#it went from just a headache these last few days to migraine today | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

trickphotography2 · 1 year

Text

D-Day by TrickPhotography | Chapter 10

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x female!reader

Word count: 4.5k

Synopsis: After finding out his girlfriend is pregnant, Jake is ready to move in and get married. The last thing he expected was to be hit with a six-month deployment at sea and missing the birth of his first child.

18+, minors DNI

Chapter 9 | Master List | Ao3

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

Chapter 10

I’m late.

The thought jolted you awake. It was still dark as you reached for your phone to check the time, knocking over the bottle of Tylenol in the process. After confirming that you still had ten minutes until your alarm went off, you collapsed onto the pillows. The room spun behind your closed eyes as you removed the now-dry washcloth from your forehead and pressed a palm against your temple.

A low-grade headache had been plaguing you for the last few days, stubbornly not moving toward a migraine, so you couldn’t justify using your meds. As it was, you still had some nausea and had gotten sick at work the last two days. Thankfully, Jake was on mids - working from 4:00 PM until midnight since he was helping the Strike Fighter Weapons School Pacific with dog fight training - and hadn’t been on base to make you go home. Your team was reviewing contract bids for a new plane towing machine and needed all hands on deck. You just had to make it through today and tomorrow, and then you’d have a long weekend to relax. Jake could go to the 4th of July party that Phoenix was hosting - you would sleep.

When the world righted itself, you slowly sat up and breathed through a wave of nausea. The pills rattled as you shook out two tablets from the bottle and swallowed them with a sip of water, glancing at Jake sleeping beside you. For the first few nights he’d been on mids, you’d fallen asleep on the couch waiting for him to come home. With his schedule, you passed one another in the house without having actual time together. A few hours of uncomfortable dozing was worth the minutes you talked until he sent you to bed and watched TV to wind down for a couple of hours before passing out. Since your headache started, you’d gone to bed right after work. Other than exchanging texts, you hadn’t had a chance to really talk to him all week.

Slipping out of bed, you took your phone and headed towards the bathroom, turning off your alarm. You waited until the door was closed to flick on the light, not wanting to wake Jake up. Bracing your elbows on your knees while peeing, you hung your head and breathed through your nose and out your mouth, wishing that you’d taken the time to run back to your apartment to get your nausea meds after work yesterday, but you’d been so exhausted.

The shower warmed as you brushed your teeth and tried not to gag. Deciding that you couldn’t handle the noisy blow dryer this morning, you tied back your hair and stepped under the hot water. Tilting your head back, you exhaled deeply as your muscles relaxed, keeping one hand on the wall when the heat made you lightheaded.

The bed was empty when you crept out of the bathroom dressed for work, and you heard the gurgling of the coffee pot. Following the noise, you found Jake leaning against the counter, ankles crossed while scrolling on his phone, boxers slung low on his hips. His eyes were red with exhaustion when they lifted to meet yours, a sleepy smile crossing his lips as he set the phone down. “Mornin’,” he rasped.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No,” he lied, opening his arms as you drew close. You pressed your cheek to his sleep-warm chest, sinking into his comforting embrace. “You feelin’ any better?” His accent always came out more when he was tired.

“Not really,” you shrugged. His hand swept the length of your back as he kissed the top of your head.

“You know, I learned something pretty interestin’ last night.” When you hummed, he chuckled. “Apparently, orgasms help with headaches.”

“I know.”

“You know?” he asked, pulling away to meet your gaze. “And you didn’t say anything?”

“It’s not exactly the first thing I think of when my head hurts. Besides, I have two perfectly good hands.”

“Your boyfriend also has two perfectly good hands. And a mouth. And a dick.”

“And a work schedule that isn’t exactly conducive to a sex life.”

“Darlin’, I’d happily give up an hour of sleep to help you feel better.”

“How generous of you,” you chuckled. He pressed his lips to your forehead before kissing you.

“You’re going to the doctor if you don’t feel better tomorrow.”

“It’s just a headache.”

“They shouldn’t last a week.”

“Whatever, Dad,” you huffed. Jake lightly swatted your ass, a teasing smile lifting the corner of his mouth.

“Careful, baby - I might just start likin’ you calling me Daddy.” He kissed you again, lips a soft counterpoint to his rough stubble, before guiding your head back onto his shoulder. “Take the day off.”

“I can’t. We’re almost done with the first run through the bids.” When a wave of nausea hit, you turned to press your forehead to his collarbone, fingers digging into his back as you breathed through it.

“Darlin’.”

“I’m fine,” you said once it passed. Smiling weakly, you pulled away. “You should go back to bed.”

“Any chance you can join me? For medical reasons,” he added, brushing the hair from your face.

“I’m gonna be late.”

“Fine. But I’m serious - you’re going to the doctor tomorrow.”

“Yes, Daddy.” Groaning, his head fell back against the cabinets as you stepped out of his arms and got your coffee ready.

