#inner crisis for week 1 and now this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

royalsweetteaa · 1 year ago

Text

Good intent

Pairing: Dark!Ransom Drysdale x Homeless!reader

Chapter 3

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

WARNING - This story contains the following: dark themes such as kidnapping, non-con/rape, brief mention of suicide, mutual masturbation, oral sex, obsessive behavior/possessive behavior/delusional behavior on Ransom’s part, cheating, Ransom being a creep in general, toxic relationship dynamic, Stockholm syndrome on reader’s part, abuse of power, classism, size kink, manipulation, angst, a bit of sad!Ransom, eventual fluff.

Summary: Ransom is going through a life crisis where he’s miserable and he wants to change things up to make his daily life more interesting. The change involves taking the freedom of someone who he deems is beneath societal suitability.

Ch. | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

2nd person POV

The following weeks were pretty much the same for you. Ransom would be at home with you through most of the day, excluding the hours when he had to buy groceries and necessities. You would stay at your room for a good fraction of time, but when you felt lonely you would leave and see what Ransom was up to from afar.

When you were too close to him, his eyes would wander down to your body and you knew he had lustful thoughts through the look of his eyes. He would take you at the most unexpected times and would have you pressed against the wall or on a counter to grind himself against you. It came apparent to you that he liked grabbing your breasts, squeezing them and twisting your nipples while hovering above you.

If he was really in the mood, he would make you slide your panties down so he could cum on them, - to then demand you to wear those for the rest of the day. The feeling of his sticky cum between your pussy and inner thighs made you cringe. You had more of a reason to look forward taking a shower when the evening came.

You did cry during a lot of his pouncing molestations, but you had recently gotten used to the routine. What Ransom was doing wasn’t the worst thing out there. You had heard of stories and cases of abductors keeping their victims in awful living conditions, having them tied up so that the abductor could do inhumane and violating acts against them. While it didn’t excuse Ransom’s way of manhandling you, it certainly made you feel a little bit better to think of worst case scenarios.

He had gifted you clothes, but you quickly learned his real intentions when you discovered they were rather suggestive. Your new underwear and bras were lacy and covered little. They were all of the colour white, and when Ransom first saw you in them, he had said the colour made you look pure and clean. You used to think he referred you as clean because of how you were able to shower now, and it was a way of him being derogatory over you being homeless, but you grew less sure of the meaning.

Ransom had also bought you oversized sweaters and sweatpants of his size. You didn’t know if he simply got off to you wearing something that was meant for someone like him or if it was because of easier access to take your clothes off. Maybe he was just being cheap and bought something he could easily take and wear himself. You didn’t know.

Nonetheless, your sweatpants barely held up because of how big they were, which made it easier for Ransom to just pull them down and have his way with you.

How had your life taken this drastic turn?

Today would break the streak of a routine you and Ransom had followed for almost 3 weeks now. He was leaving early in the evening for a family gathering at Harlan’s for the first time in ages, - according to him anyway.

You had learned that Ransom didn’t have the best relationship with his family either. He had told you as such when he compared the two of you one time during an intense session of fingerfucking you. You surprised yourself that you had managed to remember anything Ransom had said during it.

He put his coat and scarf on and left without saying goodbye. You were thankful he didn’t do anything before leaving. He seemed nervous, even though he tried his best to hide it. But you could tell.

You saw the way he would shuffle to spaces around the house without having any reason to be there. You concluded he was in a train of thought and was trying to gather them. You felt….bad for him.

You knew you shouldn’t, but you saw something in him that reminded you of all the times you headed home from school, mentally preparing yourself to be yelled at by your parents for nothing other than them releasing their frustration onto you.

6 hours went by and it was soon closing to midnight. You were on the sofa in the living room, watching a late night show as you snacked on potato chips. There were full stocks of them in the shelves.

Ransom had stocked up on cookies and salted goodies for you to eat when he was out. There was also frozen and canned food in the fridge but nothing fresh.

Ransom always ordered take out or bought frozen food that could easily be put in the oven and be done within an hour. It was good food and you never complained about it, but as your boredom grew, you missed cooking. Cooking always brought joy when you visited a friend and you would make your spaghetti with meatballs from scratch.

You kept in mind to ask ransom if he could buy ingredients so that you could cook something homemade for the two of you.

For the two of you.

Your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sound of a door opening and closing downstairs. You heard irregular footsteps coming up the stairs, and you were met by Ransom. The smell of alcohol made its way through your nostrils, and you knew then that he was drunk. Shit.

“Hey, kitten…enjoying the night without me?” He asked with a lazy voice. He almost tripped when passing the armchair, but he slowly made his way to you with a smirk.

“I’m just….watching some TV. I’ll be going to bed soon. You should go to bed too…” you suggested carefully.

He scoffed. “Nah, I’d rather be here with you, sweetheart. Nothing better than being with you….” He said with no shame, before he placed himself on the couch. You scooted away - a big mistake on your part.

He frowned. “Stop fucking….- moving away from me. It hurts…when you do that.” He muttered, before he laid down and placed his head on your lap, snuggling into you.

You were in shock. You had never seen Ransom in a state like this. One could almost say he was being vulnerable, but maybe it was the alcohol messing with his mind.

“I had the worst fuckin’ time ever….had the whole family screaming at me, like they always do. Telling me I’m a worthless piece of shit and how I don’t do anything worthwhile…..as if they are any better. They hog up my grandfather’s money just as much….I’m no worse of a fool, yet I get all the blame when they made me this way….I hate them so much.” He said with a shaky voice. “Had to get drunk to not have a full mental breakdown. Wasn’t the easiest, and probably not the safest to drive home but I had to…*hic*…get back to you. Couldn’t stay any longer away from you…”

You felt your sweatpants were getting moisture from where Ransom laid his head. You were confused, and so you moved your head just a little to get a better angle, and that’s when you saw it.

He was crying….

“Everyone hates me. Even you. I know you do. No matter how much I try to sugarcoat it, I know you despise me, but honestly, I’d rather have you hate me than not have you at all. I’m fucking done for if I let you walk away from me…”

You almost couldn’t believe it. Ransom had never expressed any vulnerable emotions other than anger, frustration, jealousy, lust and sometimes happiness, if you could call it that. Sadness and fear were never on the table before. Until now.

You should leave him to cry out his frustrations alone. Make him understand that there’s no use in finding comfort from you. That’s how one should normally respond to someone who has repeatedly violated one’s body.

But you don’t.You don’t have the heart to do it.

You carefully place your hand on his head, which made him shudder in surprise. You started to stroke his hair when he seemed to maintain calmness. He further nuzzled into you, wiping his tears with your sweater.

“Ransom…..” you started, before taking a deep breath. “I don’t….hate you. I don’t hate anyone.” You quickly specify. “If anything, I hate myself more because I can’t seem to put up a fight when….” You shook your head, regretting on saying anything at all. He didn’t care anyway, you thought.

He looked up at you, half smiling despite having bloodshot eyes. “You’re everything I could want..so forgiving and submissive…then there’s me who doesn’t regret taking you. I don’t regret anything I’ve done to you.” He said, before rising away from your lap. He took your hand and kissed it before looking at you with caring eyes.

“Does that make you angry, sweetheart? That I don’t regret touching you? I haven’t hurt you…I’ve been nice enough to make you cum whenever I wanted to get off with you. I’ve been nothing but nice….you just can’t seem to see that yet….“

Your eyes were burning from trying to hold yourself together. You wanted to cry so bad, but you didn’t want to show weakness anymore.

“You’re so dear to me….I think….…*hic*…if anything were to happen to you, or if I ever came home and you were gone, I’d just kill myself…” he said before leaning away and looking up at the ceiling.

Your stomach dropped and you felt sick. So many mixed emotions were contemplating from head to heart.

“You…you don’t mean that….you’re drunk Ransom…you said it yourself, I’m a nobody.”

Ransom chuckled at your doubting. “I’m an honest drunk, sweetheart… and I’m sure as hell going to regret saying all these things but it’s true…you may be a no one outside this house but you’re my whole new world, no matter how fucking cheesy it might sound. I…always thought you were the one who needed me but it was always the other way around. I realize that now.”

Your heart was beating at a pace you didn’t know was possible. Ransom turned to look at you and smiled. He patted the sofa for you to come closer to him, and you complied.

“Ransom…” you were about to ask what he was going to do, but he beat you to it. “Kiss me..” he mumbled. Before you could coherent his request, he attached his lips to yours. It was probably the most gentle kiss you two have ever shared. He held your hand and caressed it while his other hand moved to your thigh. “I need you, Y/N…” he mumbled in the kiss. He wasn’t hinting on any sexual desire this time but just pure passion.

“…I….I need you to give me a blowjob.” He whispered bluntly while stroking your knee.

You spoke too soon.

You were taken aback by his demand but not surprised. You had thought that Ransom would eventually demand to experiment more sexual deeds with you as time went by. He had been ‘kind’ enough to not engage in penetrative sex with you yet, but you knew his end goal was to do just that when the ‘right time’ came, whenever that would be. It scared you, but what was even more scarier was how the thought also gave you thrill.

“But you’re drunk Ransom…we can’t just-“

“I don’t care…I need you to to touch me this time. Suck my cock, kitten.”

Because it was less of a request and more of an order, you knew you had no choice. You sighed with defeat and nodded. “Okay.”

Ransom beamed. It was as if his smile alone was out of an achievement. It was as if to tell you ‘I won’. You hated yourself immensely at that moment.

He straightened his posture and spread his legs before looking at you. You took it as a cue to remove yourself from the couch and place yourself on the floor, slotting between his legs. He towered you from this angle.

“Go on, darling. Take my cock out like a good girl.” He taunted and licked his lips.

You looked down at his crotch area where you could see his bulge growing, and with shaky hands you reached out to undo his fly. You unzipped him and saw a few wet patches on his boxers. His cock was twitching under the restraints, almost begging to be released. You peeled off his boxers and were met by his hard red tipping cock. Your face has never been this close to it, and you were distracted by how pretty it was.

You felt your heart sink when you felt a sense of tingling - your pussy responding out of arousal at the mere sight of a cock. His cock.

Your hand wrapped carefully around his shaft, and you slowly began to pump him. His head leaned against the headrest of the sofa, letting out a sigh of relief. “There you go….fuck, I’ve been dreaming of having you on your knees for the longest time. I’ll never get this image out of my head….” He rasped.

You weren’t nearly as experienced as him, - you had figured as much, but he didn’t seem to mind. His hand stroked your hair, much like you were doing earlier.

“C’mon baby, use that pretty mouth now and suck. Want you drooling and making a sloppy mess around me.” He groaned.

You did as he said, and moved yourself closer to his cock. You gave the tip a few kitten licks before swallowing him in your mouth. His precum tasted bitter, but it wasn’t that bad. You circled your tongue around his mushroom head and gathered more spit to make it easier to take him. Your small hands wrapped around beneath where your mouth was working and you started stroking. He let out obscene moans all the while his grip around your head became rougher.

“Mmm Good girl, fuck…such a good girl for me…fucking addicted to you, baby. You’re my little slut, aren’t you? Mine to do as I please with….”

Yours thighs rubbed together as it gave your throbbing pussy some relief. The way Ransom spoke to you ignited something within you. It always had, but this time you couldn’t help but get off from only his words. His praise of your actions made you feel powerful. You liked this.

You looked up at him while forcing your throat to accept him, and you found him staring right back at you. He looked at you with absolute adoration.

“Look at you,…so pretty…you’re nothing like those whores I used to fuck…you’re so much more…” he said completely dazed out before he gripped your head and started forcing you to swallow him full.

“I’m gonna fucking cum….ah shit, you better not let any of my cum go to waste. F-fuck!~” he closed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. Spurts of cum made its way to your mouth. You swallowed his spend, letting each load into your throat and down your stomach. You savored the taste, and he let go of your head so you could remove yourself and breathe. You coughed a little bit as it had been a while since you gave someone a blowjob, but you recovered quickly.

“Open your mouth..” he demanded. You opened your mouth, presenting that you had indeed swallowed everything he gave you. He smiled pleasantly. “Amazing…came faster than I usually do because you treated my dick so well..” he praised. “Want me to return the favor?” He asked with a raised eye brow.

You shook your head. “I’m tired right now, but…thanks.”

He smirked and nodded understandingly. “Come here. Let’s cuddle.”

He took you into his arms, but what you didn’t expect was to be carried. Carefully, he stumbled his way with you to his bedroom and placed you on his bed. He took off his sweater and trousers but left his boxers on. You sighed in relief as it was a huge indicator that he wouldn’t start anything. You were too tired, and he was too.

Ransom tucked you under the sheets and put it over himself as well before reaching into your touch. Your hand landed on his chest as you made yourself comfortable. Somehow, after everything that had happened, this gave you the peace you had longed for. You had forgotten yourself completely, not scared anymore of what Ransom had made you become. Ransom gave you a kiss on your temple and stroked your shoulder where his arm held around you.

“Goodnight, kitten.” He mumbled, before falling into a deep slumber.

You muttered ‘goodnight’ back, and everything went black.

You woke up the morning after, still in Ransom’s bed. Ransom wasn’t beside you anymore though. You turned to look around to find no one but yourself in the huge bedroom. His side of the bed was cold, which meant he must have left much earlier on. You sighed.

Disappointment. That was all you felt. You had lost the little dignity you had left and accepted the fact that you had grown attached to your captor. He had said he didn’t regret what he had done to you, and while it did hurt you at the moment, it had seemed he was trying to tell you he did it out of adoration for you. He wasn’t mocking you over his non-existent guilt, but rather insinuating it was with a purpose. A purpose to connect the two of you in a way he only knew how to connect.

His vulnerability yesterday made you see Ransom from a different perspective. One of a lonely and unloved rich man who took you to fill his void. You being that person to a demanding and defensive man such as Ransom made you feel somewhat special.

You hated yourself for it. You truly did. But why resist it? The feeling you were slowly getting attracted to made you feel like you could stay here and not hate it. Why push away the man who seemed to care so much about you, to the point where he would place your pleasure first before his?

You recalled the times he would touch you and feel you without thinking of touching himself. He said he knew your body too well to know it craved him. The more you thought about it, the more you concluded he was right all along. Your mind and heart was slowly abiding to your body’s cravings.

You were becoming one with your body.

Leaving the bed, you walked over to your room and had a mission of your own to look presentable. You took a shower and used the vanilla fragranced soap.It reminded you of him, so you wanted to embrace it.

You put on a new lingerie Ransom had gifted you, and put on a comfy sweater. No sweatpants this time.

When you were done, you looked around the house. You assumed Ransom went to the store because he was nowhere to be found. You wrapped your arms around your shoulder, suddenly feeling very alone.

You were scared.

You have been alone for a long time ever since you had to move out and lay in the streets. You were getting used to it, and then he came along and showered you with attention. Showed you affection like none other. You hadn’t been in a serious relationship ever, and you didn’t know the implications of it. You wondered if that made it all the more easier for you to like Ransom since you couldn’t compare previous relationships. It made you feel pathetic the more you thought about it.

You returned to Ransom’s bed and decided to curl yourself in the sheets. They smelled like him, and it made you feel flushed. You inhaled the smell once more, instinctively bucking your hips. God, you wanted him so bad.

His face. His body. His words. His smell. His taste.

You had grown addicted, you had realized. He made you drown in lust, becoming like a dog in heat. You didn’t realize you were humping against his sheets, desperate to get off. You wanted him to touch you like he had done for weeks. To take control and satisfy your body and make your head go numb from thoughts. You longed for him to tell you that he would take care of you, like your parents never did. Like your life never has.

“Oh, Ransom…” you moaned. You put his pillow underneath you and started humping it. Your hips rolled against it as you sought after the friction only Ransom could provide. It didn’t feel the same, but it still felt good. You cried out his name over and over like a chant, and when you came, you collapsed onto his bed.

A few moments later and your head was cleared from the lustful bliss. You started to cry. You were so conflicted over your feelings, and the memories of the time when you were scared of Ransom reminded you how drastically your mentality has changed.

I’m not a victim anymore. I’m just his. You thought.

Ransom didn’t return for the entire day. You had cleaned up the house, watched some TV and finished an entire book. You also put on a frozen pizza, but you had to use a regular utensil knife to cut it which was hard. Ransom had a lock on the cabinet with all the sharp objects such as kitchen knives, and oddly enough the pizza cutter. You recalled he said something about ‘refraining you from purposefully hurting yourself’ when you asked about it.

You left a few pieces for him, trying to present it nicely on the plate by the kitchen table. You were a bit nervous about Ransom’s absence, but you figured there had to be a reason for it.

Maybe he had to turn up for a family emergency. It had to be important if he had to be gone for so long.

You were in his bedroom once again, and it was around 12:00 PM you heard the upstairs floor door open up. There was silence, until you heard Ransom curse. By his stern sounding steps, he must be upset, you assumed. You heard him undress and hang his jacket on the hanger before his steps closed in to where you were.

He was just about to take off his scarf until his eyes met upon yours. He looked stunned to see you there, your upper body resting against the headboard while your legs were draped in his sheets.

His face scrunched. “The fuck are you still doing here? Shouldn’t you be in your room?” Ransom snapped.

You were stiffened by his outburst. You didn’t expect that to be the first thing he would say after being gone for so long. “I-I just thought that…- I have been waiting for you.”

“Well I don’t want you around right now, so you can get the fuck out and go to your room where you always are. I don’t need you.”

Your heart shattered by his harsh words. How could you be so foolish?

You immediately put the book on his nightstand and rushed outside while hugging yourself.

He had sweet talked you while drunk all afternoon yesterday, and not even 24 hours later he treats you like shit. He used to play with your body and now he was playing with your feelings. What more could he want? Was he really expecting you to live like this?

Ransom’s POV

I regretted my words as soon as she left my room and ran into hers. I always had to fuck up the good things in my life, and she was no exception.

I had woken up early today to find her curled up into my chest. The morning hangover messed my head up so bad, I couldn’t appreciate the moment. Though I should have. I eventually remembered the night before, when I was heavily drunk and I let my mouth running. I talked about things I shouldn’t have said. Hell, I even remember admitting to myself that I would regret opening my mouth when I was sober again. I had fucked myself over by telling the truth I refuse to accept being fundamental.

I decided to leave and meet my grandfather - Harlan, who wanted to speak with me. We had a serious conversation where he shared his concerns about my future and place in this family. I grew angry when he mentioned he was thinking of cutting me off of the will for the sake of me getting a ‘wake up call’. I told him I had a lot to take care of at the moment which was none of his concern. He asked me if I have been gambling or was in debt, to which I said no - the rightful truth. I had no plans on telling him I had a woman at home who I was providing. She was my dirty little secret, and the word would spread some way or another if I told Harlan. The last thing I wanted was to have my family involved in my personal life.

I left Harlan, even more frustrated than before I met him. Deciding to not drive home just yet, I parked at the bar and let my temptations get the better of me. I took a shot of scotch, and eyed the drug dealer who always sat at the corner where he was barely noticed by other people. I payed him for 7 grams of marijuana, and consumed a fraction of it.

“Oh, hey Rannie!” A woman’s voice came from behind me. I turned to be met by a redhead I couldn’t remember the name of, but I remembered I had hooked up with her 2 months ago. “Long time no see! Have you missed me, daddy?”

The marijuana was taking effect on my body, the dopamine turning my mood into one that felt good. It also made me horny. Very horny.

“Let me fuck your cunt and I’ll give you an answer.”

I regret it. I regret it so bad. I thought I had bypassed my old habits but they were coming back. I felt so empty after the marijuana got out of my system, and now I was taking it over Y/N, who was finally giving me what I want. Herself.

