—is marrying the woman he cheated on me with. I’ve been pretending like everything’s fine, but I’m probably going to have to move back to Austin because I hate how everything turned out.”

Joel's eyes widened slightly as he took in your confession. He rubbed a hand over his jaw, seeming at a loss for words, and you couldn’t blame him. It was a mess, and you’d just thrown it all in his lap. Finally, he let out a deep sigh.

“So your parents have no idea.”

“No,” you admitted, voice cracking. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why?” he asked, surprised. “Why would you apologize?”

“Because... I don’t know. It’s not your problem.”

“Alright, don’t apologize,” he replied, sounding unsure of himself. “What’s your plan, then?”

You shook your head, feeling the weight of the uncertainty you’d been carrying. “I’m not sure. I thought maybe I’d figure it out over the holidays.”

Joel’s gaze lingered on your face, as if searching for something. Then, with another sigh, he leaned back against the door. “You think you can do it?”

The question stung more than you expected. “You mean, solve my life?”

He quickly clarified. “I mean, keep the secret. Pretending everything’s fine.”

You swallowed hard, looking away. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll try.”

Joel nodded slowly, pushing himself away from the doorframe. “Just... don’t push yourself too hard, alright? It’s not the end of the world. Trust me, I know.”

He turned to leave, reaching for the doorknob, but you couldn’t let him go just yet. “Joel,” you called out, your voice barely above a whisper. He paused, glancing back over his shoulder. “Please don’t say anything to my parents.”

He studied your face for a few seconds longer than you were comfortable with, then finally nodded. “I won’t.”

Relief washed over you, loosening the tightness in your chest. At least one secret would stay safe, for now.

[phyx-m]

Beneath The Silk | True form Sukuna x Reader

🔗 Masterlist

Chapter 29: Shatter

Content warning: Angst.

🔗 Songs for this chapter:

The Dreaming Dead - Jesse Sykes & The Hereafter (- major tonal shift, but for us feeling that emotion and leading up to us interacting with Sukuna) My Darkest Hour - Jimmy Svensson (- for our final dream in this story…) Gone - SIERRA (- for the very, very end of the chapter…)

* * * * *

Chapter 28 | Chapter 29

* * * * *

This view.  

This ceiling. These walls. These smells and sounds. All of it is familiar.  

The shrine.  

You’re back.

Both you and Sukuna.  

Lying on your futon in your chambers, you blink up. That same spot you’ve stared at for the last few months remains unchanged, yet somehow, it looks entirely different now.  

Something has shifted—whether it’s this place, you or someone else, you can’t quite tell.  

All you know is that change is stirring in you, setting your heart and mind racing at unexpected moments. You think you might know what this emotion is, but you’re not ready to name it. Not yet. For now, you’re content to let it seep out through tiny cracks and fissures, holding it at bay until the moment comes when you can fully accept it. And somehow, you know that moment isn’t far away.  

Pushing yourself up, you reach for the spot on your arm where your father had cut you. You’d expected to find a horrible wound or scar, but your fingertips glide over smooth skin.  

At some point, Sukuna had healed you. But you don’t remember when. For whatever reason, your memories of the last few days are scattered, and the ride back south is more a collection of blurred moments and glimpses, as though you were peering through a crack in a door, watching the King of Curses bring you back.  

All you remember is him keeping you close, keeping you warm despite wearing little more than your ruined kimono. Him building fires, hunting for food, tending to the horses. But through it all, a constant ache in your head muddled your thoughts, making everything feel more like a hazy dream than reality. Still, the way he cared for you was… nice.

No. More than that.

So much more.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Come in,” you call out, eyes drifting to the door.  

It slides open, revealing the corridor awash in morning light, and Uraume steps inside. 

“Good morning, my Lady,” they say, bowing before entering further, their hands slipping into their voluminous sleeves.

Sitting up straighter, a small smile takes shape across your lips.

“Morning, Uraume.”

Since your return, they have tended to your needs during the day while Ren has watched over you at night. Just last evening, you woke to find yourself standing in the middle of the corridor—your sleep disrupted, your body restless, as if it wanted to leave without your permission. Ren had been there, softly coaxing you back to your room. You can only assume these new nightly habits are your mind’s response to the trauma of the past week.

“The weather has turned colder,” Uraume notes, moving to retrieve a kimono and a pair of gloves from your wardrobe. “We’ll bring in a portable iron brazier to warm your room and line the floors with tatami mats to keep the chill away.”  

These days, the weather has dipped. A coolness clings to the floors and the corners of your chambers, though today doesn’t feel as bad.

“All right, thank you,” you say with a nod.

“It will be arranged by this afternoon. I’ve already instructed the attendants to see to it,” they add, laying the garment neatly on to the futon before resting the gloves atop.

You stare at the material for a moment, then lift your gaze.

“Uraume,” you murmur, clearing your throat and letting your fingers absentmindedly pick at the bedding. “I owe you more than just thanks.”

Expression neutral, they lean back and straighten, their pink eyes keenly observing your face.

“I’ve no doubt you’ve heard about what happened at the Kasai compound?” The skin around their mouth tightens in a way that suggests the answer is yes. “Without your teachings using a blade… I wouldn’t be alive, so… Thank you. I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me.”

There’s a long pause as though they’re trying to take in this information before they tilt their head and finally bow.

“If you require any further instructions, I can assist you, my Lady. Times remain uncertain.” 

You give a faint dip of your chin. Times did remain uncertain. That was true.

Swallowing, your and Uraume’s eyes meet briefly before they step away toward the door.  

“Will we be serving your breakfast here this morning?”  

Your fingers find a soft fold in the futon’s bedding, and you pluck at it, hesitating and considering.

You haven’t taken your meals anywhere else, choosing to stay close to your room for one reason: you have no idea how to face Sukuna again.

The past few mornings, you have spent daydreaming about your next encounter, and each time, it feels like swallowing a thousand butterflies. Your stomach fluttering nervously at the mere thought of him.

Gods, you feel pathetic.  

Here you are, safe, yet this is what occupies your mind—while your sister is still out there, alone. The only solace you’ve found is in the overheard conversation confirming she had ridden away, along with the knowledge that she has connections in the capital and a resourcefulness beyond belief.

She had to be safe. And that was because of one reason.

“My Lady?” Uraume's mouth pulls rigid as they wait for a response.

Your mind drifts back.

“No,” you decide. “I’ll take it elsewhere today.”

It takes you far too long to dress and make your way to the private meal chamber. You spend an inordinate amount of time brushing your hair, running the comb through it over and over and adjusting the folds of your kimono until they all are smoothed in their proper place.

Nerves.

You tell yourself, that’s all this is.

Upon entering the room, you exhale a sigh of relief to find it empty, save for an unfamiliar attendant preparing the space. No Sukuna. That’s fine. You’re still deciding how to act when you see him.  

Kneeling on your cushion, you study the woman. She looks young, younger than you, with dark chestnut hair pulled back, and a faint dusting of freckles across her petite nose. You watch her hands move, dishing out the portions which are noticeably smaller than usual—a bowl of rice, a few pickled vegetables, and a thin slice of salted fish.  

“Apologies, my Lady,” she says, frowning before bowing her head. “We’ve had to begin rationing for the winter.”

You offer a faint shake of your head before she steps away.

“It’s fine,” you reassure, picking up your chopsticks and letting them dip into the bed of rice. “Is that normal? Something that happens this time of year?”  

You realize how little you still knew about the shrine’s operations. Perhaps it was time to change that.

The attendant hesitates, her gaze darting to the garden door, which stands slightly ajar to let in a breeze, before flicking back to you.

“No, my Lady,” she says softly.  

You pause, waiting to see if she’ll elaborate, but she doesn’t. Choosing not to press her further, she steps away and busies herself with other tasks while you focus once more on the meal in front of you.

For a while, you sit and eat, though your mind drifts. Replaying that moment when your husband had you on his mount and threaded his fingers through your hair.  

Phantom prickles still linger from where he touched. You think about that touch. Often. How it seemed to draw out emotions buried so deeply you hadn’t even known they were there.  

As your skin warms in memory, the burning scent of tobacco floats into the room. Your eyes lift from your plate to the garden door. Leaning over on the cushion, you peek through the narrow gap. 

Hair, the colour of cherry blossoms, catches your attention. 

Seeing it, you quickly lurch back. He’s right there, sitting alone. The realization sends a flurry of panic through your chest—like frantic wings beating, your heart desperate to escape.

You take a breath, steadying yourself.

I should go and talk to him.  

A shudder rolls through you. The very idea makes you want to toss yourself from the verandah.

But you should talk to him. Thank him properly for what he did to give you the chance to breathe again after decades, and maybe even tell him more.

No.

You’re not ready for that. Besides, he wouldn’t understand.  

Or would he?  

You fidget with your gloves.

Would the King of Curses laugh and reject your feelings, or would it be different after everything that’s happened? An understanding. A slow, fragile acceptance that the two of you are somehow drawn together. You can only hope.  

The faint rattle of dishes diverts your attention back to your meal. The rice in your bowl now lukewarm, the vegetables untouched. You push the food around with your chopsticks, pretending to eat while stealing glances at the crack in the door, though you don’t dare look further.  

“Is there anything else you need from me, my Lady?”  

The question nearly startles you, your eyes darting back to the attendant. 

“Oh, no, thank you,” you reply, the words easier than admitting what you truly need. “But whatever I don’t eat, could you save it for someone who might?”

Slanting her freckled face to the floor, the attendant bows deeply before turning to leave. 

“By the way, what was your name?”  

You interrupt her exit, and she glances over her shoulder.  

“My name is Nao, my Lady.”  

“Nao,” you repeat, the name settling on your tongue. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

Her eyes brighten, and she smiles. You return the gesture, watching her slide the door free and slip away quietly.

Another breeze squeezes through the garden door, and you find yourself slowly leaning forward again, peering through the gap as though drawn by some invisible thread.

Angling for a better look, you note how the foliage has shifted with the season. The vitality of summer gone, replaced by a quiet stillness. The trees, nearly bare, hold only a few gold and copper leaves that shiver faintly in the wind. Fallen debris speckles the ground, and the air carries the faint, earthy scent of decay that signals autumn’s touch.

Like me.

Changing, but you’re not entirely sure into what.

Your eyes find Sukuna again. He hasn’t moved much. Still sitting there leisurely, his back still facing you, the cloth of a dark haori draped over his broad shoulders. He takes another puff from his pipe, a slow exhale sending soft plumes of smoke into the air, where it dissipates into nothing. Then, with a lazy raise of his upper right hand, he brings it to his nape, fingers pressing into the thick, corded muscles as if to release some unseen tension.

You swallow.

For whatever reason, watching that small action has heat rising to your cheeks and creeping up to your ears. You take a sip of tea, hoping it will steady your nerves. It doesn’t.  

I’ll just… say good morning. That’s all.  

The words sound simple enough in your head, but the idea of speaking to him…  

He shifts, his head turning slightly to the side, and you quickly pull back, your pulse finding its way to your throat at the thought that he might have seen you.

Pathetic.  

Your grip tightens on the edge of your cushion.

Why is this so hard?

You know why.

The answer you’ve been denying sits thundering in your chest, expanding and growing each day.  

Because I’m starting to lose myself to him.  

The truth is more terrifying than any other battle you’ve fought with yourself.  

You close your eyes. Take a breath.  

Just say good morning.  

When you open your eyes again, you’re already pushing to your feet, the cool floor moving beneath as you go. Pausing at the door for a heartbeat, you flex your hands before sliding it open a little wider.

Sukuna doesn’t stir.

Carefully, you step out onto the verandah, staying close to the shadows cast by the wooden structure. He’s still sitting on the stone bench, his form framed by the waning beauty of the garden and dapples of sunlight.

Taking cover behind the bulk of a stone lantern, you peer around it. From here, you can see him more clearly, but you feel ridiculous for sneaking up on him.

Say something.

You want to, but your throat feels tight. Maybe simply standing here and ogling him could be enough.

It isn’t.

Perhaps I’ll ask him to—

“Are you going to keep hiding there?” His voice cuts through, halting your breath. “Or have you finally decided to come closer?”

He looks over his shoulder at you, his red eyes squint over the broad curve of his frame where his dark cloak rests.

You step out from behind the lantern and closer, clearing your throat. Rounding the bench, you dip politely into a bow.

“Good morning.” You lift your head. “Lord Sukuna.”

The corner of his mouth twitches below his mask then rises into a smirk that does far more than set your cheeks aflame.

“My Lady,” he hums arrogantly, tapping the bowl of his kiseru against the lip of the bench depositing the ash. The pipe clinks as he sets it down. Leaning back on his upper arms, his bottom pair resting on his thighs, he stares at you with an air of idle contemplation.

You shift awkwardly.

“How… have you been?” you ask, moving your hands behind your back to pick at your gloves.

“Fine,” he drawls. “Amused.”

You blink in puzzlement.

“Amused?”

Tilting up his chin, he sweeps his gaze down the length of his broad nose.

“It was amusing,” he says, a finger tapping once against the bench. “Knowing you tried so very hard to sneak up on me. As if I wouldn’t notice the moment you drew near.”

Right. Because to him, you’ve always been easy to find.

“Oh.” You huff a small laugh, though a muscle in his jaw feathers at the sound.

“What did you need?” He cocks his slitted eyebrow in question.

Ask him.

“I had something I wanted to ask.”

“Go on.”

“I wanted to know if…” you hesitate, nerves taking over. “If you would consider sending someone to look for my sister. After all the chaos, she went somewhere west, and I’m desperate to know if she’s safe.”

Ugh. Fucking moron.

While true, and a genuine concern, it wasn’t what you had wanted to ask.

His tattooed jaw tenses, and he stares at you.

“Please,” you add softly, sincerely. “I know you don’t—”

“I’ll see to it,” he interrupts.

You hesitate for a moment, not entirely sure you heard him correctly.

“You will?”

The unexpected kindness catches you off guard.

“What kind of husband would I be if I didn’t?” he says, leaning closer. His thick shoulders hunch forward, filling your field of view.

“Thank you. Truly…” You lower your chin, voice softening. “Everything you’ve done for me, for my sis—”

“Is that all?” he cuts you off with a dismissive noise.

You lift your eyes and nod, his amusement fading.

“Yes, that’s all,” you murmur.

Taking a few steps away, you silently scold yourself for not saying more.

Just ask him.

Before you can stop yourself, your feet stall, and you pivot back.

“Actually, no.” You step closer. Sukuna watches you, his body unfurling straighter.

“I was thinking—or wondering—if perhaps… you would like to go riding together sometime?”

There. That’s what you wanted to say.

He stares at you, unblinking.

“Are you asking me to spend time with you?” he chuckles. “Haven’t we already played this game before?”

Your mouth clamps shut, and tiny prickles race down the length of your spine. Yes, you had. Months ago, he rejected you—firmly. And, of course, he made quite the spectacle of your embarrassment, the proper asshole that he is.

“And what if I am?” you say, tone even. Composed.

Now, you just want him to put you out of your misery. A simple yes or no would suffice.

But he doesn’t. He keeps staring at you, his expression unreadable, as though lost in thought.

“Is that all you want to do?” he finally asks, his voice a rumbling low. “To ride horses with me?”

Before you can answer, he unfolds himself from the bench. Rising to his feet in one smooth motion, he looms closer, his presence filling the space between you.

“Because I think there’s something else I’d prefer.”

He slowly saunters closer.

“And what’s that?” Hearing his voice drop, you find a smile parting your lips.

“Something that involves you becoming desperate and wet for me.” His upper right hand reaches out, taking a strand of your hair and rolling it between his fingers. “Where calling you ‘my Lady’ or ‘wife’ feels wrong with all the delicious and terrible things I’d do to this body.”

Your face ignites in a dizzying array of colours as you realize he’s flirting with you. And it feels… natural. Without the looming barrier of your shared history—the fact that you once needed to kill him—everything between you feels endless. An open horizon.

“Could you be more specific? I’m having a hard time picturing what that might be,” you tease, your smile turning into a grin.

Looking at your mouth, his smirk widens. Releasing your hair, he steps closer, his lower hands slipping to your hips and hauling you against him. The shrinking proximity makes your heart slam in your chest, the sound hammering into your ears.

“Us. Alone. Together,” he husks.

Your eyes hood.

“And doesn’t riding horses involve us being alone together?”

You know exactly where this is going. You want to hear him say it. To hear him describe it. To hear what it would be like to writhe under him as he fucks you to within a hair's breadth of your life.

“No.” His eyes narrow, his face scrunching up slightly, clearly catching on. The combination is almost... cute.

Dipping his head, he brings his mouth close to your ear. His breath brushes your skin, and your knees threaten to give out, but the hands braced at your hips hold you firm.

“It would be me,” he murmurs. “Listening to your voice grow raw from the screams I’d pull from your lungs. Because I’d finally be splitting you open, watching you become sore. Aching.”

Aching.

His upper right hand moves, tracing lightly over yours, his fingertips grazing the silk fabric of your gloves.

“And these…” His voice dips further as his gaze lifts to meet yours. “They’d have to go. That way, you can touch me. Do you think you can do that?”

Your mind empties entirely.

“I can do that…” you manage, barely breathing.

“Is that so?”

You nod, numb.

“Are you aching for that now?”

“Yes…” A breath.

“Then consider me interested in spending time with you.”

You nod again absentmindedly.

“Okay…”

His grin spreads, but his eyes flick past you to a point over your shoulder. Turning to follow his gaze, you see Uraume standing in the doorway. A silent exchange passes between them before the pale-haired subordinate bows and disappears.

“Unfortunately, not today,” Sukuna says, drawing your attention back to him. “You’ll have to wait.”

Looking up at him through your lashes, you understand he’s needed elsewhere.

“Are you leaving the shrine?” There’s a sudden amount of vulnerability in your voice.

He shakes his head. You hadn’t expected anything more. He’d already given you so much.

“I’ll take my leave then,” you manage, your words trailing off as though reluctant to part.

He says nothing, only watches you with a stern expression, his brow dropping low for a moment.

You turn to leave, take a step, but your wrist is caught, holding you in place. Blinking once, you freeze, then look up at him.

Standing so still, your breath stops when his upper right hand curves around the shape of your neck, his fingers firm as they urge you back to him. You obey and step closer. His lower right hand settles at your waist, fingers spanning the delicate fabric of your obi, grounding you against the weight of him.

Your line of vision is swallowed whole.

Sukuna leans forward, bending toward you. The garden vanishes, and so does the sky and every sound.

Red eyes lock with yours, and he dips his head, a few stray strands of pink slipping free from the front of his temple to fall loosely against his forehead. Your pulse quickens as the shadow of his face draws near, and his mouth finds the curve of your cheek.

Your eyes flutter shut. Warmth blooms where he lingers, as though savouring the moment in a way that leaves you breathless.

It’s only then that you realize he’s kissing you.

Not biting, licking, or sucking like those few other times. Kissing you. And although it’s not on your lips, it’s still entirely consuming. 

​​Suddenly, the emotion you’ve avoided naming reveals itself. It rises to the surface, filling you, spreading warm and bright, like fire.

Leaning into the embrace, your hands slide along his chest, greedy to touch. His pectoral muscles shift beneath the fabric of his kimono—strong, warm, protective.

“Sukuna…” His name escapes as a whisper, burdened with unguarded emotion.

A low growl rumbles in his chest as his mouth, disarmingly gentle, trails upward from your cheek to your temple, stopping just shy of your hairline. He presses a soft kiss there, the faint brush of his nose grazing your skin.

His other hands remain still, though the one at your neck tightens slightly. The hand hovering at your side lifts away. He could hold more of you, but for some reason, he chooses restraint.

“Enjoy the rest of your day, wife.” He mouths the words against your temple and the pressure in your core knots. “I know I will.”

He presses one last, smaller kiss to your skin before the hand curving around your neck shifts, his fingertips tracing the underside of your jaw before sliding away.

All you can manage is a soft, breathless hum, betraying how undone you feel.

When he pulls back, you open your eyes. The sky and garden feel distant, and you don’t dare look up for fear he’ll see everything written across your face. The longing there, the affection, the desire.

As he steps away, relinquishing his hold, you hear him chuckle softly.

And then he’s gone, leaving you alone in the garden, his touch branded on your skin and your body aching for more, just as he promised.

* * * * *

You spend the rest of the day grinning like a damn idiot—grinning so much that your face hurts, wide enough to make yourself feel pathetic.

Pathetic because his lips had barely caressed your cheek, yet the memory is there. Replaying over in your mind like a melody you can’t forget. Memorizing his warmth, the weight of his touch to no end, making your chest flutter to no end and no matter how much you try, you can’t focus on anything other than that.

Pathetic.

By nightfall, as Ren helps turn down your futon, you sit nearby, your fingers wandering to your cheek, as if the sensation is still there. Without meaning to, a soft laugh escapes, drawing a glance from your attendant.  

“Something on your mind, my Lady?” she asks, her tone light and curious. 

You quickly lower your hand to begin peeling off your gloves, shaking your head.  

“No. Nothing.” You place the silk on the nearby table.

Ren hums, clearly unconvinced, but doesn’t press. Instead, her feet whisper over the new tatami mats as she kneels by the brazier in the corner. She nudges the coals, coaxing flames to spring to life.

“Can I ask you something?” you say, watching the glow dance in uneven patterns across the walls.  

“Hm? Yes, of course, my Lady.” 

“An attendant who was serving my meal today mentioned something about rationing,” you begin cautiously. “Is there anything I need to know?”  

Your attendant's movements still briefly, her hand hovering over the brazier. Setting down the poker, she turns to you carefully, the ends of her dark hair firing in the warm glow of the coals.