The morning passed in a blur of documents as the team sat in the conference room. Cruz had picked up a box of donuts, and you’d nibble on a plain one while sipping your coffee. During a bathroom break, you’d grabbed another sports drink from the hanger break room, tossed two dollars into the jar, and added the ninth tally mark by your name. But as it got closer to lunchtime, half of the donut sat heavily in your stomach, and most of the coffee sat in front of you.

“I’m heading to the food court if you want to join,” Cruz offered, pushing away from the conference table.

“I’m in,” Woolsey agreed, as did Armitage and Gale.

“I’m good,” you said. Lunch didn’t sound appealing, but a power nap in the car did. Once you’d tossed the donut and grabbed your thermos, you headed to your office to grab your keys. When you bent to retrieve your purse from the desk drawer, another wave of nausea hit. Groaning, you sat in your chair, dropping your head into your hands. Sweat dotted your brow as your ears started to ring.

You stared, trying to figure out where you were and why you were looking at the ceiling tiles. Turning your head, you saw the bottom of a desk and realized you were on the office floor. Your ears rang louder, and you widened your eyes as the room spun. Your hand shook when you held it in front of your face. From the corner of your eye, you saw feet approaching and looked up to see Armitage’s shocked face. Her mouth moved, and you frowned. She crouched and pushed against your shoulder when you tried to sit up. “What happened?” you asked, sinking back onto the floor.

“Jesus Christ, are you alright?”

“I…I think I fainted.”

“Shit.” She turned to look out the office door but whipped around when you gagged. Pushing onto your elbow, you reached for the trashcan and vomited. “Damn it. Are you okay?” Draping your arm over the rim of the trashcan and resting your head on your forearm, you breathed through your mouth, trying to keep from fainting again. “You’re bleeding.”

“What?” She was right. Your left foot had a deep scratch, and blood was dripping into your shoe - you’d caught it on your desk drawer. “Fuck.”

“You need to go to the hospital. I can drive you.”

“No, I’m fine. I… I can go myself.”

“You can’t drive.” You groaned, knowing that she was right. But the idea of having your coworker take you to a hospital - and it would have to be off base - was too humiliating. You knew what you had to do. Armitage helped you into your chair, which had rolled across your office and hit the wall, before grabbing your phone.

“Hey, darlin’. You on lunch?”

“Can you come to get me?”

The Navy spent a lot of money training their pilots to be calm under pressure, which was the only way Hangman was able to drive to the Bounty Hunter hanger, and then across town to a civilian hospital. After escorting you into the ER and getting you settled into a chair with the paperwork, he parked the truck and hurried back inside.

Other than when you stepped into the restroom, Jake never left you, keeping his arm draped over your shoulders. Tucked against his side, you kept your eyes closed as you told him what happened, his lips grazing your temple. Thankfully, your foot stopped bleeding as you waited the hour to go back to an exam room. You could tell he wasn’t happy they sent a medical student to take your history. Jake stood to the side, arms crossed and eyes following every movement.

“Your paperwork says you’ve had a headache for a few days. Is that common?”

“No. I have migraines, but they’re usually gone in a day or two.”

“Any stressors?”

“Other than work, not really.” He nodded again.

“Do you know what usually triggers your migraines?”

“Stress or my period.”

“Is your menstrual cycle normal?”

“Pretty much,” you shrugged.

“And you said your last period was about a month ago?” You nodded. “The paperwork says that you were sitting before you fell. Were you sitting for a long time?”

“Kind of. But I’d walked to my office.”

“When you fainted, did you hit your head?” You nodded. “Did you vomit afterward?” Nod. “Do you know how long you were unconscious?”

“No.”

“Okay.” He left after cleaning and bandaging your foot, and a few minutes later, you had your blood drawn and was hooked up for an EKG. Jake stepped out to call his CO and tell him he wouldn’t be at work that night, then slid his hand into yours as you closed your eyes and tried to stay calm. When the tests were done, you curled up on the bed and dozed with your head on his shoulder.

Around 3:00 PM, the doctor finally came into the room with the med student and shook both of your hands before settling on the stool and tapping on her tablet. “So your labs look good. You’re a little dehydrated, but I’m not seeing any issues with your heart. I did want to ask a couple of follow-up questions. Have you had any sharp pain recently in your stomach, pelvis, or shoulder?”

“No,” you frowned.

“The lightheadedness - has it been consistent or just the one time?”

“I’ve felt a little light-headed off and on, but it goes away in a minute or so.”

“Any irregular bleeding?” You shook your head. “Great. So it looks as though you experienced vasovagal syncope, which is when your blood pressure has a sudden drop. You mentioned that your periods trigger your headaches, and hormone fluctuations can trigger one.”

“So she’s okay?” Jake asked, squeezing your hand. The doctor smiled at him.

“Yes, she’s okay. I wanted to discuss some of the symptoms you were experiencing before the syncope. You mentioned being nauseous - was that just before the syncope?”