I need her.

I need her. I need her. I need her.

I couldn’t deny it anymore. My yesterday’s drunken self was right.

An hour passed by since she left to her room. The door was unlocked because there were no locks there to begin with, but I wanted to give her space until I couldn’t stay away from her any longer.

I opened her door quietly, finding her on the floor, leaning against the bed. She sat in a fetal position with her legs close to her chest as her arms wrapped around them, her head laying low. I couldn’t see her face. I knew she knew I was in her presence, but she was refusing to look at me.

After a few moments of silence, I opened my mouth to speak, thinking cautiously of what I should say.

“Darling….I’m…” I wasn’t used to apologizing, and even now when I was desperate for her forgiveness, I couldn’t bring myself to say that one word. The word I wasn’t taught to ever use.

“Shut up!” She snapped. “Leave me the fuck alone.”

“Shhh, don’t shout-!” I tried to coo, but I was quickly interrupted. “Stop hushing me and telling me what to do! You’re terrible, Hugh! One day you’re being a decent person, and another day a cruel man. And I hate it! I hate what you have done to me! I hate myself for how I’m not able to fight back! I hate you!”

I stiffened. I had heard those words aimed at me by my own family so many times, yet I felt my heart sink when she said those very same words.

“No you don’t…you said it yourself, you could never hate me-!” “And you said I’m your whole new world, but I guess we just say things we don’t mean!” She interrupted once again.

“I have been feeling sick all day because I’m feeling things I shouldn’t feel! I haven’t tried to escape since I came here because I can’t fight you! You make me vulnerable and now I’m growing attached to you when a normal fucking person should never feel that way towards someone who has constantly violated them! A-And then you said all these wonderful things of how you need me yesterday - something a lover would say, and that stole my heart, but now you decide to say you don’t need me after all of this?! Why am I even here? W-What is even my purpose if I’m not supposed to be with you the whole time?!” Her voice cracked in the midst of her break down.

For once, I really did feel like a horrible person as she described it. She was pouring her feelings and admitting that she has grown attached to me, and it made me hate myself for ever opening my mouth.

“You were out somewhere doing stuff too, weren’t you? I can smell alcohol from your breath and cheap perfume coming from your sweater. Tell me, did you have a good time? Does it feel empowering knowing you can do and get about anything outside of your house and have your plaything waiting for you at home? I’m like the cherry on top of your sundae, am I right? That’s all I am. That’s what you’ve made me become. And I fucking hate you for it.”

My face turned from sorrow to anger at her accusations. “That’s not true! Don’t put words into my fucking mouth, kitten. I made a mistake, one I will regret for the rest of my life but that gives you no right to assume what you are to me! You belong here, with me. We were made for each other, Y/N, you just need to see it my way.” I defended.

You shook your head and ducked your head between your arms again. “There’s nothing to see. There’s no ‘your way’ that could possibly make this any less wrong… admit it, you’re just fucked up.”

Usually I wouldn’t let that kind of insult slip, but for once, it felt deserved. “That makes the two of us, doesn’t it? I may be messed up in my head but it’s because of you, and no one else. Just like I’ve been able to make you grow fond of me despite how ‘unethical’ my actions have been. We are both fucked up and that’s what makes us so compelling, along with our differences. You need me just as much as I need you. I’m admitting it while I’m sober.I wasn’t thinking earlier, alright?I’m truly done with life if you aren’t by my side.So please…forgive me.”

I carefully held her by the waist and pressed her against my chest, caressing her body into my own. She hit me on the chest with her fist which made me grunt, but I could easily take hits if it meant she would give into my touch.

Usually when she was in a similar state, I would respond with sex as my way of showing comfort. But this was different. I had broken her and I had to get out of my comfort zone by having to use my words to put the broken pieces back together. It seemed to work, and she even stopped crying.

Second person POV

Your closed fist loosened up soon after, and you placed it around his neck to move closer to him. You were so helpless at the moment, but Ransom made that feeling go away. He gave your back gentle strokes and kissed your shoulder.

You had seen a few movies to know this was just like how couples for life acted. Together so close in a time where it was most needed. In a time where everything hurt. He had caused you so much pain, and just like that, you were healing in his arms.

“I’m sick, Ransom…I think there’s something seriously wrong with me to be enjoying this. I should go to a therapist…and you should too.”

He chuckled at your last statement. “There’s nothing wrong, baby…nothing wrong with loving me.” He said. “I promise you, I’ll never say what I said earlier ever again. I’ll always be with you and give everything you desire. Tell me, kitten, what do you want?”

You sniffled and pondered for a moment before coming with the perfect idea. “I want to bake a pie.”

The next day would mark the second night in a row where you slept in one bed together, but this time, you found yourselves tangled to each other in your bed. It was smaller, but Ransom liked how it made him dependent on holding you so close to him, or else he would fall off the edge.

He woke up early that day, and after admiring your sleeping form for what felt like hours, he left the bed and dressed up to leave to the store. You requested the day prior on baking a pie for lunch, and you had made a list of the ingredients needed to make it. He was going to get all the things before you wake up.

Ransom eagerly drove downtown to the store, strolling through all the isles to find every single ingredient. He wasn’t used to buying ingredients as he has never bothered to cook his own meals from scratch, so it took a while for him to claim the items and check off the list.

When he drove out and cruised through the quiet streets, his eye caught a police car, where in the pavement stood two police officers talking to one of the rich old hags with their small demon dogs in their handbags. He turned his head to the road again, and that’s when he suddenly realized which street he was currently driving in.

It was the street of which he had taken you.

Fuck. His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he tried to maintain the same according speed. The least thing he would want to do now is to catch anyone’s attention. Let alone the police.

Maybe it’s a coincidence, but regardless, I can’t keep my guard low, Ransom thought.

When he stepped out of his car and made his way to the house, he couldn’t help but be shaken. It haunted him immensely to think he could be caught for taking you, and worst of all - have you taken away from him.

At this point, he was considering moving location to ensure the police would never find her. He was thinking of asking Y/N if she gave her location to the shelter before he took her, but he concluded it would be bad for her to know someone was looking for her at all. They were at a stage where they were only now going past being two strangers to lovers from both sides. At least Ransom liked to think you saw him as his lover by now, but it didn’t matter. They were to be whatever he wanted to label them as.

He entered the house with the groceries and walked over to your room to greet you. You were still sleeping and burying your face in Ransom’s sheets. He found it so endearing and he couldn’t help but take a picture.

Ransom then walked over to you and sat at the edge of the bed. The sudden dipping of the bed made your face scrunch in confusion and you squinted your eyes open.

“Morning, kitten.” Ransom greeted. You smiled and returned the greeting while stretching your body.

He held up the bag of groceries. “Bought the stuff you needed.”

“Oh, thank you.” You beamed. Ransom hummed in content. He wasn’t used to being thanked for doing simple things, but it was nice. So nice that each time you thanked him, he felt warm and fuzzy inside.

As he was standing up to move the groceries to the kitchen, his gaze caught up on your sudden nervous composure.

“Um, Ransom?”

“Yeah?”

“I uh, was wondering if you can-……nevermind.” Your head looked to the side bashfully.

Ransom frowned at your retorting of words, but when his eyes scanned to read your body language, he saw.

Your hands were resting on your thighs as you wriggled and rubbed your thighs together. You were biting your lip and looking rather suggestive.

Oh. He knew what you wanted. It was clear as day now. And he was going to give it regardless, but only if you told him first. He wanted to hear it.

“Oh no, no, no. Don’t shy away now. Tell me, darling. What do you want me to do?”

He could see the hesitation in your eyes, but he knew at any moment you wouldn’t hold back anymore. “I-I want you to….I need you to touch me..” you said, your last words of the sentence barely audible, but he heard it. He grinned with amusement.

“Good girl.”

Ransom joined you in bed, reached out and lifted up your sweater. He was revealed with the lingerie he had recently bought you. It made his mouth water at the sight of the garment hugging your body tight like this.

“You dressed up yesterday for me, didn’t you? And I was foolish enough to deny you when you look so fucking sexy. I’ll make it up to you, sweetheart. I promise…”

He hunched over and peppered you with kisses. First he kissed your forehead. Then your cheek. Then your nose. And finally, your mouth. You wrapped your arms around him, not wanting to have him inch any further away from you. His hands were all over you, making you melt. You have missed this so much.

“Let’s make the both of us feel real good, baby…I’ll touch you while you touch me, okay?” Ransom suggested seductively.

You nodded feverishly and watched him undress. His cock was already hard when it sprung out of his boxers, but he kept his blue sweater on which made you pout. Ransom picked up on that and snickered.

“I know, darling. I know how bad you want to see my built chest, but m’still kinda cold from being out. Don’t wanna catch a cold.” He cooed.

You sighed. “Okay…”

“Besides, you won’t be clinging onto my chest this time. We’re going to play with each other while we sit comfortably on this bed. Remove your underwear and come to me, kitten…” he said and patted on the free spot beside him.

You removed your underwear eagerly and crawled over to him. “Aww, look at you…crawling like a little kitten to me. I’ll buy you a couple of cat ears. Bet you’d look adorable with them.” Ransom teased.

You shook your head, hiding your grin as you felt excitement. He gestured you to spread your legs while you sat towards each other, and he reached out to touch your glistening heat.

“Pretty little pussy’s dripping….it’s been a while since I treated her good…poor little thing….”

You exhaled and shut your eyes as Ransom’s fingers rubbed your cunt gently as a warm up. “I-It’s only been two days..”

“Hmm, too long if you ask me…” He inserted a finger just then which made your legs tremble. You bit the inside of your cheek as you tried to hold in your moans.

“Hmm…does that feel good, kitten? You love it when I touch you, don’t you?”

You bobbed your head and whispered a ‘yes’.

“I love it when you touch me too…give my cock some attention, will you? I need your soft hands so bad…”

Your hand reached weakly around his cock, and Ransom let out a deep sigh as he was finally receiving the relief he so badly needed. He thought of how the two of you could have easily done this prior if he wasn’t an idiot yesterday.

You stroked him with weak hands but soon enough gripped him firmly to give him satisfying relief. His head dipped slightly upwards as he concentrated to maintain focus on pleasuring you.

“Good girl….fuck!…that’s it…” he moaned.

You pleasured each other, touching each other’s weak spots. Ransom was working on edging you by rubbing your clit before moving back to your folds right before you reached your climax.

“…stop teasing me, I wanna cum…” you whined.

“Hmm you’ll have to convince me a little more than that, darling.” Ransom challenged.

“…Please, I need it so bad… I-I’ll swallow your cum if you stop teasing me.” you bargained.

Ransom hummed in delight of your offer. “Oh, I like the idea of that, sweetheart. I’ve turned you into my little cumslut, haven’t I?” He started to rub your sensitive pearl harshly, making let go of his dick and reached your high of your orgasm.

“Mhm! Yes!! I’m your cumslut, Ransom! O-Only for you!“ you babbled as you became cross eyed from the overstimulation. You creamed just then, making Ransom’s fingers become coated with your juices.

“There you go, kitten. Cumming like the good girl you are. Atta girl.” Ransom cooed as you mewled.

“Mmm, thank yousir…”

His cock throbbed when he heard you calling him that. It was the first time you have ever uttered something of the sort, and he hadn’t ever suggested you to use that title. It made him grow lustful as he stroked his cock, wanting to cum so bad and make you swallow his load. You were now laying on thin ice in Ransom’s book.

“Ah, so I’m sir now, baby? Is that who I am? You better show how good that tongue is right now if you know what’s good for you. Come here.”

You complied right away, crawling over to his lap and before taking him in your mouth. The salty precum which coated his whole cock pleased you taste buds. You lewdly hummed around him, sending vibrations to his spine and quickly pushing him on the edge of his orgasm.

“Aaah! Fucking hell!…” Ransom moaned, closing his eyes so tight it almost hurt as he let himself release in your mouth. He could hear you gulping his spend down your throat. Once he opened them, he saw you holding your hand under your chin as trickles of cum dripped.

“S-Sorry, I….couldn’t swallow it all….”

He grinned, his hand reaching out to caress your cheek. “You did good, darling. You’re dirtier than I thought. I love it.”

Your cheeks flushed at his touch, and you were overjoyed with his praises. You pounced on him which made him grunt in surprise. For a millisecond he thought you were attacking him.

But no, you were nuzzling your head onto his soft sweater. If he wasn’t mistaken, he felt almost nervous from your sudden affectionate gesture, something he wasn’t used to getting. It made him think back on when you were stroking his hair as he laid on your lap. Something you had done without him demanding you to do.

His chest was pounding from the tight feeling and he gulped subconsciously.

Is this love?

Because if it was, he hated it. Okay, maybe hate was an exaggeration. It made him feel weak, but your comfort and touch made it all worth it. He returned the gesture of stroking your hair as he leaned to breathe in the smell of vanilla lotion that still lingered in you. He could get used to this.

What ruined the moment was when he panicked of thinking you were listening to his rapidly beating heart, and he immediately pulled away to look at you. You looked confused, but Ransom covered his panic with an assuring smile.

“How about we make that pie?”

Note from author: Stockholm syndrome took off in this chapter and I’m not sorry for that lmaoo.

Hearts & Reblogs are very much appreciated! <3

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #dark ransom drysdale #dark ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x y/n #chris evans #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale fic #dark fic

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studentbyday · 8 months ago

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catharsis: nearing the end

counting down the weeks to freedom (🏫🙅🏻‍♀️) and in need of stress relief (💆🏻‍♀️🕊️🧘🏻‍♀️)...

1. october (tchaikovsky): maybe one day i will record this song bc it's one of my favorites. also really befitting my underlying mood in this latter half of the semester. under all the stress and frustration, i am just tired. i want to see the world. i want to feel the joy of living again. making my life revolve around the confines of school does not feel like living.

2. apparition de giselle (adolphe adam): the music at the part where she's spinning in circles in the "initiation" scene. that's what today feels like. a flurry of movement, a little desperate, and despite the energy, unfulfilled. even soulless. i'm tired, that's all. stupid insomnia - you know that feeling where you're physically tired and when you lie down on the bed it feels like such a relief, yet you can't fall asleep? i don't know why that happens. am i worried about something? possibly? maybe? but during the day, i don't think i feel super worried.

3. mazurka op. 68 no. 3 (chopin): the first piece by chopin i ever played. the way i heard it in my head and the way i played it didn't have as stately a character as this interpretation, but this was the recording i drew most of my inspiration from. i really miss playing piano and the youthful glow i had felt in that era. it feels like ages ago. and with every passing year, it seems i have more pressing priorities like learning how to be an adult, the desire to forge new relationships and tend to them, and establishing my career, so piano consistently falls to the wayside. i don't regret my career choice tho... gladly, after a long-drawn existential crisis in high school, trying to come to a career path that had the best chance of balancing my needs and wants with the world's, i'm still satisfied with my decision. i want to learn how to use my potential to be of service to others, including those beyond my inner circle. i also want to practice piano after my dreaded winter exams. i will make time for both. 4. rainy day coffee shop ambience with piano music and distant thunder: that satisfaction at having stumbled upon the truth, the solidness of it finding a home in my chest. ☺️ i finally figured out what's wrong mentally and now i have something to work with rather than just floundering, feeling "some type of way", unable to get out of it because i don't even know what "it" is. i'm 99% sure that's what's causing my insomnia. i feel so much more hopeful and peaceful now with my feelings validated and all. 🥺 (update: i had the best sleep i've had in ages ☺️)

5. i dreamed a dream (claude-michel schönberg): i seem to always cycle through the same songs like i'm constantly circling the same drain. do i really always cycle through the same set of feelings every couple of weeks? 🤷🏻‍♀️ i have dreams i don't know i can reach. some of them feel more like fantasies than dreams... in my mind, dreams are super ambitious goals i don't know if i can reach but that are in theory possible to reach (more variables are in my control and have a good chance of affecting the future in the way i want), while fantasies are dreams that are closer to impossible to achieve (fewer variables are in my control and may not have a good chance of affecting the future in the way i want). i don't know, maybe they just feel like fantasies for now, and really, it's not impossible. idk, i don't have a crystal ball...

6. the sound of silence: i literally mean the sound of silence tho, not the song 😂 so underrated when the mind has been a noisy mess. ... and then in random mindless moments, like in the shower or when clearing away the dishes, all the music comes rushing back, begging to be heard and felt and loved.

7. arabesque no. 1 (debussy): learned about CBT in psych so i'm trying out using the situation -> thoughts -> feelings -> behavior template in my journal so hopefully i can figure out why i do or don't do the things i do 😅 and then maybe branch into some small "behavioral experiments"...not really sure yet but hopefully it brings me some clarity!

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antiporn-activist · 2 years ago

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The crisis in American girlhood

Stark findings on the pervasive sadness, suicidal thoughts and sexual violence endured by teen girls have jolted parents and the wider public

By Donna St. George, Katherine Reynolds Lewis and Lindsey Bever

February 17, 2023

When Sophie Nystuen created a website for teens who had experienced trauma, her idea was to give them space to write about the hurt they couldn’t share. The Brookline, Mass., 16-year-old received posts about drug use and suicide. But a majority wrote about sexual violence.

These expressions of inner crisis are just a glint of the startling data reported by federal researchers this week. Nearly 1 in 3 high school girls said they had considered suicide, a 60 percent rise in the past decade. Nearly 14 percent had been forced to have sex. About 6 in 10 girls were so persistently sad or hopeless they stopped regular activities.

The new report represents nothing short of a crisis in American girlhood. The findings have ramifications for a generation of young women who have endured an extraordinary level of sadness and sexual violence — and present uncharted territory for the health advocates, teachers, counselors and parents who are trying to help them.

The data comes from the Youth Risk Behavior Survey, conducted by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention from a nationally representative sample of students in public and private high schools. “America’s teen girls are engulfed in a growing wave of sadness, violence and trauma,” the CDC said.

“It’s alarming,” Education Secretary Miguel Cardona said Thursday of the report. “But as a father of a 16-year-old and 19-year-old, I hear about it. It’s real. I think students know what’s going on. I think sometimes the adults are just now realizing how serious it is.”

But high school girls are speaking out, too, about stresses that started before the pandemic — growing up in a social media culture, with impossible beauty standards, online hate, academic pressure, economic difficulties, self doubt and sexual violence. The isolation and upheaval of covid made it tougher still.

‘Teens are really good at hiding it.’

When Caroline Zuba started cutting her arms in ninth grade, she felt trapped: by conflict at home, by the school work that felt increasingly meaningless, by the image her friends and teachers had of a bubbly, studious girl. Cutting replaced the emotional pain with a physical pain.

She confided in a trusted teacher, who brought in the school counselors and her mother. But Zuba’s depression worsened and, at age 15, she attempted suicide. That sparked the first of a series of hospitalizations over the summer and subsequent school.

Now a 17-year-old junior at a public high school in Potomac, Md., Zuba relies on therapy, medication, exercise and coping strategies. She started a mental health club at her high school to support classmates also struggling with depression, anxiety and suicidal thoughts.

At the lowest point of her depression, she said, she kept many secrets from her friends, parents and teachers because she felt stuck in her role: a cheerful high achiever who had it all together.

“My mom’s like my best friend, and there’s no way she would have ever expected it,” Zuba said. “Teens are really good at hiding it, which is really sad.”

Internalizing conflict, stress and fear

While the teen mental health crisis was clear before the CDC report, the stark findings have jolted parents and the wider public.

“These are not normal numbers,” said Surgeon General Vivek H. Murthy. “When you grow up with this, I think the risk is thinking, ‘Well, this is just how it is.’”