“There has been… some adjustments,” she says. “With Master Sukuna’s territories under attack, Uraume has taken steps to prepare for the winter. Food supplies are being rationed to ensure we can endure the colder months.”  

You blink, the words unsettling.

“The attacks…” you trail off, your mind catching on to the memory of what you saw weeks ago—the charred remains of that village not too far from here. The smouldering wreckage, the scent of death, the women dragged away and brutalized at the edges like discarded trash. “They’re still happening?”  

Ren nods, her face pinched with concern.

“Yes. Sporadically. It’s not as frequent as before, but enough to keep everyone on edge.”  

You look away, the firelight blurring as your thoughts churn. For some reason, you had assumed—or hoped—that the worst of the attacks had passed after witnessing that one horrifying aftermath. But to know they have continued…  

And to know what you had done.  

With your clan gone, the blood of many rests as a bruise on your conscience, even if you refuse to dwell on it. You’d told yourself it was necessary, the only way to survive—but you can’t ignore the potential consequences. A slaughter of that scale would not go unnoticed.  

What if these tensions escalated beyond the villages? What if word of what happened reached the capital? Would the court intervene? Send emissaries to challenge your husband?

The thought twists your stomach. The idea of retaliation against him is one you never imagined you’d have to consider.  

Then again, you never thought you’d find yourself actually interested in being the King of Curses’ wife.  

And yet, here you are.

Pushing up from the floor, your fingers curve into the fabric of your yukata as you make your way to the futon. Kneeling, you smooth the bedding before slipping beneath the top layer, settling with a faint rustle but not lying down just yet.  

“It’s reckless,” you murmur, more to yourself. “Attacking his lands like this…”  

Ren glances at you, her brow creasing slightly.  

“It is,” she agrees, “but desperation makes people reckless. Bandits, rival clans—it’s hard to say who’s behind it.”

“Rival clans.” The words are thick in your mouth. Mind drifting back, you recall the map spread across your father’s private chamber weeks ago—the black, pale, and red stones scattered over specific locations. 

It has to be Zen’in. Kasai is gone. It’s the only explanation.  

Ren adjusts the coals, the sound of them crumbling and settling in the brazier, snapping you out of your thoughts. Sparks leap into the air.  

You stare at them, at the glowing red embers.

Red, red, red…  

“The villagers are feeling the strain, too.” Ren draws your attention back to her. “Though, their offerings brought for this first of the month were smaller. Uraume has ensured the shrine has enough to last for now, but it is… tenuous.”  

You know the villagers don’t bring offerings out of loyalty or devotion. They do it out of fear of displeasing Sukuna.  

Scrubbing a hand against the side of your face, you try to quiet your thoughts, letting the crackling fire soothe you. Though its warmth suddenly feels indulgent.  

“Does that include this?” You gesture to the flames.  

Ren sighs softly, setting the poker aside.  

“The brazier is a necessity, my Lady. It would not do for you to fall ill. But yes… even here, we’ve been asked to reduce usage where possible.”  

“And the other attendants?” you ask, stifling a frown. “Are you all eating enough?”  

“We eat enough to manage our duties,” she replies, folding her hands into her lap. “Foraging helps. Mushrooms, roots, herbs. It’s not much, but it makes a difference.”  

You nod, her answer easing the knot in your stomach only slightly.  

“Anyways, my Lady, you should rest,” she says, rising to her feet and smoothing her robes. “I’m sure you’re still exhausted from everything that’s happened.”  

You manage a faint smile.  

Ren bows gracefully.  

“Goodnight, my Lady,” she says before excusing herself.

The door slides shut behind her with a soft rustle. The dimly lit room feeling quieter now, the crackling of the flames filling the silence. You lie down, staring at the ceiling, your gaze not straying far from that one familiar spot.

Sukuna’s kiss swims back into your mind, unbidden but welcome, and a small smile curves your lips.

“Pathetic…” you sigh, turning onto your side to get a better view of the room.  

Eventually, the warmth of the brazier pulls you under, and the last thing you see is the kindling of flames, the shifting of shadows, and the silhouettes dancing along the walls.  

You sink.

Down.

Deeper.

Until the nightmare devours you.

* * * * *

“He’s going to kill me…” 

You stand in the darkness of the grove, your voice small and jittering as you look into your sister’s face. The sky frames her in rough, curling shadows, stars twinkling through the yew’s branches above, and the wet grass pricks cool against your feet below.

Somewhere in the distance, the baying of men and the shrieking of horses echo into the night. They’ve returned.

Mercifully, Yuna dips her head to meet your gaze, her thumbs gently grazing over your cheeks as she brushes the hair out of your face.

“Just stay here, okay?” she soothes.

Your feet feel rooted in place.

“I’ll talk to him first.”

How could she possibly persuade your father not to kill you after what you’ve done?

Still and obedient, you nod in silence, watching as she steps away, her figure fading into the shadows, leaving the grove and heading into the Kasai compound’s interior.

Once alone, you start to pace.

Feet tracing small, tight circles into the earth, you watch your bloody yukata cling like a second skin, wet and slapping against your ankles.

“I killed her…” you whisper, the first of many slow-declining mutterings.

“I killed her…”

You turn. Pace. Turn again.

“I killed her…”

Turn. Pace. Turn again.

Eyes starting to burn, you dig your fingernails into your palms, fighting to swallow down more tears. Your mother, your unborn brother or sister—the thought of what you did to them. You shouldn’t have gone in there. Why did you go in there? You shouldn’t have done that. Why did you do that?

Turn. Pace.

I killed her. I did this.

Turn again.

Despite your efforts to hold them back, fresh tears fall. Enough that you can’t breathe. Enough that your chest constricts.

Sobs rack and sting their way up your tightening throat, forcing you to drag in a deep breath of the grove, pulling in a mix of scents into your lungs—blood, resin, and the tang of fire. Something burning.

Turn. Pace. Turn again.

Turn. Pace. Turn again.

Turn. Pace. Turn aga—

A twig breaks with a startling crack.

Crack.

Crack.

Crack.

More.

Branches in the undergrowth snap under heavy weight.

You stop. The hair on the back of your neck rises.

It takes only a moment to realize something is wrong.

Because you’re not alone.

Something is here. It has been the entire time. Watching you. Hunting you.

You are a deer caught in a clearing, at the mercy of a presence far greater than yourself.

Crack!

Slowly, you lift your head, tears tracing silent paths down your cheeks. Strands of hair tumbling forward to hide your face.

And there it is.  

Peering into the maze of murky trees, a massive shadow unspools itself into view. It comes in the form of a man, but it’s not a man. It’s a creature.  

A demon.  

You realize this as a pair of bottom arms split beneath the top. And it’s then that you realize this must be the same demon the Kasai clan is hunting. The one they are attempting to trap and kill. But it’s here.

Why is it here? Wasn’t it supposed to be to the east? 

Hardly daring to breathe, you pinch your brow together, squinting at it. Its slow, laborious gait presses through the undergrowth, its bare feet whispering over the grass as it approaches.  

The creature stops only paces away, where the trees grow into an archway of dense gnarled bramble.  

It tilts its head.  

And stares at you.  

Its scarlet eyes pierce into you, studying you. Observing you. Dissecting you. Picking at you. Its muscles pull taut, straining as though holding back the urge to move closer.

The grove falls deathly silent.

Not a word.

Not a sound.

Except for your shallow, trembling breaths—a ragged cadence of in, then out.

You keep staring, hoping it will ignore you. Hoping it will leave.

In, then out.

But all you can do is stand there, frozen in paralysis.

In, then—

“Fuga.”

The word rumbles out, shattering the silence.

A flame opens, slithering across your bleary vision.

The creature lifts its upper pair of arms and pulls back, elbow cocked. The fire condenses in its grasp, tight like an arrow made of blistering flames, tiny sparks snapping and scattering into the air.

You’re going to die.

Maybe, I should let this happen.

No. No.

Run.

You want to, but you can’t. Your body wants to move, but it won’t. Your feet feel rooted in place.

Stay here. That’s what she said.

Powerless, all you can do is stand there, your legs weak with panic. You watch the fire narrowing into a blazing, crackling point that hums with energy, burning bigger, brighter, and aimed straight for you.

And then, all you see is red.

Red.

Everywhere.

Red, red, red—

“My Lady. Wake up!”

Your eyes snap open.

All at once, you’re awake. All at once, you’re blinking, the flat surface of the ceiling coming into sharper focus.

Though you can’t quite orient yourself, Ren’s words fracture the nightmare. Her voice close with concern as she kneels beside your futon, hands resting on her thighs.

“Are you all right, my Lady?” she leans forward, craning her neck to get a better view of your body sprawled across the bedding. “You were screaming out in your sleep.”

Out of breath and almost panting, you drag in uneven lungfuls of air, forcing them to settle while rubbing your thumb into your temple. Shit, it hurt, that ache there, one you desperately want to ease.

“I’m fine,” you murmur, shifting as you push yourself upright. “Just… a bad dream.”

An understatement. You’re still reeling, confused about what the hell that even was.

A soft notch settles at Ren’s brow.

“You were calling out for Master Sukuna,” she points out quietly.

You swallow, sitting up a little straighter.

“Was I?”

She lets out a low hum of confirmation.

It’s more than a little embarrassing if not entirely telling. Apparently, even in your dreams, you’re desperate for him.

“How about I bring some tea?” she offers gently, already moving to stand. “It will help you relax.”

“Ren, it’s the middle of the night,” you protest, glancing toward the faint sliver of moonlight peeking through the narrow window. “That’s such a hassle for you.”

She brushes off your concern with a quiet shake of her head.

“It doesn’t matter. You won’t rest properly like this.” Her nose wrinkles as she gestures toward you and the crumpled futon, your limbs tangled awkwardly in the bedding. Knowing her, the sight must look ungodly.

“Fine, all right. Thank you.” You nod, fingers curling into the fabric of your yukata and lifting it for airflow.

When she leaves, you lie back down, staring up at the ceiling.  

You swallow again.

That dream lingers at the edges of your mind, fragments slithering into your thoughts—fire, the demon… no, Sukuna. You’ve had that dream before, but never like this. Never so vivid. Never with him there in the grove.  

Your head throbs painfully.  

It doesn’t take long for your attendant’s footsteps to return. Her slippers whisper soft across the woven flooring, the ceramics clinking. You push yourself up, watching as she crosses the room and sets the tray on the table. Steam rises in delicate threads from the bowl, carrying the faint, calming scent of tea leaves.

With nimble fingers, Ren stirs the liquid with a small whisk, before lifting the tray and beginning to walk toward you.  

“My Lady,” she says softly, offering you one of those rare, unguarded smiles as she steps closer.

You smile back, a warmth settling in your chest, easing your body from the nightmare.

“You’re good at this,” you remark, peeling back the bedding and scooting closer to the edge of the futon. “Were you ever someone’s sister?” 

She shakes her head.

“No, I was an only child."

“Really?” you draw out the word, a teasing grin widening your face. “You hover like you’ve been doing it your whole life.”

Her face flushes, a faint tinge of red painting her cheeks as she lets out a bright laugh. An honest rarity, that sound.

She takes only a few steps across the room when, somewhere between the futon and the table, her foot catches on the uneven edge of the tatami. She steps but stumbles, the tray lurching precariously in her hands.

With no time to think, you react.

Pushing up, your hand shoots out to steady her. 

Your fingertips graze the skin along her wrist.

Ren jerks back violently as though burned. The tray tilts. Ceramics wobble, teetering, and then—

Crash!

When they break, they shatter.

Tea splashes across the woven flooring, darkening the weave like ink swirling into water. You stare at it, watching it soak in, watching it sink in.

Let it all sink in.

Everything falls silent.

Everything.

Instinct has always dictated that you not touch others for fear of destroying another life, and you’ve tended to remain true to that. Only on rare occasions have you broken that rule. And in all your time here, you’ve never—not once—touched Ren.

So then… why? 

From where you stand, you watch her drop to her knees, fingers frantically picking through the tiny shards of broken ceramics. There are so many of them—thousands, it seems—each fragment catching the soft light of the brazier tucked into your chambers.

The brazier to keep you warm. To keep you comfortable. Safe and protected.  

That’s why it was there. Wasn’t it?

Your eyes flit back to the stain, the imprint slowly fading, disappearing.

“Ren…” you murmur.

She doesn’t look up.  

Her hands move quickly, almost desperately, gathering the shards into a fold she creates with her cream-coloured robe.  

“Ren.” More firm.

Still, nothing.

Her hands move faster.

“Ren!” 

Her head shoots up. Her face is pale, her eyes cracked wide and nervous, like she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t. Like she’s opened a secret that should’ve stayed sealed.

That’s your answer.

She swallows.  

“My Lad—”

“You know.”

It’s not a question.

You see it in the way she refuses to meet your eyes. She peers over your shoulder, studies the ceiling—anywhere but your face.

There’s a pause, but finally, she nods, her head bobbing stiffly.

You blink. Your hands clench and unclench into fists, the knot in your stomach rising to your throat, threatening to choke you.

If she knows, then how? You’ve been hidden, kept as a secret. And if she knows, who else?

“What do you know?”

Ren swallows again, the force of it jutting her chin outward.

“I… I know about that.” Voice barely audible, she points to your bare hands, which now shake uncontrollably. “What you can do.”

“How?… since when?”

But that’s not the real question, is it? 

You take a step forward.

“Who else knows?”

Ren softly shakes her head, regret outlining every feature.

Not good enough. You want answers.

“Fine.” You inhale a horribly shaky breath, fighting to keep control. “Did Sayuri know?”

Her jaw shifts, working back and forth as though resisting the words. In the end, she only gives a faint nod.

Throat drying out, you swallow.

“And Uraume?”

Another nod.

Your mouth tightens, a sharp twitch pulling at the corner. For some reason, that stings.

“Do I even need to say it?”

A pause. She hesitates. She opens her mouth, then closes it, indecision winning out, only allowing her eyes to drift back to the floor. Finally, she shakes her head slowly.

No. You don’t need to say it.

Sukuna.

This one hurts more. Much worse.

“Why… have you all not acknowledged this?” you breathe. “You need to tell me what's going on. Now.”

She shakes her head.

You let out a sharp scoff, your feet already moving. If she won’t answer, you’ll get the truth yourself—tonight.

Numb, you cross the room toward the door.

Behind you, the sound of broken ceramics thudding onto the mats sounds as Ren flings herself into your path.

“My Lady, please.” Her hands rise as if to stop your trajectory.

“Get out of my way, Ren,” you bite back, rushing past her and sliding the door open to reveal the yawning darkness of the corridor.

You take one small step out, angling to the right.

“He’s been manipulating you!”

You stop.

Her voice slams into you like a physical blow, every muscle, every fibre in your body coiling in an attempt to protect yourself. The place where his mouth met your cheek suddenly stings. Your head throbs painfully. Your heart even more.

“You’re lying.” The words come flatly, spoken to the corridor ahead. You don’t turn to face her. But the truth rests in her voice. “Why are you trying to hurt me?”

“My Lady,” she says softly. “Please… come back and rest.”

Ignoring her, you take another step.

“Please!” Desperation cracks the word. “If you go to him like this, he will kill you.”

You stop, though you don’t remember deciding to.

Slowly, you turn, your body moving on its own.

“He… what?” The words stick in your throat, becoming only a collection of strained consonants and sounds. “He wouldn’t do that. He’s… protected me. He’s been protecting me...”

Hasn’t he?

Ren’s gaze falls to your hands. There is pity and sympathy there.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters, it almost makes you believe she means it.

Mind stumbling, you grasp at fragments, piecing together moments that now feel like lies. Sukuna gripping your wrists instead of your hands. The tension in his body whenever you touched him. The lingering looks. The what if I want to know you? All the goading in the beginning—the pushing, the pressing, the prodding—as if he wanted you to snap. As if he wanted you to… attack him. Then, the sudden shift, the slow pull of him luring you closer, drawing you in, until you almost fell in lov—

No.

You jerk your head, cocking it to the side, and an unhinged laugh rips out of you, your nose scrunching as your mouth comes away a sneer.

“You’re sorry?”

As if freed from a blindfold, your eyes open.

The deception here. The lies here.

This place is a lie.

You step back inside, moving to the table to grab your scabbard. The leather scrapes loudly against the wood as you drag it off. You glance at your gloves once before turning back to the door.

You won’t need them.

Ears ringing too loudly, you step into the corridor, ignoring Ren’s frantic pleas from behind.

You don’t stop.

You need answers. You need to get out of here. You need everything to stop spinning. You need that cruel place where your heart sits to stop begging for attention.

Taking the turn to the right, your body feels detached as you walk down the passage that leads from your chambers to your husband’s. The path feels like a bridge, one you haven’t crossed since your first night here. He’s been so close—right at arm's length. Everything at arm's fucking length.

Your hand rises to your cheek again before you quickly drop it.

Lying. Two-faced. Monster.

That earlier emotion thrashes wildly in your chest like a caged animal struggling to break free. You imagine yourself screaming at it for being so careless, for giving away even a small piece of yourself.

Stupid. Useless. Girl.

You should have known better.

Halfway to the massive double doors, you lose all sense of yourself. You no longer feel your feet beneath you, your body entirely numb, reduced to the blade in your hand and the slow, creeping realization that you might actually follow through. That you might finally kill the King of Curses—not for the purpose you were sent here for, but for yourself.

Tap, tap, tap.

Rushing footsteps patter as an echo behind you, descending in the opposite direction. Glancing over your shoulder, you spot Ren vanishing into the dark passage. Her robe shudders, disappearing, swallowed by the gloom.

You turn back.

Flex your hand. Flex your fingers. Start to slowly find your gift and unravel it.

It doesn’t take long to reach the doors. Before them, you sink into a crouch. Unsheathing your blade, you stab the end into the hem of your yukata and pull. Remembering the monster’s advice about stepping into enemy territory, you cut the loose fabric free, and toss it away.

It takes two more heartbeats to stand and heave your gift fully to your fingertips. It takes longer than you’d like, but when it arrives, you dip your hands into the doors, willing them to whoosh open silently. You only hope it won’t fail you like last time.

You step inside.

It’s dark.

Another step.

Your eyes adjust, and there, on the enormous raised futon, lies an enormous shape.

Your mother once said that monsters come in many forms as if they have the capacity to change.

Change.

For a time, you might have considered to believe that fairytale.

Now?

What fucking nonsense.

Like a snake, and without looking back, you slip inside, shut the doors, and seal your fate.

* * * * *

🔗 Chapter 30

[adventuringblind]

Pieces From You

Carlos Sainz Jr. x Reader

Genre: Ghoulverse Hurt-comfort

Summary: Carlos catches fleeting moments of pain through his mating bond. When he finds her being cut open, Carlos has to act fast and choose between revenge and saving the girl he loves.

Warnings: Blood, Ghouls eat people and is a major plot point, gore, Jos Verstappen's A+ parenting, abuse, anxiety, hospitals, mentions of sexual things, Landoscar being chaotic, protective big brother Max

Notes: For 🏍, I loved getting to write for my ghoul boys again, so I really hope you like it! T_T

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

It's not like he was planning to run around the paddock like a maniac. It was the last thing he wanted to have on his agenda for today. However, the tie between him and his mate has him searching for her.

Whatever is causing her this pain needs to be eliminated. Carlos is doing his best to keep himself steady as he searches. He has a feeling he already knows what's happening. Or, at the very least, has an idea.

Max's baby sister had been on the unfortunate end of not receiving whatever gene makes them ghoul. Despite being pureblooded and the rest of her family having it. An anomaly that's made her different; a black sheep in her own home. That being said, Max has always been obnoxiously protective of her despite their fathers wants.

Carlos had seen the scars and bite marks. He'd seen the way she'd offered herself up on a silver platter when Max first introduced them all those years ago. It was customary for her, apparently, to let ghouls take a piece of her body. It hurt knowing even her father has taken bites out of her. Most likely, that’s what is happening now despite the fact she has his bonding venom seeping through her veins.

It hadn’t taken long for him to realize the what was happening between them. That the mating call was there. Max was just a protective batard that wouldn’t let him anywhere near her until he proved himself. Which - considering her situation - made Carlos feel a little better.

Max had tried his best; he’s still trying his best. The piece of horn Max burned off for her rests against her neck. Carlos’ joined beside his while they were dating. He discovered how bad it hurts to lose a piece of the bone. Yeah, it’ll grow back, but in the moment he was a blubbering mess and she was the one holding his hand.

With two horn pieces and a scarred over bonding mark, this shouldn’t be happening anymore. Nobody should be laying a finger on her; on his mate.

Carlos makes his way to the Redbull garage. He’d spent the last hour in debrief and already searched all of his. If she’s not there, then she’s probably around Max. Or was trying to be around him and got separated. Worse - max could be the source of her pain. Prince of the ghouls or not, he won’t hesitate to rip him apart if that’s the case.

He dives into the Redbull garage and follows his nose. Not the best of his species but it works. It’s his ears that work better and as he turns a corner, he finds he doesn’t need his nose anymore. Carlos can hear her wailing for either himself or Max. the latter must not be around if he’s not already fighting whoever has the audacity to try and hurt Carlos’ lover.

He slides around the corner and snarls at the, ironically, human offender. She's wailing at the man, trying to shove him off but failing despite her best efforts. It doesn't help this guy has gravity on his side with a knee in her chest. He's carving out pieces of her, slowly and methodically.

The red on the floor and the tang of metal burning his nose. He has to do everything in his willpower not to make a show of it. If he risks himself, he can't help her.

He settles for dragging the man backwards, wrestling the knife away from him. "Funny, I thought humans didn't eat people." Carlos tosses the struggling body to the side and makes for the girl on the floor.