“No, it’s been a couple of days.”

“Have you vomited?” Nod. “Have you been keeping food down?”

“Not really. I’ve mostly been eating crackers the last couple of days.” You pointedly ignored the look Jake gave you.

“Have you been more fatigued recently?” Brow furrowed, you nodded again. “How about any other physical symptoms?”

“Like?”

“Any tenderness in your breasts?”

“No.”

“Yes,” Jake answered, clearly thinking about how he’d brushed your nipples in the shower over the weekend and you’d threatened to punch him in the throat. You blushed. The med student snorted. The doctor met your gaze, the corners of her mouth twitching.

“The labs show that your HCG levels are elevated, which probably triggered the vasovagal syncope.” Her eyes darted between you and Jake before she added, “HCG is what we look for to confirm a pregnancy.”

The word echoed through the exam room. You froze, feeling Jake’s hand flex around yours. “P-pregnancy?” you stuttered.

“Yes,” the doctor looked between your stunned faces. “I would recommend setting up an appointment with your OB in the next couple of days to see how far along you are and to monitor your morning sickness. Right now, it’s unclear if your nausea is because of your headache or hyperemesis gravidarum, which is severe morning sickness. I’m a bit concerned about you being dehydrated, so make sure you’re taking in as much fluid as possible - water, sports drinks, soup, popsicles, whatever you can keep down. For food, go with the BRAT diet - bread, rice, applesauce, and toast. And I want you to try and eat a couple of small meals throughout the day. You want high carbs and protein with low fat.”

“I’m going to write you a prescription for something to help with the nausea. For the headache, again, hydrate and eat. You can take acetaminophen as needed. I want you to return to the ED or urgent care if you still can’t keep anything down, if you faint again, or if you feel any pain in your abdomen or shoulder. And make sure that you take your time when standing up - your blood volume increases during pregnancy, and your pressure can drop. Compression socks can help. Do you have any questions?”

“I’m pregnant?”

Her smile was soft when she nodded, “You’re pregnant.”

“Darlin’, you awake?” Jake asked, glancing at you from the driver’s seat. Your seat was tilted back, eyes closed behind sunglasses against the setting sun. It would be so easy to pretend you were sleeping, but you held out your hand and felt his palm slide against yours before the soft brush of his lips against your knuckles. “You feeling okay?”

“My head still hurts, I’m nauseous and exhausted, but other than that, I’m okay.”

“Why didn’t you tell me it was that bad?”

“It hasn’t been - this isn’t the first time I’ve had a headache last this long. I’ve only been dizzy a couple of times.”

“That’s a couple of times too many.” When you tried to pull your hand away, he tightened his grip. “I’m gonna get you settled at home, then go to the store and pick up some stuff. You need to eat.” The thought of food turned your stomach, and you rolled your lips together, focusing on your breathing. He momentarily let go of your hand, and the air conditioner blasted, the cool air hitting your flushed skin. “Tell me if I need to pull over.”

Thankfully, you made it back to the house. When Jake stopped to let the garage open, you threw open the door and rushed inside as he parked, barely making it to the guest bathroom to vomit bile. A minute later, he set a glass on the counter, pulled your hair away from your face, and rubbed soothing circles on your back. “I thought morning sickness was only in the morning,” you groaned.

“Well, you’re an overachiever.” You let out a watery chuckle, sitting back on your heels and blowing your nose. He handed you the glass of water before leaning against the doorframe. Your hand shook when he pulled you to your feet, and his lips pressed into a thin line. As soon as you rinsed your mouth and washed the tears from your face, he lifted you off your feet and carried you into the bedroom. He left after setting you on the bed and telling you to get comfortable.

Sighing, you stripped off your shirt and slacks and pulled one of his t-shirts from the dresser before retreating to the bathroom to brush your teeth and remove your makeup. He returned as you slipped under the covers, handing you an ice pack and setting one of his sports drinks on your bedside table. Carefully, he sat beside you, planting a hand on the bed by your hip as you placed the ice pack on the back of your neck. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Not right now,” you sighed, blinking back tears. “I think I’m still in shock.”

“You and me both, darlin’. So much for it just being a headache.” Jake’s smile was soft, contradicting the tension in his shoulders, as he leaned down to kiss your forehead. “I’m gonna go to the store. You want anything in particular?” When you shook your head, he left.

Once you heard the rumble of the garage close, you turned onto your side and hugged your pillow. You and Jake had talked about kids before but hadn’t had strong feelings either way. When picturing your future, you thought about vacations and career advancement. You could see a kid or two, but that wasn’t the first thing you thought of. It wasn’t like your friends who always identified being a parent as something they had to have in their future.

You’d decided to wait until after getting married to make the final decision. But it seemed like the universe was going to make you choose early.

The first tears fell as you slid your hand under Jake’s shirt and cradled your stomach.

Jake walked around the grocery store in a daze, tossing items into the cart.