The reasons girls are in crisis are probably complex, and may vary by race, ethnicity, class and culture. Harvard psychologist Richard Weissbourd points out that “girls are more likely to respond to pain in the world by internalizing conflict and stress and fear, and boys are more likely to translate those feelings into anger and aggression,” masking their depression.

Weissbourd added that girls also are socialized not to be aggressive and that in a male-dominated culture girls can be gaslit into thinking there is something wrong with them when problems or conflicts arise. “They can be prone to blaming themselves,” he said.

Jean Twenge, a psychology professor at San Diego State University and author of the book “iGen,” said that increases in most measures of poor mental health in the past decade were more pronounced for girls than boys.

She said part of the problem is that digital media has displaced the face-to-face time teens once had with friends, and that teens often don’t get enough sleep. Adding to those influences are the hours teens spend scrolling social media. For girls, she said, this often means “comparing your body and your life to others and feeling that you come up wanting.”

That’s not to say everything that people do on smartphones is problematic, Twenge said. “It’s just social media in general and internet use show the strongest correlations with depression,” she said.

Ben Handrich, a school counselor at South Salem High School in Salem, Ore., said teen girls often feel that “people are watching them — that no matter what they do, there’s this invisible audience judging their movements, their actions, the way they smile, the way they eat.”

Lisa Damour, a clinical psychologist and author of “The Emotional Lives of Teenagers,” said it’s important to note that the CDC data was collected in the fall of 2021, a time when many teens were anxious about returning to in-person school and wearing masks.

“Teenagers were miserable,” Damour said. “It absolutely confirms what we were looking at clinically at that time. We don’t know what the next wave of data will tell us.”

Damour noted that the CDC findings are distressing because today’s teens, in many ways, are in better physical health and more risk-averse than most previous generations.

“We’re raising the best-behaved generation of teenagers on record,” said Damour. “They drive with seat belts, they smoke less, they have less sex, they wear helmets. They do all these things that we did not do.”

And yet they are in crisis.

Whistles and ‘gross comments’

Many girls across the country describe teen cultures of casual slut-shaming, of peers greeting girls with sexist slurs such as “whore” or “ho,” based on what they wear or how they look.

In Los Angeles, Elida Mejia Elias says it’s a no-win situation. “If you’re skinny, they judge you for being skinny and if you’re fat, they judge you for being fat,” explains the 18-year-old, a senior.

In ninth grade, a friend of Mejia Elias’s sent a naked picture of herself to a boy she was dating, at his urging, and he spread it around to his friends. “Everyone was talking bad about her. They were calling her names, like ‘ho,’” said Mejia Elias. “That affected her mental health. She needed to get therapy.”

In Maryland, at her Bethesda public high school, 14-year-old Tulip Kaya said that girls in her friend group hear whistles or “gross comments” about their breasts and are texted unsolicited penis pictures by boys at school. “If there’s anything slightly unique about you, you’re not going to have a fun time, and you will be targeted,” she said.

Social media can be overwhelming. “On Snapchat and TikTok, you see all these pretty girls with tiny waists and a big bottom. I know I’m only 14, but it makes me feel like there’s something wrong with myself,” Kaya said. “When I start to feel like that, I will delete the app for a little while.”

Girls interviewed by The Post expressed uncertainty and self-doubt over everything from what to wear, what to post or comment on social media, what it meant if someone wasn’t following them back on a social platform, and even in daily interactions. When in-person school resumed, during the fall of 2021 for many, routine encounters and moments felt weird after a year or more of separation from peers.

“Sometimes I don’t want to wear shorts because I don’t have the body type I had in middle school,” said Leilah Villegas, of Eastvale, Calif., who ran track before the pandemic. Now in 10th grade, she’s started running again, but her changed body brings pangs of self-consciousness.

Aanika Arjumand, 16, from Gaithersburg, Md., who sits on her county’s Domestic Violence Coordinating Council, said she was not surprised by the increases in sexual violence.

“We deal with a lot of cases on like teen dating violence and kind of informing schools about teen dating violence because the health curriculum right now basically does not cover abuse or sexual violence as much as it should,” she said.

School itself can sometimes be physically unsafe, as happened with Harker, a 13-year-old in Savannah, Ga., who spoke on the condition that her full name not be used because of the sensitivity of the issue.

At school, she received unwanted attention from a boy in sixth grade. He would whisper in her ears and grab her shoulders. Once, he seized her across her chest and did not release her until she screamed. A teacher was nearby, but she said the boy went unpunished and remained in her classes. The teen has resorted to learning at home.

“They didn’t believe me even though there were witnesses,” she said. “A boy in school can get away with something, but if I do one mess-up, I get called out for it.

Unrealistic beauty standards and financial pressure

At the Bronx High School of Science in New York, 17-year-old Najiha Uddin talks about a White beauty standard perpetuated in mainstream and social media, which she says girls of color can’t possibly meet. She and others describe status-oriented peers and media messages about shoes, clothes, styles and experiences that outstrip their families’ means.

For Montanna Norman, 18, a senior at a private high school in Washington during the fall of 2021, the killing of unarmed Black men by police was foremost in her mind after the murder of George Floyd. At the time she was the co-leader of her school’s Black Student Union. “The toll that that took on my mental health was a lot,” she said.

Some of her friends have contemplated, or attempted, suicide, Norman said. “You wish you could do more to help,” she said.

Garvey Mortley, a 14-year-old in Bethesda, Md., who is Black, said she has been teased because of her hair and still feels microaggressions. “Racism can be a stressor for depression or a cause of depression because of the bullying that happens, not just Black kids but Asian kids and Hispanic kids who feel they are unwanted,” she said.

Students who are LGBTQ face some of the highest rates of depressive symptoms and sexual violence, including rape. In 2021, nearly 1 in 4 reported an attempt to take their life.

Rivka Vizcardo-Lichter, a student activist in Virginia, pointed out that high school is a time when many LGBTQ students are still figuring out who they are and solidifying their identity. “Even if you have an accepting environment around you, you are aware that there are millions of people who don’t want you to exist,” she said.

Waking up to a nightmare

Some of the most alarming data collected by the CDC involved the rise in suicidal thoughts among teen girls — 24 percent of teen girls have made a plan for suicide while 13 percent have attempted it, almost twice the rate for boys.

Rich and Trinna Walker, from New Albany, Ind., searched for a therapist for their 13-year-old daughter Ella but struggled to find one in the overloaded mental health-care system during the pandemic. Once Ella finally started treatment, however, her demeanor seemed to improve, they said.

“I really felt like she was doing so much better,” Trinna Walker said. Ella had been asking her dad how she could earn extra money to buy a birthday gift for her sister. She told her mom she wanted doughnuts for breakfast.

“Then we woke up to a nightmare the next morning,” Trinna said.

Ella died by suicide on Jan. 22, 2022. Her parents said they wish someone would have alerted them to the warning signs. Unknown to them, Ella was being bullied, and she was devastated by a breakup, they said.

Now the couple is urging teens to speak up when their peers are in trouble. “It was like a bomb going off,” Rich Walker said. “It’s like it mortally wounded my wife and me and Ella’s two older sisters, and then it reverberated outwardly to her friends.”

Listen to girls

Many of the girls interviewed for this story asked that adults listen to and believe girls, and stop dismissing their concerns as drama. “Adults don’t get all the pressure that teenage girls have to deal with, from appearance to the way they act to how smart they are, to the things they do,” said Villegas, the Eastvale 10th-grader. “It can be very overwhelming.”

Asma Tibta, a 10th-grader in Fairfax County, Va., said she is “close friends” with her mother but doesn’t talk about mental health at home. “I haven’t told her too much. And I don’t plan to.”

In Savannah, Harker took a break from playing “Roblox” with her friend to be interviewed. Before heading back to the game, she had one request: “I want adults to believe young girls.”

They covered every possible angle and factor, except one.

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hotvinimon · 1 year ago

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The Match

Sawamura Daichi x Reader

Part 1

Plot : What's the best feeling you ever had ?? 4 times reader felt like having best feelings but one time, she was sure that this is the best feeling that she will cherish forever. A/N : Images are not mine. Credits to the owner. Likes, Comments and re-blogs are appreciated. Please don't steal my work. Enjoy ;) Warnings - English is my second language.

Master List

Swiping through a labyrinth of profiles on the latest trending dating app, the one that boasts finding the perfect partner like a genie fulfilling wishes, you finally struck gold. He was the needle in the haystack, a striking profile picture that made your heart race. A man of allure, with raven hair, piercing chocolate eyes, a muscular build, a charming smile, and a mature gaze. What's more, he was a public servant, a job title that would make your parents proud. Your best friend Aiko, who had been watching you scroll and swipe for what felt like an eternity, breathed a sigh of relief when your fingers came to a halt.

"7 pm, Sushitestsu, this weekend. Perfect," Aiko exclaimed, her voice filled with relief and a tinge of excitement. You, in turn, couldn't resist interjecting with a hint of sarcasm, "Are you finally happy, Aiko?"

Her response was quick, "Not entirely thrilled that you're going for someone I don't know, but at least you're giving it a shot. I'm going to find you the most incredible dress for your bachelorette, just in case."

You retorted, "I don't even know him, you know," a note of skepticism in your voice.

Aiko chimed in playfully, "Alright, fine. But do me a favor - bring out your inner Miss World that day, carry a pepper spray in your bag, and call me if anything happens."

"Okay, okay, Mom," you cut her off with a chuckle, and both of you shared a moment of laughter.

You and Aiko went way back, practically sharing the womb since kindergarten. From the sandbox to the high school locker rooms, you were inseparable. You'd walked side by side through the years. College may have scattered your paths, but it hadn't torn your friendship asunder. Now, both of you worked in different firms, yet lived under the same roof, sharing an apartment that had become a cherished space for both of you.

Weeks rolled into a weekend, and here you were, frantically trying to decide which dress to wear - an agonizing ordeal fueled by your remarkable procrastination skills. Everything that could go wrong seemed determined to do so. Eyeliner crisis, mascara mishap, foundation fiasco, and the dress dilemma. But for the sake of your long-suffering single status, you pushed through and, with an almost superhuman effort, arrived at the restaurant just 11 minutes and 36 seconds fashionably late. Yes, you were counting.

You began your search for the date who had, by now, occupied your thoughts, fearing he might have given up and left. Just when hope seemed to be dwindling, a tap on your shoulder startled you. There he was, the man you had right-swiped and matched with, his charming smile in full view, and his attire triggering déjà vu. "Is this Ms. L/N?" he asked. You stuttered out a feeble "Y-yes," inwardly cursing your own nervousness.

With a friendly smile, he extended his hand, "Hi, I'm Sawamura Daichi, and we have a date today." Your hand found its place in his, and after the whirlwind of anticipation and anxiety, a smile finally graced your lips.

Sawamura Daichi admitted with a touch of shyness, "I'm sorry, I had to come in my uniform as my shift just finished." You couldn't help but find his bashfulness utterly endearing, especially as he scratched the back of his neck.

"It's alright," you reassured him, "you look quite good in it." The puzzle pieces suddenly snapped into place - it was the Japanese police uniform. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret, mixed with intrigue, at the revelation that you were on a date with a police officer, and not just any officer, but the sub-head of the Community Safety Division.

The two of you found a seat and placed your orders, and the conversation flowed effortlessly. In many ways, Daichi was the polar opposite of you. He was reserved yet strong, youthful yet mature, fun-loving yet deeply respectful. It was a delicate balance that made him all the more captivating. His passion for his work was evident, and his deep voice had a comforting quality, like a familiar tune that you'd just discovered. As the evening progressed, you couldn't help but wonder if this was all too good to be true, if there was a hidden catch, like something out of a movie where handsome men lured innocent girls into elaborate scams.

For the first time in your life, you felt your focus shifting away from the tantalizing food in front of you, because maybe, just maybe, this was the best feeling you'd ever experienced. Your heart might have even skipped a beat, as you found yourself enthralled by something other than the sumptuous meal on your plate.

This enchanting meeting felt like the prologue to a story that had the potential to redefine the way you understood love and connections. It was a tale that was just beginning, a story that had all the makings of a captivating novel.

A bittersweet nostalgia filled the air as the evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow on the two souls that had serendipitously found each other. In that moment, they were no longer just strangers, but two individuals at the cusp of a new adventure, ready to explore the uncharted territories of love and connection.

As you wrapped up your date with Sawamura Daichi and said your goodbyes, there was a palpable sense of anticipation in the air. It was a feeling that whispered promises of more laughter, shared moments, and perhaps, the kind of love that could last a lifetime. And so, with a heart that was now open to the infinite possibilities of romance, you embarked on this thrilling new chapter, knowing that the best feeling was just the beginning of a story waiting to be written.

Later that night :

Daichi <3 :

I hope you enjoyed the date and would love to join me next weekend again :)

With every passing moment, you realized that this could be the prelude to something magnificent, and that perhaps, the best feeling was yet to come.

V - Chan's Dilly Dally

You can skip this part

OMYGODOMYGODOMYGOD !!!

Here is the first part of the best feeling (reader x daichi). Im so happy that this came up finally.

Join the taglist by commenting "Taglist" for further updates and posts regarding this series.

Requests are open.

And also, for anyone who doesn't know, sushitetsu is actually a place in Miyagi, Japan. It even has a branch in London, England.

This one is japanese branch.

B-Bye

💗

#haikyuu #drabble #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fic #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu x reader #sawamura daichi #akaashi keji x reader #daichi x reader #karasuno #daichi sawamura #hq x reader #crack post #hq #hq drabbles #hq daichi #daichi x y/n #daichi x you

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setoangel01-fanfiction · 1 year ago

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When I First Saw You

Zerith Week 2023 - Day 1 - Love at First Sight

Fandom: FFVII FFVII: Crisis Core Final Fantasy VII / 7 Remake

Pairing: Zack Fair x Aerith Gainsborough (Zerith)

Rated: T

Story Summary: An AU in which Aerith meets Zack while selling flowers on Loveless Avenue. As terrified she is of the sky and this SOLDIER she knows she should steer clear of, it's all too easy to get lost in the stars glistening in his eyes.

>>>>><<<<<

Heart hammering against her sternum. Palms sweating and knuckles turning white as she held onto the brown whisker basket clutched in tight fists. Meadow green eyes darting to and fro amongst the crowd of people all acting like she wasn't even there.

It was the first time Aerith came topside and already she was regretting ever coming.

The words of her mother's disapproving voice and Aerith, being headstrong and now technically an adult at 18, refused to listen, but right now she desperately wishes she had.

Sector 5 was safe. Home. The people all there knew her and appreciated her. The kids at the Leaf House always clung to her skirts and looked at her like she was their big sister. The adults in the Sector always happy to have her help around their businesses or brightening up their lives with the flowers she'd been growing since she was a child and stumbled upon the fledgling garden in the church…

But not these Topside People.

Sector 8, The Loveless District was turning out to be absolutely terrifying. Yet it wasn't the fact that people didn't spare her or her flowers any attention or even look at her when she spoke. Even the rude man who bumped into her and made her drop her basket didn't even say sorry!

…Yet that wasn't what was bothering her…

It was the sky.

Even darkened by night and sprinkled with stars from the little she saw amidst the smog and clouds - she felt sick just by its sheer enormity…

Aerith's heart thumped painfully harder and she felt the beginnings of sweat lining her brow as she tried to keep her eyes away from it yet there was this pull, this tether that wouldn't let her be. Feet shifting, Aerith made sure the coast was clear before backing up closer to the building behind her. It didn't help like she hoped it would.

All the Flower Girl could do now was curse her own damned stubbornness.

Selling flowers to the much richer residents of Midgar to help her mother with bills now sounded like the dumbest idea on the Planet and yet if she left now, she'd just be proving her mother right… Maybe just a little longer. She'd sold a few flowers thus far and she told herself if she only made just a few more sales that would be enough to at least make the trip topside hopefully worth the effort.

It had to be.

That still didn't stop her hands from shaking…

"Woah! Are those flowers real?" a voice said from right beside her and Aerith had to clench every muscle to keep from screaming at the sudden interruption into her chaotic thoughts. She had half a mind to tell whoever it was off for scaring her yet when she turned to greet the owner of the voice, her tongue wouldn't move.

Peering at the man who interrupted her inner torment, the entire world froze around her.

Standing in front of her was a man a full head taller than her with broad shoulders, thick sinewy bare arms, sun-kissed skin and raven hair that looked a little ridiculous in the way it seemed to defy gravity with the black spikes falling down akin to quills.

Yet as nice as he already looked, it was his face that seized her heart like it was caught in a merciless vice grip.

Never in her life had she seen a more beautiful man. She never even thought she could call a man 'beautiful' until this moment - but he was. Strong cheekbones and a sharp chiseled jaw, he was clean shaven with thin well manicured brows and regal looking nose. All gorgeous features made more rugged and handsome when accompanied by the cross-shaped scar adorning his left cheek.

But nothing could compare to those eyes.

Dark blue suffused with an undertone of an array of violets even more vibrant than the flowers she grew in her garden, the beauty of a galaxy all encompassed by a ring of bright green. The glow from streetlights and the stars overhanging in the terrifying sky glittered in his iris.

Never had she seen more beautiful eyes…

Aerith heart galloped like a stampede of Chocobo in her chest.

Those fickle childhood dreams and admittedly sappy and quite ridiculous romance novels that spoke of this very feeling suffusing in her chest. The very idea of falling head over heels in love at first sight felt almost poignant as she found herself lost in his bewitching gaze. She'd never taken the idea of such a thing to heart especially when living in Midgar amidst the poverty and stricken populace suffering beneath the towering steel sky.

Yet as she fell into that cloudless blue skies of his eyes, she wondered if perhaps this was what it felt like…

But the lofty idea of love at first sight truly was only for fairy tales when she suddenly allowed herself to take in the harsh reality in front of her.

It was only now that her eyes left his own that she noticed the blatantly obvious SOLDIER garb. The very moment when Aerith plummeted down back into the Planet from her castle in the sky. For as devastatingly handsome as this man was, as breathtaking a sight as he was, it was all a cruel mirage. He was a SOLDIER, let alone one from First Class given the black turtleneck he wore, and any SOLDIER, no matter the rank, was a sign of nothing but trouble. Her entire life, she'd been warned relentlessly to stay away from anyone who worked for Shinra.

This man should be no different yet every single sense of wanting to run fled the second he smiled at her.

"...So… Are those real?" he asked again and Aerith's face burned like Ifrit's hellfire when she realized she'd never answered him and instead had been staring like an absolute idiot, basically ogling the man, for who knows how long.

Lowering her head and staring at the yellow and white lilies filling her basket in order to hide her reddened face she finally replied. "Yes! Yes… They're real." Not wanting to act like a petulant child in front of him and her own stubbornness, Aerith lifted her head (blushing cheeks be damned) and looked up at him. "I grow them myself actually." she stated proudly.

There was no way she was going to let a stupidly handsome SOLDIER make her cower.

Yet the man merely smiled wider showing off ridiculously white teeth that was only more evident against his tanned skin. "Really?" he asked excitedly. "That's amazing! I had no idea you could even grow flowers in Midgar. Or grow anything really given all the veg and stuff has to be imported." The man's head lifted up and against her will, her heart skipped a beat when he suddenly winked at her. "You must have quite the green thumb."

With little else to say without giving out the real reason for the plants growth, Aerith replied, "Yeah. I've been gardening since I was a kid." And instantly cursed herself for even saying that! He didn't need to know anything personal about her so Aerith bit her tongue.