"Pretty bite mark on her neck, wouldn't you say?" The cocky smile on the mans face nearly sends Carlos into a frenzy. "Figured I should show her what's gonna happen eventually."

"Ah yes, hurt the innocent because that's how to win them to your side." This time - he does abandon the original plan and flashes his elongated canines at him. Carlos' eyes darken when the man shrinks backwards and hauls ass in the other direction. Carlos will deal with him later.

With nothing else around to try and stop the bleeding, Carlos sheds his own shirt and wraps it around the gaping wound in her. He should not be able to see that much of the under part of her skin.

"I tried to get him off-"

"I know, you did so well amor. Just keep your eyes on me now, yeah?"

He pulls out his phone and rings Lando. He silently pleads that the Brit picks up because there is no way Carlos is going to get into emergency with her like this. Not when it's standard to test everyone who walks through the doors.

"Hola~ You've reached Lando!"

"Need you in the Redbull garage."

Carlos can hear Lando's chipper mood fade away. "Everything alright?"

"Need your human self to get her to emergency. Also, bring Oscar with you." The girl underneath him whines as he tries to keep pressure on the wound.

"And why would you need my mate for considering he can't get into emergency either?"

"Well - I'm going to need him to stop me and Max from doing anything stupid."

~

Carlos and Max are pacing the floor. He feels like he's explained the situation to the Dutch a hundred time now and he's still not computing.

"But he was human?"

Oscar knocks his head against the door. A smart move, considering it's the only exit. "He was proving a point."

"It was the wrong one," Max huffs and crosses his arms. Twenty-six now and Max still has the ability to look like Carlos' seventeen year old teammate who pouted when his voice cracked. His sister had been younger then and Max wouldn't let her near the track; not until she was an adult. Even then it was a pain.

His phone rings with Lando's contact. The Facetime call makes him hope that he'll get to see his girl awake.

Lando's face fills the screen, a little smile on his face. "I figured you would want proof of life." He pans the camera over to her and the blinking heart monitor and her blinking eyes. She tries to smile at him, but it's lopsided. "Her arm is pretty messed up and they are getting ready for surgery, but she'll be alright."

Carlos' heart settles a bit. He won't be able to calm completely until she is back in his arms. It helps know that she is at least okay and breathing.

Max throws himself in front of Carlos’ phone screen. “Thanks for being with her Lando.”

“I can’t have my emotional support tribe human dying on me! I would die with the three of you all alone! Oscar could dick me down for days and I still would be stressed!”

“Are you saying my dick isn’t good enough?” Max and Carlos turn to look at Oscar as Lando is now blushing furiously on the phone screen.

“That’s not - you know that’s not what I meant!”

There is nothing more terrifying than Oscar's calm expression with the slightest hint of a smirk. "Uh-huh, nice try. If you can walk tomorrow, then you're not walking anywhere until you can't do it without stumbling."

There is a slurred laugh of Carlos' love echoes through the speakers of the phone. "Maybe Lando will be in here with me."

Carlos can't help but lose it. All he wants is to wrap her up in his arms. Let Lando try to outrun Oscar and laugh when he's limping to the airport and can't sit right on Max's jet.

Really, he just wants her.

"When will the surgery be done?"

"They are estimating late tonight, depending. Might be faster than that."

Carlos looks at Max and Oscar. "I think we have time to do some hunting, wouldn't you say?"

He receives a couple of smirks in return.

~

She cracks her eyes open, disoriented, and groggy. Her arm hurts, and the memory of being pinned hits her harder than ever.

She sits up in a hurry, franticly looking to see if she's alone. Lando appears in the corner of her eye and gently pushes her back down. "You're alright now. Doctors got you all patched up." He smiles at her gently despite the hesitancy in his eyes.

"Where's Carlos?" Her voice is in shambles and makes her cringe.

Lando keeps a hand on her bicep. "He's with Max and Oscar. Want to see if he'll pick up?"

She nods her head yes, excited to see her savior. Though her plans are foiled when her doctor cones in. Her eyes widen at seeing the male, not the same one, but similar to her attacker.

She stays small and quiet as he goes about his work, checking her charts. He leans down to listen to her heart and whispers. "I saw the mark, don't worry, I'm one of them. I know how to get your mate in here if you would like?"

Both her and Lando are nodding frantically. The waiting is miserable, but they pass the time with light conversation and cartoons.

The doctor comes back in with the three ghouls in tow. They are chatting away like nothing is the matter. He does another once over if her vitals before leaving them to their own devices.

As in, she drags Carlos into the bed with her. He takes the side that has her good arm and cradles her injured arm gently. He gently runs his fingers along the bandages. "He's gone now. You won't ever have to worry about him again."

She peers up into his eyes. "Why's that?"

The three ghouls share a look, and Lando gives Oscar a skeptical glare. "What did you three do?"

"Revenge tastes delicious sometimes." Max giggles and winks at her. To most it be unsettling. To her, it brings a sense of comfort.

Later into the night, when the other three boys are asleep, she lays away on Carlos' chest. He's been trying to get her to sleep for an hour now, but there is an unsettling anxiety after today's events. There are too many possibilities.

"Sleep, mi amor. I can feel you thinking too much."

"I'm scared... it's not just my dad anymore. I thought I would be able to flash my mating mark and be safe. It's the humans, too, though. Am I... am I like them now? If I'm not giving myself to solve the problem, then am I adding to it?" It feels to say it aloud. All those heavy thoughts finally lifted off her chest.

Carlos continues his soothing motion on her head. He tucks her closer to his chest. "You never have been and never will be a problem. It's others who fight amongst themselves over mindless disagreements and differing opinions. You are someone who can understand us. You don't intend on hurting anyone." She can feel his love for her radiating through her veins as he continues. "What happened today wasn't your fault. That was someone else being cruel because they were scared."

"You are my everything, Carlos. I just want to help."

"You help me by being alive; by being yourself. A fighter who isn't afraid to throw herself in front of an apex predator if it means protecting them."

Carlos looks at her with adoration in his eyes. He cups her face gently, fingers brushing over the bite mark on her clavicle as he moves upward.

"I couldn't have chosen anyone better. You are perfect, and in time, I think you're going to make this world a better place."

With the need for reassurance her mind was craving now sated, she rests peacefully. Immune to the world around her and safe in Carlos' arms. It's a good feeling to know that he's not just protecting her; she's doing the same for him.

... Even if it isn't always the outcome she wanted.

[stinkysam]

Monkey D. Luffy - For staying alive.

Warning : blood, death mention

Genre : angst-ish / fluff

Synopsis : "Male reader x LAOP Luffy, Reader getting hurt and luffy being worried" - Anon

Reader : male (he/you)

You got hurt by Klahadore, also known as Kuro of a Hundred Plans, as you were trying to protect Kaya from him in her parents' bedroom, unaware of how fast and stealthy he could be.

He stabbed you with his gloved hand like it was nothing, before you could even do anything, the five blades sliding smoothly into your flesh. You coughed up blood as you fell to the floor, more blood seeping out of your wounds. You passed out shortly after.

When Luffy entered, the first thing he saw was you down, blood covering your chest and spilling on the wooden floor, and Kuro about to attack Kaya.

"Goodbye miss Kaya." Said Kuro, raising his right hand to strike, only for it to be grabbed by Luffy.

"These are my friends. You don't get to mess with them."

Kuro was fuming, he thought he had gotten rid of him !

"You're annoyingly resilient." He said calmly, replacing his glasses with the palm of his hand.

"Well, I am made of rubber." Luffy smiled.

Both men were confident in their victory. Each trusting their own abilities.

Although he didn't expect this level of stealth and rapidity, Luffy managed to throw Kuro through the window, sending him unconscious out of the house.

The first thing he did was gently grab you and place you on the nearest bed, while Nami asked Kaya to call for a doctor.

Kaya comes back, hands full of unused rolls of bandages.

"The doctor is on their way." She says.

"Is he gonna be okay ?" Luffy asks Nami.

She shakes her head as she shrugs. It looks really bad and she has no idea how you're still alive with five stab wounds in your stomach.

"I don't know, Luffy, he's in a really… bad shape. He should be dead."

Usopp helped Luffy wrap the bandages around you, their shaky hands holding you in a sitting position as more blood gushed out of your wounds. Usopp was breathing loudly while Luffy wanted to throw up at the sight of your blood coating his hands.

Luffy frowned at her words. No way you'd die ! You can't die. Not because he arrived too late ! No !

He wouldn't let it come to this. It couldn't. He couldn't lose you already. So soon after getting you to join his ship. He didn't care about anything at this moment but your health.

It was only the beginning of his adventures. He couldn't start it by losing someone so close and dear to him. Not now, not ever.

Once the bandages were put you were laying down again. Luffy wouldn't leave your side at all. He wanted to help you but he didn't know how to.

He softly stroked your head, petting your hair carefully as he eyed the dried blood under your lips. Fuck, this was bad. You looked so pale and you had lost so much blood.

His other hand rested on your stomach, where five red spots continued to grow despite the bandages.

His head snapped up when the doctor finally arrived, pulling away instinctively to give them some space to work. You were still unconscious as he began to work on your wounds, assessing the damage and closing them.

Luffy watched it all, hoping you'd wake up as soon as the doctor was finished but sadly you still needed lots of rest.

You woke up after a few hours, eyes puffy with Luffy's sleeping head resting on the mattress next to you. You tried to sit up, but you couldn't get yourself to move, your stomach too painful for you to do anything.

As you groaned in pain, Luffy woke up and tried to wrap his arms around you.

"[Name] ! I knew you'd wake up." He said, hugging you, his head resting on your chest as you still tried to process everything.

"And Klahadore ?" Your voice is weak and hoarse.

"Don't worry, [Name], I sent him flying." He says, finally looking at you as he smiles. He stares at you for a few seconds before resting his head once again against your chest.

"Thank you." He murmured.

[coolnameloading]

Second Place (final)

You paced back and forth in your room, your black boots making a thudding noise with every step on your wooden floor. The anxiety makes your stomach bubble uncomfortably. 

It had been a few days now since…the incident as you’ve decided to call it. 

After Lottie had pulled out your pen she and Shauna got into another argument and you told them you needed some time to think.

They both respected your decision and watched you drive off in your shitty little orange car before going their separate ways.

I mean, this shouldn’t even be a choice, right? Shauna was your girlfriend! And yeah, she might have messed up a bit during the last few months, but she seemed more than sorry.

And you always felt so happy with Shauna, like you could block out anything and everything negative around you while you were together. 

But Lottie…You’d be lying if you said she wasn’t gorgeous, I mean anyone with functioning eyes could see that. And there was something about her confidence that was so refreshing to you. 

Not to mention the fact that she held onto your pen for so long just in case she got the chance to ask you out someday. It was such a soft act that seemed so out of character from such a confident girl. 

I mean was it even a choice? 

You pick up your phone and go to her contact, it only rings twice before she answers.

“Hey um…meet me at the park?”

Lottie ending

You wait in the park, fiddling with your hands anxiously. The cold air nips at your skin, causing you to pull your jacket tighter around you.

You always loved this park. There’s a large pound in the center that’s usually filled with ducks and geese during the rest of the year, but it’s currently frozen over.

The last leaves stubbornly sticking to the branches of the trees covered in snow make you chuckle. 

Your warm breath from your laugh appears in a small cloud. 

“Hey, stranger.”

You hear from behind you making you spin around.

“Lottie…hi.”

The two of you stare at each other for a while before she clears her throat and pushes a strand of her hair behind her ear.

She’s wearing the same pink sweater from the other day, you can still see some mud stains that didn’t wash out as easily.

 “So…did you call me here to let me down in the cold? Because it’s freezing.”

“Oh god I’m so sorry I didn't even think about-”

“No no no it was just a joke it’s not even that cold.”

The two of you keep standing there as you try to piece together your confession.

Fuck you really should have done this before calling her.

“I choose you.”

You mumble under your breath looking at the frozen grass beneath your boots.

You hear Lottie gasp but decide not to look up, waiting until you get your blush under control before you look at her.

When you do look up you see her charging at you throwing herself at you in a hug while laughing happily.

“LOTTIE WHY?”

You scream out before your back hits the cold fresh snow.

You can feel the snow seeping into your hoody making you shiver but you can’t find it in yourself to push Lottie off you.

“You mean it?”

She whispers against your neck, her warm breath a stark contrast to the cold snow soaking through your hoodie.

“Yes…I pick you.”

You whisper back wrapping your arms around her as the two of you lay in the snow.

“Now let me get up my hoodie is soaked.”

Shauna ending 

You wait in the park, fiddling with your hands anxiously. The cold air nips at your skin, causing you to pull your jacket tighter around you.

You always loved this park. There’s a large pound in the center that’s usually filled with ducks and geese during the rest of the year, but it’s currently frozen over.

The last leaves stubbornly sticking to the branches of the trees covered in snow make you chuckle. 

Your warm breath from your laugh appears in a small cloud. 

Suddenly a pair of arms wrap around your waist. 

You immediately recognize the feeling of Shauna’s arms and you lean back against her warm body.

You can feel your anxiety melt away at the familiar feeling while her body shields you from the cold wind.

Shauna tucks her head under your neck, her warm breath tickling against your skin while you reach back to play with her hair as the two of you stand there in silence. 

“Hey”

You whisper, your voice shaking slightly in anticipation of the conversation you’re about to have.

You feel Shauna’s hold on you tighten slightly before she echos your greeting.

“Hey”

Neither of you makes a move to pull away, Shauna out of fear that this will be the last time she’ll be able to hold you like this. And you because you’re cold and completely oblivious to your girlfriend’s internal conflict. 

After a few more seconds of silence, you hear Shauna whimper against your neck.

“Please don’t break up with me.”

Immediately you turn around and cup her face with your hands. You see the silent tears rolling down her cheeks which are red from the cold.

“No, Shuana sweetie I’m not breaking up with you!”

You mumble out trying to reassure your now sobbing girlfriend as her hands grip onto the fabric of your hoodie tightly.

“Y-you’re not?” “No Shauna…but we still need to talk about what happened.”

She nods whipping her tears away with her sleeves before looking at you with her big puppy-dog eyes.

“C-can we talk in my car? It’s cold”

You nod and follow her to her car. She turns it on and turns on the heat, trying to warm up her hands.

As you walked to her car hand-in-hand you knew everything would be alright somehow. 

[razzledazzle0]

Hold me close don't let go

Every single night was the same for Jason. He would take a sleeping pill, it was the only way he could fall asleep, he would fall asleep and then re live through all of his worst moments in life. He hated when he had nightmares about the joker, about dying, he hated every single moment. Because of these nightmares, Jason would often wake up in a cold sweat his breathing came out short and raspy, his chest constricted he felt like he was dying all over again. Every night was the same, go to sleep, have a nightmare, wake up. The cycle repeated. Jason never talked about his nightmares. He wasn't going to swallow down his pride and go find Bruce and cry to him like a little kid.

Jason wasn't a little kid anymore. He didn't need his daddy to fix things for him anymore.

He never was.

Jason sighed and looked at the lonely clock hanging on his wall, the time read 10pm. Time for the tortures cycle he was stuck in till he dies again. Jason grabbed the little orange bottle of pills, he opened the bottle pouring one of the pills into his hands before he closed up the bottle and sat it down on his desk. Jason grabbed a half empty bottle of water that was on his desk, he opened it plopped the pill into his mouth and swallowed following down with some luke warm water. Jason could feel the tiredness seeping off of him in waves, his eyes dropped so he moved himself to his bed not bothering or having the strength to turn his lights off. He laid in bed for about 5 minutes before the pill took effect and he fell asleep.

---------

His laugh. No no no not again, please god not again. He couldn't do this again, please no no no. The screech of the crowbar against cold metal floors made his mind halt, his heart beat in his chest, his hands shook . He knew what was coming, Jason knew he started crying, the salty tears ran down his face as the joker got closer.

not again not again not again not again

closer an closer and closer and closer-

Jason screamed.

"Jason!"

Jason sat up straight in his bed screaming, he was crying, beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, he was breathing harshly his heart felt like it was gonna fly out of his chest.

"Jay, my boy its me, its Bruce, look at me" He blinked, he felt strong hands on his shoulders, Jason looked up seeing Bruce standing there concern and fear on his face.

"d-dad" Jason broke down. Bruce surprised tears of his own before bringing Jason into a huge petting his hair and whispering ressurcanes.

"its okay Jason, I got you everything's okay" Bruce murmured as he held Jason close, His own heart broke when Jason had called him dad. H e rarely did that, was was happy but upset at the situation. It was only 11 at night when Bruce woke up to screaming coming from down the hallway, he knew his other children had woken up. He had to tell Dick to stay with the others while he went to go check, a taser in his hands which he had dropped when he realized Jason was having a nightmare. Bruce continued to pet his sons hair, hoping it would calm him down and lull him to sleep again.

"he was back, h-hes back he's gonna get me" Jason cried into his fathers shoulder gripping his shirt as he sobbed.

"no, he's not here anymore Jason, he cant to you" Bruce insisted softly. Screw his morals, that stupid peice of shit clown had hurt his boy to no end. He would leave him with several broken bones the next time he even got a glimpse of him.

They sat there for a moment, when Bruce felt Jason's body slump against his own he knew that he had fallen asleep from exhaustion. He sighed gently laying Jason back down and tucking him in. He sat there for a moment looking at his son. Jason had been through so so much, he didn't deserve this. Bruce ran a hand through his tangled dark hair before standing up and shutting Jason's light off, he left the door slightly open. Just in case.

"sleep well my boy" He whispered leaving the room and walking down the hall where his other children had immendtliy confronted him.

"whats wrong with Jason?" Of course it was Dick who spoke up first, concern was written all over face. Tim was clinging to his side, dick's arm around his shoulders. Damian was concerned but he hid it with his normal 'on the defensive' facial expression. His other kids weren't staying at the manor that night.

"Your brother is okay. He just had a nightmare." Bruce said solmey looking back into the direction of Jason's room. He watched everyones reactions, Dick was sad, he always was when it came to something bad with his brothers, Tim was barley awake but he also looked upset, Bruce could tell Damian was a bit scared.

"he's fine, tomorrow morning don't talk about it, just be there for him." Bruce said firmly, in his 'tired dad voice'

The boys nodded before heading back to their rooms, Dick caught Bruce's eyes for a moment before walking back into his room. Bruce sighed and looked back at Jason's room for a moment, he would be there for him. He rubbed his temple before going back into his own room, he kept the door open.

No one mentioned it the next morning, but if Damian was being nicer and less teasing was thrown his way, Jason was grateful when his brothers sat next to him on the couch to watch a movie all together.

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

Sanctuary part 2

Chapter 19: Shadows

A/N: This chapter is a biggie, might be the biggest of the fic so far I can’t remember! Follows the events of Teth with my own twist, as always.

Warnings: 18+, clone deaths, angst, canon violence, blood, canon fighting, protective Crosshair, protective Tech, food mention.

Word Count: 10.3k+

Chapter 18 - Chapter 19 - Chapter 20

Masterlist

Tagging: @subbing-for-clones @fandom-fortress

You hated the quiet.

Hated the stillness that came with it.

Despised how it amplified every incessant thought, bringing them alive to torment you.

Everyone was asleep.

Batcher snored lightly beside Crosshair in the corner of the hold. Omega was sleeping on Wrecker’s back as he lay face down on the floor. Hunter was asleep, arms crossed over his chest as he rested upright against the hull.

Echo and Tech were in the cockpit.

The ship was hurtling through hyperspace, finally leaving Barton IV behind. You looked at the datapad in your hand and wiped a stray tear off your cheek. The image was frozen on you about to disappear into the Marauder.

It is just the excessive release of dopamine and norepinephrine, hormones that have a somewhat desirable effect on a person’s perception. It creates feelings of euphoria that can, quite frankly, be a hindrance.

Tech hadn’t been wrong. You were a hindrance for him. You felt how it confused his thoughts, clouding his logical decisions whenever he was around you. The screen went dark from lack of use but you kept the headphones on. Enclosing yourself in the silent bubble, inflicting a quiet torture you couldn’t escape. The beat of your heart was your only company, slowly driving you to distraction. So much so, your hands clenched into fists until pain filled your palms like a physical object.

Your body reacted violently when a long fingered hand tried to prise open your fists. Rocking back into a crate, the noise making you jump again.

“Sssh!” Crosshair hissed after he pushed one of the headphones aside. He waited, looking around but it seemed no one had woken up. A breath slowly eased out from between your trembling lips. He jerked his head back to where he’d been lying, tugging on your wrist.

Batcher let out a small whine, her tail thumping on the floor and she shifted to make room for you. Crosshair went back to his position, not letting go of your wrist so both your hands were draped over Batcher’s side. The hound sighed happily, her glow of warmth chasing away the melancholy that had been haunting you.

Cross let go of your hand but you weren’t ready for that yet, placing your hand over his. You heard his huff and felt the twitch of his fingers but he didn’t pull away. Maybe…in this moment, he needed the company as much as you did.

Burying your face into Batcher, breathing in her musky scent and bathing in her presence was just what you needed to finally sleep.

For the first time in a while, you felt refreshed. The dark of your dreams had been nightmare free. Batcher shifted under your hand and you absently rubbed her side, snuggling into her warmth to mumble, “That was a good sleep.”

“Stop rubbing my chest like I’m that stinking hound.” You recoiled quickly, snatching your hand away as your eyes flew open.

Batcher wasn’t laying between you and Crosshair anymore, she had moved and somehow your hand had been resting on his chest. The clone lay on his back, staring at the ceiling with an expression that told you he wished it would cave in and kill him immediately.

“I’m sorry!”

“You smell like a hound,” Wrecker snickered from across the hold. Dread seeped into your body and you lurched upright, looking for a certain someone.