Pregnant. You were pregnant. With his kid.

He'd been scared when you called him to say you needed to go to the hospital. Not only because you were hurt but because he couldn’t take you to the nearest hospital - the one on base - but had to go to a civilian one. He’d already been mentally crafting his argument to push up getting married when the doctor dropped the bombshell.

Pregnant.

That word terrified him. He’d never pictured himself as a dad, even when his ex tried to convince him to have a kid. Jake knew he wouldn’t be a good one, especially if they had a boy, not with how he’d been raised. He didn’t want a kid to grow up hating him for doing a shitty job.

But he couldn’t deny that his heart leapt when the doctor said you were having his child.

Something soft crushed under his shoe. Jake stopped and stepped back, lifting his foot to see a small elephant stuffed animal with a pacifier attached to its trunk. Slowly, he scooped it off the floor while looking around the aisle to see if someone had dropped it. He spotted a guy in NWU camo pushing a cart with a car seat, turning left in front of him. After grabbing a jar of applesauce, he followed, speeding along the aisles to catch sight of him again.

Of course, he caught up with him on the aisle with all the baby stuff. “Hey, excuse me. Is this yours?” The man tossed a package of diapers in the cart before looking at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh shit. Yeah, thanks, man,” he replied, closing the few steps to take it. “My wife would kill me if I came home without Wubbie - bedtime’s hard enough without his paci.” Jake fought the urge to raise an eyebrow but nodded.

“No problem.” He glanced at the car seat and saw that the baby was wearing the man’s service hat and felt his lips twitch into a smile. With a nod, he pushed the cart away, unable to stop looking at the shelves as he walked. There were so many different types of diapers and wipes. And it was all expensive. His steps faltered, and he grimaced when he saw a straw-looking thing for literally sucking boogers out of a baby’s nose.

“That thing is disgusting but a lifesaver,” the guy said, coming up behind Jake and seeing what he was looking at. He grabbed a bottle of baby lotion and tossed it into the cart. “You having your first kid?”

“Uh,” Jake said, “yeah, I guess I am. How’d you know?”

“You’ve got that freaked-out new dad look,” he chuckled, then glanced at Jake’s cart. “Plus, you’ve got a shit ton of stuff for morning sickness. My wife swore by these ginger candies they’ve got over in the pharmacy area.”

“Thanks, I’ll grab some.”

“Congrats, man. You’re in for a fun time. And thanks again for the pacifier.” Jake stood there for a long moment before heading to the pharmacy.

What he needed more than anything right now was to talk to someone and get his head on straight before going into the conversation with you. Having kids was supposed to be something you discussed in a couple of years, but not now. Not when he didn’t have time to really think about what it would mean to be a dad. His whole adult life had been focused on becoming the best naval aviator. Now that he’d accomplished that, he had time to breathe, enjoy being in a relationship, and get promoted to Lieutenant Commander. A baby would complicate that.

Not that he didn’t like kids. Some other officers had them, and he liked them in theory. They were cute, and he knew any child the two of you made would be adorable. But they were a lot of work. And he didn't know how to be a father. His example growing up was everything that he didn’t want. Jake knew he could focus too much on his career and what he wanted to do, which was, unfortunately, similar to his dad. He could be mean and lose his temper when annoyed.

As much as he wanted to call Coyote and talk about how much he was freaking out, he couldn’t. His best friend would tell him what he wanted to hear, but Jake wasn’t sure what that was. He needed someone who would give him an honest opinion without considering his feelings.

And, thankfully, he had just the person for that.

The phone rang as he stopped in his driveway. Rather than reach for the remote to open the garage, he waited.

“Hangman.”

“Am I going to be a shitty father?” The words were out before he could stop them.

There was silence for a long moment before Rooster groaned. “Jesus, Hangman. At least tell me that you knocked up your girlfriend and not - ”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Jake snapped. “This was a dumb fuckin’ idea. Don’t tell anyone - ”

“Wait, wait. I’m sorry,” Rooster said quickly. “Don’t know why you didn’t call Coyote for this.”

“Because he’s gonna tell me what I wanna hear. I need to know what the truth is.”

“And I’m the guy to do that? The one in the squad who grew up without their dad and has Mav as a pseudo-parent?”

“The only thing you’ve never hesitated on is calling me on shit, Rooster.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Exactly. So am I gonna be a shitty dad?” Jake pinched the bridge of his nose as the silence dragged on.

“You’re dangerous in the air, but when your team needs you, you’re there. You get the job done.”

He cleared his throat, “That almost sounds like a compliment.”

“It wasn’t.” Rooster sighed, “The fact that you’re worried about this means you’re not gonna be a shitty dad, Jake.” Hot tears sprang to his eyes as he let his head fall back, and he quickly brushed away the few that fell. After a long moment, Rooster cleared his throat. “So when’s she due?”