"Well, it shows." the SOLDIER said with a nod before he reached into his pocket and Aerith instinctively wanted to immediately take a step back but forcefully kept her feet planted regardless of how much every instinct told her to run.

Shinra meant nothing but trouble.

Shinra meant nothing good.

And that included everyone who worked there… Yet she refused to be afraid. The mastered ice materia lingering in her pocket made her feel secure knowing whatever this guy was planning could be deterred at least long enough to give her time to escape regardless.

Aerith may be a bit naive but she was far from stupid or ill-prepared.

Yet nothing happened other than the man taking pulling out his wallet. Aerith bit back a smile knowing if the man was in Sector 5, leaving a wallet in his pocket was just asking to be stolen from by the many pick-pocketing kids in the sector.

"How much for a dozen?" he asked with genuine interest.

A dozen flowers and any ill-intentions she believed this SOLDIER had dissipated. The man probably just got off work and just wanted to buy flowers for a wife or girlfriend and now she just felt shitty for even thinking he'd kidnap some flower seller (because that's all she was, dammit, regardless of what the Turks believed) in the midst of the crowd going about their business around them.

It still didn't stop her from feeling a bit bitter that she found an obviously-taken man so attractive in the first place, Aerith stated "Fifty Gil," more than the typically 3 gil per flower she had been charging the rich residents who lived here.

The man flashed her a strange look, but before Aerith could lower the price in fear he'd think she was swindling him, he spoke up, "Wait. That's it? You need to be charging more than that. Before she could say anything, he'd placed 100 gil bill in her hand like you'd toss a crumbled piece of paper in the trash bin. "Here. Keep the change." he stated and Aerith didn't even have the heart to tell him she didn't even have enough money to make change for that amount.

Aerith stared down at the paper gil in her hand like she'd never saw such a thing. So many emotions bombarded her at once but it all faded when he merely continued smiling with his head tilted a bit to the side. Almost like a puppy.

The sight made Aerith smile beside her better judgement, a bit of a hysterical laugh at her lips as she carefully folded and hid the largest monetary bill she'd ever held safely in her small coin purse. Money safely sequestered away, Aerith than began gathering a dozen of the most fresh beautiful lilies, six of white and six of yellow with long stems and bright green leaves with no wilted petals.

"So…" Aerith said conversationally as she arranged them, "You and your wife have an anniversary or some other occasion to celebrate or something?"

The look on his face was comical. His cheeks flushed scarlet and his eyes grew huge. "No!" he stated quickly. "I'm single! I - I mean, I'm not married so no wife, or girlfriend currently. Actually. I. …Heh." he lifted his hand to rub at the back of his head in an adorably bashful motion.

"Oh. Then who are these for?" Aerith couldn't help the teasing lit to her voice and the smile pulling at her lips.

"The flowers are actually for my ma." he said with a smile that warmed her right down to her toes, "She's here visiting from Gongaga. Being in SOLDIER, we really don't get much time off so I didn't have time to go visit so her and my dad decided to stop by instead. So, when I saw those flowers, I knew I had to get her some. Me and her actually used to grow some that looked a lot like that when I was a kid but they didn't handle the jungle weather too well so they always died off." he finished with a shrug and all the trepidation at this man and his intentions, regardless of his profession and employer, faded away instantly.

"That's really very sweet," Aerith said genuinely, "I bet she'll love them."

The SOLDIER smiled bashfully at her compliment and let out a nervous chuckle as he rubbed the back of his head again. Damn, he was just too cute. Incredibly handsome and cute as hell - a deadly combination. And just like that, he'd became almost distracting as she forcefully pulled her eyes away from him.

Aerith gathered the prettiest flowers together, arranging them in a bunch before she finished by tying the beautiful bouquet together with a pink ribbon she cut from the spool located at the bottom of the basket.

"All finished! Here you go," Aerith presented the bouquet to him with a flourish.

The man smiled as he reached for the flowers and a tingle went from the top of her head to the bottom of her heels when the leather of his glove brushed her hand. To have such a visceral reaction without even skin to skin contact was nearly electrifying - who was this man and why was he making her feel this way? It was as if she was basking in a fire yet plunged into an icy bath at the same time. Such a dichotomy of emotions she could hardly articulate yet the feeling was already addicting.

"Thanks so much! I really appreciate it." he said with a beaming smile that put the sun to shame with its illumination and sheer warmth. "Hope you have a good night and maybe I'll see you around." With a lazy salute and other arm cradling the precious bouquet to his broad chest, the man turned around and began walking away with a confident stride.

The clamoring voices, sounds of cars and the life around her she hadn't even heard suddenly blared in her ears. How lost she had been in that man's orbit…and she never even got to know his name…

A sudden fear overtook her and it wasn't one of the sky threatening to swallow her whole. Like the Planet was screaming and pulling her tightly to this tether that he rested at the other end.

A deep rooted fear that if she let him leave, she may never see him again.

She couldn't let that happen…

Feeling brave and finally obeying the pull of her heart as it reached for him, she called out, "Wait!"

The man immediately halted in his tracks as Aerith stepped forward to close the distance between them. Heart pounding and palms sweating yet she refused to show anything but a smile and cool confidence even if all the things she'd been taught about Shinra and all who worked for it were ignored in that beautiful face and bright blue eyes looking at her with genuine intrigue.

"You forgot this. Here." Aerith's hands were trembling as she reached out and slipped a single yellow lily into the strap of his SOLDIER armor. The golden flower against the slate black of his First Class Turtleneck made a beautiful contrast much like his black hair and intense blue eyes. "On the house."

Aerith's heart pounded, her palms sweating yet she dared not look away from his eyes.

The varying emotions as he looked at the flower than back to her face filled her chest with a strange form of trepidation and excitement. The world grew quiet again - like they were the only two people on the Planet. The very Planet and its voice a gentle, satisfied hum echoing in her heart as she watched the SOLDIER's enchanting blue eyes light up and he flashed her a crooked smile. He didn't even appeared bothered or ashamed of the gentle hint of coral blush staining his cheeks knowing the apples of her own were probably painted cherry red.

"Thanks," his voice was like a melody she never wanted to hear the end of.

"You're welcome. It suits you," Aerith smiled softly, her heart leaping as she watched him suddenly reach out a hand to her.

The man smiled. "I'm Zack," he introduced himself and the name struck something in her. Like she'd heard it for the first time out of a million more. Like she'd already known it and it echoed on the cusp of her tongue.

"Hi, Zack. I'm Aerith," she replied, gently grasping at his warm hand. The world continued around them and yet it felt as if nothing yet everything had changed as he gently gripped her hand and shook it.

Zack smiled, his eyes sparkling as he looked at her as if seeing her for the first time yet there was a familiarity in that gaze he didn't bother hiding, "It's nice to meet you…" he said before chuckling when he realized he hadn't stopped shaking her hand. He gently let it go and Aerith reluctantly let him and grasped the handle of her flower basket instead of latching on to his hand never to let go.

What was happening to her?

"Hey, uh. I was wondering. I-If you're not busy some time next week - would you let me buy you a coffee?" he asked.

Aerith let a teasing smile lift the corners of her mouth, "No."

Shock filled Zack's face, his expression looked like a kicked puppy for only a second before Aerith chimed in again with a sunny smile.

"I actually don't drink coffee, but you could buy me a cup of hot cocoa or tea."

Zack's face lit up again like it was Yule morning. White teeth greeting her between tempting lips as he replied, "Really? Awesome! S-Sure. I could even get you both!" he said excitedly and Aerith didn't bother holding back a giggle at his eagerness. He was so damn adorable.

Aerith flashed him a coy smile. "I guess it's a date.

"I can't wait," Zack replied with a wink before pulling out his PHS and handing it to her. Aerith's palms tingled as he placed the phone in her hand so she could type in her number and leaving her name with a flower emoji after it.

"So you won't forget who I am," she said while handing it back.

Zack looked down at what she'd typed and flashed her a heart-stopping grin, "You don't ever have to worry about that."

"Oh stop it, you!" Aerith giggled, face flaming as she pushed at his shoulder and although it was akin to moving a house, he allowed her anyway. His laughter as beautiful as church bells ringing on a bright Sunday morning. Everything about him nearly took her breath straight out of her lungs in the best way possible.

Zack chuckled but his eyes caught the time on his PHS and his eyes grew wide, "Dammit, I gotta go! My parents are waiting at the restaurant. But um, I'll call you so we can plan out when to meet next week, 'kay?" Zack said.

"I can't wait," she rehashed his previous words back to him. Zack smiled, turning around and giving her a lazy salute, he took off faster than she'd expected, even from a SOLDIER. He soon disappeared into the bustling crowd and left her standing in the street feeling as if the world came back into focus.

It felt as if nothing yet everything changed with that single interaction. There was still a crowd of people milling about, the too loud conversations, the music blaring from nearby restaurants and shops, people still bumped into her occasionally yet it didn't bother her… not even the sky above did.

Looking up, Aerith glanced into the dark night now free of clouds and all she saw was the dark blue and violet of his eyes, the flecks of mako from the reactors leaving streaks of green like the ring around his iris.

No, that wasn't so scary anymore…

Aerith's PHS suddenly buzzed in her pocket with an unknown number on the screen. A smile overtaking her face as she read the message inside.

"Hey its Zack! Thanks again for the flowers! my ma did love them btw. Ill text you my schedule when I get it 2maro so we can set a date. Have a goodnight. ;-) " it read and Aerith couldn't help but smile.

It was strange. She'd just met him yet she felt as if she'd known him her whole life already or even every lifetime. A feeling of rightness settling deep in her chest as she put her flower basket on her arm before writing him back, "I knew she would! Moms always love flowers. They're a perfect gift! Have a nice time with your parents. Yes, please let me know when you're free. I'm looking forward to it, Zack. You have a good night too." before she could second guess herself, she pressed send.

Placing the PHS back in her pocket, Aerith glanced back up at the sky and instead of fear, she smiled instead.

There was a warmth in her chest. A warm fuzzy flickering fire resting comfortably underneath her sternum as she took in the sky that reminded her of his eyes.

It was way too soon to tell, and Aerith had never known what it was like to be in love, but she imagined it felt a lot like this…

#zack fair #aerith gainsbrough #zack x aerith #zerith #zerith week #zerith week 2023 #love at first sight #fanfiction #zerith fanfiction

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ae-diaries · 2 years ago

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2022 in REVIEW

Had this in my drafts for so long. I'm a list-type-of-girl so I listed what God has done in the past year. Para mayroon din naman akong good memories and lessons na babalikbalikan. Now, I finally have the time to post it.

My birth month is already over. It became my favorite tradition to write my year-end reflections but I didn't have time doing this last December to February because I put my focus and energy on my loved ones, constants, and work.

Looking back, 2022 was tough, but I was tougher. It wasn't easy. At least for me. Madami akong iniiyak sa year na ito: my family's health issues, quarter-life crisis, and silent battles. They were too much to handle. Yet in those unbearably hard times, I never give up and lose hope knowing that God was holding the other end of the rope. Indeed, it has always been His grace and the people He used that saved and buoyed me to the surface that I will always be immensely grateful for.

Despite the stormy sea, God has won more victories in my life through and through. Those tough times gave me the opportunity to exercise my tenacity and draw me closer to God.

I LEARNED na may baon pa pala akong lakas kahit feeling ko ubos na ubos na ako, may bigla na lang dumarating na tulong at malasakit kapag feeling mo walang wala ka na at may Diyos na yayakapin ka at hindi ka pababayaan kapag feeling mo hindi mo na kaya.

I REALIZED that uncertainties will come along the way, but one thing is certain - He is always faithful to his promises. And that's what I want to fix my eyes on this 2023: the lens of 3Gs (Gratitude and God's Grace).

Ended the year with inner peace and gratitude.

I could say lahat ng pagsubok na pinagdaanan ko at ng pamilya ko ay may magandang kapalit. Photos (with caption) below wrapped up the higlights of my 2022. #SKL 😜

1. TATAY'S HOSPITALIZATION

(Me in the photo..after humagulhol to surrender Tatay's condition to Jesus...and to his doctors.)

The first quarter was truuuuly a turbulent period for our family. I was drowning in fear because of so many terrifying episodes during my father's hospitalization. And the worst part of it is when the doctors offered immediate intubation for tatay on the night of Feb. 13 because of his decrease in sensorium. At this moment, I exploded in tears as I/we prayed and surrendered his condition to Jesus. But what happened next was a testament of God's miracle: Tatay slowly opened his eyes a few hours before his intubation! Truth be told, you will never know that God is all you need, when God is all you have. Sa panahong hopeless kana, dito mo malalamang may Diyos ka nga pala na kumikilos. You just have to place your full trust and faith in Him. He is way maker, promise keeper and miracle worker. I also met the best and the most compassionate doctors He used as instruments.

It's humbling to say that serving my father is what I considered my biggest achievement in 2022. Nothing else comes close.

It was also in this season that my elder sister and her fam abroad got Covid-19. But then again, they made it through by God's grace.

2. ELYU TRAVEL

In April, a week after my father was discharged, I went on an unexpected solo trip to SFLU out of necessity. I felt God also brought me here to breathe, clear my mind off things, calm my storms, and somehow, reward me for what I'd been through. Dasurv? 😂

3. BABY MEGAN WAS BORN

3. In July 21, my sister gave birth to Baby Megan, my third niece. She's a rainbow baby. A new bundle of joy to our ever growing family.

However, it was also the month where Tatay got Covid-19 and I fell ill, too. My anxiety was kicking in again, but later on I realized, "Kelan ba kami pinabayaan ng Dyos?" He has always been faithful to us. We wouldn't survive this without Him.

4. THE RETURN OF F2F CLASSES

And then come August, the return of F2F classes. I feel blessed to have met a new breed of awesome learners under my care. They have brought context to my world.

5. A MASTER'S DEGREE HOLDER

And I never thought that despite my busyness and clutter at work, I would be able to have my thesis completed and finally received my master's degree at the Philippine Christian University at the same time. One for the books!

6. ALYESSA'S MILESTONE

In the same month, Alyessa, my younger sister, finally started her career abroad. I couldn't be more proud of her milestone. Pautang naman sis. 😂

7. BABY GIA'S CHRISTENING & 1ST BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION

We also celebrated baby Gia's (my second adorable niece) first birthday and christening last September. It was way memorable! (without lockdown and less restrictions, too)

8. ONE OF MY BIGGEST DREAMS WAS GRANTED!

Last October 24, I received an email - this I considered an early xmas gift from God - an answered prayer that I'd been longing to hear! All of my efforts and hardwork were all worth it.

9. A WELL-SPENT FAMILY VACATION

And last December became one of the most memorable Year-End parties we had in our fam. Plus, my eldest sister and her fam had finally spent their Christmas vacation in PH after 13 years. Everything was surreal. ❤️ Grateful is an understatement.

An dami kong drama, nag-bday lang naman ako. 😅

My wish? I didn't have anything in particular because all of the things that I'm experiencing right now are my answered prayers in the past. I put 2023 in Your hands.

#HERYear #Januarygirl #post-bday

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youforgotmyname · 3 months ago

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21 has been a big year for me!! in honor of turning 22 tomorrow here are things I did/milestones I hit this last year that I’m incredibly proud of:

1. got through a hard breakup

2. flew by myself to California, had the trip go horribly wrong, and survived

3. bought a car, paid for it in full

4. started to dress/express myself in a way that felt more “me”

5. recognized that I have attachment issues and have been putting in the mental work to understand myself and to change my patterns

6. went through somewhat of an identity crisis about my attraction to other people and then realized it’s not that deep

7. got a poem published in both of my school’s literary journals, one of which accepts international submissions (!!)

8. have been reconnecting with my inner child and slowly healing my self esteem issues

9. picked up running again! I run 9 miles a week now and am hoping to bump that up to 12 or 15 soon.

10. wrote a short story for school that has gotten me lots of great feedback

11. got a tattoo!

12. got kinda indirectly rejected recently, but I’m fine with it? Which is a first :D

13. have decided to be weird and intense on main rather than worrying about random people’s opinions

14. my outlook on life has shifted. overall I am doing much better than I ever have been, I’m not the same person I was even 6 months ago.

This summer has been hard but I’m really proud of myself and the person I’m slowly becoming!

#digital diary

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neondiamond · 1 year ago

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Because I Found You

1.2k | by neondiamond

Louis stumbles upon a poem Harry wrote about him.

A follow-up to Inner Crisis

Written for week 1 of the @wordplayfics challenge.

Read it now on Ao3!

#hlficlibrary #tracksintheam #hlsource #hltracks #ficsfor4am #thelarriefics #hljournal #fics #my fics #wordplay #because i found you

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nicad13 · 2 years ago

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Crossroads: Chapter 14

The Showdown

Summary: A Mandalorian, a Jedi, a Rebel, and a baby take on an Imperial Moff.

Things go well, until they don’t.

Notes: Canon-compliant through Season 1, alt version of Season 2. Posting some old fic before the sequel, which will hopefully be complete by the end of Season 3. Start now so you're ready! AO3 link in the Source at the bottom.

Tags/Warnings: Whump, Violence, Severe Injury

Rating: Mature

See these eyes so red Red like jungle burning bright Those who feel me near Pull the blinds and change their minds… And I've been putting out the fire with gasoline

David Bowie, Putting out Fire

---

Two humans, a tiny baby alien, and a large plush frog lay curled together on the upper deck of a gunship slipping toward Ilum.

The Jedi woke up to the buzz of her wristband, the only signal of morning in the veins of hyperspace. She woke up in the arms of her Mandalorian, his stubble pressed against the back of her neck, her feet pressed against his shins. Their son lay snug in her hold, his back pressed to her chest, head tucked under her chin, frog clutched in his grasp.

They were warm. They were together. They were comfortable.

The Jedi closed her eyes.

She never wanted to leave this.

She never meant for it to get this deep.

Getting this child, this tiny version of the green, powerful ghost from her past to safety became her top priority the moment the Mandalorian handed him to her with a gentle trust all those weeks ago. The reality that this Mandalorian was a religious fundamentalist raised by a terrorist group presented a challenge, though not an insurmountable one. Despite his upbringing in violence and bloodshed, he had somehow managed to maintain an inner core of gentleness, had somehow managed to root his footing in a kind of honor, and that was enough to work with.

Her plan had been simple: get him to trust her enough to at least take her advice on where to go for help. If she got particularly lucky, get him to allow her to hitch a ride so she could see it through herself.

She hadn’t realized how lonely she’d been, before. She hadn’t realized how lonely he’d been, before. She hadn’t anticipated the ease with which they would fill the gaps in each other’s lives. She hadn’t anticipated becoming the child’s mother. She hadn’t anticipated becoming part of their family. She hadn’t anticipated guiding the Mandalorian through an existential crisis as the foundation of his Creed disintegrated beneath him. She hadn’t anticipated the ease with which the Mandalorian would understand and accept her darker moments. She hadn’t anticipated her desire to keep all of it, to keep them, and she had not anticipated the Mandalorian’s fear of losing her.

Naturally, this all came to a head just before taking on an Imperial Moff who wanted them all very much dead.

The baby squirmed, the full night of sleep and the empty belly combining to drive him awake. He let go of his frog and turned over, clutching his mother’s shirt and trembling. Afraid.

She patted his back. Me too, buddy. Me too. We have to be brave today. Can you be brave with us, verd’ika? Can you be a warrior today?

The request was a terrible one. To ask a child, a toddler, to stand with his parents in battle. But his parents were not ordinary people, and their son was not an ordinary child. Not only had he asked to help, fully knowing what he was getting into, but he was their best shot at success. He was the best answer to his own freedom.