“He’s in the cockpit,” Crosshair answered your unspoken question. “He insisted you shouldn’t be moved.” Everything inside you was collapsing, tugging down to the forbidden depths where you hid the emotions you weren’t ready to face. Tech had seen you sleeping next to Crosshair. With a groan you shoved the heel of your hands straight into your eyes.

This whole situation was an excruciating mess. Maybe Echo could take you when he went back to the underground. Leave the Batch in peace to live out their lives and forget you ever existed.

“Guys,” Hunter’s voice rumbled from the cockpit. “Rex is sending a transmission.”

“About time!” Wrecker smiled wildly. “Hopefully he’s got something good for us.” Echo had pulled the ship from hyperspace, hanging motionless in the darkness of space. Stars filled the canopy, studding it like diamonds, glittering and glinting with their own inner fire.

The holo was already on, an imagine of a clone with closely cropped light hair was looking around at all the faces surrounding him. Reminding you very much of Echo’s first greeting, Rex gave you a subtle nod before turning to Omega.

“It’s good to see you, kid.”

Omega beamed. “You too, Rex.”

“Is everything alright?” Echo asked.

“Ah. Yes and no.”

“What is it, Captain?” Hunter crossed his arms, looking wary as he eyed the blue flickering figure.

“You need to come back to base.”

“I’ll drop this lot off and I’ll be on my way,” Echo responded quickly.

“No. You still need to rendezvous with Gregor. But the rest of you, I need here.” Rex’s eyes sought you out, pouring with apologies you didn’t think you deserved.

“Hemlock is looking for me.” Rex rubbed his stubbled jawline, giving you a curt nod.

“Yeah and not just you either. Trust me, you’re gonna want to see this.”

The cockpit was mostly quiet considering everyone was sat in it. Echo was answering Hunter’s questions about the newest clone base, Tech was on his datapad, occasionally adding a comment he deemed relevant. Wrecker sat on the floor, making a fuss of Batcher. Omega and Cross were in the spare seats, the kid mimicking Crosshair’s brooding pose. You were sat behind them, in the corner being mesmerised by the rush of hyperspace.

You enjoyed the shine of it in everyone’s eyes. No matter what they were feeling, the reflection of space remained unchanged. Vast and unyielding against even the flow of time, space yawned all around. It scared you, sensing the emptiness beyond the ship, but it was better to be there than inside your own head.

Since the transmission with Rex…no.

Since Tech had seen you asleep beside his brother, you noticed his emotions were muted.

Maybe you were trying not to reach out to him, lessening the connection that tethered you together.

Quite possibly, he wasn’t reaching out either. Unwittingly putting up those barriers around himself.

You felt the light of this force in all living things, but none of them burned as brightly as you did. What would it be like? To come across another being that had the same awareness of the force you did? You doubted you would ever find out.

The reverie you found yourself in was broken by the jarring sensation of the ship coming out of light speed. Echo guided the ship through the atmosphere, landing it easily in a landing space cleared near a B’omarr Order Monastery that served as the new base. On closer inspection, the building was actually sat on top of some natural rock that had been hewn out to disguise how deep the structure really went.

Your hands needed to fidget. The idea of being away from the relative safety of Pabu, longer than planned, made you feel off kilter. To be here — once Echo left — without a ship, made you anxious.

Plates of armour clacked together when you shifted the helmet in the crook of your arm, drawing the attentions of Crosshair and Tech who had taken a spot either side as you all waited for the ramp to open.

“What’s the matter?” Crosshair gave you a sidelong judgemental stare, his fingers tugged on the toothpick he never seemed to be without.

“Just feels wrong,” you muttered, trying to shift the plates into a comfortable position, effectively making yourself more uncomfortable.

Cross regarded you for a moment. “You look like a 5 year old natborn dressed you.” Wrecker snorted at the disdainful jibe, even Hunter looked amused when he glanced back to check on you. Seemed their episode on Barton had smoothed some feelings out between them.

“Haha,” was the only sarcastic response you could think of, scrunching up your face in annoyance.

“Would you allow me to alleviate your discomfort?”

Instantly you stilled. “Yes, yes please.”

Tech nodded to acknowledge your breathy response and began to adjust the armour plates. Your gaze seared through him but your heart betrayed you with every brush of his fingers. Your scalp tingled with awareness due to his proximity, lashes fluttering slightly when his breath ghosted across the side of your face.

Crosshair shook his head as a reddish, purple light filled the hold. No doubt he thought Tech was pandering to you again. He shouldn’t have said that to his brother, and you shouldn’t have reacted the way you did. But you felt there was no other way, you had to push Tech away in the same moment you pushed Cross. The sniper was still trying to find his footing in the squad, you didn’t want to make him feel like you had taken your support of him away.

When Tech stepped aside, you saw a pair of clones waiting at the bottom of the ramp.

“They don’t look happy to see us,” Wrecker whispered loudly before breaking out into a smile and laugh, jamming his hand into Crosshair’s shoulder. “Just like old times, huh?”

The clone from the transmission, Rex, walked forward to meet you, another behind him in a set of white and teal armour. He had a scar up his left cheek and a hard scowl on his face, which was directed at Crosshair. You didn’t need to focus your awareness, to feel the waves of anger and suspicion that radiated off this clone. Not even Rex’s eternal inner calm could counter the harshness you felt.

“Thanks for coming,” Rex met the gaze of everyone in the squad briefly, giving a small smile to Omega.

“Good to see you, Rex,” Hunter said.

“Wish I felt the same,” the other clone started, casting a vicious look up and down Crosshair. You tensed. “I have unfinished business with this one. Remember me?” He stepped forward, a move you mirrored to stand a step in front of Crosshair. It took the clone a few moments to see through his anger, recognition dawned, but it wasn’t enough to make him back down. “Surprised I’m alive?! Most of my squad from Ryloth is dead because of you.”

He raised a finger at Crosshair, to jab him over your shoulder, except you knocked it away. Mustering a competitive glare of your own.

“Easy, Howzer,” Rex put a hand on the clone’s shoulder.

Howzer. Formally a Captain…you were sure of that. Some essence of truth welled up from the forgotten recesses of your mind.

“I know you two have history. But we’re all on the same side now.” Howzer scoffed at Rex’s words, his scathing glance flickered to you before he took a small step back.

A collective breath was released from everyone at your back and it made you lower your eyes to fixate on the ground. They had been worried about your reaction, expecting you to fly off the handle no doubt and show your true colours.

Hunter moved the moment along like it had never happened. “Why’d you call us here, Captain?”

“We have something to show you. Follow me.”

“Omega!” Echo called from the ship and she turned to run back. Wrecker and Batcher stayed with her, so you continued on into the base with the others following Rex.

You paused at the door. There was a pressure in the air around you, a warning. It tugged at your gut, making you scan the sky for anything out of the ordinary.

“Are you sensing something?” Tech was waiting a few paces away, head tilted as he registered your behaviour. For a moment you wondered why he had noticed the quick change in you, but then with Hunter as brother, he would be astute at recognising these types of mannerisms.

“It’s just a feeling,” you told him as you began to follow the others once more.

“Positive or negative?” He inquired.

“I’m not sure.”

Rex lead you all into the main area of the base. In the centre was a round command post, surrounded by control panels, storage crates, an eating area and a handful of clones that all had matching glares when they saw Crosshair had walked in.

The animosity was cloying, stoking that forever burning rage within you, born from the injustice of the situation. If they were unhappy to see Crosshair, you felt they should be unhappy to see you as well.

“Your numbers are growing,” Hunter observed, noticing the scowl off a clone in camouflage coloured armour and another in white and yellow.

“Well, we need all the help we can get,” Rex informed him. “Once we find the exact coordinates of the Tantiss Base, we have to hit it hard if we’re gonna pull our brothers out of there.”

Everything inside you tightened at the mention of Tantiss. Crosshair simmered with the same level of hesitancy beside you.

“I have questions about the facility, but that’s not the only reason why I sent for you.” Rex grabbed a puck off the console. “We recovered a target list from an Imperial operative.” He pressed a button to reveal a holo of you. “That’s not all.” The image changed to one of Omega.

“Not a surprise,” Crosshair’s voice was verging on icy sharpness. “They escaped Imperial custody.”

“So did you,” Howzer instantly pointed out. “But you’re not on the list.”

“Guess I’m not as valuable to them,” Cross answered, his mouth set in a firm line.

“Or you’re feeding them information!”

“Back off!” You blurted out, stunning the entire room to silence. Howzer looked shocked but it didn’t last long, his ire now directed at you. “You have no idea what you’re saying.”

“Oh, I do,” Howzer countered angrily. “You expect us to believe he was held on Tantiss for months, but he doesn’t know how to get back there?!”

Rage. It was so fierce, rising to meet Howzer’s own, it burned under your skin. “And what about me?” Your head cocked to the side, listening to the shuffle of feet behind you. “I was there for six months.” You stepped forward again, enjoying the little thrill when Howzer bumped into the console behind him. Your voice became quieter. “Locked in a room with no window. Isolated, with only my own nightmares for company. Do you really think I would be able to find my way back to that?”

“Easy,” Hunter placed a hand on your shoulder, taking the edge off the red haze and you forced your body to unclench.

“You weren’t loyal to the Empire before you were, relocated to Tantiss,” Howzer responded diplomatically. “He was.”

“Whether you believe me or not,” Crosshair said. “It’s the truth. But I’m not loyal to the Empire any longer.”

Howzer scoffed. “Your squad may trust you. But I don’t.”

“What’s going on?” Everyone shifted at Omega’s voice, trying to cover the lingering impression of averted confrontation.

“The Empire is targeting you and Stitch. Again.” Crosshair explained dryly.

“No surprise there,” Wrecker said with a dark chuckle.

“Why were they after you before?” Your brain whited out at Rex’s question, thankful when Omega answered first.

“To force Nala Se to cooperate and conduct certain experiments.”

“Which, were what?”

Your hands balled up into fists, the image of the lab tried to drift over your vision, wanting to drag you back there, to trap you once more. You fought the urge to close your eyes, because if you gave in, then the base would be erased from sight and all that would be left, would be the white walls.

Still the darkness came, forcing that pain between your eyes to bloom again. It sucked colour and sound from the room, leaving behind a void of nothing that made your breath quicken. There was something here. Something…unnatural.

A touch on your lower back, feather light and unnoticeable to anyone else, attempted to ease some tension from you. Tech was calm. Worried for you, but overall, his calm prevailed. There was nothing you could do to stop his presence melding with yours, it fascinated you how easily it happened with him and no one else. As though your souls wanted nothing more than to be entwined all the time. He was a balm, soothing colour back into your world.

“Nala Se was working on something involving M-Count? I don’t know what that means, but they were taking blood samples from everyone…even me,” Omega was saying.

“M-Count?” Rex repeated.

M-Count. The pitch of your heart elevated, because you had heard those words before…but you couldn’t recall the details.

“Stitch?” Everyone was looking at you, waiting for you to respond to Rex. “What about you?”

“I would advise caution when questioning Stitch about her time on Tantiss,” Tech spoke up.

“Why?” Howzer prompted when it didn’t look like Tech was going to elaborate for once.

Tech swung his helmet round to face the reg. “Given the highly traumatic nature of the event, do you require an additional rationale?" His expression didn’t change, but his tone of voice became waspish.

“Well we don’t know what happened. Do we?” Taunted Howzer.

“Don’t, push it,” snarled Crosshair.

“You might want to back off,” Hunter warned the reg, throwing an arm out to stop Crosshair launching himself across the few paces to Howzer.

“I can tell you everything I know,” Omega spoke up.

Tech’s hand wandered up your back while Omega talked more. You couldn’t feel his touches through the backplate, but you felt every tiny vibration of movement with your other senses. He easily brushed aside the dark thoughts, sending them back into the void they spawned from.

“Chow time!” Fireball called out from the doorway as Omega’s story wrapped up. “Gregor’s recipe, with a few of my own spicy modifications.”

“Oh! Now you’re talking,” Wrecker followed the smell of food, Batcher and Omega right by his side.

“Wait.” Everyone else hesitated and looked at the sniper. “There’s more you should know.” Crosshair sucked in a breath, unable to shift the dark weight in his chest he fought to speak over. “Not all of the clones on Tantiss are prisoners. Some are loyal to the Empire.” He stopped, taking a second to collect himself before he continued. “There is a division of clones trained as specialised operatives and initiated into a secret deep cover program run by Hemlock.” You felt his struggle, saw the pain that flickered in the depth of his clear gaze. “Their identities are erased. They undergo, conditioning. The few that make it through come out…different.”

There was an ache in your chest, the band wrapped around you like the bindings that had strapped you into the machine. This had been done to you but also…you looked up, shivering under the dread of realisation.

“If the program’s so secretive, how do you know about it?” Howzer accused, his arms crossed defensively.

“Because they tried to make me into one of them.” Hunter and Tech shared a passing glance at Crosshair’s candid admission.

“Tried?”

“It didn’t work. Being defective is in my nature.” The urge to reach for Crosshair was overwhelming. He had admitted this, here and now, in an effort to prove he was telling the truth. Laying himself out for all to see. But you didn’t want him to look weak when he was under such scrutiny.

“You’ve encountered one before. The assassin on Coruscant.” You squinted against the pressure in your mind at Hunter’s words. The memory unfurled like a barbed flower, clawing its way free to blossom completely.

It looked like a stasis chamber but all it did was remind you of your confinement. Rex opened the panel on the top and you came face to face with another clone.

There was a void in the box, a silence that nothing could break and it screamed at you. 

“He’s an assassin,” Rex clarified to the group. “His identifying numbers been wiped.” 

“We’ve known they existed,” you heard Rex say. “But never knew exactly what they were.”

The unnatural silence you felt oozed from behind a closed door, drawing the air out of your lungs in a rush. You stumbled back into Tech who instantly reacted to stop you falling.

“You have one, here!” Rex’s expression contorted, looking almost apologetic in the face of your fear.

“We, uh, captured one. I’ve tried questioning him but he hasn’t been very cooperative.”

“You have one here? Alive?!” Crosshair rushed out in one breath. You turned to zero in on him. Sensing the blooming agitation and fear that blotted the space around him. “Impossible. The Empire would be on top of us already. They have ways of tracking their operatives.”

Howzer smirked. “We scanned him. He’s clear.”

“It’s not the kind of tracker your scans would pick up. Hemlock’s smarter than that,” Crosshair stressed desperately.

“I concur,” Tech backed him up. “I would not underestimate Hemlock.”

Hunter huffed, his brow dragging down. He looked at you, his intent right there for you to sense. Your fingers flexed and you gave him a nod.

“Where’s the operative?” He asked. “Show us.”

Having Tech behind, kept you going forward. You would do this. Even when it felt like you might not be able to summon the strength, you knew there was no choice.

Rex opened the door and instantly the scrawling mass that surrounded the operative, assaulted your senses.

You heard Crosshair say, “We need to leave. Now.” But you were already sinking. The assassin’s eyes devoured you. His presence screamed of chaos and agony, crawling into your presence with sharp teeth, the monster inside raging.

You cried out, unable to tear yourself away from his invisible hold. You had to try, you had to do this.

“Stitch! Let go, you must let go!” Crosshair sounded so far away…

Concentrate. This clone didn’t have the strength you did. He played on your fear, his suffering drawing out your own, like blood from a wound. Your fingers stretched outwards, feeling for the press of his throat until he choked two meters away.

The chaos lessened. Bowing under the pressure you were inflicting and giving you enough room to delve deeply into his psyche.

The strain of it brought you to your knees. Tech had his arms under yours, sinking with you. “He…he has orders to assassinate a senator.” It was difficult, so difficult trying to sort through the erratic thoughts. Many didn’t make sense, fragments of them drifted, splintered images cracked like mirrors making it impossible to make them out.

“Where is Tantiss?” Rex whispered, crouching beside you. “Can you find it?”

“I —.” Your expression contorted from the pain that speared into your mind, a soft gasp of shock spilled until you pushed through it.

“Hunter, if she continues…”

“I know, Tech. I know.”

You blocked them out. The operative struggled, looking as though he was in pain from you rummaging around in his mind. Until he strangled out a laugh.

And you knew why.

The assassin didn’t have the one answer they wanted.

It was a drain, extracting yourself from the sucking blackness. You had never felt anything so blank and so turbulent at the same time. The operative gasped, his eyes widening when you finally pulled yourself free, falling back into Tech’s chest, reaching to touch the blood dripping from your nose.

“If you want answers so badly,” the assassin sneered. His gaze now fixed on Crosshair. “Why aren’t you asking him? Right, brother?” Rage surged through your system, your vision blurred with the force of it and you pitched forward, both hands out stretched.

Good. Good.

The clone choked silently this time, his eyes bulging as your fingers closed into a fist. Pressure pushed on your mind until it felt like your head was going to crack in half.

You are more powerful than I imagined.

The desire to kill this creature was heightened by the darkening of your mind. Even as your arm shook, even as each knock of your pulse could be felt round your entire body, even as it went against who you were.

The darkness was clouding everything, exuding a sense of satisfaction as this clone’s life began to thread through your severing hold.

“Vod’ika.” Crosshair’s use of Mando’a stirred something long dormant as he kneeled beside you. “He is not worth it. He’s a liar.” He didn’t touch you, just watched as you made the operative choke for a few seconds longer until Hunter stepped in.

“Let him go, Stitch. Now.” The command in his voice could not go ignored. So you let him go. Heaving a breath in, watching the clone fall forward in his chair, gasping and coughing.

“He doesn’t know the coordinates,” you rasped, exhausted now the darkness was retreating with an air of disappointment.

“They are coming,” the assassin wheezed. Bloodshot eyes rose to fix on you and Crosshair. “They are coming for all of you.”

Your eyes grew wide. Turning to Rex with your mouth open to tell him something was about to happen when an explosion rocked the ground floor.

“What was that?” Rex shouted.

“They’re here.”

“Get up, vod’ika,” Crosshair urged you. As two more blasts thundered through the base.

“Comms are down. We move out. Now!” Rex bellowed.

“Don’t open it!” You shoved Crosshair away with one hand, reaching in the opposite direction with the other. But you were too slow. The blaster bolt ripped through your hold in the force, killing the assassin immediately. The mental chaos ceased. Leaving behind an emptiness that was almost worse.

“We got a shooter out here!” Wrecker bellowed.

Strong arms grabbed you. Pulling you from the room to hunker down behind some crates. The flash of Wrecker’s blaster tattooed the back of your eyes.

“Tech, we need to get comms online,” Rex shouted.

“Put this on.” Crosshair was forcing your helmet over your head. “Pull a weapon if you can’t use the other.” He’d seen the blood on your face that had now congealed under your nose and over your lips.

“Help Nemec. We’ll cover you!” Tech nodded at Rex, a blaster and his datapad already in his hands. Nemec moved swiftly to the command post, pulling the panel off the access the wires. A high pitched whine screeched in your ears and your stomach dropped into the floor.

You grabbed onto Tech just as he was about to break cover, when the command post exploded on one side, throwing Nemec across the room. The clone was alive and Tech was unharmed.

“Backup plan! Into the bunker. I’ll cover you! Go!” The squad leapt into action. Rex took point, while the rest of you moved. Howzer retrieved Nemec. Your armour knocked against Tech’s and banged into Crosshair’s as you all tried to make your way across.

Red, blistering heat had you throwing up a hand before your visor could adjust to the brightness. You watched another clone charge towards the shooter with the flame thrower, taking a blaster shot in the shoulder at close range. “Fireball!” Your scream filled the second of silence before the detonator exploded, heaving you all backwards with the force of the blast.

Your ears were ringing. There was a disorientating pressure in your face from where your helmet had crushed into you with the blast. Every movement made your entire body scream as you tried to get up.

Rock and dust fell from the building foundations with a hiss. The world rocked alarmingly, circuits sparked and screens shattered but it was the silent void where Fireball had been that made you crawl forward.

Tears slipped free at the agonising loss of life you sensed. “Fireball!” You screamed again, ignoring the chunks of stone that came loose from the ceiling, slamming into the ground to create a webbing of cracks under your feet.

“Move!” Hunter barrelled out of nowhere, almost tackling you back into the room with the dead assassin. The pair of you fell to the floor, covering your heads as more of the ceiling came down, breaking the floor apart and sealing you all in the bunker.

The room filled with dust and smoke. Fire crackled alarming, the stench of burnt circuits made you gag. Age old panic wove around your throat.

This was familiar, too familiar.

You couldn’t see anyone, unable to focus enough to search your feelings for them either. So you cried out instead. “Tech! Tech!”

“I am here.” His helmet materialised through the fog of your tears, your hands reached out to him. You needed to touch him, to feel he was alive and breathing. "I am uninjured,” he told you when he realised what you were doing. “However, if you persist with such a thorough examination, I may become vulnerable to injury,” Tech’s voice was strained and you eased the grip on his arm, a sob shuddering through your body.

“Crosshair!”

“My ears are still ringing,” he moaned from somewhere to the right. “Don’t start screaming my name.”

Everyone else began to appear. Batcher sniffed out the others, Hunter and Nemec helped Crosshair, Omega helped Rex up and Howzer stumbled into the ring of torchlight shaking his head. Wrecker pressed a hand on the rock, testing how well sealed it was. Hunter shone his torch around the room, inspecting the damage and looking for a way out.

“We need to get moving before their reinforcements get here,��� Rex said.

“Is there another way off this spire?” Rex gave a brief chuckle at Hunter’s question.

“There’s always another way.” With a swift kick, he moved some crates to reveal a hole in the floor that showed the entrance to a tunnel. “This leads to the lower levels.”

“Are you injured?” You glanced at Tech while Rex and Hunter helped Omega into the tunnel.