“No idea. Just found out a couple of hours ago.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.” The silence stretched again. “Thanks for… that. And could you not tell anyone about this? We’re…”

“Yeah, no, of course. And…uh… congrats, man.”

“Thanks.” When the call disconnected, Jake folded his arms over the steering wheel and rested his head on his forearms. There was a tiny flicker of hope in his chest that he wouldn't be the worst father if one of his strongest critics believed in him. Hell, he was pretty sure all he needed to do was do the opposite of everything his own did. Sighing, he hit the garage opener and pulled the truck in before grabbing the bags from the backseat.

When he opened the door, he saw you standing in the kitchen, sipping a glass of water. You looked pale as the corners of your lips lifted in a tired smile. “Hi.”

“Hey, darlin’. Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“I was, for a little while.”

“Were you sick again?”

“Almost. How about you? How are you doing?”

“I’m not the one who ended up in the hospital today,” he replied, setting the bags on the counter and starting to unpack them, his back to you. Sighing, you set the glass down and crossed the kitchen to wrap your arms around him, head resting between his shoulders.

“I’m sorry if I scared you.” `

“I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Are you as freaked out as I am?” When he huffed, you moved to lean your back against the counter beside him. His eyes met yours. “I know we said we’d have the kid conversation in a couple of years, but what’s your gut telling you?”

Jake’s gaze drifted down your body to land on your stomach. His tongue darted out to wet his lips before answering. “I think we can do this.”

“I think we can, too,” you said. “But do we want to?”

“Do you?”

Your heart beat fast as you studied him, trying to figure out what his response would be. With a deep breath and tears stinging your eyes, you said, “I’m terrified but…kind of. You?”

Knowing that this moment would change everything, Jake swallowed hard and nodded.

Your gasp echoed in the kitchen as you clapped your hands to your mouth. A slow grin spread across his lips as he turned to face you, gently tugging your hands away to wipe the tears on your cheeks. “Darlin’, are we having a baby?”

“We’re having a baby,” you whispered.

Jake’s kiss was soft, interrupted by his laugh as he tugged you close. Your hands rested on his chest, feeling the quick thumping of his heart against your palm. “You know,” he said, “this means we’re gonna have to renegotiate the contract.”

“Let’s focus on one life-changing thing at a time, please,” you groaned.

“‘M gonna put a pretty little somethin’ right here a hell of a lot sooner,” he grinned, lifting your left hand and tapping your ring finger.

“I hope you’ve been saving up, then.”

“I can probably scrape something together.”

Little did you know that Jake had an engagement ring tucked into the back of his closet.

He’d called your parents to ask for their blessing to marry you on the ship coming home from the uranium mission.

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

Author's Note: The way I STRUGGLED with this chapter. Given the story synopsis, you know the ultimate decision, but a surprise pregnancy when you're in your 30s is a moment to pause and reflect on what you want. And with Jake's daddy issues, I think he would struggle with the idea of being a good parent. Hopefully Rooster was able to set him straight!

Read Jake's POV of this chapter and Chapter 11

Tag list: @memeorydotcom; @alldaysdreamers; @kmc1989; @djs8891; @caitsymichelle13; @dempy; @midnightmagpiemama; @lovelyladymayyyy; @caidi-paris; @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby; @bellaireland1981; @lethargicluv; @mayhemmanaged; @tenderclio; @lucypaulette; @abaker74; @trhett21; @misshoneypaper; @schreksdoubledeckerhomechecker; @eternallyvenus; @mavrellover91; @chloeforde; @thatbitcily; @rest-of-brazilian-wax; @percysaidnever

#hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #top gun fic #top gun maverick #jake seresin #Hangman top gun #soft!Jake Seresin #hangman smut #hangman fic #D-Day fic #jake hangman seresin

184 notes · View notes

somber-sapphic · 1 year

Text

No Rest For The Foolhardy

You manage to hide your sickness for days, but of course it's hard to hide how you feel from a Sokovian Witch. (wanda x reader)

Word Count: 2114

DAY 1- It Begins

“Y/n, we’re going to be late!” Wanda called, poking her head into the bathroom where you were painstakingly trying to apply your makeup without getting eyeliner all over your face. It was hard to do with violently shaking hands in blurred vision.

You looked over at the brunette, a smile forming on your badly chapped lips. Even when you were feeling like absolute crap, it was impossible to deny just how beautiful she was. You fell more and more in love with her every day.

“You okay? You look a little rough there babe.” She frowned, taking a slow step into the bathroom. A spike of fear ran through your body and you slammed the eyeliner down, making your smile even bigger.

“I’m fine, I just didn’t sleep very well.” You reassured, walking over to press a little kiss against her forehead. She looked like she’d been expecting a kiss on the lips, but you didn’t dare risk that. You didn’t want her to get whatever nasty virus had crawled into your body and taken up residence in your respiratory system.

“Are you sure? Your cheeks are flushed, are you getting a bug?” Wanda pressed, her eyes boring into your soul as she tried to tell if you were lying. If she really wanted to she could’ve used her powers, but before the two of you even started dating she’d promised that she would never do that.