And so it was with this understanding that he answered with the memory of his father unleashing fire upon a Stormtrooper with one arm while holding him in a protective embrace with the other, the memory of holding back a wall of fire on his own, and the memory of lifting the ship that had been his home for close to a year with the help of his mother. I will be strong. I will be brave. For my buire.

The Mandalorian stirred, woken by the subtle shifts of his Jedi and his son. He tightened his arms around them, around his family, aware of their anxiety, knowing they saw the oncoming day through the same lens he did. “B'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur,” he breathed.

Today is a good day for someone else to die.

---

A human lay sprawled on the lower deck of a gunship slipping toward Ilum.

The shocktrooper rolled over, hearing the soft sounds of the family upstairs waking up.

When’s breakfast? she wondered.

She had no one and nothing to lose. Just the way she liked it.

---

Cara watched as Rayne handed Din her lightsaber and he handed her the beskar rod he had found at the covert. He activated the saber, gave it a perfunctory twirl, and they both took defensive starting positions.

“You’re sure the beskar will block this?” he asked.

“Nope. Take it easy for the first couple swings.”

He nodded, and took an easy strike. Sure enough, the rod held up against the saber, but not without a fair amount of sparks and the distinctive sound of steel-on-something-destructive. They paused to examine the damage. While the rod was not properly tempered, it could give a reasonable estimation of what the Darksaber would do to Din’s armor. Looking at the shallow gash, it was reasonable to assume that it wouldn’t be completely impervious, but it would hold up.

Between Gideon’s Force resistance training and the other things Rayne would have on her plate, she would be unable to control the Moff. Cara would have her hands full with the Stormtroopers. Gideon may or may not have been trained well enough with the saber to deflect Din’s blaster shots with it. Din would have to go against him blade-to-blade. Using the blade Rayne had constructed at the age of eighteen with no supervision beyond an abbreviated introduction. Against the legendary blade constructed by Tarre Vizsla, the first Mandalorian Jedi and once ruler of all Mandalore.

No pressure.

And so, they took what little time they had left to spar in the cramped space of the Razor Crest’s hold.

Sitting on a ladder rung, holding Yadier to keep him out of the way, Cara retracted her earlier assessment of Rayne.

The woman could do the kick-ass-and-take-names thing.

Lacking space and not wanting to chance putting the lightsaber through the hull, Din and Rayne stuck mostly with practice drills, giving Din a chance to figure out how the lightsaber handled differently from a normal sword. Attacking strokes. Attack combinations. Defense positions. Attack-defense combinations. Ramping up the power and speed at a gradual rate such that Rayne was pulling her shots less and less.

Yadier watched, once again fascinated, reminded of when his parents had first sparred at his mother’s hangar, silhouetted against the dying light of the sunset. Now, there was just the indoor lighting of the ship, but the motions were reminiscent. Rayne’s utilitarian movements driven by the brute speed and strength of the Force, Din’s grace and skill driven by quick thinking and improvisation. But this time Rayne instructed Din, reminding him of how the balance of the weapon was different, remarking how the blade wouldn’t stick as much against another blade as it did against the beskar rod.

After just under an hour, they called it good enough, wanting to give Din enough time to rest up before the real thing.

And Rayne had two more tasks.

---

Rayne sat in the port jump seat on the flight deck, Din’s helmet once again in her hands.

Din lay in their room behind the galley, waiting. Resting.

She had already deactivated the fob scrambler on Yadier’s Mythosaur pendant. They didn’t know where Gideon was, if he would be at Ilum or not. Rayne remembered Ilum well enough to know that they did not want to stay there any longer than necessary; the planet’s arctic conditions were unkind. Once they arrived, they wanted to send as loud of a beacon as possible to draw Gideon from wherever he may be, and that meant putting Yadier and Din back on the radar.

She looked at the helmet. This stupid fucking thing that Din continued to lock himself into despite the fact that he’d already determined that his soul was forfeit. This barrier he continued to shackle himself to because he thought he deserved to be cut off. This mask that had crowded out so much of his identity that he didn’t know what he was without it. Calling himself a coward for being unable to get past it.

She hadn’t brought it up with him. They hadn’t had the time and she hadn’t had the words, but his mind had screamed it all to her just the same. She didn’t want to be selfish about it. Didn’t want to break his trust. Of course she wanted to see him. She knew by now the general shape of him, but she was curious about how it all came together. How did the strong jaw match up with the round face? What was up with the two bare patches in the stubble? How had the big brown eyes from his childhood photograph changed and matured? Were his smiles as rare as she guessed? Was his hair as big of a mess as it felt? Did he close his eyes when he kissed her or keep them open? Did he make the same stupid face that everyone else made when release claimed him, or had the Mandalorians trained him into stoicism for that, too?

She could die today without knowing these things. He could die today and she would learn a few of them. Or they could both live, and she would continue to wonder.

She turned the helmet over and pulled the padding away from the back by the louvers. The fob scrambler was still there, wired into the helmet’s power supply, the small blinking light indicating that it was still working. She used her spanner to turn the switch off, and the blinking stopped.

She got up and paused at the curtain separating the galley from their room. “Can I come in?”

She heard Din flick the lights off. “Sure.”

She ducked through and sensed him sitting up against the back wall, long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, hands folded in his lap. She moved to the back and sat facing him, straddled over his legs, knees at his hips as he straightened his legs and moved his hands to her thighs. She leaned in for what she’d meant to be a brief kiss, but he held her there longer, hand at the back of her neck. When they pulled apart several moments later, the question came back to her mind. Were his eyes open or closed?

“Open,” he said. “You?”

“Closed.” She sighed, not having meant to push her thoughts to him. “Gideon will try to provoke you today.”

“I know.”

“Don’t let him.”

“I won’t.” He paused for a moment. “Why did you keep Xi’an’s knives?”

Rayne tilted her head. It seemed like an odd question for this particular moment, but she rolled with it anyway, understanding that he must have found them when retrieving her lightsaber during their previous encounter with Gideon. “They’re good blades. I didn’t want to leave them in the street. I thought about maybe learning how to use them, but-”

“Sell them,” he interrupted. “First chance you get. I don’t want them on my ship.” The silence hung for a few seconds before he added, “Please.”

“I will,” she said. Given everything, the request was a reasonable one, even if his timing was questionable.

One more task.

---

Din wrestled Yadier into winter clothes while Rayne worked on rigging the starboard sublight engine to leak ionized radiation when they came out of hyperspace.

Making the bait of an injured ship look more wounded than it actually was.

Yadier was not used to wearing socks. Or mittens. Or having his ears covered. He fussed and squirmed and groaned. Din managed to keep his patience and only growled at him once. Cara did her best not to laugh at the spectacle as she pulled her own cold-weather gear on. For his part, Din had thrown on an extra thermal baselayer. His armor’s environmental system would do the rest.

“Think you can handle him while we manage the landing?” Din asked her.

“We’ll do just fine,” she said. She had taken Yadier’s peace offering to heart, placing the large, silvery bearing at the head of her bunk. They had come a long way since the Force-choking incident.

Rayne came down the ladder, jacket on but unzipped. “Engine’s ready. We come out of hyperspace in ten minutes. Let’s strap in.”

---

Rayne was buckled into the pilot’s seat, the chair itself locked into the forward-facing position, amber goggles pulled over her eyes, ready for the blinding white she would face once entering the atmosphere. She reached under the console and flipped a switch, turning the ship-wide fob scrambling system off. Then she settled both hands on the sticks. Waiting. Ready.

Din was in the starboard jump seat, orbital scanner up, running, and ready. He tapped at his vambrace, once more keying it to Rayne’s wristband, then settled back as her pulse buzzed with a steady beat against his wrist.

Cara was in the port jump seat, Yadier strapped to her in the birikad.

Rayne’s eyes flicked to the navicomp. “Exiting hyperspace in five, four, three, two, one, mark.”

The blue-white ripple of hyperspace bled to streaks of white against black, and no sooner were they in realspace then Rayne hauled on the sticks to throw the Razor Crest into a yawing, tumbling spin to the surface, turning her head with the movement of the ship to always keep the planet in her sights, hoping to make the Razor Crest look like it was in trouble.

“Vibre’s in orbit,” Din said, consulting the scanner. “Gideon’s here.”

“Yyyyeeeeeee!!!” Yadier squealed with glee, eyes huge and round as he watched the stars swing around the canopy.

Cara sighed and held tight, no stranger to stomach-churning drops.

“Coordinates for the base?” Rayne asked.

“Still searching,” Din said. “Star Destroyer is on the other side of the planet.”

“Copy,” Rayne said. She continued to tumble the ship in a slow descent, not wanting to take an orbital trajectory and end up under the Star Destroyer if they didn’t have to.

“Found it,” Din said. “Coordinates on your screen.”

“Copy,” Rayne responded. The base was located in the equatorial trench, as they suspected it would be. She angled for it, smoothing out their approach a bit, but kept things a little janky for show.

Now that the view outside was more-or-less stable, Cara took a look out of the windscreen and her breath caught in her throat. It took a lot to shock a woman whose home planet had literally been blown to bits by a system-scale weapon, but seeing a massive trench the volume of a moon strip-mined out of a planet was enough to do it.

Rayne wasn’t kidding. The Empire had desecrated it.

Rayne maintained her focus on flying, but the sight of the trench with her own eyes for the first time was enough to tie her gut in a knot. She stuffed the rage down and concentrated on the task at hand.

Din scanned the topography of the area, looking for a ledge on the trench wall near the base to land on, a chokepoint in the landscape, a high ground. He found it a few moments later and sent it to Rayne’s screen. “You have landing coordinates.”

“Copy.” She brought the Razor Crest in hotter than she normally would have, but still managed to ease back in the final seconds for a reasonable landing. Everyone set to motion immediately, Din taking care of the shut-down sequence as Rayne zipped up her jacket and Cara transferred Yadier to her. Din brought up the topographical map on the ship’s main HUD. The Crest was on a ledge a hundred meters up from the floor of the trench. The route down the wall to the floor was a scramble, but doable, the final twenty meters of elevation drop a gentle scree slope. They were in a small box canyon off of the main trench, no more than fifty meters wide, a hundred meters long; not as narrow of a choke-point as Din would like, but it would be good enough. The low structure of Gideon’s base was a kilometer away.

A line of troopers was emerging from it already. They would be at the mouth of the canyon in a few minutes.

Time to go.

Cara hefted that glorious, enormous repeater gun.

Din’s knife was in his boot, sidearm in its holster, and Rayne’s lightsaber clipped to his belt. His pulse rifle would stay behind; it would likely hinder his movement when using the saber.

Rayne had Yadier strapped to her chest in the birikad and stuffed a few handwarmer packets down by the baby’s feet for good measure. She shoved a hat over her head and slipped her amber goggles back over her eyes.

She and Yadier were their own weapons.

The portside hatch opened and the arctic gale of Ilum whipped into the Crest. Rayne sure as hell hadn’t missed that. She walked down the ramp as the cold air filled her lungs and stung the uncovered parts of her face and stopped dead in her tracks when her foot hit the ground.

The kyber.

All of the fucking kyber.

The box canyon had once contained a vein of it, and enough of it was still left in the surrounding rock that she felt it buzz through her, making her teeth chatter and sending a dim, high-pitched whine through her ears.

Yadier sensed it too, craning his head every which way, his ears twitching despite being stuffed under a hat.

Rayne led the way down the wall, Din following, Cara taking her time with the heavy ordnance. Din’s gut tightened as he watched the mother of his son make her way down, movements deliberate and sure-footed as she stepped from rock to rock. They took up their position on a ledge halfway down. Yadier was tucked in, warm and snug, facing Rayne, but they both turned their heads in Din’s direction as he passed by. The clan of Rollins-Djarin exchanged a nod, but nothing more.

Everything had already been said.

Cara took up her position behind a large boulder half-way down the scree.

Din stood at the floor of the canyon, cloak whipping in the wind.

The bait was set.

This wasn’t the fight he wanted. He wanted Rayne at his side, like they had been before, wanted her defending him in close quarters to protect his advance. Instead she had his back, and he knew in his head that this was the best setup for the situation at hand, so he accepted it, even if it made his heart ache.

Rayne had her hands pulled into the sleeves of her jacket for the time being, but she brought them up to pat Yadier’s back all the same. “Remember,” she said. “This is all about you. Protect yourself. Don’t burn yourself out. I don’t know what your limits are, and this kyber’s gonna make that tricky. If I survive this and you don’t, your father will kill me.”

It wasn’t a joke. She had no doubt that Din would bring the blade of her own lightsaber to her throat if that scenario came to pass. And she would let him do it.

The Stormtroopers approached. White armor against the white landscape. The leading vanguard of bodies clad in the wardrobe of war, gun fodder, little more than meat waiting to die. A couple hundred of them.

The Deathtroopers followed. More determined. Better trained. Meat that would fight a little harder before it died. Maybe fifty of them.

Was Gideon among them?

And then…

She heard it before she saw it.

Felt it at the same time she heard it.

Thump.

THUMP.

An AT-ST loomed in the distance, mostly obscured by the wind-driven snow.

Well, fuck.

Cara let out a sigh. She sure as hell hadn’t signed up for that.

Din’s voice came in over their coms. “Is it too late to retreat?”

“I think I can handle it,” Rayne said.

“With what?” Cara asked, an edge of panic in her voice.

“Not sure yet, but I have a hunch…”

The troopers continued to advance and the Mandalorian, the Rebel, the Jedi, and the baby held their ground as the wind screamed all around them.

Rayne watched the Imps advance, standing in the trench of desecration they had dug into the only ground she had ever considered holy. It wasn’t enough that they had turned Eagle against her. It wasn’t enough that they had murdered all of the friends and teachers of her childhood. It wasn’t enough that they had driven her into hiding at the age of ten. It wasn’t enough that they had hunted her people to the edge of extinction. They had to go and mine the sacred crystals for the purpose of destruction. They had to go and use what they ripped out of the ground here to destroy entire worlds. Extinguish billions of souls at a time.

She remembered the vision she had here. Just a day before it had all come down. She remembered the despair those visions had brought as she lay crumpled at the bottom of a cave, cold and crying, the helplessness of watching children fall to the blade while she was powerless to do anything. As the vision happened, she had understood that any action in that moment would result in her own death. She had understood that, as horrible as it was to watch, sometimes you had to wait it out. Until you were ready. Until you were strong enough to fight back. Only then could you strike. When you were powerful enough to bring your enemy down. The vision had faded and the yellow kyber crystal revealed itself to her.

Today, the crystal had returned home. In the core of the lightsaber clipped to the belt of the man before her. The man she had shared herself with so much over such a short span of time, and who had shared of himself with her. Not with entire completion, and not without hesitancy, but with a depth that neither was quite able to believe. A depth that allowed her to share her weapon with him, that allowed him to share his son with her, an exchange of trust that would be critical to their success in this moment.

She was ready, now.

No more waiting.

No more standing by while others were slaughtered.

Today she would fight.

Today she would make the Empire pay.

The troopers continued to advance.

The AT-ST loomed ever closer.

She heard the squalling scream of a TIE fighter approach from behind. She pushed her hands through the arms of her jacket and looked down at her son. “Ready to raise some hell?”

Yadier’s eyes narrowed and he emitted something between a giggle and a growl, bringing his mittened hands to her jacket.

Yep, he was ready.

The TIE shrieked by overhead, passed over the approaching army, then turned to line up for a strafing run along the edge of the canyon.

Rayne lifted a hand into the wind, closed her eyes, and focused. Reached. Found the TIE. Found the pilot. Pressed the fingers of her mind into the pilot’s, pressed through the pilot’s arms, took the stick, and turned the TIE back to the troopers.

Back to the AT-ST.

The pilot fought her but was no match for the Jedi who had returned to the point of her first rite of passage, was no match for the Jedi who was on the brink of rage.

Rayne heard the pilot’s screams, heard the screams and didn’t care. She rode that pilot straight into the face of the AT-ST.

Cara watched as both the TIE and the AT-ST exploded. Whooped with joy as the TIE shattered into a million pieces and the walker leaned backwards with a groan, leaned and leaned, and crashed to the ground. Now this, this she had signed up for.

Din allowed himself a slow turn at the hips to look back at Rayne, who merely stood huddled on the ledge, hands already drawn back into her jacket. When she noticed him facing her, she popped a hand back out and gave him a thumbs up along with a rare, open-mouthed smile.

God damn, this woman.

He spoke into the comlink embedded in his helmet. “That wasn’t Gideon, was it?”

“Nope. Don’t worry, he’s all yours.”

---

Moff Gideon watched from behind the Death Troopers as the TIE hurtled, without hesitation, into the AT-ST and smashed a hundred million credits worth of artillery, tech, and hardware to bits.

God damn, that woman.

He should have just killed her when he had the chance.

He spoke into his comlink, calling off the other TIEs. He would not have Rayne Rollins throwing his fighters around like they were toys.

He ordered his troops to continue their march until they reached the mouth of the canyon.

He surveyed his opponents. The Mandalorian, the Rebel, the Jedi, and the baby. The four of them on the high ground versus two hundred and fifty troopers. It should have been over all ready, between the TIE and the walker. He felt the anger rise through his throat as he called in the Vibre.

Let’s see the Jedi throw that around.

But really, he wasn’t going to give her the chance.

“Open fire,” he ordered.

The roar of blaster fire he expected didn’t happen. Instead, there was only the howl of the wind. Instead of engaging, the troopers remained motionless.

The Jedi stood on a ledge half-way up the wall between the canyon floor and the gunship above, arms outstretched.

This. Is not. Happening, Gideon thought, brow furrowed in rage.

---

Cold. Rayne projected, arms up, palms out, Yadier’s hands gripping her jacket, eyes closed in concentration, funneling the Force into his mother. You’re so cold. You don’t want to be here. You just want to go back inside and get warm. Drink a gallon of hot coca. Spike it with whiskey. Curl up in bed and go to sleep.

Her eyes were closed, but the lack of blaster fire told her it was working. She was holding steady, feeling the Force as it rushed from Yadier through her. She kept him throttled back as much as possible, saving him for what was yet to come, but she knew he felt the kyber ringing all around them as much as she did. It was magnifying. Electrifying. Like she’s snorted five lines of spice and was ready to destroy an entire world.

Din stood facing two hundred and fifty troopers, hand hovering over the blaster at his hip, scanning for Gideon. Where are you? Come out and face me, you hut’uun. Coward.

Cara shifted the strap of the repeater gun around on her shoulder, wondering if she was ever going to get to use the damn thing.

A low rumble filled the valley as the Vibre sank down below the cloud deck.

And then it all happened at once.

Cara felt Rayne’s signal in her head. Now. She swung around from the cover of the boulder and opened fire on the troopers just as Rayne let go of her control over them and they returned fire. Rayne dropped her hands, dialed Yadier all the way back to catch a break, fumbled with the frozen zipper of her jacket with the frozen fingers of her hand, finally got the thing open, and pulled out a detonator.

“Here goes nothing.” She flipped the safety shield of the detonator off and pushed the button below.

For a few sickening moments, nothing happened. They found the charges, Rayne thought. They found the fucking charges and it’s all over.

But then the rumble became a stumbling roar, the Vibre’s starboard side canted down, and it began a slow spin, its repulsor engines beginning to fail.

---

Gideon was furious. He marched through his soldiers, useless piles of meat who finally decided to do something, finally opened fire when their weak, pitiful minds were released by the Jedi. Their bodies were enough to shield him from the gun the shocktrooper was using to mow them down with, but as he neared the front, he moved to the flank of the ranks and drew the Darksaber, using it to deflect the occasional shot that reached him anyway.