“I don’t think so.” You were numb. Unsure if you could cope with anything else in this very moment.

“Would you say if you were?” Crosshair asked.

“Probably not,” You muttered.

“Hmm.” He clearly didn’t like your response but chose not to push it. Wrecker was next to disappear as Tech crouched beside the entrance.

Your breath caught loudly through the vocoder.“Crosshair…”

“Don’t ask me.”

“If I get taken…” you whispered.

“I—we won’t let that happen.” He nudged you forward, putting an end to the conversation.

The tunnels were rough, slightly smaller in some places and you winced at the sound of Wrecker’s armour scraping along the stone. The space eventually opened out to a wide stair case that clearly spiralled around the core of the monastery.

Rex looked down into the hollow centre to work out how far up you all were. “Our leech vessel is docked about ten levels down.”

“Doesn’t have a hyperdrive though,” Howzer announced. “We won’t get far.”

“No, but we can use it to contact Echo.”

“Stay alert,” Hunter needlessly reminded everyone. Your fingers felt rubbery as you gripped the blaster and pulled your vibroblade free, following the others down the many steps. There was a rumble through the thick walls and Tech inspected the ceiling as though he could see through it.

“The reinforcements are here,” he stated.

Another explosion rocked the base, dust scattered down the steps with a raining hiss.

“No going back now,” Rex told you all heavily. “The ship’s docked just down this corridor.”

Your feet stopped moving. Something was coming with pounding footsteps that thundered rhythmically in your mind.

“Stitch? We have to keep moving,” Tech encouraged you quietly.

“Stop,” Crosshair loudly ordered and the group ground to a halt.

“What is it?” Nemec asked. You gestured to Crosshair and he nodded, looking out into the darkness through an opening beside you.

“They’re coming.” He looked up, his visor reflected the bright red blaster bolt that missed him by inches. You wrenched him away from the opening, pushing him against the wall.

“I’ll handle it,” Crosshair announced, giving you a shove with his elbow. “Go.”

You didn’t want to leave him. You nearly resisted Tech and his urgent grasp as he pulled you away from Crosshair. The only reason you went, was because of the determination you felt in Crosshair. This was his battle to face.

Rex led everyone into the tunnels, torch light bobbing with each step, throwing shadows along the walls. The group was breathing heavily, their resolve hardening the closer you all moved to the ship. The ramp opened and Rex dove in to power it up. You hovered by the hatch with Wrecker and Tech, blaster cocked and ready incase Crosshair wasn’t the one coming down the tunnel.

But he was, relief cascading over you as he ran into the ship. “We need to go.”

“We’re waiting on you,” Wrecker told him.

“You didn’t kill him,” you whispered to Crosshair.

“I missed,” he seethed angrily. Disappointed with himself but resigned at the same time.

The vessel was tiny, the space made smaller by the amount of bodies crushed into it. Batcher was hassling Nemec with Omega talking to him. Tech was standing next to Rex at the controls, Howzer and Hunter moved aside to make room for Wrecker. You were crushed in, forced to stand before Crosshair.

“Let me see.”

“No…”

“Crosshair.” Your voice was sharp, ending all protests. Still he sighed, offering his hand to you and looking away. He was trembling, the shivers consumed his hand and you worked on smoothing them out. Using repetitive motions with your thumbs, drawing them heavily along his palm and between his fingers, working your way to his wrist.

“Prepare to launch.” Your feet spread to account for the movement of the ship, lost in calming Crosshair which ultimately calmed you as well.

But then you felt the disturbance too late. The blaster shots exploded the engines, jolting you all in midair. Alarms beeped loudly, power flickered through the ship and you saw the ground growing increasingly closer through the canopy.

“Remora-one, we’ve been compromised. Heading to marker 025 for an extraction,” Rex relayed in his transmission to Echo. “Repeat. Marker 025.”

The hull quaked as metal creaked and groaned under the pressure. Air rushed past in a scream, the cockpit began to fill with smoke.

“Impact is imminent,” Tech commented from somewhere behind you.

“We’re going down! Strap in!” Rex yelled.

“Hold on, vod’ika.” Crosshair tugged you forward, switching your places so you were in the corner and he was standing in front of you. Hunter was strapping Omega into a chair, Wrecker was holding Batcher, Howzer and Nemec braced themselves. Rex fought the ships controls, levelling it out as best he could before him and Tech abandoned them to take refuge further back in the ship. Your hand grabbed Tech’s arm, grateful when Crosshair moved over so they could both stand before you.

There was nothing you could do as the ship hit the ground. Omega cried out when the ship flipped so hard you thought your stomach was in your feet and head at the same time. The guys grunted with the effort of holding their positions, armour rattled in the twisting space as the ship lost momentum and slid across the ground instead. The lurch made everyone lose their footing, ending up in a heap on the ceiling of the cockpit.

“Well, that was awful,” Wrecker groaned loudly in the sudden stillness. Hands helped you stand. Wrecker managed to open the hatch, Batcher burst out giving herself a shake. Nemec crawled free, removing his helmet to empty the contents of his stomach in some tree roots.

Your head was swimming. Still reeling from exhausting yourself earlier, then the explosion and now this. It was a wonder any of you could stand at all.

“Is everyone all right?” Hunter checked on Omega who gave him a quick nod.

“I’ve experienced better landings,” Howzer commented over the sound of Nemec still retching.

“Grab what supplies you can,” Rex ordered, passing out a couple of bags. Omega shouldered one and Crosshair drifted over to her.

“You good?” He asked.

“Uh-huh.” You could tell she was shaken, but it didn’t overpower her.

“Got your crossbow?”

“Yep.”

Crosshair continued to interrogate her, ignoring the others as they watched curiously. “Sure you can carry those supplies?”

“Yes.” She turned to face him.

“Stay close. It’s easy to get lost in this terrain.”

There was a moment that lifted the heaviness of the situation when Omega subtly rolled her eyes. “You’re as bad as Hunter.”

“Oh.” Crosshair loomed over her. “I’m much worse.”

Tech’s datapad screen was reflected in his goggles when you turned to look for him. He registered your movement, glancing up at your approach. “I remain uninjured,” he informed you.

“Do you mind if I don’t take your word for it?” The datapad lowered slightly, his fingers still.

“I assure you, I would never purposely deceive you.” Tech sounded almost pained at the idea, what you could see of his expression was lined with concern.

“I’m just worried,” you admitted softly.

“Understandable. This entire situation has been less than ideal.”

“Echo should meet us at the extraction point. We have to continue on foot,” Rex informed the group once Nemec had his helmet back on.

“How far?” Hunter was frowning, his eyes tracking over the terrain as well as his exhausted and battered squad. Once he was happy with everyone he put his helmet back on.

“Five klicks north,” Nemec stated. You all looked up at the sound of the Imperial ships approaching your current position.

“We’ve got attack shuttles inbound,” Hunter observed.

“This way. Let’s move.”

It was Tantiss all over again. The jungle was thick, tree roots covered the ground making it uneven. The pace was as fast as you could all make it, stumbling through the dark, not wanting to use the torches and give away your position.

Oya’karir. The hunt had started, you can sense it with each pound of your pulse. Someone had their sights set on you and Omega, and they were right behind you.

The path evened out so Rex slowed the group to a walk as cover became more scarce. A roar created a disturbance deeper in the jungle, shocking some animals to take flight in the distance.

“What the heck was that?” Wrecker demanded gruffly.

“That would be a jungle rancor.” Tech answered without hesitation.

“A what?” You noticed Crosshair take a step closer to Omega, his rifle poised and ready to shoot.

“The creature is approximately six klicks to the west,” Tech gestured vaguely in that direction. “It should not intersect with our route.”

“Are you sure?” Hunter turned round to address his brother.

Tech glanced at him with an exasperated sigh. “I said ‘should’, not ‘would’. Despite my extensive knowledge of Teth’s fauna, even I cannot predict with absolute certainty the movements of a rancor.”

“Comforting,” Howzer muttered.

“What do they look like?”

Crosshair made a noise through his vocoder, picking up his pace to escape the inevitable information splurge that was about to occur from your question.

Tech almost missed a step at your request, stumbling slightly and then clearing his throat. “I can explain later if…?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know. I think we could all do with a minor distraction,” you swept your arm out to encompass the group.

“I fought a baby rancor once,” Wrecker told Howzer, clapping the clone on the back.

“It was an adolescent,” Tech corrected him with a pointed finger

“I would have paid good credits to witness that fight,” Crosshair retorted.

“I recorded it,” Tech hastily told him.

Crosshair looked back, shaking his head a little. “Of course you did.”

“I miss Muchi,” Omega sighed from beside the sniper.

“Come on,” Hunter encouraged Tech. “What do they look like?”

"If you insist. Jungle rancors are actually quite fascinating and exhibit a very different appearance compared to their Dathomirian counterparts. There are several distinctions between the species. Most notably, their skin color is much more vibrant than that of the common rancor. Additionally, they possess sharp spines that run along much of their body, including their tongue. Jungle rancors have webbing between their fingers and toes, which common rancors lack, and their jaws differ significantly in shape and size, with the jungle rancor having the larger of the two.”

You noticed Howzer and Nemec exchange a look through their helmets while Rex shook his with a half chuckle. “Nothing ever changes,” he murmured. “The first time I met Tech, he gave me a lecture on male yalbecs.”

“Aw yeah. Now that was a good time,” Wrecker said dreamily.

“Not something I personally, would like to repeat,” Crosshair pointed out.

“Why not?” Omega inquired and Hunter groaned.

“Ah, let’s focus on that when we get back home,” he suggested.

“I have the video available on the Marauder if you would like to view it,” Tech told the kid and she grinned up at Crosshair with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Oh, definitely,” she told Tech over her shoulder.

The group fell into a comfortable silence, taking constant stock of their surroundings and now, looking out for jungle rancors.

Omega and Batcher drifted to the front with Hunter and Rex, Wrecker brought up the rear. Tech stayed beside you, his visor occasionally coming down to observe the flora in passing. Howzer and Nemec were ahead, gaining on Crosshair, you noticed with interest.

The sniper sighed when they drew level, casting quick glances in his direction. “What?”

“I’ve seen how you are with the kid and Stitch,” Howzer said quietly. Hearing your name, you zeroed in on the conversation.

“Hmm. Your point?”

“Well…” Howzer shrugged under his armour. “You’re different than you were on Ryloth. So…what changed?” You pulled Tech to a halt when Crosshair stopped to face the two regs.

“Loyalty meant something to me. But with the Empire, it didn’t go both ways.” Tech kept his gaze trained on Cross, listening closely. “I realised how disposable I was.”

“You’re not the only one,” Howzer replied kindly. You let out a breath when they all carried on walking, you and Tech following.

“I realise, we have not taken the time to talk to Crosshair about what transpired on Tantiss,” Tech murmured to you. “We do not know the full extent of what happened to him.”

“He wasn’t ready to open up then,” you reassured him. “Cross is talking now because he feels he has to prove himself. If we return to Pabu, he needs a break from it all.”

“When.”

“Huh?”

Tech gave you an earnest glance. “You said ‘if we return.’ I corrected it to ‘when we return.’”

“Were you always this much of an optimist?”

Tech took a while to respond and you wondered if you had upset him somehow. You weren’t prepared for his answer.

"I am convinced the worst ordeal is behind me. Even if the remainder of my life unfolds as a worst-case scenario, I find solace in knowing you are safe." His words made your heart ache. It was excruciating, knowing that you being taken, was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. "Therefore, I surmise I now tend to perceive the positive aspects in every situation."

“Do you have the memory of when I was taken?” Tech’s shoulders dropped a little at the request.

“I do not have the recording of what transpired within the medbay,” he hesitated long enough for you to notice. “I do, however, have the message you recorded onto Beetoo before she was destroyed.”

The medbay, the droid…you’d seen them in the videos of your memories. Unease unfurled all around you, stealing what you were going to say as the air shimmered and vibrated.

“Can you feel that?”

“No. But I am reading an Imperial ship less than a klick south.” The pair of you jogged to catch up with the others as the ship sailed overhead, drowning out Batcher’s bark. Bright lights flooded the jungle, forcing you all to find cover behind a rock and some trees. Soldiers descended from the open base of the ship, just as they had on Tantiss.

“We have to knock through their line to reach the extraction point,” Rex shouted over the sound of the engines.

“We’ve got these.” Omega produced some smoke grenades from her pack and handed them to Wrecker. He armed them and tossed them high into the air. To your surprise, the troopers fired upon your squad with stun blasts. A tremor of fear snaked down your spine. Of course they used stuns, they wanted to drag you back to Tantiss. To Hemlock. Alive.

Crosshair fired some shots and then dropped into the smoke bank next to Omega. “Stick by my side, and stay down,” he ordered.

Tech was beside you, his footsteps matched yours in the retreat, backing away from the advancing troopers. Wrecker and Batcher circled round the back of them, jumping into the fray bashing heads together and pouncing on confused soldiers.

Nemec and Howzer were like ghosts in the smoke. Dragging unsuspecting troopers back into the thick of the smoke. Tech and you were back to back, trying to make sense of the noises and shadows.

You focused, feeling a presence approaching through the dark. The blue glow of a commando visor materialised, lifting his blaster to shoot you.

You wouldn’t go back.

You refused to let Hemlock lay his hands on you ever again.

With a strangled cry you leapt forward, dodging the blast with ease and launching yourself at the commando. He went down under the weight of your body slam, his blaster knocking loose from his grip.

“Stitch!” There were bolts lighting up the smoke in flashes, live fire and stuns alike. Bodies dropped, armour crashed, Batcher’s snarls rolled through the fog like thunder.

Angling your knuckle plate, you slammed a fist into the commando’s helmet, hearing the satisfying grunt of pain. You straddled his chest, pinning one of his arms down with a knee. Your other foot planted on the ground. Holding the top of his chestplate, you raised him up to hit him in the temple again. Not caring on the jarring impact it caused your arm, to slam into his katarn with such force.

The commando’s arm was searching for his blaster, fingers touching the edge of it as he reeled from your blows. Digging your fingers under the lip of the helmet, you wrenched it off. The clone was dazed, but he instantly focused on you with pure anger and disgust. Blood oozed from his nose, smearing across his cheeks and chin.

“You’re my message to Hemlock,” you told him.

He grinned to reveal blood straining his teeth. The clone’s gaze looked at something over your shoulder. “Tell him yourself.”

A shot rang out.

Loud and close.

You could feel the heat of it, smell the scorch of flesh that permeated your helmet.

Then the clone’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and he sagged heavily in your grip. You wanted to scream at the intense numbness of death rolling over you, but you were frozen, barely able to breathe.

“Just kill them. It’s much easier.” Crosshair’s voice snaked towards you, his tall form becoming more defined. The noise of fighting reached you, breaking the spell of quiet that had unknowingly descended. He walked past you, lifting his rifle to shoot at the ship.

Standing up, you watched his shots find their mark, killing the pilot and then shooting out the engines at the back. He lowered the rifle to watch the ship almost float to ground, ending in an orange fireball that swept through the jungle on a silent wind, only to be followed by the deep boom of destruction.

“Aw, yeah!” You heard Wrecker shout from somewhere.

“Let’s move!” Rex ordered.

You jumped when a hand grabbed your elbow, tight and firm you thought it was Hunter or Crosshair.

It was neither.

Tech’s eyes were wide, tension rolled off him as he marched you along.

“I can walk,” you protested weakly.

“I cannot afford to lose you again,” Tech snapped. He sighed, easing his hold on your arm when he realised he was over reacting slightly, but he didn’t let go completely. “Or, at least warn me next time you decide to engage in hand to hand combat.” You felt ashamed. He had only just admitted, losing you was the worst event in his life and you decided to be reckless in the very next battle.

A battle to possess you or Omega. Or both.

You wanted to apologise, except you weren’t really sorry. The need for Hemlock to know he’d never own you again was all consuming. If only Crosshair hadn’t killed the trooper, you would have carved out your message onto his blood spattered armour.

“How much further to the landing zone?” Hunter asked Rex.

“Just ahead. Almost there.”

You went to look behind you when Tech’s grip tightened on reflex. “No, there’s something there!” Crosshair heard your cry and stopped to look.

“What is it?” Howzer demanded, reacting to Cross aiming his rifle behind them.

The blue bolt left his rifle the same time as a red bolt shot out of the dark and straight into Nemec.

“No!” You screamed, wrenching free of Tech.

“Nemec!” Howzer moved towards his fallen brother but Crosshair shouldered him out of the way to cover.

“Get down!” The sniper demanded roughly.

Tech wrapped his arms around your waist, hauling you out of sight before the shooter could target you. “No! Nemec!” You sobbed softly, leaning back into Tech, not able to take your eyes off the body sprawled on the floor. Hairs rose all over your body at the silence of death stalking among you. Rex, Hunter and Wrecker added their fire to Crosshair’s as he made his way down the slope a little.

“Omega, smoke grenade.”

“We’re out,” she told Hunter.

“I’ll draw his fire. Get to the rendezvous.” Your face contorted at Crosshair’s voice over the internal com.

“I don’t like that idea,” Omega’s voice wavered lightly.

“Too bad.”

“No! Crosshair!” Your voice cracked over his name. You couldn’t lose anyone else today.

“Tech. Get her out of here.”

“I’m not leaving! I’m not leaving him!”

“Don’t make me stun you,” threatened Hunter as he helped Tech get you up.

“Go! Now!” Rex shouted. They forced you in the opposite direction to Crosshair. Even as you cried and begged, reaching blindly with your hands and senses until your vision was a shattered image you couldn’t make sense of.

Echoes of the rifles, ricocheting off the surrounding rocks made you flinch. You couldn’t pinpoint where it was coming from, or which rifle was shooting.

Fear had reared its ugly head. Burying into your chest, lacerating your insides. Each rip and tear grew wider, bleeding the blackness you had so desperately tried to hold back.

When the flash of blaster bolts hit a rock above your head, you acted. With a twist of your body, you blasted Tech and Hunter away, slamming them backwards to the ground.

“Stitch! No!” Wrecker came with the intent of grabbing you, but he was too slow when you ducked under his outstretched arms. There was a river below, the rush it over the waterfall drowned out the beat of running footsteps coming from behind.

You didn’t care. Your focus was on the two figures as they teetered over the edge. With a shout, you watched them fall. The world pulled inwards as you demanded so much of the force around you, it flexed and bent but still you couldn’t get it to reach and save Crosshair.

He disappeared beneath the dark churning water.

“He’s down there!” Howzer shouted. You were already in pursuit, not daring to take your eyes off Crosshair as he fought to keep his head above water. There was another waterfall, steeper than the last. The drop was sheer, but you didn’t care.

“Don’t do it!” Wrecker snatched you successfully this time, just before you stepped off the edge.

“It’s too steep,” Hunter told you, peering over the edge.

“Let me go! I can make it, I have to make it.”

“Not with a broken leg you won’t.” Sagging in Wrecker’s arms you glared at Hunter through the visor. “We’ll find another way down,” he said, softer this time. “I won’t leave without him either.”

“Ok. Ok!” Hunter stepped away and nodded at Wrecker who instantly released you.

“There’s a path here,” Howzer noticed, gesturing with his blaster. They let you charge ahead, Batcher beside you as she too, looked for Crosshair. Your hands were shaking, a chill began to seep from the top of your head, easing down your spine like a slow steady drip. No words could explain it, you just knew time was running out.

The path levelled, bringing you to the river bank. A shadow stood in the water, leaning over with their hands holding something under the water.

Time stopped.

Blistering rage flooded down your arms in a wave of cascading fire. Not even the cold river water could break you from the laser like focus you had. Instinct drove you. Crosshair was in the water, the rage had given you clarity enough to untangle everything your senses picked up.

Crosshair’s life was flickering, desperate to hold on. It had felt just the same as Tech’s life tried to pour through your fingers. You didn’t let it happen then, you certainly weren’t going to let it happen now.

Your awareness struck, wrapping around the operative, dragging him up a fee feet into the air where he struggled, digging at his throat with desperate fingers. You felt the same empty chaos as the other assassin, his presence literally vibrated with it.

Do it. A voice whispered in your mind, the intent nudging your thoughts along. Kill him.

No…

You didn’t want that emptiness on your hands. Each void that came after death was like an inky stain you couldn’t scrub off.

Do it. Give yourself to the dark.

You couldn’t deny, it felt good. Incredibly good to have someone at the whim of your mercy.

I can’t.

The whip of rage wasn’t your own and you tossed the operative over the edge of the waterfall to try and free yourself. The darkness that had taken up residence in your mind melted away as the enemy disappeared from sight.

Running forward, you climbed the wet rock Crosshair was barely holding onto, his fingers slipping with the strong current. “Hold on Cross!” Throwing yourself down, you grabbed his wrist with both hands, barely aware of Howzer kneeling next to you, helping to drag Crosshair free of the water.

The sniper coughed. His lungs trying to expel every drop of water that had been breathed in. You rubbed the back of his neck, supporting him through the body wracking tremors as the others made their way across the river. Tech carried his helmet.

“Can you walk?” Rex asked gently.

“I’ll be fine.” Crosshair’s voice was rough as he moved to stand, taking his helmet from Tech. “Thanks,” he directed at you, giving Howzer a nod.

“Extraction marker is just over here,” Rex pointed to an outcropping the other side of the path.

Omega waited on the bank with Batcher, rushing to Crosshair’s side. “Are you ok?”

“I’ll be fine,” he said again.

He wasn’t. The confrontation with the operative had shaken Crosshair far harder than he’d anticipated. But this wasn’t the time for you to try and figure out why.

A ship was approaching.

“That’s not Echo,” Wrecker announced.