“Don’t worry about me love, we’ve got a meeting to get to.”

DAY 2- A Losing Battle

Why couldn't the city be attacked at a normal hour? 3 am was far too early to be getting out of your nice cozy bed to put on an uncomfortable uniform and race out of the tower to fight some sort of goop throwing alien. It didn’t speak any English, or any language that any of them knew so there wasn’t any reasoning. Just fighting.

Your body was sluggish as you threw your poison coated knives, only about half connecting with their target. Missing so much was embarrassing, especially when you were aiming for something so big. Wanda kept giving you looks but you were too busy focusing on not passing out to respond over the comms.

“Y/n, what the hell are you doing? You’re trying to hit it, not me!” Natasha’s voice crackled over the comms, sounding equally frustrated and worried. They were all worried about you, it wasn’t just your girlfriend who had noticed your odd behavior.

You didn’t respond, just unleashed another knife, this time hitting the thing square in the eye. Impressive for a person with a fever and a cough that rattled your lungs every few seconds and made you gag with the force.

The battle only lasted about three hours, but when you all went back for debriefing your legs felt like jello and you were pretty sure that you could fall asleep standing up. You collapsed into a chair and put your head on your fist, blinking over at Tony as he yelled about something you had done wrong. It was obvious that you didn’t do very well today, but the thing was dead and no one had gotten hurt.

“Tony, give me a break. It’s over.” You grumbled. Your head was pounding and his frustrated yelling and stomping around the room was only making it worse. Wanda reached over and rubbed your knee, assuming that you just had a migraine. You’d taken enough medicine to deal with the fever and congestion for a few more hours, so really it just looked like a bad headache.

“You nearly killed Romanoff!” He snapped back, glaring at you with piercing eyes.

“Almost being the key word. Lay off Y/n Stark, she looks exhausted.” Natasha replied, coming to your defense. You raised your eyebrows, slightly surprised. It wasn’t that you and Natasha didn’t get along, she was Wanda’s best friend after all, but there had been issues between you from the start. You two often butted heads.

“Really? Whatever, I’m going to the lab. You’re all dismissed. Take a nap Y/n, you clearly need it.” That last backhanded insult nearly made you cry. You were angry with yourself for being so awful during the fight and you just didn’t feel well.

Natasha leaned across the table and took one of your hands in her calloused one, squeezing it gently.

“Don’t pay attention to him kiddo. He’s cranky because he didn’t kill the thing.” That nickname had sparked one of your first fights. You were only a year younger than Wanda who had been called ‘little witch’ since her arrival but that didn’t bother her considering that she was only a teenager when she’d joined the Avengers.

“Thanks Tasha…” You mumbled, a little embarrassed by her attention. Wanda chuckled softly, inwardly pleased by the bond growing between you two. Her best friend and her girlfriend, finally getting along.

“Come on my dear, I know you’ve been wanting to watch that new horror movie.” Wanda smiled, pulling you up out of your seat. A wave of stars danced in your vision but you brushed it off, blinking rapidly to clear them from your vision. A horror movie might actually make you feel better.

DAY 3- Game Night

Game night with movies. A simple, fun night for team bonding and a chance to relax with friends. They all enjoyed it, happy that they could forget about their dangerous jobs and act like normal people.

“Y/n! Twos, do you have any twos!?” Clint demanded, leaning forward as if to interrogate you. Right, Go-Fish. You were supposed to be playing Go-Fish. Of course, it wasn’t normal Go-Fish. There was alcohol involved. Whenever someone was sent fishing they had to take a shot. You were pretty sure if you drank any you’d lose all of the weak control you had over your illness.

You silently handed over the two that you had been cradling against your chest, clutched close to your aching lungs. The bird man let out a whoop and slapped his final four cards onto the floor, all twos.

“It’s Go-Fish dude, you didn’t win the olympics.” Rhody grumbled, pouting slightly. You cracked a little smile while Natasha smirked and Wanda chuckled. They all got so worked up over these stupid games, it was typically wildly entertaining for everyone.

You leaned back against the couch, nestling your head against Wanda’s shoulder. Cuddled close against her you were having even more trouble staying awake, but everything changed when a harsh coughing fit wracked your admittedly weak body.

“Are you okay sweetheart?” The brunette asked gently, sitting you up in her lap to ease your coughing. She rubbed your back as the fit subsided, her expression contorted in pure concern. Her beautiful caramel eyes were full of love, the laugh lines evident even through her worry.

“I’m fine. Inhaled a bug I think.” You grimaced, sticking out your tongue in mock disgust. Her face pulled into one of disbelief and then she laughed, leaning over to kiss you. You cut the kiss short, turning your head to the side so her lips brushed your cheek.

“That's some shit luck Y/n. Who wants to play Monopoly? I’m going to destroy you.” Natasha challenged, a wicked grin spreading across her face.