Din saw him the moment he broke through. He drew his blaster and fired. His first shot caught Gideon’s chestplate, which deflected the bolt with ease. The disconcerting possibility that the Moff was wearing beskar crossed his mind. Regardless, he had Gideon’s attention, freeing Cara up to cut down the troopers, and let loose with everything he had, firing round after round. He hit his mark every time, but they either deflected off of the armor or off of the Darksaber’s blade.

Seeing that he had no other choice, he holstered his sidearm and unclipped Rayne’s lightsaber.

He activated the blade.

Rayne watched from the ledge above. Once again, she was struck by déjà vu, knowing she had seen this before. A Mandalorian in full armor, cloak billowing on a frozen landscape. The shocktrooper with the enormous gun. The Mandalorian extending the yellow blade of her lightsaber.

Her vision. The night before Din and Yadier had arrived at her hangar. From nearly two months ago.

Once again, coming to pass.

Din wasted no time and approached Gideon, lightsaber in hand, taking a small amount of pleasure in the brief look of shock that flickered over the Moff’s face at the sight of it. He had a few inches over Gideon in height and Rayne’s blade was longer than the Darksaber, so he had a decent advantage in reach. He used it and struck first, Gideon blocking.

The pounding crackle of Darksaber-on-lightsaber was something neither one of them had anticipated, and they both broke away, surprised. Gideon, more familiar with his weapon than Din was with his, recovered first, returning a strike that Din blocked.

And so the Mandalorian and the Imperial Moff battled with weapons of the Jedi.

Cara growled as she mowed down Imperial troopers with the weapon of a Mandalorian.

Rayne once more raised her hands, reached out with her mind, and prepared to wield the power of the Force.

Gideon parried Din’s strikes with increasing worry. He was as aware of Djarin’s reach advantage as the Mandalorian was. Djarin was also quite a bit younger. Gideon had, in fact, trained extensively with the Darksaber, but he would be foolish to assume that training would stack up against someone as generally skilled as Din Djarin.

Moff Gideon was many things, but foolish was not one of them.

He would have to use his other advantage: his extensive knowledge of the things Djarin did not know, even about himself.

“I know that you are aware,” he began, taking a swing that Djarin blocked, “that you were rescued by Death Watch as a child.” Swing and block. No verbal response from Djarin. No change in his movement. “I wonder if you are also aware,” he continued, “of Death Watch’s alliance with Separatist forces.” Swing and block. “If you are aware of Death Watch’s strategy of staging attacks by those known locally as enemies,” swing and block, “only to swoop in and save the day to curry favor.” Swing and block. “I wonder if you are aware,” swing and block, “that your family was killed in one such attack, and that Death Watch is responsible for the murder of your parents.” Swing and block.

No change from the Mandalorian.

Did he already know?

If not, then the news did not appear to strike him as noteworthy, and Djarin was even more pathological than Gideon had guessed. He thought it more likely that the Mandalorian had already figured it out. His recent connection with Rollins could explain it. What little information he could gather on the Jedi indicated a discreet shrewdness that he did not much care for, and she could very well be connected to information sources that even he was unaware of. All the more reason to eliminate them both from the playing field.

Gideon understood that he had to push it further. Had to gamble. He was not, by nature, a gambling man, but extraordinary times called for extraordinary measures.

“You are probably not aware,” swing and block, “that Alaria Kast was the mother of your firstborn child.”

Djarin stumbled.

Gideon swung and hit his mark, but the Darksaber merely scraped a diagonal line across the beskar of Djarin’s chestplate.

“And that she died,” Gideon continued, “by the edge of this very blade.”

---

Rayne had the Vibre in her grasp. The fingers of her mind wrapped around it. Holding it. Pulling it. Refusing to let it escape.

The wind whipped at her, threatening to blow her and Yadier from the ledge.

She stood steadfast, resisting the wind. Funneling the Force.

Yadier was pressed close to her, hands freed from his mittens and threaded through the zipper of her jacket, pressed directly to the skin of her chest, just below her throat, on either side of the beskar casing containing a lock of his father’s hair, as direct a link as possible. His eyes were closed in concentration, but he remained strong, gathering the Force around him, pulling the Force around him, sending it to his mother, sending her as much as he sensed she could take.

He had gotten so much stronger in his time with her. The kyber embedded in the rock all around them sang to him, lifted him up, powered him further. But it wasn’t quite enough. He could push more, but his mother did not have the capacity to funnel it through.

Not for very long, anyway.

The Jedi had taught Rayne to always keep a cool head. To not let emotion cloud her actions. To push through adversity by the strength of her own will.

But sometimes that wasn’t enough.

Sometimes, one needed more.

Yadier had not been taught such things. Until he had drawn Rayne into his orbit, he had not been taught anything about the Force, only stumbling into its use. Until he had met her, his use of the Force had mostly been driven by fear.

Fear of the mudhorn. Fear of Cara. Fear of the Incinerator Trooper.

His first attempt to use it to heal the man who would become his father had been purely instinctual. A hunch. Same for when he had managed to heal Karga. These people would help him.

Then later, he had healed his father out of love.

Yadier did not know the precise word for “love.” His mother had said it to him before, that night on Coruscant, when she had told him that she loved him. He didn’t remember the word, but he remembered what she had felt; her overwhelming desired to protect him, to provide for him, to teach him everything she knew so that he would grow strong and grow well. His father never had said the word, but the feelings that bloomed from him were the same; protect at all costs. Provide at all costs. Give him all the warmth he could manage. He had felt these things from them before, had felt them even more since, but that had been the moment when they had made it plain to him how much they felt it for him.

And yet they stumbled so badly at making it plain to each other.

Yadier didn’t know the word for it, but he understood the meaning of it. The power of it. If he could get his mother to recognize it in herself, to use it to harness the Force on behalf of his father, she would gain the strength to do what needed to be done.

He pressed even closer to her as the wind screamed around them, pressed closer to her warmth, increasing the bandwidth of his connection to her. He summoned his memory of that night on Coruscant, pushed the thought of it into her mind along with the power of the Force he funneled through.

Remember?

I do.

Love you. You love me. It wasn’t a question. Not quite with those words exactly, but she understood the meaning

Yes. Love you. With everything going on around them, the ship straining against them, the wind whipping at them, sleet stinging against their skin, she reflected it again.

Love buir. He love me. He focused on the image of his father, the only image he knew, the blank T-visor, a face devoid of all emotion, but a face he associated with love and protection and safety.

Yes, he does.

Love buir? Buir love buir?

Oh, Yadier.

Yadi, baby, why did you have to ask this right now?

Despite the gender-neutrality of Mando’a, she knew exactly what he was asking.

If she loved Din.

And how the hell was she supposed to know that if she wasn’t quite sure if Din felt that about her?

Because after Zavin, after confessing her love to him and his inability to reciprocate, she had sworn to herself she would never again be the first to admit it. Never again make such a vulnerable offering only to have it go unanswered. And after Hayes had offered his love to her with such unbounded willingness, only to disappear with it in the cold hard vacuum of space, she had decided that maybe she was done with all that entirely.

She opened her eyes and let her gaze drift down to the trench floor, Cara laying the troopers to ruin with the repeater gun, and Din fighting Gideon blade-to-blade.

She watched as Din stumbled for no apparent reason. Watched as Gideon got him across the chest with the Darksaber.

Her heart caught in her throat as Din staggered back a step and Gideon advanced.

No… no no no no… please no…

Relief as Din rebounded and swung her blade against the Imp. Pride as he dragged it through Gideon’s armor, even if it did seem to repel the blade. Longing to be there next to him, to fight at his side, to feel the presence of his motions in her mind, to allow him the presence of her motions in his, to coordinate their efforts in the seamless manner of a single consciousness divided into two bodies, the single-minded calm and concentration that had come with it during their last battle. That if she were to die, it would be at his side, in service to their family. In service to their clan.

As a Jedi, she had been trained to accept the fact that she could die to save the galaxy.

As a Mandalorian’s Jedi, she had also come to accept the fact that she could die to save her son and his father.

Yadier had his answer.

---

He’s lying, Din thought. He knew Gideon would try to provoke him. When the Moff had failed with the bait of old news, he’d made something up. Din didn’t know how Gideon had learned of Alaria or his connection to her, but there was no way she’d been pregnant when they were separated. She’d had an implant. He had stood by her side when she’d received it, as was the customary ritual for Sol’yc. For the First. No one did protection better than Mandalorians, and their contraception was no less impervious than their beskar.

The bait was fake. Meant to lure him in. But the hooks were very much real, and he would not let himself get distracted again.

He recovered from his backward step, and seeing that Gideon had taken his stumble for granted, he lashed forward again, hitting his mark for the first time.

His Jedi’s lightsaber merely scraped along Gideon’s armor.

It was beskar, then.

An Imp wearing beskar.

Keep it cool, he reminded himself.

---

Cara swept the repeater back and forth, grinning as the troopers fell before her.

God, she loved this gun.

She was having a blast.

---

The Force surged through her.

Rayne stood, arms outstretched, shaking. She had the Vibre in her grip. She felt its wounds. Radiation spewed from the detonated reactor, poisoning everyone aboard. The navigators were too far away to control. She had to handle the ship directly. The engines still sputtered along, still fought her. She battled back, dragging it down.

She searched for the weapons. Searched for the ammunition.

She found it.

She detonated it. She detonated all of it.

This time, the explosions were immediately apparent. They ripped along the perimeter of the Vibre, sending shockwaves through the ship and the canyon.

Rayne wasn’t prepared for the blowback through the Force.

A hundred lives extinguished all at once.

Tons of ammunition detonated all at once.

It hit her like a bolt of lightning, throwing her into the rock wall behind her, the back of her head connecting, the Force lancing back up through her hands and arms. She let out a strangled scream as she stopped it before it got to Yadier, holding it off. When she opened her eyes, she realized she was blind, her surroundings nothing but a hazy red. She realized all she could hear was the high-pitched whine of impending unconsciousness. She realized all she could feel was the way her heart hammered with uncontrollable stutters in her chest.

With the last of what she had, she cast the Force out, back onto the Vibre, and brought it down to Gideon’s base. She couldn’t see the crash, but she could feel it. The deep rumble of a starship and concrete crumbling, vaporizing, burning, conducting through the kyber-infused rock through the floor of the canyon and up the rock walls to where she stood.

She lowered her arms. Blind, deaf, numb, she sank to her knees.

Blind, deaf, numb, the transition from consciousness to unconsciousness was seamless.

---

The Moff and the Mandalorian heard the detonation at the same time.

Knowing it was his ship, Gideon made the mistake of letting himself get distracted, turning away from Din to see the Vibre engulfed in fire.

It was the last thing he saw.

Din brought the blade across Gideon’s neck, parting the Imp’s head from his shoulders, marking the first direct kill of the saber constructed by an orphaned Jedi Sentinel. The saber powered by the last kyber crystal harvested from the Temple of Ilum through a Gathering rite of passage. Wielded by a Mandalorian against the Darksaber.

The body fell at Din’s feet as the Vibre fell to the planet’s surface, and the Darksaber clattered to the ground, deactivated. Din bent, picked it up, and clipped it to his belt next to Rayne’s.

The few troopers that were left turned tail and ran, Cara whooping with victory.

Din turned to look back up the mountainside, zooming in with his HUD to where Rayne and Yadier should have been.

They weren’t there. Or if they were, Rayne wasn’t standing.

No… no no no…

Cara followed his gaze. She couldn’t see the details he could, but she could see the tension in his shoulders, could see his hands close into fists.

And so when he took off running, she dropped the gun and followed as he ran past her.

He had never run so fast in his life.

He got within range of his vambrace’s connection with Rayne’s wristband before he could see them, and he stifled a scream when the vibration against his wrist was nothing but a low, constant buzz.

She was in cardiac arrest.

He gained the ledge and made the final sprint.

He saw their bodies, Rayne on her back, Yadier still strapped to her, face-down on her chest. He skidded to a stop next to them, kneeled before them, undid the clips on the birikad, and pulled his unresponsive son free. Chest heaving, he pressed his fingers to the inside of Yadier’s upper arm, the place where he could best feel his pulse… and felt nothing.

“Goddammit…” He tapped a few controls on his vambraces, making adjustments as Cara caught up. He tipped his chin in Rayne’s direction. “CPR.”

“Copy,” Cara said, dropping to her knees. She slid her fingers along Rayne’s neck, confirmed her lack of a pulse, removed the goggles from her face, found the correct place on her sternum, and began chest compressions.

Finishing with the adjustments to his vambraces, Din opened Yadier’s jacket and robe to expose the bare, green skin of his chest, placed the wrist-end of one vambrace flush against him on the upper left corner of his chest, the other at the lower right, hoping like hell that his son’s heart lay roughly in the same place in his chest as it did for humans, and pumped five-hundred volts of electricity through the tiny green baby.

“C’mon…” He checked again for a pulse. “C’mon c’mon c’mon…” Finding none, he sent another bolt of current through his son’s body.

Cara continued her work on Rayne, counting off thirty compressions, giving her two breaths, continuing with compressions.

“Please… please…” Din’s voice was down to a whisper. He sent a third bolt through and checked. No pulse. He sent a fourth and checked.

And found a pulse. “Oh, please…” Yadier sucked in a breath. Coughed. Then sucked in another. Din was still for a few more moments to be sure Yadier’s pulse and breaths held steady. When they did, he brought his hands to his own throat, undid the bindings holding his cloak in place, pulled it out from his armor, and wrapped his still-unconscious son in it to protect him from the biting cold.

Cara watched as she continued compressions, allowing herself a flicker of hope at Din’s quick movements. When he got up and pointed, she understood his intensions, switching places with him, cradling Yadier in her arms, tucking the cloak around him, watching for signs of responsiveness, keeping her hand against his chest to monitor his breathing.

Din adjusted his vambraces again, pausing when he realized he was no longer getting any feedback from Rayne’s wristband.

She was flatlined.

“Fuck…”

This was bad.

This was really, fucking, bad.

The birikad was already unclipped and out of the way. Din opened her jacket, yanked her shirt up, and pressed his vambraces to her skin, sending a thousand volts through her.

Nothing.

He tried again. Another thousand.

Nothing.

“Don’t you dare… don’t you fucking leave me… don’t you fucking dare…”

Again. Nothing.

“Come back!” he screamed. Cara watched as his chest emptied with the words and filled with breath once more. “Get back here, goddammit!” His voice tore through the modulator, amplitude overloading, clipping through static.

Again. The vambrace chirped.

Out of charge.

“No…”

Cara’s heart sank as she watched Din wilt around Rayne, head lowered to hers, shoulders slumped. He only stayed there for a moment before he stood, tilted his head back as if to look to the sky, turned away, and took a few steps back down the ridge. He lowered his head, hands fisted at his sides.

And then he lifted his hands.

With a dawning sense of horror, Cara realized he was going for the helmet. His back was turned, but she turned away anyway, hearing the seal break, hearing his unmodulated scream, hearing the crack of beskar against rock as he threw it down.

Din sank back to his knees, closed his eyes, and lifted his face to the wind, welcoming the sting of it against the tears on his face, feeling it rip through his throat as he breathed it in, freezing him from the inside out.

He had lost her.

His mechanic. His friend. His lover. His crewmember. His surgeon. The mother of his son. His counselor. His Jedi. His battle partner.

All of the things she had become to him over the span of a couple of months.

All gone.

So many had died before him. Mostly as enemies. But a few had done so willingly. Given their lives for him. Sacrificed for him. And he hated that list for growing.

He pulled the knife from his boot, opened his eyes, and contemplated the blade in his hand.

How many had died by it?

Who would be the last he killed with it?

He closed his eyes again, tilted his head, and laid the flat of the blade against his throat, under his jaw, feeling the beat of his own pulse against the edge.

Would he die by his own hand? Deny all other enemies the pleasure of his murder by beating them to it?

He heard his son’s cries over the scream of the wind as Yadier regained consciousness.

He lowered the blade. Maybe later. But not today.

He sheathed his knife back into its place in his boot.

Instead, he lifted his head once more into the wind, eyes still closed, and let Rayne’s life, what little he knew of it, from his own limited perspective, flicker through his mind.

The first time she held Yadier, moments after he’d landed the Razor Crest in her hangar.

Drinking beer by the fire in the yard.

Her face, lips parted, their first moments together in his bunk on the Crest.

The way she’d laughed at him when he’d tried to recruit her.

The way she’d flattened an entire platoon of Stormtroopers.

Her sadness when she placed her lightsaber on the table before him.

Her vibrancy as she played with Yadier in the lake.

Her solemn expression when she adopted his son.

Her cool calculation as she interrogated Xi’an.

The broken sound of her voice the first time he put his lips to her skin.

Her fierce determination when she told him what it meant to have a family with Jedi.

Her fluid deadliness against thirty Stormtroopers after enduring torture at the hands of an Imperial Moff.

And now she was gone.

And now he felt the empty places crumble in upon themselves, no longer supported by all the pieces of her that had filled him up, not realizing how hollow he was until she spilled out of him.

“Mando…” Cara’s voice was low and cautious under the wind.

Leave me alone…

“Din!”

“What!” What the fuck could possibly be so important?

“Get over here!”

He heaved an angry sigh, collected his helmet, slammed it back over his head, and returned to Cara’s side.

Returned to see Yadier at his dead mother’s side, eyes closed, hands pressed to her shoulder, trembling. Shaking with effort.

Oh, shit… oh, no…

Din sank again to his knees, hands grasping at the top of his head, at an utter loss as to what to do. Stop his son from risking his life over a lost cause? Encourage him on the off-chance that it would work?

The decision was taken out of his hands when Rayne’s eyes snapped open and she sucked in a long, ragged, harrowing breath.

Din and Cara both twitched back, startled as much by the sudden motion as by what they saw.

Rayne’s eyes. Completely bloodshot. Pupils blown, one far more than the other.

Yadier collapsed, eyes closed. Cara scooped him up, wrapping him in Din’s cloak again, checking his breathing. “He’s fine,” she said, looking in Din’s direction.

Din leaned over Rayne’s body, watching her chest rise and fall with breath, once more feeling the tap of her heartbeat against his wrist. Sluggish. Steady.

She was alive.

Technically.

But he had seen those eyes. Had seen those dead, empty pupils.

He didn’t know if Yadier had saved her life, or condemned her to a prolonged death.

Hands shaking, he zipped her jacket back up, replaced the goggles on her face, and gathered her in his arms.

Cara strapped the birikad to herself, slid Yadier into it, and wrapped Din’s cloak around both her and the baby. She made her way back down the wall, went to Gideon’s body, and retrieved what she also knew was beskar armor from it. She stopped at the boulder that had been her cover on the way back, slung the gun over her shoulder, and caught up to Din by the time he’d made it to the Razor Crest.

His steps were slow as he walked up the ramp, Rayne’s body limp in his arms. He crossed the hold and lay her on Cara’s bunk, lacking a dignified way of getting her to their space upstairs. Cara closed the hatch behind her, laying the gun and the stolen beskar in the corner, and returned to find Din standing and staring down at Rayne. Motionless.

“Hey…” she said. When he didn’t respond, she tried again. “Hey…”

His head turned in her direction with an agonizing slowness, but he remained silent.

“Get the ship in the air. I’ll take care of them.”

He was motionless for one more moment before he turned to the bulkhead behind which the paper with the coordinates to their next stop was hidden, removed it, retrieved the paper, and shuffled to the ladder. He paused when he reached it, placed a hand on the rung in front of him, and sighed, as if he was gathering the effort it would take to haul himself up. After another few moments, he found the strength and ascended the ladder.