Sure enough an Imperial ship came down to land, kicking up dirt, the air whipping it to pebble against your armour. The group closed around Omega, pulling blasters and blades, ready to fight until Echo arrived.

Clones stepped free of the ship, weapons pointed at the squad as they fanned out over the rocky outcropping. “Drop your blasters! Now!” The clone at the front had decorated armour, an image of days long gone.

Rex stepped forward, lowering his blasters slightly. “Wolffe?”

“Rex?”

There was nothing you could do as Rex holstered his weapons, the rest of the squad relaxing. Even Tech rested a hand over your blaster so it pointed to the ground.

The Captain removed his helmet, revealing himself to the Commander opposite.

“I—I thought you were dead,” Wolffe admitted. He followed Rex’s lead, holstering his own blasters and removing his helmet. “Reports said you were killed in action. That you went down aboard an attack cruiser.”

“Oh, I did,” Rex told him. “I lost a lot of good men that day. And today,” he added heavily.

“What are you doing here, Rex? Don’t tell me you’re fighting against us.” The Batch tensed at Wolffe’s angry tone.

“No. Not against you. Against the Empire. They’re imprisoning and experimenting on our brothers, killed others.”

“The Empire wouldn’t do that to us,” Wolffe countered.

“They have seen it.” Rex shifted, giving Wolffe an unhindered view of you and Omega. You pulled the helmet off, aware of how awful you looked with a face no doubt bruised and still covered in dried blood.

“It’s true,” Omega faultlessly backed up Rex. “That’s what’s happening on Tantiss.”

“We have to stop them. You can help us.” Rex approached Wolffe slowly. “You can stand with us.”

“I am a soldier of the Empire. I have my orders,” Wolffe said in a hard tone, dismissing everything he’d heard. “Hand the girl and the woman over and I’ll make sure you’re given a fair trial.” Tech side stepped in front of you with his blasters raised as Wrecker and Hunter moved to stand before Omega. Batcher gave a vicious snarl that left everyone in no doubt of her position.

Rex raised a hand, staying the Batch. “Think about what you are doing, Wolffe. I know you have been trained not to question orders. But open your eyes. You’re hunting a child. And, I bet they didn’t even tell you the reason for hunting down a medic.” He sighed at the hardening look on his brother’s face. “I know that’s not who you are. As your brother, I’m asking you to do the right thing.”

A light on Rex’s vambrace started to intermittently glow, accompanied by a beep as Echo’s ship approached from behind.

“Sir, there’s an unmarked vessel inbound,” a commando reported to Wolffe. “Commander?”

Echo landed in a cloud of dust and air, opening the ramp ready for you all to board. Rex didn’t move, staring at the opposing clone until he finally made a decision.

“Stand down,” Wolffe ordered.

Tech holstered his weapons and turned, nodding in the direction of the ship as a clear instruction for you to board. So you did. Giving Wolffe one last look before turning your back on them all and heading into the safety of the Remora.

Omega came, Batcher had her tongue lolling out, clearly happy to be back in the ship. Crosshair entered the hold and immediately slumped onto the floor, removing his helmet and letting it roll away from him. Howzer, Hunter and Wrecker came next, greeting the clone that stood by the entrance. Rex was last, giving Wolffe a lingering look of regret before the ramp sealed and enclosed you all inside.

“Let’s get out of range,” Rex told Gregor.

This wasn’t like the other times. Standing in the middle of the ship all you could feel was despair and loss. All those lives, snuffed out because Hemlock was that desperate to get his hands on you and Omega.

You should have walked away on Lau and never looked back.

“You have extensive bruising across your face,” Tech murmured. “Echo has given me the medkit to administer treatment.” You didn’t even notice he’d left your side. You watched the others all file into the cockpit after Rex, even Omega and Batcher until you were left alone with Tech.

“Why do you bother with me? I’m a hindrance.” Tech frowned at your mumbled question, pushing his goggles up the bridge of his nose.

“Why…am I treating you?”

“You’re angry with me.” He was. It still persisted within Tech. Frustration at your disregard for your own life, mostly. For not seeing how important you were to him, regardless of what you had suffered.

“My anger is…multifaceted,” Tech stated with a quick huff. "I do not intend to direct my frustration towards you. If it has appeared that way, please accept my sincere apologies." His eyes tracked over your dirty face, softening slightly. "I cannot deny that the past few days have been incredibly challenging for all of us. While I cannot fully comprehend what you must be feeling, I am striving to provide everything you might need."

You deflated. Folding in on yourself as the crushing weight of anguish collapsed the last shreds of restraint you had left.

It hurt to cry. The ache stretched across your cheek bones and up the bridge of your nose. The feelings became too much, the heaviness you always carried on your chest became a hindrance. Each breath was a monumental effort. Tech tried to talk to you, to keep you with him.

It still felt as though you were suffocating alone.

Each sob felt like it was physically torn from your soul. You were made of agonising pain, held together by threads that constantly slipped from your grasp. You had been unravelling for a while, partially unaware of how deep your scars really went.

The only constant you had, was your anger. It came when you needed it the most, honing your mind and body to peak efficiency. Whispering encouragement to go that step further into the unknown.

When you used your anger, it felt right, it felt good.

Darkness came for you, listening to your whimpered pleas for relief, bringing with it words from the one that held you.

I have got you.

[roadkillremi]

Here I am requesting randy again 🤭 (I hope it's okay, ur just my fav writer rn!)

Can you do a fic w fem!reader where Randy's sick and reader takes care of him? I just need randy fluff in my life!

Of course!

Don't Stay Awake.

Randy Meeks X F!Reader

MasterList

Warnings : none.

Summary : the ask above

You knocked on Randy's bedroom door softly. You heard a groan followed by a "Come in.". You walked in closing the door behind you.

"Randy, your mom let me in. I brought some stuff for you.". You said softly placing the grocery bags on the floor. He flopped over in bed facing your direction. He whined a bit, "Thanks.". He opened his arm up to you for a hug.

"Randy... I can't get sick."

"Please?"

"Randy.."

"Please?!!" He whined. You sighed kicking your shoes off crawling next to him in bed. He nuzzled his head into your chest with a slick smile. You wrapped your arms around him gently feeling his forehead.

"Randy, you're burning up!"

"I know I'm just that hot." He joked. You gave him a look, "You know what I mean!". You got up from his bed, he desperately was grabbing at your arm for you not to go.

"Where are you going?" He complained. You sighed, "To get you some ice. And maybe a bowl of ice cream.".

"M'kay. I want-"

"Chocolate with a bit of sprinkles. I know." You kissed his head going to get ice. Randy sat up in bed fixing his bed for you to sit with him. He propped his pillows up and wrapped himself in a blanket.

"I'm back" you said with a smile. You gently kicked the door behind you for it to close. You gave him his ice cream and sat next to him. He immediately dug into the icecream, you placed an ice pack on his forehead. He groaned backing away from it, "Randy!" You laughed. He gave you a look with the spoon hanging in his mouth.

"You need this to break your fever, baby." You said gently. He sighed letting you hold it to his forehead as he ate.

"Thanks for coming." He said while eating his ice cream.

"It's no problem! I'm glad I can help.". Randy put the now empty bowl on his nightstand. He hugged your waist pulling you closer. The icepack now pushed against your stomach. The cold seeping through your shirt, "Randy it's cold" you said pushing him back enough to see you.

"No shit" He whined. You flicked his head lightly, he sighed sitting up.

"What'd you bring?" He asked nodding towards the bags. Your eyes lit up, "Oh! I almost forgot!". You got up to grab the bags and plopped them on the bed sitting back down. Randy leaned his head on your shoulder.

"I got your favorite popcorn! Jiffy Pop! And some movies from your work. I couldn't get my 'girlfriend discount' though because someone else was working."

"Sorry" he mumbled his voice going groggy. You kissed his head, "It's fine. I'm just teasing you. I also got some medicine and some soup.".

"What kind of soup?" He asked tilting his head up at you. You smiled, "Chicken noodles with stars.".

"Good." He gave you a small kiss before laying down kicking some of the stuff. You got the movies picking one up, "Can we watch Ghostbusters?". Randy looked over at you, "Please?". He sighed, "Sure.". You got up putting it in his VHS player. You turned on the TV and went to sit back down with him. He resorted back to cuddling you. He wrapped one of his arms over your hip. His head resting on your stomach, you watched his head raise and fall when you'd breath in. You gently messed with his hair, he'd lean into your hand.

Soon he fell asleep moving in his sleep away from you. The movie ended leaving you bored and alone in the dark. You got up to fix him soup, you placed the bowl in the microwave. You watched the bowl twirl, you looked at the wall clock. "8:23pm". You looked around, Mrs.Meeks was nowhere in sight. You walked back down the hall, You knocked on Martha's door gently. She opened the door taking her headphones off.

"What's up?"

"I was wondering where your mom is. I needed to ask-"

"She got put on nightshift at the hospital. Is everything okay with Randy?" She asked.

"Yeah, just making him soup. Sorry to bother you.".

"It's no problem." She closed the door. You went back to check on the soup. You put extra time on their and waited.

"Y/N?" Randy came out of his room shuffling. His blanket was left behind leaving him shivering.

"Randy. Go get in bed."

"No. It's boring there. I wanna be with you." He complained, hugging you. You hugged him back, "I'm heating you up some soup, okay?". He nodded still hugging you, you let out a soft laugh.

"Randy let go!". He shook his head no, the microwave beeped loudly. You tried to grab the bowl for him.

"Randy Meeks you have to let go. I need to grab your soup.". He huffed letting go, you grabbed the soup and got a spoon from the drawer.

"Here. Be careful it's hot." You handed it to him. He nodded shuffling back to his room. You followed him helping him in bed making sure the soup wouldn't spill. He loudly slurped up his soup glancing over at you knowing it bothered you. You laid on his bed cuddling one of his pillows.

"I'm so tired." You mumbled. He put the soup bowl on his already littered nightstand.

"Go to sleep" Randy said laying down beside you. You groaned softly, "Can't I gotta take care of you.". Randy looked over at you, "You still need to take care of yourself.". You scooted closer to him, putting your head on his shoulder.

"Don't stay awake for me. Get some sleep, it's important you do."

"How so?"

"Who's gonna make me ice cream if you're tired?" He said with a smile. You smiled, "Fin, I'll go to sleep but wake me up if you need anything!". Randy nodded, you fluffed a pillow resting your head on it. Randy wrapped his arm around your waist spooning you in. His face in-between your shoulder blades. You both soon fell asleep.

Two days later you also got sick.

Randy got you your favorite ice cream.

[pattonscribe]

MCYT HALLOWEEN

Recipient: @cryingincrocs

@mcyt-halloween

I had an absolute blast writing this. I hope you enjoy it! :)

Halloween doesn’t officially start until the sun has set, that’s the rule Tango has always abided by. When the only light to illuminate the night is the flicker of jack o'lanterns, when cobwebs dance in the wind, only then does the spirit of Halloween truly come alive.

Tango stood alone outside the front of the restaurant. Hay bales lay stacked at both ends of the road, barricading it from traffic. Off to the side, Mumbo was hunched over the engine of a small tractor, letting out a few choice words every time his grip slipped or smoke got into his face. Scar napped in the back of the hay wagon while Grian talked into an earpiece. Every year he got all in a huff about the main street prep for Halloween, and this year was no different.

For one night, the main street was barren. No cars, no traffic. A red carpet moments away from being sprawled out, giving way to trick or treaters. The custom was for shops on the main street to hand out treats, organize the hayride, and redecorate one of the shops as a haunted house.

The front door chimed as Jimmy and Skizz walked out the front door. As the door was closing, Tango caught his first good look at the interior of the diner now that the haunted house prep had concluded. The candy red checkerboard floors and outdated diner walls were now devoid of all color, covered by tarps and trashbags, further enhancing the illusion of complete darkness. Fog seeped out from every nook with curious eyes, like a cat who takes interest in the outdoors when the door is left ajar just so.

The interior would be decorated to the ceiling with various props and effects. Each of the three got to pick and design their own room. Tango was mighty proud of how his room turned out, tinkering with some of the broken Halloween props from last year made it easy to reuse them now.

“I think everything’s good to go,” Jimmy said, removing the cowboy hat from his head. His face was , “Although your stupid mummy thing tried to kill me at least twice. I thought you fixed all the noodles, or something like that.”

Tango squinted in Jimmy’s direction, “Were you behind the line?”

“Well I- it’s too dark in there and-” Jimmy averted his eyes.

“It’s glow-in-the-dark tape in front of a chain link fence, it doesn’t need to be dark to know you stand behind the tape.”

“Well, I’m a big dog,” Jimmy said with a huff, “A big brave dog who ain't scared of some Halloween props. I just wanted to make sure the dumb thing was working and all.”

Tango smiled warmly and pecked Jimmy’s cheek with a kiss, “It’s on a timer sweetheart, you don’t need to check on it.”

Jimmy’s face flushed red, his words suddenly mush in his mouth.

Skizz spoke up before he could recover. “Alright guys, Halloween's almost officially here and everything is lookin’ good. I think the kids are gonna freakin’ love this!” his voice swayed between giddiness and excitement. There is an electricity that laces his words with the cold, weaseling their way into Tango and Jimmy. “I gotta hand it to you Top, I didn't think we'd make it work.”

Tango gave a rusty laugh, “C'mon, really? We're a three-man team. Unstoppable in every sense of the word. Hard to fail when you've got the brains, the brawn, and Jimmy.” He said, pointing to himself, Skizz, then Jimmy.

“That's right, that's ri- HEY!”

Skizz interrupted before Jimmy could rattle off some choice words, “Well, unless Scar hosts another ‘Landscaping Your Mind’ podcast meet-up and everyone from here to Empires comes in for the lunch rush.”

“That was one time!” Tango interjected. He was just the guy who brought the food out. Skizz was on cleaning duty that day after all, and it wasn't Tango’s fault that he didn't see the water spill on the floor. “If we had stuck to tacos like I said that morning, there wouldn't have been any accidents. Salads only lead to complications.”

Skizz laughed, slapping a hand on Tango's back. “Only one of us had an accident that day buddy, and it sure as hell wasn't me.” 

Across the street, other shops slowly came to life. Pearl was finishing lighting the last of the jack o’lanterns in front of her art shop just as Gem turned the orange string lights dancing across her store front on. Bdubs plugged in the fog machine outside his plant shop, and Etho made the last changes to the Aubrey mechanical replica from Little Shop of Horrors (conveniently placed just outside the plant shop, to Bdubs irritation). 

The conversation bit back and forth between the three of them, until Skizz took note of the time.

“Shoot! It's almost 6 o'clock, Grian's due to open the floodgates any second now.” Skizz turned to Tango, “Care for a little test run? A maiden voyage for good luck before we get this show on the road?”

“Are you doubting my engineering prowess?” Tango balked in amusement, “I hooked up every machine-ificator in there and made them all skadoodle. It's part of my job description as a waiter.” he teased.

“Is part of the job description crying to Etho and Mumbo for help everytime something goes awry?”

Tango shot Skizz a look, “Oh, haha. Very funny wise guy. It’s called debugging, I just needed a few ears to shoot ideas off of.” He trailed off, lowering his voice to barely above a whisper, “And, maybe, sometimes, fix some kinks in the noodles that were a bit more than I could chew.”

Skizz hummed with a knowing look, but kept any words he may have wanted to playfully shoot back to himself. “Alright Jimmy, get in there and knock Tango's socks off!”

Jimmy gave a salute, and with a triumphant “Yes, sir!” he sprinted back into the restaurant.

Tango crossed his arms and smiled. “Alright reaper boy, let's hear the spiel. I'm ready to have my socks fully knocked off.”

[kyojurosprettygirl]

Bleeding Love , Genya Ver

Genya Shinazugawa x Fem! reader

a/n: genya first bc he's the one who inspired me to write this (UvU) i'll make a poll to see who's next; i was thinking the hashira hmmm X))). i'll make a poll !

to say Genya was panicking was an understatement, anyone with a singular brain cell could tell how distressed he was simply by his breathing pattern. he was rushing away from everyone, ignoring the burning feeling in his chest and the calls of his name, just so he could make his way back to you. Tanjiro, and by extension Nezuko, along with Zenitsu and Inosuke had tried to keep up with him, but easily fell behind as Genya impossibly became faster. insoluble being able to understand the gravity of the situation made it so that he wouldn't be the one to the estate first. The gratitude Genya gave the gods when he finally saw your estate in view was unmatched to the way Gyomei usually did. you. it was late at night , and at this time you usually had small burning candles outside, a way to let Genya know you'd been expecting him. but it's the darkest night he's ever experienced. and it's quiet. he feels his heart drop, and he swears he can hear his blood run cold. he hesitates in opening the door, not wanting to find you there the way he was expecting. laying there, alone and cold. without a pulse. he didn't want to come to terms with the fact that he had in fact failed to protect you, and with all his running thoughts chasing each other around in his head, nothing compares to the restricting feeling in his chest, where he feels like a demons teeth are sunk into and it's claws are ripping apart. he already misses you, and you haven't even been confirmed dead. he rushes into your estate, realizing he shouldn't waste time, if you were alive you needed to leave quickly. so with child like hope, he held out and searched for you. he wanted to scream in agony when he saw signs of struggle and crimson painting your floors. his breathing became much more ragged, yet everything was oddly calm, he was oddly calm.

he made his way to the only place he hasn't checked, one he maybe subconsciously avoided, because he couldn't bare to think about how you had tried to hide in the bedroom you and him both shared for protection and all of it being in vain. it's then when he drops to his knees infront of you, being unable to physically keep himself up anymore. you laid on the floor, blood that had seeped out of you, giving you the look of a morbid painting. the room was cold but when he reached out to you, he choked at how your body was warm. you were still alive while he was running to you, and when it dawns on him, he lets tears fall. the others finally make it into the room and stay behind Genya, the only person to shed tears with him being Tanjiro and Zenitsu. for a moment everything is silent, until they hear you try to speak. your crying, they notice, and as much as you try to form a sentence it just won't come out. you reach your hand out, and they all back away, noticing the claws and patterns adorning your skin. urging Genya to do the same, he shoots them a 'back the hell off' look and they do so. . Insouke immediately readied his blades, but was having trouble coming to terms that if you were a demon, he would have to kill you, but it just felt right in the moment. you slowly push yourself up and begin to touch your face, the panic evident on it when you realize you are no longer human. you cry , and cry, and push Genya away as he reaches out for you, being unable to speak. Zenitsu silently tries to get inosuke to sheathe is blade, while nezuko looks at Tanjiro. he furrows his brows deeper, not knowing what to do or say.

"y/n," he hiccups, "please." genya begs. you shake your head slowly, covering your face, but allowing him to finally touch you. he gently pushes your hands away and cradles your face, sighing in releif when you leave into one of his palms. you open your eyes and look at him, tears still running down your cheeks. he feels his heart break, and he doesn't know if he can live with the guilt. you hold onto his wrist and he tugs you into him, holding you tight, whispering incoherent words. you're able to make out 'im so sorry' and 'i love you' and you feel as if you were robbed. because you love him too, and you hate how this was the confession. you try to say the words back to him, everything feeling foreign to you, and when your able to sound coherent enough he chokes again, holding you against him in a way that prevents you from seeing his face. he's relieved almost, and whispers 'stay with me' and you nod. holding him back being careful to not hurt him with your new nails. you see a glimpse of the patterned skin and you close your eyes, being unable to look at yourself.

you find yourself in a new routine, an isolated one. you understand that you're a demon now, you are a danger and liability to the corps, but you're emotions are still very human, and your mind even more. your soul feels like it was tugged away into a new body, and there are days where you feel you cannot continue to live like this. but you just couldn't leave. not when you fought so hard to stay. the windows that once let natural light in were bordered up, and covered the once beautiful sky you'd always look at. the door was replaced with thicker wood that wouldn't let light him either, and you grew tired of living in such darkness. you wondered how demons did it. you missed everything about the daylight and what it brought you, but decided it was better to focus on the beauty of the night; atleast then it would become more bearable.

Genya had initially visited every day, but as he rose up the ranks, the less time he was able to visit you. he never left without dropping something off, but his absence truly felt like the last straw. you spent every night outside in the garden, the luminous moon giving you a small lit path to walk on, and allowing you a moment of air. Some days, whenever he could, Genya would stay with you for as long as possible, sitting and talking in the garden, but the hours he'd spend with you only felt like minutes, and he was gone as soon as he came. your old comrades visited too, Tanjiro and Nezuko, to offer support and understanding, Zenitsu to tell you his overexaggerated stories, Inosuke following along either of them, Kanao to keep you company, and so on. yet regardless, you felt disconnected from them. they were walking on egg shells when they spoke to you, and every time they visited, it felt like a pity party.

it's late and your heart feels heavy. standing in the familiar garden, you feel your body weighs more than it usually did, and you try to ease your anxiety by meditating. nothing was working. Genya had gone on a mission with the others, and although it was normal to spend some nights alone, something in the air had pushed you to think otherwise. they always make it back, but something in your gut pricked nails into your heart, 'what if this time, they don't'. unable to ease the thoughts and deal with the thick air, you seek out to find them. the sun had set only an hour ago, so you figured you had enough time, and used your demonic form to its advantage. as you made your way around the deep parts of the forest, you make it to the place of the mission, finding nothing except footprints, evidence that they fought. not seeing any blood, you kept your hopes up and continued to search the area, they couldn't be far.