True to her word, the assassin beat them all in a half hour, much to everyone's joy. She was the only one who actually liked the damn game and she only enjoyed it because she always won. She was a brutal opponent.

“I’m done playing. Watching you guys lose is more fun than playing.” You smiled, cuddling back against your girlfriend. She wrapped her in your arms and kissed your hair, cradling you close while you drifted to sleep.

DAY 4- And So It Ends

Baking. Why did she want to make cookies? You weren’t sure, but you obliged her. She had woken you up all excited about the new recipe she found, nearly bouncing up and down in utter joy. You didn’t have the heart to tell her that your body was on fire and your bones ached. You didn’t have the heart to admit to the cotton stuffed in your head as your illness took full effect. You were miserable. But she was happy. That's all that mattered.

“Baby, I need the sprinkles. Can you grab them?” She asked, stirring the dough with a quizzical eye. She was an excellent baker, always taking extra time to make sure that everything was done correctly.

“Sprinkles? In the cookies?” You asked skeptically, frowning at her. It seemed to you that the colors would just bleed into the dough, leaving the two of you wish brownish, gross tasting cookies. The brunette looked back at you, her eyes glittering with amusement.

“Yes dear, sprinkles. Do you dare question the wisdom of the recipe?” She joked, smiling at you. You shrugged, and stared at the cabinet, far too high above you to reach without climbing on something.

You sighed and managed to drag a chair over, your whole body ready to give in to utter exhaustion. You knew you’d made a mistake when you took your first step onto the chair. With a shaky breath, you hoisted yourself up, wishing that Wanda had given you a lecture of the danger of climbing on chairs.

Blood rushed to your head and you grabbed onto the cabinet doors, hoping to stabilize yourself. If you could just regain your balance it would all be fine. You would be fine.

You repeated that mantra as your vision blurred and you felt yourself falling backwards, stars taking over your vision. As you tumbled to the floor you could hear Wanda yelling your name and felt the warm tingle of her magic envelope you. Sure that you couldn’t crack your head open on the floor, you let yourself succumb to the darkness.

DAY 4- Part 2

When you came to you were laying in your large, soft bed, something cool and damp resting on your forehead. You whined softly and tried to sit up, a wave of panic racing through you. You were supposed to be baking cookies with Wanda, not sleeping.

Arms wrapped around you and you found yourself pinned against the woman’s chest, listening to her rapid heartbeat. Wanda kissed your hair and rubbed your back, taking deep breaths to calm herself down. The two of you stayed like that for what felt like forever, you confused, but comfortable in your girlfriend's arms.

“You scared the shit out of me!” She finally said, cupping your cheeks in incredibly soft hands. Her hair which had been so expertly done was sticking out of its intricate braid in pieces. She was wearing PJ’s now and her face had been wiped clean of makeup. Nevertheless, she was still beautiful.

“Why didn't you tell me you were sick?” She demanded, pulling back to cross her arms over her chest. The look on her face was angry. She was angry with you. You’d done everything you possibly could to make her happy, but you failed her.

Tears filled your eyes and you felt your lower lip begin to tremble as you began to cry, unable to stop the cascade of your emotions. With the stress of hiding your sickness for the last few days and just how horrible you felt, you couldn’t handle her being mad at you.

“Oh Y/n, sweetie, it’s alright. I’m sorry, you just scared me, that's all. You passed out and your fever was 105, Bruce had you on IV fluids for an hour. Honey, you can't do that, you need to take care of yourself, I need you to take care of yourself.” She soothed, wiping the tears off of your cheeks.

You tried to stop crying, but you just couldn’t. The dam had broken and there wouldn’t be any fixing it.

“My sweetheart, it’s all going to be okay.” Wanda murmured, crawling into bed with you. She wrapped her arms around your waist and you tucked your head against her chest, sobbing quietly into her shirt.

“It’s all going to be okay. Just close your eyes baby, I’m not mad. It’s okay.” She promised, holding you close as you cried out all of your misery. Your throat hurt from all of the tears and you were sure that you’d gotten snot on her shirt, but she didn’t care. She didn’t pull away, just held you and ran her fingers through your hair while your sobs turned to ragged breaths, which in turn changed to soft, even, sleepy snores.

“Sleep well my love. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

209 notes · View notes

uvobreakmylegs · 2 years

Text

With Greatest Care

Paku my queen❤️

Warnings: manipulation, isolation, mentions of death, brief mention of gore

Word count: 6.4k

A splitting headache in your skull was the first thing you were aware of when you awoke that morning, originating from your forehead and pulsating through your head. When you realized what was happening you groaned and buried your face into your pillow, like that would help in the slightest. This scenario wasn't uncommon, unfortunately.

Although it hadn't been happening quite as often recently, not even a year ago you were waking up to these sorts of migraines almost every other day. It usually meant that you needed to stay in bed for most of the morning as moving around too much would make you feel sick to your stomach and only make your miserable state even worse. As you had been through this many times by now, you knew that having a few painkillers and taking it slow in the morning, you’d be feeling better by afternoon at the latest.