Cara placed Yadier next to his mother and found the medkit as she heard the Crest’s engines fire up. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought they sounded like they ran better, seemed like the ship ran smoother, than when she’d been on it two months ago. She knew the woman before her was responsible for it. Some people were just meant to fix things, and Cara knew them when she saw them.

She hoped they would find someone who could do the same for Rayne.

She treated Din’s family the best she could. Applied bacta patches to the vambrace burns, warmed up a bag of saline in the galley and started an IV on Rayne, tucked Din’s cloak and another blanket around both Rayne and Yadier. When she had done all she could, she joined Din on the flight deck.

The coordinates were set, but he hesitated, unable to bring himself to jump the ship to hyperspace. Unable to come to terms with what he might have to give up where they dropped back out. “I can’t lose them both, Cara.”

“His people can probably help her.”

“You really believe that?”

“I believe that more than I believe anyone else can help her.”

He remained motionless.

“Or you can let her die down there and live with the fact that he’ll never forgive you for it.”

He reached for the hyperdrive lever, wrapped his fingers around it, and pulled it down.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #grogu

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astroexaminer · 2 years ago

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Astro-Inspiration January 21, 2023 – Becoming Part of Something Bigger Than Yourself

This day begins with added purpose and intensity that emphasizes the depths of commitments now being made. In the coming weeks there are opportunities to remake the future. At 3:53 pm the Aquarius New Moon reminds us that no one is self-sufficient; everyone relies on others. Today you sow the seeds of a new way of living. The time has come to be part of something bigger than you can be by yourself. Keep in mind that bettering the world is a sure way to better yourself. The day ends with a celebratory mood. Yes, “The times they are a-changin’!”

Today’s Quote

There comes a time When we heed a certain call When the world must come together as one There are people dying Oh, and it's time to lend a hand to life The greatest gift of all

Today’s Sky

Moon in Capricorn Sextile Neptune in Pisces, Conjunct Pluto in Capricorn. Moon in Capricorn V/C 10:51 am to 1:28 pm EST. Moon enter Aquarius. Moon in Aquarius Conjunct Sun in Aquarius, Sextile Jupiter in Aries.

Today’s New Moon is at 1°32’ Aquarius. The Sabian symbol for Aquarius 2 (1° - 2°) is “An Unexpected Thunderstorm.”

“This Symbol shows the need to withstand “Storms” and things that whip up unexpectedly. It can show sudden flashes of inspiration, intuition or clairvoyance – those aha! moments. It can be thoughts and emotions that erupt from out of nowhere. They can be brilliant or unstable (or both). You will likely find that you are suddenly tested or taken by surprise. Inner strength and stability are put to the test but you learn a lot from your experiences. The effect can be quite liberating, although there can be an initial shock. Thunderstorms clear the air after an extreme buildup of energy. There can be a sense of awe and wonder at the power of natural events.”

Sudden visitations of natural wonder. Breakthrough moments. A break in tension in the atmosphere. Thunder, lightning and electricity. The Tower card. Being a lightning rod.” ~ Lynda Hill

The Tower is commonly interpreted as meaning danger, crisis, destruction, and liberation. It is associated with sudden unforeseen change.

The modern ruler of this Aquarian New Moon, Uranus, is in Taurus. Taurus has a unique connection to Mother Earth. Climate Change is the defining issue of our time and we are at a defining moment. The impacts of climate change are global in scope and unprecedented in scale.

#astrology #new moon #Aquarius #inspiration

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celinolesunshine · 3 years ago

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Eyes Colored Sun, Mouth Like The Moon

A SUN/MOON X GN! READER FANFIC

CHAPTER FIVE: overheat

chap. 1 || chap. 2 || chap. 3 || chap. 4 || chap. 5

~~~~~~~~~~

‘Bright like the sun’, they said. That’s when they decided to call you 'sunflower’, because they couldn’t read your nametag. He called you 'starlight’, because of how you shone in his eyes.

It didn’t take long to warm up to the dual persona of the daycare attendant, and somehow you found yourself.. drawn to them? You weren’t sure, but you had the feeling you would be in it for the long haul.

It was only after months of working alongside them, however, you began to notice a change in Moon. he was… different. More distant, perhaps; and a shorter fuse to boot. They had you invested, and you were determined to figure out what was wrong.

~~~~~~~~~~

you've gotten sleep, but.. Thómas is having a bit of a crisis.

Oh yeah; Sunny is, too.

overheat

When you wake up, you immediately take note of the fact that you’re significantly better rested than you had been in weeks.

You look up to see a slightly disgruntled Moon, still cradling you in his arms. Once you realise this, you can feel every point of contact from where your body meets his. A hand on your knee, an ankle grazing your inner calf, a forearm buried against your hip and the cushion you’re laid upon.

He’s peering down at you and twitching in all of these weird ways beneath you, and when you met his eyes, you were startled to find them blazing bright red again. Had the rewire failed already?

“You okay, Moondrop? Buddy?” you exhale in relief as Moon’s eyes blink white, and then back to blue as he hears your voice.

As much as he can muster, he smiles.

“I.. wanted to watch you.. Wake, st-starlight. It’s too.. too bright– Sun’s awak-awake, wants to.. see you, but.. I had to.. gi-give you my regards.. first.”

He’s glitching out and spasming the entire time, his voice cutting out and warping around his words every couple of seconds, and it seems painful, but you felt your heart swell at how much he was sacrificing just to watch you open your eyes.

You grin softly and caress his cheek. It’s shockingly hot against your skin, likely from the effort of holding himself in front. “Thank you for helping me sleep. You can let Sunny come on out now.”

Whirring, Moon quits resisting the change letting himself fade away into his and Sun’s shared headspace, and his eyes close, his nightcap falling away as Sun’s rays slide out from beneath his faceplate. You had never watched them switch before, and you gasp softly as the black plate beside the carved portion of their face slots into the moon, revealing a silver under-skeleton for a moment before an orange one slips out and clicks into place, Sun’s eyes opening to reveal a bright yellow colour.

He’s melancholy for just a second, before beaming brightly down onto you. “Hellloooo, sunshine! Good morning!”

You sit up from Sun's lap, the planets from the previous night sloughing off of your body.

“Hey, Sunny.”

Rubbing the final bits of sleep from your eyes, you begin to stand, careful not to crush any part of his body as you make your way out of your little nest.

“Your vitals are much better after Moony helped put you to bed, sunflower! Are you feeling better?” He asks, picking up the blankets you had shed and folding them into neat little squares with an acute proficiency, which he sets in a little pile next to where you stand.

Gripping onto the ledge of one of the platforms, you nod. “Actually, yeah, I feel.. a lot better. I could use some food, though. That, and probably a hairbrush.”

Sun laughs, static crackling over his speakers. “Yes, your hair does look very silly! I think Roxy should have one somewhere! She was juuuuuust here visiting… I’ll look for you!”

And he darts off, in which you follow, not really having better to do anyways. You glance briefly at your watch, which reads 6:24 A.M. It was still fairly early. What time had you gone to sleep, anyways? It felt like you had slept a lot, despite the time being all out of whack for your normal bedtime.

Eventually, Sun scrambles back to you (you gave up running after him once he climbed up his tower below the ball pit. No way were you traversing that this time of day), a bright green brush in hand, which he hands to you triumphantly. You run it through your hair as Sun starts to run away again. He does a full 180, and then another, and then another. You set the brush down, finished with it now, and walk up to him.

“You okay?”

Sun squeaks and twists around to look at you. “Uhhhh.. yes, yes, I’m fine! I just.. I wanted to get you food, but.. I don’t like to leave the daycare.”

You laugh at his sheepish explanation. “It’s okay, Sun, I can just run out and get something to eat before I have to start helping you get ready for the day. I appreciate the sentiment, though.” You pat his upper arm, and he smiles radiantly.

“Sorry, sunlight..”

You shush him. “Sun, I don’t need– no, I don’t want you to go sacrificing your boundaries just because you want to help me. The thought itself is nice alone, so there’s no need to worry about it!”

Sun nods, and you can hear a happy whirring begin in his chest. “Now, go, go! Get the food you need– I’ll be here when you get back!”

With one last glance over your shoulder, you climb the stairs to exit the daycare.

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

“Mx., Mx.!” Thómas cries. You snap around to catch the familiar glow of his face amongst all of the little children shuffling through the daycare lobby, checked in and ready to start playing for the day. As you catch sight of him, your chest tightens with pride.

It seems that Thómas has taken your advice, because today, he’s clad in a sparkly purple blouse and heart-printed leggings. A little bow adorns the collar of his shirt, and a large headband holds back his fluffy bangs from his face. When he meets your eyes, he glows.

“Look at me! I borrowed these pretty things from my sister! You said I could wear anything I wanted, right? So look!”

You crouched down to hold him in your arms as he jumps up to grasp onto your torso gleefully. “Does your sister come here, too? I haven’t seen her!” You crane your neck around in a show of perplexion.

Thómas shakes his head. “No, she.. she’s at home. She’s, uh.. she’s sick, so mommy stays at home to take good care of her.”

You rub his back comfortingly, a pang of guilt blossoming in your stomach. “Oh, Thómas, I'm sorry, honey; I didn’t mean to make you sad about it.”

He scrambles out of your arms, hands on his hips proudly. “No, I’m okay, see? No tears! Mommy says it’s okay to talk about her even if she’s not here forever, so I like to talk about her.”

With a smile, you take his hand as he leads you down the stairs to the main daycare floor. “Was there anything else pretty of your sister’s you saw that you want to wear tomorrow?” You said, trying to take his mind off of her illness, at the very least.

Faltering a moment, Thómas’ grip on your hand goes slack. “Well.. I saw this super pretty dress of Hannah’s that I want to try on really bad, but mommy says that those things are only for girls– kind of like makeup.”

His eyebrows knit together, and his fingers anxiously play with the hem of his blouse. You set a hand on his shoulder gently, coaxing him to look up and into your eyes.

“I can see why your mommy says that, Thómas. Those things were made for girls, originally, it’s true, but that doesn’t mean that boys can’t wear them, too.” With a sigh, Thómas plops down on one of the plastic picnic benches near the art area, and you follow, kneeling next to him.

“But why do people have to think that I can’t wear girl’s things? I.. I.. I want to wear girls' things– it makes me really happy!”

You were not qualified to have this conversation. Still, you refused to leave Thómas alone with his thoughts, and you truly wanted to help him figure out how to get past his anger.

“I know, Thómas, and I’m sorry that I can’t help yo-”

Slamming his fists on the table, Thómas finally shouts, “Why couldn’t I have just been born a girl?! Then everything would have been easier!” And he begins to cry.

Oh, goodness..

Panicking, you look around, hoping to find– oh, and there he was. Sun materialises beside you almost as if he knew you had subconsciously summoned him. Seeing Thómas breaking down on the table, he immediately goes into care mode.

“Oh, sunrays! My goodness, what’s happened here, huh? Is everything okay?!”

Thómas sniffles harshly through his sadness, eyes glazed over with wetness as large globs of tears streak down his cheeks.

“I.. I just wish mommy.. would have made me a girl, instead of a boy! I- I don’t want to be a boy anymore!” He sobs, and Sun’s surprised for a second, his torso doing a spin-around to glance at you, seemingly saying you broke the child, To which you shoot back a look that says I don't know what I did, but please.. help me.

“Goodness me, sunshine, it sounds like those are some pretty big feelings! Do you want a hug? Or we can just talk about it? Sometimes, that helps too!”

With a watery smile, Thómas extends his arms out to Sun, who scoops him up in his arms, squeezing him tightly and spinning him around until he begins to giggle, squirming underneath his grip.

“Okay, okay, put me down now, please! Please!” Thómas squeals, to which Sun obliges and sets Thómas back down. “Feeling better, friend?”

He nods. “Sorry, Mr. Sun. I didn’t mean to get all sad.”

“It’s okay, sunbeam! Being sad is okay; I can be okay with people feeling big things.” You grin at Sun’s unwavering support. It was amazing, the way that he managed to draw Thómas back down to earth with just his energy alone.

“So, are you mad because you don’t want to be a boy anymore?” He asks, crouching down to meet Thòmas at eye level. Honestly, that in of itself is a feat, given his height.

Thómas looks indecisive for a moment, but then he looks Sun in the eye and nods. “I don’t like being a boy, anyway. Daddy calls me ‘little prince' and it makes me feel all twisty in my belly.”

Sun looks to you, bewildered. “Well.. Does it feel better if I call you ‘princess’ instead?” And Thómas’ face lit up.

“W- that makes me feel twisty but in a good way! Uh, but I’m not a girl, though, I’m still a boy..” Sun laughs.

“Thómas, you don’t have to be born a girl to want to be one! You can be whoever you want to be, sunray.”

“MR. SUNNY, COULD YOU COME HERE FOR A SECOND?!” Another kid called, garnering Sun’s full attention. His head pricks up, and he whirls around like a cat, searching for the source of the noise.

And he’s gone.

“Thómas, I think it’s really cool how you’ve managed to find that out about yourself. I’m really proud of you.” You say, turning to him. He grins broadly at you, and wraps his chubby arms around your waist, cheeks flushed bright red.

“Thank you, Mx., for helping me. I don’t want to make anyone feel bad things, but sometimes I feel bad things, too and it makes me want to be really, really loud.”

Chuckling lightly, you pat Thómas’ back and stand up. “It’s alright, Thómas. I’ll be back later, okay? Just let me know if you need anything.”

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

The rest of the day was rather uneventful, with Thómas seeming to have quieted down by snack time and finding a quiet, secluded corner to settle and do their art throughout the afternoon. They ran exuberantly to his dad once the day was over, so at least they were happy enough to be excited by pickup.

Then, after cleanup was over, you approached Sun with a smile. “Hey, Sun.”

Sun whirled around and grinned as he saw you standing below him. “Hello, sunflower! Are you okay?” You nod in response.

“Yeah, no, I’m okay; That whole thing with Thómas was pretty scary today, though. I had no idea what I was doing. I mean, he says he wants to be a girl now! Does– I mean, I said yesterday that he could wear anything that he wanted because He saw me in ‘quote, unquote’, “boy’s clothes”, but I didn’t mean for it to turn into.. well, into this!” You blurt.

Sun shakes his head carefully, setting down the box of miscellaneous coloured pencils and markers that he had been carrying. “No, sunlight, I don’t think that makes anything your fault.”

With a vague hand gesture, he continues, “Just because you told Thómas that they could be anything that they wanted to be or wear what they wanted to wear doesn't mean that you’re the one responsible for them coming to the realisation that they want to be a girl!”

You shrug. Maybe he was right. “Yeah, I get that, but..” you huff, crossing your arms together. “What if Thómas gets in trouble and his parents think that I told him he should be a girl! I mean, you didn’t hear what he said about how his mom wouldn’t let him wear the dress he wanted. He’s only five, Sun! I’m not questioning his ability to decide his own identity, but they’re gonna blame me if they find out!”

You’re panting now, and your face is flushed red out of embarrassment. Turning away from Sun angrily, you walk towards one of the play structures. “Sunshine, please, just calm down, we can– we can play a game! Or sit down, that works too!”

Tears sting at the corners of your eyes, and you continue to stomp away from him. “I don’t want to talk about it right now! Ca– can I just see Moon, please? Will he come out?”

The room goes silent.

Not even the sound of Sun’s internal mechanics can be heard over the weight of the silence that blankets you. Immediately you whirl around, but Sun’s eye’s have dilated, simulating little while pupils while he’s frozen in place, his breathing mechanisms seemingly having completely stopped altogether.

“You.. y-” He can’t even formulate a sentence, the static emulating over his internal speakers so thick that he kept choking on his words. And then he’s gone, slipping through the clearing hole and disappearing into the play structures.

Frantically, you follow him. “Sunny! Sun, please, I didn’t mean–” You discover that he’s covering his head with his hands on the other side of the clearing, and his breathing mechanics are back on, because he’s panting as hard as you had been a moment before.

“Sunny..” you breathed.

You laughed incredulously. “Sun, bug, are you.. jealous?”

His eyes widened as you stepped towards him. You could hear his internal fans working overtime now, buzzing loudly in his chest cavity as if a swarm of bees had taken refuge inside of him.

“I’m.. I’m obviously inputting an emotion that I wasn’t programmed to have, it’s.. I don’t know what’s happening to me, sunshine, but it’s best if you stay back!”

You stepped forward, and he stepped back. A crazed look glossed over his features, his eyes still blazing a glaring white colour, and his hands rose up to his chest defensively. You knew that he was unstable at this point, trying hard to understand what was happening to him, and you wanted to help, but.. He was afraid to hurt you.

“Sunny, calm down, it’s okay.”

His hands begin to shake, and his back bumps into the play structure behind him as you attempt to calm him, but he only gets more restless in response, his gaze darting back and forth between where he’s trapped against the wall and you. His fingers tangle and swirl together nervously, lowering just for a moment as he’s fixated on your determined gaze, rubbing his palms on his pants in a show of anxiety. He’s freaking out, and you can tell, and you keep trying to get closer, to help, to show him that it’s okay, but he’s still upset, and it’s overwhelming you, and–

Your hands break his guard and press against his chest, snapping Sun out of his panic momentarily. You feel your eyes begin to well up as his flicker back to yellow accordingly. You hurriedly blink the moisture away.

“Please, Sun. Please, just. Shh.. It’s alright.” You plead. You couldn’t stand to see him like this, confused and panicked and scared.

He begins to settle as his eyes lock onto yours, his focus not on his internal functions now but instead on you. He smiles apologetically.

“I’m sorry, sunlight; I just don’t understand what’s happening to me right now.” He whispers.

“”It’s okay, Sun. I.. I think you’re upset about Moon getting more of my time than you.” You purposely left out the part where you specifically asked for Moon in your dispute a few minutes prior.

You take your hands away from Sun’s chest and give him some breathing room, allowing him to unstick himself from the play structure wall. He begins to sit down a few feet from you, but then decides against it and springs back up to meet you face-to-face. Anxiously, he attempts to meet your gaze.

“I was mad about what you said, but I was also mad about how Moony wouldn’t let me out to see you when you woke up this morning– doesn that make me ‘jeloos’, like you said?” He speculates.

You nod. “In a way, yeah. Were you mad because you wanted to spend more time with me?”

Sun’s head bops up and down as he nods vigorously in agreement.

You can’t help but laugh. “Then yeah. I would say that’s jealousy.”

As minutes pass, the silence around the two of you grows gentle, draped over the both of you like a blanket that muffles out the sounds of the world.

Instinctively, you reach your hand up to meet Sun’s cheek. He smiles softly and nuzzles his face deeper into your palm, the metal frame becoming warm beneath your touch. After a moment, he moves closer, takes another step..

..and he’s enveloping you, arms snaking around your torso as he slots himself against you gently. You grin into his embrace, unable to help yourself. You hug him back.

Sun squeezes you tightly, little beeping noises coming from his insides. You let your arms rest along his back, letting yourself lean some of your weight onto his nimble metal frame.

This was nice; the way that the world seemed to become smaller in his arms, and how you could feel Sun’s anxiety disappear the longer he clung to you. It was therapeutic, in a way - the two of you could sit with the silence, hand-in-hand, in a way that didn’t really seem to require any work from either of you.

You let your hand trace patterns across his back, swirling and twisting in little shapes and lines. The world stood deathly silent all around you, but as of now, it was calming.

Then, somewhere deep inside of Sun’s chest, where you had never really heard before, began a rumbling. It was a steady, slow, contented sound, but it made you jump as it began to really pick up.