"Hey, get up get up get up!" Tanjiro yells , recovering as quickly as he could from the fall he took. "The next attack is coming!" Genya grunts before angrily facing Tanjiro. "I know that alright!" they get up and begin to carry Mitsuri as Tanjiro tries to raise the spirits; to hold out a little longer, find a way for Mitsuri to help them out. As she is both the most experienced and strongest. "You're kidding me." Genya says, noticing the demon was already forming his attack. before the attack could hit either of them, Mitsuri easily slices through it and begins to cry as she goes on her rant. Genya can't help but feel awkward about it. She gets a few more hits in as Genya, Tanjiro, and Nezuko run in the forest. She continues to fight, saving them once more, before they make their way to the main body. "Don't let it shake you off!" Tanjiro screams, "Hang tight on to it!". They all try their hardest to hold on, Genya getting more agitated by the minute, 'I can't even swing my sword like this' he thinks. and before he's able to complain, he remembers he can simply eat the demon and begins to do so. a piece of the snake makes it's way out and Nezuko spills her blood onto it to use her blood demon art, successfully revealing the main body. It's soon after where the chase begins and Genya finally reaching his limit, throws a tree at him, loudly insulting the demon as he does so.

"You stupid moron!" you hear, it's Genyas voice. you sharply turn your body at the sound and jump over the tree that he threw, watching the dirt cloud form from far away. You look behind you and catch Nezuko, she pauses for a second at seeing your body appear. As the main body begins to limp, you harden your expression and jump forward, reaching for him. You and Nezuko begin to try to catch him as he constantly slips from you both. Genya reaches you both soon after, your sudden appearance giving him whiplash as she does a double take. Tanjiro tries his hardest to keep up. 'Y/N!?" he screams, you turn to him and huff, your eyes oozing fondness. "Hi Genya." you say, and suddenly stop, waiting for tanjiro. It Nezuko and Genya to both reach out for you, but get back to running when you simply kneel a bit, and make eye contact with Tanjiro. You give him a look, and you both nod at eachother as you suddenly bolt past them both, giving the illusion of a lightning bolt. Tanjiro makes it to the main body faster than you, and before he can land a hit his mouth his held right from the demons grip, leaving him immobilized. you suddenly appear, stunning the demon, and kick him farther back giving Tanjiro a chance to breathe. "Nezuko!" you scream, she nods and uses her blood demon art to burn the demon accidentally burning Genya in the process. As the demon tumbles back, you quickly help Genya put his flames out. As you move to run back towards the demon, he grips your forearm, gentle but firm. "Y/N, you shouldn't be here." he says, he's distressed and your heart aches that your the reason for his expression. You put your hand on his cheek, and give him a sad smile, removing his grip from you and running to tackle the demon. You succeed, Tanjiro and Nezuko following in suit. It took Genya a moment to process what you just did, the action being faster than he expected. Genya screams at you all as you tumble.

Tanjiro leaves the demon gravely wounded, hanging from a tree as Nezuko stays out below. Genya looks for a sign of you when he notices you aren't near either of them. As the demon moves to take his leave, tanjiro notices and groans out the words he can, mustering the little strength he had left. "And.. I'm gonna cut off your head!" he screams. It strikes a nerve and the demon makes his attempts to find a human to rejuvenate his strength. He runs to the swordsmiths once he spots them, dwelling on the four of you who just almost killed him, feeling relieved that Tanjiros blade couldn't cut his head. The swordsmiths run as the demon begins his chase, Tanjiro quickly making his way down to Nezuko. he calls out to her, and hearing a lack of response he looks back at the demon, trying his best to encourage himself to do it one more time. 'one more time, i can do it.' he thinks. He hears his name and looks toward Genya, but when he hears his name once more, he faces the opposite side of the cliff. it's Muichiro. Genya still frantically seeks you out, trying his hardest to not panic. you were strong, stronger now that you were a demon, there was no way a fall could take you out. Muichiro throws tanjiro a sword, and tanjiro can feel blood rush to his heart. he readies himself, newfound strength gracing his soul, and breathes out. He calls a form, and cleanly slices the demons neck, the scene looking straight out of a warriors painting from those who saw. He catches his breath as he realizes he finally did it, a smile forming on his face a she realizes the job was done. his smile faded though, noticing the suns light beginning to filter the world around it. He panics and runs to Nezuko, gripping at his chest as it burns him greatly. he tries to get works out but nothing he does is working, bending down a little to give way for him to catch his breath. Nezuko notices and reaching out to him, running towards him when notices the demon continuing to run and chase the swordsmiths. . 'No, Nezuko!' Tanjiro thinks, he wants so badly to be able to yell out to her. 'You don't have to come this way!' he heaves harder, 'It's you, You're the one in danger!' He reaches out to her as she comes closer embracing her as she panics even harder, trying to get him to notice the problem behind him. He grunts, gasping as he notices, instinctually getting ready to attack the demon once he realizes it wasn't the actual body. it's when nezuko begins to burn when he pauses, ''Nezuko!" he screams, running to cover her. It breaks his heart even harder, feeling conflicted. As he holds Nezuko trying to cover her from the sun, he feels tears prick at his eyes. Who is he to save. Before Nezuko makes the decision for him, preparing herself to kick him, he and Nezuko pause when they see you emerge from afar, making your way toward the demon. Nezuko begins to calm down as she reaches for you, noticing your beginning to burn. Tanjiro covers her arm that sticks out toward you as he screams, 'Y/N! What are you doing!" you scream when a particular glare from the sun burns and it hinders you for a moment before you brush him off with a hand, suddenly appearing right behind the demons body where you tackle him.

Genya takes notice of it and quickly jumps down the cliff. His expression begins to harden as he makes his way toward you, enduring the sharp pains he got from it. Just to make his way to you.

his feet burned and his chest felt tight. 'Keep going.' he tells himself.

his wrists and neck begin to cramp but he tightened his grip on his weapons. 'She needs you.'

his muscles burn and begin to become stiff. "Y/N!" he screams your name out.

"Genya!" Tanjiro screams, looking at him as he gets closer, he stops and looks at them both Nezukos burnt face coming into view from Tanjiros arms. He looks between you and Tanjiro, Tanjiro could help you win that fight, he could cover Nezuko in the mean time, or, he could fight with you. His head forms a thousand thoughts every second and he shakes his head, deciding to run towards you. he just wants to feel you. He doesn't have time to decide anything when suddenly a strong metallic smell overruns everyone's senses. Nezukos blood never smelled, nor did any demons, but yours was a strong, and it was almost sweet as well. he pauses as he looks at you, Tanjiro and Nezuko doing the same. 'What the hell?' he thinks.

They look confused at you as you claw at your arm, extremely thick blood spilling around you. you summon your blood demon art and they pick up on quickly. Genyas at loss for words, he's still a far distance from you so he continues to run toward you when suddenly your blood suddenly turns a deep purple color as begins to form into a dark purple shadowed man. you step on the ground and a huge gust of purple causes everyone to fall back, even the swordsmiths. Tanjiro is now using his entire body to cover Nezuko, relieved that you and Genya were there to kill the demon, guilt panting at his chest because of it, why was he relieved when it was your life for Nezukos. you lift your burning arm up and the shadow man then forms a gun. It's comical almost, that the weapon your blood chose to use of all things was a gun, but when the man fully forms, they all notice it's mimics Genyas form perfectly, down to his height. Genyas heart beat quickens, a blush forming as he tries his hardest to get to you, while Tanjiro smiles in a sick way 'Ofcourse it would be Genya' he thinks. you flick your other arm and they make the connection when your blood creates a dark and iridescent purple blade, a carbon copy of genyas blade. your shadow man forms white eyes and you both make a single move to cleanly kill the demon. it was quick, the way you sliced through the demons arms and legs, it was even quicker when the shadowed man shot the demons head. the sound of the bullet had genya and tanjiro reeling, genya making a quick move to cover Tanjiros ears instead of his own, noting that he was unable to do so without putting Nezuko in danger, an act of selflessness he learned from you. everyone was disoriented as they noticed every time the demon would reform a body part, it would turn into ash and never reform again. Thanks to the suns help, the demon had quickly and fully disintegrated, you recalled what was left of the purple shadows, the sun having turned it to ash, and you fell to your knees covering your head from the pain. had the situation been different, they would've all admired your blood demon art, but as beautiful and dreamy as it looked, you were dying.

Genya finally made it toward you and quickly pushed you into him, covering your entire body with his own. his grip was tight, and his body's ache went away once he finally has you in his arms, he softly sighs into you when he feels your body still move. "Oh thank god.." he says, positioning you so that your farther into his body. "Get smaller, woman!" he yells out, holding you tighter as he feels you shift your body into a smaller size. he thanks the gods it's one of your abilities. "Are you crazy!" he screams, you weep, "im sorry.." you choke out, he grips you tighter and kisses your head, "im not mad," and before he can speak further you try to mold yourself into him, "Genya, it burns," your voice wavers, "so, bad.." your voice is raspy and it aches his heart, "i know, baby." he kisses your head, "i know." his voice cracks. trying his hardest to ease the burns on your skin, he lets a tear fall. he can feel your skin and it makes him want to tear the sun and its rays apart for hurting you so badly. "oh my god." he repeats over and over again, silently praying to the gods that they don't take you away from him. he can't even bare the thoughts of losing you, having you stripped out of his arms would truly be the final nail in the coffin. you tilt your head and watch Nezuko struggles the same way you do. you look at Genya and you hold your gaze at eachother for a moment before you speak, "he can't hold out for long Genya.. you both can't be here forever.." Genya tightened his grip, more so than he already had and it's almost suffocating, "Don't even think about it." he grits out, "We're staying here until we find way." you look at him longer, and nod, any attempt to change his mind would be futile. "okay." you say, gripping his shirt tighter. Genya and Tanjiro share a look, both of them having trouble deciding what to do next. but when you hear the swordsmiths panicked voice you immediately turn your head to face them, genya quickly covering you again. One of them was greatly wounded by the demon. you hear genyas heartbeat as she shifts around, the soapy smell still lingering on his uniform, you had washed it for him the day before the mission. Nezuko takes notice and removes herself from Tanjiros grip, deciding the people were more important than herself. When she does so, you quickly remove yourself from Genya and tackle her, pushing her back into Genya and Tanjiro who had stood up as fast as you both did. The push was stronger than you intended and pushed them back a few feet as it was now genya would was covering Nezuko, being the only one with demonic strength to hold her back as she continued to writh in his grip. Tanjiro tried to get at you but you decided it was better to help the wounded swordsmith. You make your way and put pressure on his fatal wound and draw blood, careful not to get it into his blood stream. your blood then turned into a thick purple again, and slowly formed the shadow man again, or, "genya", who gently merged its hands to create a thin protective layer on the man's wound, completely stopping him from bleeding out. "it's okay," you smile fondly, "you'll be okay." the swordsmiths wanted to cry at how soft your voice is, at how gentle you are and how no matter what happened your humanity remained. Tanjiro tries to cover you, but you glare at him, "either he dies, or i do, and it's most certainly not going to be him." tanjiro cannot argue, and his mouth becomes dry. He could cover you, save you from the sun rays, but if he did that he couldn't help the swordsmith. your purple shadow was keeping him from bleeding out, and he had to wait until everyone made it to you guys to get you safe.

it was then when Tanjiro realized you had stopped burning, and that your blood demon art was still working just fine. you instead had steam radiating off your body, the burn marks had returning to their normal state of softness, and Genya choked out a surprised sound of relief. his eyes became glassy and he laughed as he saw you. you were no longer burning, he only had to worry about nezuko now. Tanjiro gasped, tears no longer kissing his cheeks and he pointed at you. you looked at yourself, and smiled in disbelief. "Tanjiro!" you said, "Y/N!" he said back. you both laughed, feeling happy that at least something good came out of the fight.

Tanjiro made his way to collect Nezukos box, Genya helping him put her in the box saftey, as she quickly made his way toward you once everyone else was able to get to the swordsmith. Genya was the first person you ran to hug, and you tackled him onto the floor. He grunted, the air getting knocked out of him completely, laughing nonetheless and holding you tight against him. "Genya!" you scream, and he smiles wider at hearing his name. he elongates the kiss you give him, leaning further on your lips as he holds you against him, leaving you no room to consider backing off. he sits up and holds your face, admiring how beautiful the sun makes you look. your eyes are brighter, and your skin is warmer, and he truly feels like he was gifted a goddess. he puts his forehead on yours and you both close your eyes.

"I cannot wait to marry you." you gasp, and he chuckle. "i can't either," you say shyly.

"what exactly is your blood demon art y/n?" Tanjiro asks. genuine curiosity showing from his expression. you blush and look away. "i don't know" you say, and genya turns a deep shade of red. he had forgotten about it and although he was curious too, embarrassment took the best of him. he simply opted to just hold you tight instead, looking away from you.

funfact! when asked to explain what had happened on the mission, you were forced to explain your blood demon art infront of all the hashira (considering when first asked about it you said you didn't know if you even had one.) thanks to mitsuri.

"well, i don't know for certain if there's an actual name for it, but my blood forms a shadowy figure. i can form a blade from it as well, but the figure always forms first. i can't form anything else from it" Mitsuri nodded, "it looks just like Genya!" she states. your eyes widen and you gasp.

you didn't hear the end of it after that.

my first ever not sad fun fact XD

[ace-and-ink]

the night’s almost silent besides your ceiling fan

though it still can’t diffuse everything in the heavy air between us

not even passing cars want to stop to see the mess you are tonight

the streetlamps saw us briefly but 

your hoodie and sweatpants kept your skin a secret

while we stopped at the CVS on the corner

the flickering sign above the door brighter than your eyes

and the clouds covered the moon’s on the way back to your place

no one got to gaze upon your skin like i do

coming home and you shed all those layers and lose them 

like the same ones dispersed across the floor

soaking up all the air in the room in a tank top and gym shorts

like you’re going to put your lungs to work for something physical

i can count on one hand the types

of bottles and boxes and bags 

caught up in the tornado wreck of your room

but i’ll need two and a half to hold you 

when they get to you

the bee sting of your breath has already 

hit my nose just sitting here

you lean almost too far back

the smoke that leaves your mouth looks like your soul

departing through your hearty laugh

you swing back heavy

and your head takes its place in my neck

i don’t know how you see through those eyes

i don’t know how i can hear a voice so low like you’re already below

i’m stone cold

you’re so gone 

all the warmth in the room comes from your mouth

when i go i’ll bring twice the change for Charon for you

i can hear the river already but you’re oblivious to the flood

you’re too confident in your weight

you say you’ll fade but it’ll save you yet

maybe i’m jealous because i know 

the veins that pop in my hands would betray me

while you live and love with all of it

i can feel it in your hands

i can feel it with my hands

i don’t want you to let go

there’s too much of you for me to lose

and still feel okay

i wonder if i can get it from you

like you’re some sensual intoxicated middleman

surely it drips like a bitter honey from your mouth

and even if you don’t bring yours to mine

surely it seeps through my skin where else your lips meet me

will it make my heart beat a little slower against your chest?

you already lay there with an asphyxiating pressure

so would i finally suffocate in you?

we’ll make this midnight room spin

with what’s left of our serotonin scattered

among the clothes and blankets and pillows

sitting on your floor with us

you say you’re not gonna go until i do

i pray i’m the only one that knows that’s not true

because i know he beckons from the bottom of a bottle

and he wants to have you as badly as i do

you wrap your arms around my waist 

and something stupid stumbles like you past your lips

it reminds me why i’ve got spare change in my pocket tonight

— See You by the Styx

[ladylooch]

Loving & Leaving- Part 4

Visit the series page here.

A/N: Now, we are seeing a shift for our little “non- lovers”. And that’s all I’m gonna say about that 😘 Thank you so much for your love and support on this one. It’s been dreamy and exciting!

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Swearing, lots of vomit talk, pregnancy, angst.

The month of December is hell on earth for event planners. Between your own personal celebrations leading up to the holidays and your client's, you never have a moment to yourself. I’ve seen the inside of my house for a maximum of two hours since I returned back from America. The other times I’ve been there its falling into a pile of exhaustion on my bed before my alarm goes off to do it all over again. My work weeks have transitioned into 70+ hours. At least I know there is light at the end of this tunnel when I return to New Jersey with my parents on Tuesday.

Then, I’ll be able to spend time with them and… hopefully Timo, depending on if I can slip away or not. Communication between the two of us has been limited the last two weeks. I’ve responded to his texts and we have shared a few brief phone calls. At least he’s understanding and supportive. It helps that his season is ramping up and requires a majority of his focus.

We send pictures and TikTok’s, but I haven’t responded to those in five days. I’ve missed every one of his FaceTime calls this week too. Despite my admitted history, I am honestly not avoiding him. The grind of the holiday season is simply catching up with me. I find myself falling asleep the moment I sit down on my couch with a glass of wine. When I’m awake, I feel so overwhelmed that even keeping up with my friends and family here is disappearing from my never ending list. I’m overwhelmed, nearing burn out and honestly, sick. So sick. The last three days, my body has seemingly rejecting all this stress with a nausea I can’t seem to shake.

Which brings me to where I am now, puking, knees quivering on the tiled bathroom floor of an event center for the third time in three days. It’s my last event before Christmas and I’ve spent more time in the bathroom tonight than anywhere else. This is a different kind of sick. It feels like my body is purging everything I put into it before I can get any sort of benefit from it. All I ate was a piece of bread, fast, while rushing back from a dessert emergency in the kitchen. I barely got the last bite down before I was sprinting back to the bathroom.

“What is wrong with me?” I moan, laying the side of my head against the stall. I move to wipe the back of my hand across my mouth. I rest my forearm into my breast and groan at the tenderness. Awareness begins to seep into my thoughts. “No. This is not happening.” I whisper to the empty bathroom.

The door swings open and I grimace, not wanting to have any of the guests of my high-end client hear me. I thought I would have some time alone with the speaking part of the program under way.

“Em, are you okay?” Rhea, my assistant and long-time friend, asks.

“Um.” I pause, pressing the back of my hand furthering into my wet lips. My stomach lurches and I vomit again. I can hear Rhea sigh outside of the stall.

“This isn’t like you.” She says what we are both thinking. I’m rarely sick. This is new. “I’ll be back.” She calls before leaving the bathroom. I sit on my knees, eyes screwed shut, spitting into the toilet. My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, seeing Timo’s FaceTime call. I can’t answer that right now. Not when I think… I won’t let myself even finish the thought.

Rhea returns, kicking a pink, pregnancy test box under the stall. The woman on the front grins joyfully. I can’t say I feel the same. I consider denying that I need one of these, but Rhea and I spoke this morning about how weird my cycle has been. I had my period a few weeks ago, but it was almost non-existent. I chalked it up to stress, except… now I’m sick.

“How do you just have one of these?” I mumble, hating that we are both on the same page. 

“At some point, these things are like strips of gum in your purse.” 

We fall quiet.

“This is a low moment for me.” I mutter, ripping the box open. “Taking a… test at a client event is so embarrassing.” I work my way to sitting on the toilet. 

“You need to be able to eliminate this.” She responds, leaning against the bathroom door. I scowl, hearing my phone vibrate against the toilet paper dispenser. I know that’s him again. So does Rhea. He has the same routine. Calls three times and leaves a message on the third. “Interesting timing. At least you'll know who’s baby it is.” I glare at the stall door as I snap the cap of the test back on.

“Can I have a minute here?” Guilt squeezes my throat at how unfriendly my tone sounds. My whole world seems up in the air right now and I just need her to stop talking. 

But the absence of Rhea’s voice makes my phone vibrating louder until it feels like it’s rattling between my ears. A ping echos in the bathroom signaling a voicemail. I grab my phone, listening to his message.

“Hey Em… uh, it’s me again. Look, I know you’re busy but I’m going to be honest this feels like you’re kinda ignoring me. Did I do something? Or… *heavy sigh* I don’t know. Can you just call me? I miss you. We play tonight, but call me.. I’ll pick up. Just… I want to know you’re okay. Bye.”

My bottom lip trembles at the sound of his voice. No. I am not okay, sitting on the floor of this bathroom, trying not to puke again at the reality of the test in my hand. Worried tears build as I sense the two minutes pass. I know the test is ready, can feel it in my shaking hands and the passing of another song from the band beyond this room.

I move my fingers and die at the distinct plus sign that greets me.

“Fuck.” I cry, throwing the test down on the floor. It bounces underneath to the next stall. My abdomen shakes with sobs and terror as I clasp my hand over my mouth. “Fuck.” I say into my palm again, quieter, listening to the classical strings float into the bathroom from the event space. The soft music is an ironic soundtrack to my whole world crashing down on top of me. I look up at the ceiling, tears crawling from the corners of my eyes. They drip into my ears as I shake against the cold floor.

What am I going to do?

How am I going to tell Timo?

A few days later, after arriving in New Jersey for Christmas, I’ve come to the, admittedly, irrational decision that maybe I just won’t. It’s been an exhausting few days that’s accompanied more nausea and tons of smell aversions. One of them is eggs which Nico is innocently frying up for breakfast.

“You want some?” He asks me as he cracks three eggs for himself.

“No.” I can barely respond without gagging.

Our parents went off on their own for a walk around the city and to grab a cup of their favorite coffee. Usually, I would join them, but my stomach has been so touch and go this morning that I didn’t think I could. Nico continues to move the eggs around and they get more fragrant. I try to switch breathing through my mouth, but the smell seems to coat my tongue. My stomach squeezes and I rush from the kitchen with my hand clasped over my mouth. Nico watches my back with confusion. I return to the kitchen wordlessly when I am done, grabbing a glass of water. Nico stares, eyebrows cocked in question.

“Not sure that motion sickness lasts for days, Em. Maybe you need to see a doctor. I can ask one of the team doctors if they can come over?” I’ve already seen a doctor to confirm my pregnancy. And the thought of getting a team official involved has my throat tightening. I come back to the counter, slowly sitting down and rubbing at the tense muscles in my neck. My gaze drifts to the dining room table, grimacing at the reminder it’s one of the places we could have conceived this baby.