Sun flinched out of your arms, seemingly just as surprised as you. His eyes were frenzied once again, and the rumbling stopped, only to be replaced by the whir of his fans kicking back on.

“Sun, what was that?” You questioned.

He looks up towards the ceiling, eyes fluttering as he scrolls through his internal terminal functions, attempting to place the code calling for.. whatever that was.

He seems to find what he’s looking for, because he makes a pleased ‘ah’ noise and his eyes shift back to a softened yellow colour.

“I think it’s another thing I've developed. It’s a glitch, I believe!” He laughs.

You laugh in response to him, as well. “It kind of sounds like purring. Like, from a cat.”

When Sun gives you a quizzical expression, you provide, “..You do know what a cat is, right?”

He nods. “I was just trying to find out how the two matched, that’s all!”

You slink back into his arms, and happily, the rumbling noise starts again; Sun seems flustered by it, trying to get it to quiet down, but he’s not in control of it anymore, and the closer you nuzzle up to him, the louder the ‘purring’ gets.

“Sunbeam, I, uh–” The rumbling noise warbles his voice as he tries to push you away, but he can’t speak properly.

“It’s alright, Sunny; I think it’s nice.” It grows until it rattles your bones as you’re standing there, embracing him tightly, and Sun gives up trying to push you - or the sound - away. He sinks into you, deeper and deeper until his weight grows against you so much that you can hardly hold him up against you anymore.

You move your head up to find out whether he’s gone into sleep mode or not, and you end up bumping your lips up against his cheek, your tooth knocking against your upper lip. “Ow, shit!”

The purring noise stutters and ends up fizzing out like a steam engine cutting off, and Sun falls slack against you. “Ack, jesus christ, Sun, what the–”

You move out of his arms, but he just falls to the floor. “Sunny! What the hell, oh my god!”

Hastily, you roll him over, and you discover what the issue was– He overheated. You could understand it now, because as you touched him, he was blazing hot, and his eyes were open but completely blacked-out, static crackling gently over his speakers.

“Shit, I completely screwed you.. Man, Moon’s going to be pissed at me once I wake you guys up.” You grabbed an arm and began to tug Sun’s body towards an air conditioning vent. The air was cool there, so you left his limp form in front of the frosty area for a while. You leaned up against his splayed torso, and waited patiently for him to reboot.

Note to self? Don’t overstimulate Sun. He’ll pass out.

#sundrop #sundrop x reader #moondrop #moondrop x reader #fnaf #fnaf security breach #fnaf sb #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #fnaf daycare attendant #daycare attendant

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facesofone · 3 years ago

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I'm not in crisis, but I do need a but of help if that's alright. Through a series of events that really began sort a few months ago when I realized the severity of a trauma when I was around 7, and led to a therapist pointing out emotional neglect throughout my childhood, brought me to a trauma survivors blog where another person's ask resonated with me and ultimately led to me questioning if I may be part of a system. I didn't have any "imaginary friends" before the trauma, and after I did. And they have been with me now for 20 years. I didn't know that wasn't a typical experience. I thought maybe it was just inner monologs, but after this week, I'm very sure at there is at least one that is almost completely separated from myself if not two. (My understanding is under OSDD1a the lines between alters can be less defined.)

I have been doing as much research as possible this last week and line up very closely with OSDD1 criteria. I keep running into discourse so I feel I need to clarify that. I am doing research, and if I can find a therapist I trust, I do intend to ask about it. To this end I have been trying to keep notes on the dissociative feelings I get, and even have tried advice from another ask I read about straight up trying to talk to other voice and did so through a typed conversation during part of which I could feel a difference in my face that was beyond my control while they were typing. But I feel like the very act of trying to collect data on this, trying to reach out to who I'm now very sure are my alters, means that I'm making all this up. Despite matching much of the criteria I've been studying, despite the fact that at least one of them has been with me for 20 years, it feels like...acknowledging it, questioning it, trying to find answers means it's fake. I feel like there's no place for us within the community, but I don't know where else to go for support. I almost feel like if my experience in this doesn't mirror that of another's system that...I'm making it up somehow.

I'm so sorry, I know this is a lot. I'm trying to reach out to several blogs for advice, because I feel like the community can tell me more about the experience of being a system than any medical document can. If this is too much, I absolutely understand, but if you happen to know of any places I can go to learn better about the experience of being a system it would be immensely appreciated.

Hey! So I just want to start off by saying that I will give you my thoughts on the matter, but cannot give any kind of diagnosis or anything.

So from my understanding the primary requirements of OSDD-1a is either only 2 alters (host and secondary) or alters that are not fully formed (distinctly seperate self). From what I gathered from your ask it would seem 1b would be more likely in your case as you say that at least 1 can be considered completely seperate.

Nextly I want to address your feelings about researching dissociative identities, you're absolutely not alone in that. I've felt that way and I know many others have too. The thing I try to remember and remind is that faking is an act of intention. One has to actively think about and make efforts to decieve others to actually be faking something. In essence, you would know. So hopefully that is comforting because it seems like you aren't doing that, which ultimately means that you aren't. I can understand how looking into things may make you feel that way, but don't let that stop you from learning what you want to.

And don't worry if your experiences don't mirror others, systems come in all sorts of shapes and flavors and there is no one "right" way to be a system. If people in a community are making you feel like you don't belong because you're not ____ enough, that's a community you don't need to be a part of.

You seem like you're making great efforts to understand yourself(ves) and that is excellent. It feels like you've been thinking very hard about your words and I commend that. I hope some of what I said helped, or at the very least, I hope one of the other blogs gave you something good to think about.

Definitely wishing you well, and I hope to hear from you again!

Sincerely,

Kyra

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yoursinfulurges · 4 years ago

Text

AntiHero

[The Venom Within] <- read part one here.

Description: The events that soon followed your emotional downfall turns dark and horrifying after Hydra gains possession of your freedom.

1/2 of part 2

Warnings: Abuse. Kidnapping. Angst.

Disclaimer: In this story' venom has no conscious and is simply just the readers alter, or the readers inner thoughts and insecurities. This takes place after civil war time. So Endgame and Infinity War never happens.

____________

You huffed inaudibly, hearing your stomach roar from starvation for the fifth time this minute. You had only gotten twelve blocks away from the tower, which was still very much visible when you turned back. Annoyingly so, you tried to avoid any peripheral contact with it, in fear of changing your mind and running straight back.

Even trying your very hardest to block out any childhood memories spent there from coming back to you, as the last thing you needed was for more tears to be shed. You felt eerily deprived of sensation, and you didn't know if it was because of the cold New York air or the fact that you left a part of you behind back in that tower. The one capable of deciphering the many layers of the overwhelming apathy you ever so felt reside within you.

The one able to comprehend and break down your other feelings that remained intacted, yet almost seemed brain dead. As if not computing the sitution that had happened moments ago, defying how your tense heart truly ached. Feeling as though you were just a walking body, an empty shell of the person that once was. You knew your inner subconscious was protecting you from added trauma, and was doing the best thing it could by preventing you from feeling the complexity of it all and only allowing minor details to slide. As said feelings would only send you into a spiralling depth of anxiety.

And only god knows what would happened if your emotions alone suddenly decided it was time to have a panic attack at this very moment. Despite being greatful for the somewhat unorthodox coping mechanism that was forced upon you, you were at war with yourself. Almost angry that you couldn't process the overwhelming wave of sensations, having to submit to the black cold solitude of your mind till your brain finally decides to open up and evaluate just how badly the damage was to your mental health.

But till that happens your soul was left to wonder and yield in confusion instead of settling on one dependent emotion....

You were conflicted to no doubt.

You were angry yet, if tried hard enough and dug a bit deeper, pass the wall you built around your heart, you found yourself strangely at peace. Contradicting the forefront frustration you had with the profound perplexity of the situation, confusing you once more. As a part of you almost beams at the sudden calmness that over came you, in contrast to your outbursts merely an hour ago.

Sure, you felt a myriad of miniscule emotions coincide you, tiny enough not to affect you in any way shape or form, or take away your apathetic structure, (thankfully so). And you knew that you were definitely far from okay as of right now, especially since you were somewhat going through an existential crisis. Yet in a funny defiant kind of way you were fine. It was as if your amygdala had froze, preventing you from registering everything that had happened. Forcing you to rerun the moments leading up to here in order to get to the bottom of what your true emotions and opinions were.

You made it out of the tower unnoticed, given the fact that you dressed a lot more muted than you'd normally do. Nobody would think that it was Y/n Stark under the hood of one of Steve Rogers' old jacket. Your clothes weren't exactly ideal, but you were in no position to complain, you acted in a panic and grabbed whatever was on the way to the exit.

That being Natasha's grey hoodie and Steve's oversized leather jacket. Both laid untouched, draped over the abandoned conference room chairs. You saw it the moment you stepped out the elevator, peering through the glass walls just to confirm whether it was really their's. It was a given that the room hadn't been cleaned out yet, being that it had been months since anyone has been in there. But then again, only a few people had conformation to that area of the tower.

Without thinking, you had scanned your hand onto the access pad, and before you knew it, the glass door slid open. A decision you silently curse yourself on now for doing, since there was no doubt about it that Friday had already informed your dad that your last digital encounter was going into that room. You knew how incredibly smart that AI was, so you even made it an effort to take the route with less cameras. Even purposely running around the building, going to useless area's to confuse her in the future before sliding pass an unsupervised emergency exit.

Despite the fact that it was 1:30 AM, the streets of Manhattan was as lively as ever. Though there was a lot less traffic at this time of the night. It gave you comfort to know that you weren't completely alone walking the streets. You may be skilled in hand-to-hand combat, but at the end of the day, you were still a girl, and that fact alone made you a clear target for some.

And you doubt you could put up much of a fight, especially with how starved weak (and not to mention injured) you were. You had to be weary of who was around you at all times, stick to crowded areas yet be inconspicuous enough not to be spotted by cameras. As you knew for a fact that Friday was most likely scanning the area.

Though despite how stress driven the situation was and how fidgety you felt, you weren't completely wandering lost, you had a destination set at mind and it gave you all the hope that you needed to keep moving onward. That location being the small little Chinese restaurant tucked away at a back alley passage seven blocks away from where you were. As you were quite close with the owner, being a regular weekly. So you knew for a fact that if you asked she would let you stay for a couple of days without hesitation. The small cozy family owned business reminded you so much of your old home, back when you still lived with your mother.

After that night- or more so week spent with Tony, your mother had decided it would be best to stay put in China for a while. Delusions of starting something more than just a hook up with the oh so' brilliant Tony Stark flooded her mind. She wanted to be at arms reach for the man and stay exactly where he left her. Tony told her multiple times over the course of seven days that he'd be back for her, but he never came back...

As weeks went by your mother had come to the realization that those words were merely nothing but empty promises and drunken slurs. Thus feeding her resentment for the small little child that grew inside her. You weren't a native of China but you were born and raised there up until age eleven or twelve, when your mother passed from cancer. Your childhood for the most part was dry and barren of any affection, having to submit and be degraded to being your mother's personal maid. Despite the mistreatment you had to endure, you couldn't exactly complain because you weren't exactly suffering. You had a roof over your head and all the food and water you could ever want, not to mention access to education. From a young age you had always shown signs of carrying the infamous Stark gene, harboring a profound skill to grasp and master any subject thrown your way. At the age of only six you were already capable of speaking three different languages; English, Chinese, and French. You had all characteristics of being a Stark.

Except of course the looks.... Which was primarily why Tony didn't believe you were his child to begin with. You knew from the age of twelve that you looked more like your mother rather than your dad, but the contrast was blatantly eye striking next to the man whom was supposed to be your father. You had your mom's features more not to mention her complexion, being that your mother was [your race].

(If you're white then imagine y/n is paler or tanner than Tony, I'm Asian so....)

You had never forgotten the most pivotal and accurate representation of your relationship that unfolded the day you first met...

🕸🕷🕸

You ran towards the man stood a few feet away from you, letting go of the woman's hand. Your face beams displaying a blinding smile as you ran towards Tony.

"Dad!"

You screamed in joy running towards the male engulfing his mid waist with your arms. The man looked down at you in a fright, his brows furrowing together as he looked at the Stark family lawyer and the social worker.

He gently yet assertively pulls your arms off of him, not sparing you a glance as you looked up in question.

"Are you sure she's mine?"

Your heart drops at that moment as all becomes clear... The smile no longer present on your face as you looked down and distanced yourself away from Tony. Something no one took notice of.

"We've already done a DNA test on her sir and she's yours..." The social worker lady spoke timidly, clutching her files tightly.

"Well do two more tests, god damn it!"

Tony screamed causing you to flinch slightly. A prickling sensation of shame washing over you as you watched him begins to pace, rubbing his face with the palm of his hands in distress.

"Come here sweetie, let's go get you something to eat, you must be hungry from your flight."

A woman with ginger hair spoke lightly as she forced out a smile, extending her hand for you before glaring at the man when you took her hold.

"I want a cheese burger...."

She nodded briefly, pulling you away from the scene and straight towards the elevator.

🕸🕷🕸

And at that day was when you realized that things were only going to get more complicated from there. Because the first moment that you both met, he had already decided that he didn't want you.

Though contrary to his primal feelings, you were very much aware of your fathers attempts in searching for you, even though it had only been forty five minutes since the fight. It was reassuring but, you weren't in the mood to awe about it. You were still mad at him, and had zero plans of forgiving him any time soon. Or returning any time soon... You wanted him to worry and loose sleep, it was petty but it would be a mere compensation for the suffering he put you through.

You brush pass a halted group of people, no more than twelve, lightly shoving pass them irritably. Slightly annoyed with their odd behavior, as they all seemed to be watching something you couldn't care less about. You let out an inaudible scoff, as you walked passed them. Your attention devoted to unwrapping the bubble gum you had in hand. Harshly shoving the minty treat into your mouth before putting your bandaged hands into the pockets of the leather jacket. You heaved in relief, finally giving your roaring stomach a somewhat rest after fourteen hours of starvation. The gum was probably months old by now since you found it in Nat's hoodie, but you couldn't care less. It was only meant to sustain your hunger for twenty more minutes.

You walk at a leisurely pace, stopping slightly to push the pedestrian button at the cross walk. You watched as multiple cars pass by, rolling your eye irritably as you hear the crowd of people gasp in awe again. You normally weren't so easily agitated, but you're currently having a hard time figuring out just what your new normal would be from now on... Tapping your foot on the concrete pavement, you wished time would speed up.

"What do you think is happening up there?"

"Who knows"

"Maybe he's just testing out his new suits.'

With that, you freeze all movements. It was as if everything stilled at the command of one word. You were scared shitless of all the possibilities it could be, not knowing whether you were willing to look or not, but your anxiety was killing you. Feeling it increase at every breath, taunting you like marionettes on a string, dearing you to look, only to scream no just afterwards. With an in take of air, you pushed back those thoughts and slowly, you turned to view what all the fuss was about. Gasping in shock and horror at the sight infront of you.

He was insane.

There stood the Stark tower tall and proud, being lit up like a firecracker with multiple yellow streaks of light ejecting from the building. It looked as though hundreds of missiles were being fired into the air, contrasting the twilight sky. Even with the skyscrapers that surrounded the tower, the sight demanded all the attention. No, those weren't missiles...

They behaved too smart to be simply just that. And you knew better than to dismiss them so easily. Multiple flew in every direction, some swirling around the tower, and others going straight up. There was at least two or four going north and south, while a dozen takes off headed east and west. It looked as though someone was celebrating New Years early, and doing so extravagantly, except it was the middle of fall...

The sight was beautiful you couldn't deny that, but you were confused as to what exactly that could mean. Was it meant for you? Was he calling you back? Was that his version of an Amber alert? Or maybe they celebrating that you were finally gone... Images of Pepper, Tony, and Peter celebrating your leave quickly flash through your mind, stabbing you in the back ones more. Quickly, you shake them out of your head, returning your attention once again to the event in front of you. Your brows pulled together in question before it officially clicked. Hitting you hard like a brick, demolishing the wall of protection you built around yourself to stop the flood of overwhelming emotions. Feeling a small tug in your chest, the numbness that guarded your heart slowly dispersed as anxiety crept up your spine.

He had unleashed the entirety of his Iron Legion's to search for you.

All 108 suits....

Without thinking, you quickly crouched down, seeing one flying low into the street, right towards you. Your hood fell from a gust of wind as your hair blew all around. You screw your eyes tightly, covering your ears at a loud swooshing sound invading your eardrums. Thankfully, it flew pass you. You ignored the cheering of the crowd, quickly trying to run and sprint into an underground sub station. Turning back one last time, only to be greeted by more iron suits taking off from the tower. You frantically focusing your eyes, seeing a blue and red figure swinging from a far.

Peter....

As luck may have it, he swung left, following a completely different road.

And with that, you ran. You ran as fast as your feet could carry you, frantically looking for the 99th street substation opening so that you could hide underground.

Cut short gasps of panic erupt from your mouth as you hurriedly ran across the street. You closed your eyes tight, feeling tears forming and falling down your face. Oh no, not now... Cold frost bitten air hits your skin as you maneuver yourself around bystanders. Not now, not now, not now. The tears fell more frequently as you squeezed your eyes shut once more.

You were not going to send yourself into and anxiety attack, not now, and not because of this.

Your running comes to a halt as you stand exactly where you're supposed to be, eyes quickly looking around in search for the station opening.

There!

In a fright, damp cold sweats engulfs your body as you enter and ran down the steps, out from above ground sight. You jump over the turnstile, panting from the tiredness as you took note of how soar your legs were becoming. You gulp, chest rising and falling rapidly as you looked around to see if anyone saw your odd behavior. And to your surprise the station was completely empty, odd... Though that could very well be because the scheduled 1:40 train had just took off fifteen minutes ago. You moved with hesitation and weariness as you looked around for any person in sight. Silently, you plopped yourself down onto a steel bench, trying desperately for your breathing to calm down.

You didn't know how long it had been or how much time passed since you've sat down, but you stayed put fidgeting for what seemed like hours. Your thighs bounced anxiously as you kept an eye out for any short of movement, the dimly lit grimy station gave you an on edge feeling and it didn't sit right in your stomach. You felt like you were being watched from all sorts of corners and you shook it off as anxiety but something told you to stay guarded.

Your ears would perk from time to time, hearing loud gusts of winds and cheering from above ground, ensuring the fact that your father's search party wasn't going away anytime soon.

You hear movement coming in, snapping out of your haze as you felt a presence sit beside you. You peer up meekly in curiosity before gasping in shock and horror at who the person was.

Brock Rumlow....

"Long time no see little Stark." He spoke voice raspy and sinister as you cringe at the sight of his face. There, half of his profile was burnt and agitated red as one of his eyes was completely titanium white, you figured he was blind there. Wanda really did a number on him as you all suspected that she had killed him....

Little Stark.... That was something only Fury called you...

You swallow in fear as you notice five more men appearing suddenly. You suddenly felt incredibly hyper aware of the situation, your vision tunneling as your heart rate increases. This was really happening...

"I've waited a long time for this kid... knock her out!"

Before you could scream in distress a throbbing pain consumes the back of your skull, and then everything turned black...

_____________

I owe you guys an explanation, and to put it simply, I was depressed and felt unmotivated so I took a lot of time to myself... I wasn't aware that so many people were expecting a follow up to a stupid little story I had written in April... I am without of words and am absolutely overwhelmed by the amount of support and love you all have given me. Yet the feeling of being pressured to write came with the notion of so much positivity, thus tainting it. I can't promise when the second half of part two will come out, but know that it is coming......

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