I was so stupid to start us down this road. Yes, I’m on the pill. Yes, I take it regularly. No, I have no idea how this happened. When I brought it up to my doctor, she shrugged, saying no birth control options are completely guaranteed. Then she handed me the sonogram I didn’t ask for, that’s now tucked in my suitcase, buried beneath all my clothes.

I watch Nico scrape his eggs onto a plate, then sprinkle more salt and pepper onto the fluffy peaks. He’s right here in front of me, but it feels like we are a thousands of miles apart. Loneliness grips my heart, making my eyes wet as Nico comes to sit by me. The heaviness of being the only person who knows weighs on me. But, here, in his kitchen, I can feel my little brother’s safety being stable enough to take some of that weight from me. I’m going to tell him, I decide as he shuffles his eggs around, spearing a few onto his fork.

“It’s not motion sickness. I’m pregnant.” I tell Nico, who pauses with his eggs at his open mouth. The egg flies off when he exhales sharply. I bite my tongue against the vomit pressing into my esophagus.

“What?” 

“And it’s Timo’s.” I didn’t intend to tell him, but it flew out before I could stop it.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.” Surprise absorbs my face now. “I know you two fuck around.” He motions at me with his fork. “Have for years. You two are awful at hiding your obsession with each other.” My mouth is slightly slack as he stabs the egg back on his fork. He stuffs it into his mouth and continues while he chews. “Never understood why you wouldn’t go all in.”

“Because I have a life in Switzerland.”

“Yeah, that’s gone now.” He swipes the air in front of me with his fork again, gesturing to the pregnancy. I narrow my eyes at his bluntness and obvious lack of empathy. “What did Timo say when you told him?” I am silent. He brings his brown eyes back to mine, squinting. “You did tell him, right?” More silence “Emma.” He snaps. 

“I just found out.” I defend myself. “Not that I really owe you an explanation.”

“Get dressed.” Nico says, pointing down the hall to my room. “You’re going to tell him now.”

“No, I am not.”

“Yes, you are. It should have been your first stop when you got here.”

“I can’t just show up at his-”

“Are you keeping his baby?” He cuts me off. A heavy inhale pulls my lips apart.

“Yes.” I say without question. It never crossed my mind to not go through with this.

“Then get downstairs.” His voice is final, like there is no reason to continue to argue further with him.

“When did you stop being my protector?” I grumble while rising to leave the counter. 

“Who says I stopped?” His stare is pointed. “Go.” His tone has softened at the obvious tears in my eyes. “I wouldn’t send you if I didn’t think it would be okay.”

I try to remember those words as I stare at Timo’s apartment door seven minutes later. I thought about texting him, but then there would be so much small talk and I can’t do that right now. I contemplate bailing, but my brother comes to mind, knowing he’s going to expect a report from the conversation when I return.

“Damn you, Nico.” I mutter as I raise my hand to knock.

I wait for a minute, maybe two, gripping the sleeves of my sweatshirt in my hands. No sound comes from the other side of the door. I think I might get off easy. I even turn to head back towards the elevator. Then the sound of the lock flipping halts me. My stomach drops out of my body, hitting the floor and flopping around in unease.

“Hey.” Timo is breathless as he opens the door. He is wearing a pair of jeans, waistband of his Calvin Klein underwear taut against his abdomen. He stands shirtless in the entry way, rubbing a towel over his hair. The brown strands flop against his forehead as he looks expectantly at me. He looks so sexy, warm and welcoming, with a gentle familiarity. “Didn’t realize you were in Jersey.” He becomes obviously tiffed, understandable since I dropped off the face of the planet… again.

“Yeah.” My voice is breaking, so I clear my throat. “I’ve been here for a couple of days.” I say, fingers twisting the cotton tighter in my palms.

“Ah.” His voice goes flat and he looks away in annoyance. “So we are back to you ignoring me?” I shake my head, dropping my eyes to the floor. I feel queasy and start shaking. I hope he can’t tell.

“Can I come in?” He pauses, dropping the towel down to his side, like he might not let me. But him and I both know that’s now how it goes with us. The smell of his cologne is strong with my heightened senses and I cough in discomfort as I walk past him.

“I’m going to get a shirt.” He disappears down the hall, coming back in a black t-shirt that hugs his body. He runs his fingers through his wet hair while looking at me. “I don’t have long. I’m… meeting a friend.” I stare at him, wondering if it’s a friend of the female variety. I really don’t have a right to ask, so I don’t. My gaze drops to the couch. “It’s just Kevin, Em. The Kings are playing the Islanders.” He crosses his arms and leans back against the island of his kitchen well across the room from me. His biceps bulge against the fabric as he studies me. “You don’t look like you came here for small talk. What’s up?”

“I’m pregnant.” It’s abrupt. I know. Almost too fast for him to catch in real time, but I can’t hold it in anymore. The words are too full and tumble from my mouth in a rush. My heart shutters with each anxious beat. I bravely lift my eyes back to him.

Timo seemingly glitches. He is confused, not quite understanding, like he wants to ask me to repeat what I said. Then, I watch as the registration gradually fills his body. He begins to stand taller, eyebrows dashing up his forehead. When it clicks, his blue eyes widen in alarm.

“Mine?” He asks quietly. I try not to flinch at the question, realizing he will, logically, want a paternity test. He has assets and money and a career to protect. Funny, I thought being pregnant without a boyfriend was the most shameful thing I’ve done in my life. I think that experience is going to top it. Eventually, I nod in response as tears fill my eyes. He pushes out a loaded breath that fills my chest with discomfort. I look briefly back to his face, seeing a million emotions dash across his features, none of them actually registering.

I can’t watch him process anymore. I begin to soothe myself with internal thoughts. It doesn’t really matter what he wants from this. I’ve already made my decision. I’m only here because Nico forced me. I cross my arms over my tender chest, walking towards the windows to see the city skyline. Tears distort the buildings together. I’m collapsing under so many different emotions. It’s like I’m seeing that plus sign all over again.

A drop slides from my left eye, gradually dragging down my cheek. I reach my hand up, flicking it away. My teeth dig into my trembling lip as I sniffle. Timo’s hand comes along my upper back, wrapping around my neck and gliding me into his body.  His other hand wraps around my waist as he buries his face into my cheek. I enclose my arms around him, shoving my face into his chest and releasing my suffocating sobs into his shirt.

“I’m freaking out.” I squeak.

“I know. It’s going to be okay.” Even as his voice shakes, he is so, so gentle with me. His hands press me into his body like he wants to absorb and shield me. “What do you want to do?” He whispers into my hair. “It’s your choice.”

“I’m gonna do this… I’m keeping the baby. ” I tell him. I can feel his body deflate beneath me. For a moment, I don’t know why, but then he presses his face deeper into my hair, kissing my scalp with feathery kisses meant to soothe.

“Okay. I’m happy to hear that.”

I nod, glad that he isn’t pressuring me any which way. I don’t think I could handle his anger with me for wanting to see this through.

“Em, I’m here. You don’t have to do this alone.” I begin to tremble in his arms. He’s not even questioning further about this being ours. “Does Nico know?”

“Yeah. About everything. He is why I am here.” 

“You weren’t going to tell me?” He stiffens, pain deepens his voice which makes me feel like shit.

“I.. well yeah, but maybe when we ran into each other in July and I was 9 months pregnant.” I pull back, tilting my chin to see his face. It’s calm and measured, which helps soothe some of the turmoil in me. He reaches up for my cheeks, stroking his thumbs to collect my tears.

“July?”

“Yeah, I confirmed everything at the doctor on Monday. I’m due July 26th.”

“Off-season.” He murmurs with appreciation. “Most NHL couples plan for years to get a July birthday.” I look away with a scrunched nose at the word couple, causing a heavy sigh to drop his shoulders. “Can we agree right now that you’re going to stop fighting the way you feel about us? Please. For our kid?” He says it so casually, like he’s used to and accepted the idea of our kid. My heart grows in my chest for him.

“Becoming a mom isn’t the only thing I’m terrified of.” I confess.

“Baby, I’ve promised you since day one that I would take care of you. I’m not going to let anything hurt you, including me.” He is so sure as he speaks to me. I drop my forehead back to his chest.

“Do you really want this?” I whisper to him, even as he wraps me tighter into his arms, tears dashing down my cheeks again. “You don’t have to do this.” I pull back, reaching up to hold his face in my hands. My thumbs rippling his skin with their pressure.

“You’re all I’ve wanted for years.” He presses our lips together. I cry into his mouth, feeling overwhelmed with everything that has and will happen between us. I feel like I don’t deserve this. Not his sweetness or his understanding at our situation.

“I’m sorry.” I bubble out between sobs. He runs his hand up my back to my head, encouraging my forehead to rest against his shoulder as he rocks us gently. There’s a whole laundry list I could apologize for, but I start with the big one. “I shouldn’t have taken the condom away from you. This is all my fault.”

“Weird, I thought I was the one who came inside of you… three times.” He chuckles at the memory.

“I encouraged it.”

“We both did.” He takes his share of the blame easily from me. 

“I didn’t mean for this to happen.” I need him to know that.

“I know, Emma. You’ve been trying to get out of loving me for years. You would never do this on purpose.” I stare at him with blurred vision, blinking so the tears fall down my cheeks. Now I can see him clearly, looking at me like he might finally get the chance to love me for the rest of our lives. I swallow hard, then let myself surrender to him for good.

“I’ve loved you for a really long time, T.” I hum, eyes brightening in earnest with my confession.

He smiles because unlike me, he already knew that.

[deaththcekid]

RENGOKU SH COMFORT

Sorry if I haven’t been writing a whole lot guys I’ve just had school and other stuff lol. OKAY SO UHHH…yeah

I’ve been wanted to write a Kny sh short comfort story for a while. As a person who has suffered with sh for a long time I’ve been wanting someone to comfort me for the longest time. So let’s get to it.

Warnings: Self-Harm, Blood, Scars, Blade, insecurities

Rengoku Sh Comfort

When you first got Rengoku you didn’t talk to him about your problem with Self Harming. You’ve tried to stop, and stop, and stop but the rush of pressure and insecurity kept creeping back up to you. One day you just wanted to rot in your bed, you didn’t have any motivation to get up, you just wanted to lay down and cry. You also didn’t talk to him about your insecurities since you have always bottled you your emotions. You just couldn’t take it anymore. You got up opened a secret drawer you had in your room, and pulled out a blade, still has blood on it since the last time you used it. You hated how you look, you hated everything about yourself, your body, face, your personality, your past scars from where you cut, you hated everything. You put the blade up to your wrist and started cutting. The pain, the burning sensation of the blade when you cut deeper into your skin. Blood seeping down your wrist. You stared to cry and cry, nothing was stopping the flow of your tears. You kept cutting deeper and deeper the more cuts you did. Rengoku was away for a mission so you expect him to not be home in a couple on days. The more you kept looking back at your insecurities and your past, you kept going deeper. The flow of insecurities kept getting the best of you. The rush of blood falling down your wrist onto the floor. Before you were gonna do another cut you heard a voice calling out to you. “Oh my little flame in ho-“. As soon as he opened the door he saw you on the floor, crying, bleeding, cutting. He rushed over to you “I-…why?!”. Not knowing what to say. He reached his hand out, “p-please give me the blade!”. You gently gave him the blade still crying. He threw the blade across the room then pulling you into his arms. He started to tear up, “darling why would you do this to yourself”. You started to cry even more. “I’m sorry Rengoku..it’s just that… I cant cope with all of this stuff I’m going through”. You said, “oh little flame, I’m always here for you and if you need someone to talk to I’m right here”. He pulled from the tight hug and looked at the red marks you made on yourself. “Wait here I’ll be right back, don’t move please” he got up and went to get something. When he came back he had Bandages and some alcohol to clean the marks. He sat back down and reached out his hand, “Can I please see your wrist”. You slowly gave him your wrist. He started to disinfect the cuts. Once he put the disinfectant on your wrist you flinched at how bad the stinging was. As he was bandaging it you asked him “A-are you mad at me Kyo?”. “I could never be mad at you.. it’s just that… why didn’t you talk to me about this Y/n?”. Once he was done bandaging it he pulled you into a tight embrace. Tears stared to fall from his eyes. “I was scared to tell you… and I didn’t want you to worry about me”. “Oh Y/n… don’t be scared to talk to me if your feeling sad or insecure”, “I love you so much I never want to see you like this”. You tears stared to creep up on you again. “Shhh it’s okay I’m right here, I’ll always be here for you, and if you need to talk about something I’m right here.” The warmness of his embrace made you feel safe and comfortable. You pulled back and looked into his pretty eyes. “I love you Kyo, and I’ll try to open myself up to you” A big warm smile appeared on his face “I love you too my little flame”. After he said that he kissed you on your lips. Then he started to leave small little kisses all over your face. Then he grabbed your wrist and kissed it very gently. You felt so safe around him. Then he picked you up bridal style “Now lets go get something to eat I’m starving!” You laughed and gave his a kiss. “I love you so much Kyo..” “And I love you so much too my little flame”.

[riptideripley]

Feeling Chapter 5

summary:does zoey regret everything..?

wrd count:771

angst - mention of getting shot

Rhea was panicking,didn’t know how to react to the whole situation. Yet she still went out there and put on her mami persona,did the segment and went backstage to do more on screen moments while preparing Dom in between everything. The show went by faster than she expected,feeling super cautious and nervous knowing she had to talk to Zoey soon.

Zoey was waiting anxiously in her hotel room when suddenly her phone rang,it was Randy. “What do you w-“ “I know where you’re going Zoey.” his voice rang through her ears,eyes widening. Immediately she hung up,immediately calling Damian. “Yooo Zoey what’s up?” “Damian I need you to watch Rhea. Randy is planning something and I-I don’t know what it is but please watch her” she told him,sighing in relief when he agreed. She hung up,gathering her things. She looked over at her nightstand,reaching inside the top draw to retrieve a pocket knife.

Rhea heard a knock at her door and opened it,revealing Zoey. She moved out the way letting the blonde inside,closing and locking the door. “Soo..” Rhea spoke breaking the silence,watching Zoey sit on the bed. “Look rips..I’m sorry. Me and Randy were talking at breakfast,just when I was about go back to bring you some coffee I got a call I was needed at Triple H’s office. I..I guess while I was trying to get my stuff he took my keycard.” Zoey explained,gently rubbing Rhea’s leg as she sat next to her. “..He was watching us earlier” Zoey confessed breaking Rhea’s silence. “Wait what..? And you still came here? Are you fucking du-“ Rhea was cut off with a quick kiss. “I’m not that stupid Rhea,I have Damian watching the hallway with Roman so don’t panic alright?” Zoey spoke trying to calm Rhea down which shockingly worked. “Whatever..so what do we do now?” Rhea questioned,still feeling uneasy knowing she was being watched like prey. “We can do whatever you want,I’ve been talking with Dom so we can work things out” Zoey spoke,running her hand over Rhea’s thigh.

Suddenly there was a loud bang in the hallway,causing both of them to freeze. Zoey was the first to get up,retrieving the pocket knife from her small bag as she slightly cracked the door open. It was Dominik. Laid out on the floor,blood seeping from his side onto the carpeted floor. As Zoey looked up from the sight,she caught a glimpse of a figure walking away. It was fucking Randy. Rhea was behind Zoey and quickly unlocked the door all the way,pushing Zoey out of the way and rushing to Dom’s side. Everyone in the hallway soon opened their door looking at the sight displayed in front of them. Zoey couldn’t even move,pocket knife slipping from her hand as she just stared emotionless.

Damian,Finn,and Roman soon rushed through the hallway after chasing everywhere for Randy. Finn stopped in his tracks seeing Dominik,his heart sinking.

Dom was there,head laying on Rhea’s lap as her hand was over his putting pressure on the gunshot wound. Blood was pooling beside his body and onto Rhea but that didn’t matter to her at this point. Rhea was a sobbing mess,gently shaking Dom awake every time he seemed to lose consciousness. Zoey had called the paramedics by now,hearing a rush of them flood the hallway. Zoey struggled pulling Rhea away from Dominik so the medics could assist him,having to get Roman to help. Roman could only hold her waist as she struggled to get out of grip,eventually giving up and sobbing into Roman’s chest as he turned her around holding her.

All of them rushed down stairs following the paramedics,deciding that Rhea and Finn go into the ambulance with him. Once they reached the ambulance,Rhea and Finn climbed inside promising to keep them updated.

Zoey didn’t know how to process this whole situation. She fell in love not realizing the consequences..does she regret bringing Rhea to her hotel room? Does she regret ever laying her eyes on her? Thoughts flooding her mind,not even realizing how light headed she was. Roman was the first to notice as Zoey collapsed onto the parking lot. “ZOEY!” he yelled out catching her before she hit her head onto the concrete.

Damian just stared. He knew everything..everything that nobody else knew but him and Dominik. He had to find Randy.

For his sister,for his brother,and for Zoey.

dt: @dmysterioblog @blessrhea @supartt @thetimetravler2000

creds: @cafekitsune @bexsbelts

[final-girl96]

My Boyfriend's Back Chapter Thirty-Four

YN

I stared at the white mask in confusion. "Who are you?" I asked. He chuckled before answering. "I'll give you a guess. We talked at the party the other night." I was still confused and shook my head. "I don't know. A lot happened that night. What the fuck do you want? Stop being a pussy and show your face!" His hand slowly came up to the mask and he pulled it off. Green eyes stared back at me.

"Now do you know who I am?" He asked. He looked familiar but I couldn't place a name. If I talked to him at the party, it was only briefly. "Luke! My name is Luke! I asked you to…" he was cut off when a hand landed on his shoulder and he was spun around. I looked up to see Stu with a huge smile on his face. "I've been waiting to do this since I saw you chattin' up my girl at that fucking party."

Luke gasped and blood began to pool on the floor between their feet. Then Stu stepped away from him and Luke turned towards me. Hands over his stomach, blood seeping through his fingers, and then he let go and his intestines fell out. I quickly stepped back when he reached his hand out to me. My eyes were wide in horror, my stomach turned and I started to feel like I was going to be sick.

When he fell to the ground my eyes moved up to look at Stu. Tears started to sting my eyes and I think for the first time I was actually really scared of him. I was scared of him back in Woodsboro but not like I was now. I've never actually seen him kill someone, only ever heard him talk about it. I stepped back again when he stepped over Luke and came closer to me.

"Don't." I pointed a finger at him but he didn't stop. "Stop, Stu! I'm serious!" I cried. He stopped and looked at me. "Are you scared of me?" He asked and I nodded. His face fell for a second before he rushed me, wrapping a hand around my throat, and pushing me against a wall. The hand he had wrapped around my throat wasn't putting any pressure on it though. "I am not going to hurt you!"

"You already have! You're behind this, Stu! Your little girlfriend told us everything. Including how she met you and how she got on her knees for you," I said with disgust in my voice. This time he did tighten his grip on my neck. "I don't know what that bitch told you, but it's not true. And of course I'm behind this, baby. You're my final girl."

He pressed himself closer to me, hand still wrapped around my throat, the hand holding the knife came up, blood still covering it. He pressed the tip of the knife to my cheek, gently dragging it down my face. "I hate to say this, baby, but everyone has to die. Sidney, Gale, Dewey, who is already dead from what I've been told, Derek will go, and so will Hallie. You'll be the only one left. The only survivor."

He ran the knife down to my chest leaving a trail of Luke's blood on my skin. I held my breath, my body shook in fear. "After everything, I'll disappear for a while; go back into hiding. You'll go and grieve for a little before following your dreams. Of course, I'll be watching you the whole time. But eventually…" his hand moved up under my jaw, pulling my face closer to his and connected our lips in a quick kiss. "I'll come back into your life and we're going to go back to the way it was before all this shit."

He let go of me, took my hand and put the knife in it. "Now, be a good girl and go out there and kill Hallie." He kissed my forehead and then disappeared. I stood there trying to collect myself. My eyes trailed to Luke's body laying on the floor, surrounded in blood. I looked around to see exactly where I was to figure out which way I needed to go to get back to the stage.

When I got my bearings I made my way back to the stage to see Cotton helping Gale back up onto the stage. Derek and Hallie were both dead, Gale was holding her stomach where blood was turning her white shirt red. "Oh, my god, yn!" Sidney rushed over to me. "What happened? Are you okay?" I looked at her, opening my mouth to say something but nothing came out. "Whose blood is this?" She asked.

"Luke's," I whispered. She looked at me confused, "who's Luke?" She asked. "Some guy who was at the party. He came up to me and asked me out to coffee," I said. I looked around again, "Cotton came just in time, he shot Derek and then I killed Hallie. What happened to Luke?" She asked. "He's dead…" I paused, debating whether or not to tell her that Stu killed him or not. "I…um…I killed him."

She pulled me into a hug and I started crying. Eventually we made our way outside and just as we did, police and medics were rushing towards us. A medic helped Gale to an ambulance and the police came over to Sindey and I, wanting us to explain what happened. We told them and then walked away.

A bunch of reports came up wanting us to answer their questions shortly after. "Ask Cotton, he's the real hero," Sidney told them. She nodded at Cotton, linked her arm with mine and we walked across the street. I don't know what was going to happen now since Stu's plan didn't go the way he wanted it. I might not know what he was going to plan exactly, but I do know that he would be pissed and had no doubt ghost face would be back again.

What Sidney and I had decided was to go back home for a little while until we can get on our own feet. I had a feeling Sidney would shut herself away. And if I was being honest, it didn't sound like a bad idea. Getting a house set back into the woods on a private drive, where nobody could find me. But I had dreams. Dreams that I've had for a long, long time. I knew that no matter where I hide or how hard I try to hide…my boyfriend would always be back.