But knowing that this would last for a few hours didn't make you feel any better in that moment. Especially since you and your girlfriend had plans today.

“Paku,” you moaned weakly, “I'm not feeling too....”

You trailed off as you pulled up from the pillow and found the spot next to you on the bed to be empty. Pakunoda was already up. You should have expected that. She got up early in general and would usually let you sleep in to a certain point.

You weren't excited to tell her about this. It brought back memories of when this had started, when you were only a few months into the relationship. So many days where you had woken up feeling like hell and poor Paku ended up being more like a caretaker than a girlfriend, and it made you feel bad that she would work so hard to take care of you and you weren't able to do anything in return.

As much as you felt you should get up so you could tell Paku about your condition, you stopped yourself. The last time this had happened and you went to tell her, you ended up getting up too fast and threw up on the sheets. Pakunoda needed to clean it up and you had never felt more like a burden than you did in that moment.

And as you checked the time, it was getting close to when Paku would come in and get you up if you hadn't done so yourself by then. Better to just wait for her to check on you instead of possibly making another mess that she'd be forced to take care of.

Just as expected, a few minutes went by and you heard the turn of the knob, the bedroom door swinging open and Paku saying your name as she checked if you were awake.

One glance over to her was all she needed to know what was going on.

“Oh no,” she said, “is it happening again?”

You weakly nodded.

“I'm sorry,” you said.

“Why are you apologizing?” Pakunoda asked.

She left the doorway, crossing over to the bed so she could sit next to you. Her hand went to your head and she began to stroke your hair.

“You can't help that you aren't well,” she added, “you'll get through this just like all the other times.”

“I hope so.”

Her hand was still on your head, still petting you. It didn't help with the headache in the slightest, but it helped to make you feel a little bit better.

“I feel like you end up taking care of me a lot,” you said.

“Well, that's part of the deal, isn't it? You don't feel well, so I take care of you. You'd do the same if I was in your position, right?”

“Yeah, but I've never seen you get sick or anything. I think you're the healthiest person I've ever met.”

“You make that sound like a bad thing,” said Paku.

“Because I feel bad that you're the one always taking care of me and I never do anything in return.”

Paku laughed a little at that.

“Now you're just being silly,” she said.

The hand stroking your hair stopped so she could rest it on your shoulder as she continued with “I'll get you a glass of water and some pain pills, and after that how about we see if you can stomach some breakfast.”

You nodded.

After giving you the pills that you washed down quickly, Pakunoda left the bedroom so she could whip up some breakfast for you.

You were able to eat half of it, and after that Paku insisted that you stay in bed and rest up.

Same as usual.

Not long after she left the bedroom, you noted that you could hear her voice. Was she talking to someone on the phone? That seemed most likely as you didn't hear any other voice aside from hers.

…. Was she complaining about you to someone?

You immediately wanted to slap yourself for thinking that. Paku wasn't like that. You knew that she cared about you and she wouldn't have stayed with you through everything if that wasn't the case.

Other people had talked about you behind your back. But Pakunoda wasn't like them.

Waiting for the painkillers to kick in, you tried to do as Paku had said and get some rest, but it would probably take a while before the aching in your head subsided enough to allow you to sleep. Until then, you were left to stare at the ceiling while you heard the sounds of movement coming from the other parts of the house.

Hearing Paku taking care of things around the house while you lay in bed brought back those feelings of uselessness. No, you couldn't help that you were sick, but no matter how much that point was brought up, you still felt badly for it.

And what made it worse was that you were planning on doing something with Paku today.

A cute looking restaurant had opened in the area recently, and after looking over their menu and the positive reviews, you wanted to take Paku there with you for a date, which she had happily agreed to. She had also made a request that the two of you stop by a makeup shop that she liked so she could get new lipstick, and since the makeup shop was close by to the new restaurant, it seemed like a good plan. The two of you were going to go out, get lunch, go look at makeup, possibly do a little more shopping and maybe get dessert after.

You'd been looking forward to that.

But now you were sick, so it was canceled.

And it once again reminded you of the things that had happened when you first started getting sick like this; a lot of canceled dates and days spent at home. Sometimes the two of you would watch movies or tv shows together if your headache was a bit more mild, usually resting your head on Paku's lap while you watched the screen. Little things like that made those days better, but you hated how sickly it made you feel.

Paku was so good to you, and all you'd been during that time was useless and sickly.

Please please please don't let that start again

Pakunoda got a sense of how you were feeling when she reentered the room to check on you, as she found you looking up at the ceiling with a depressed look on your face. She frowned when she saw you like that.

You looked over to her when she joined you on the bed, laying down next to you.

“Don't be so sad,” she told you, “we can go on our date another day.”

“It's not that – well, not just that.”

Pakunoda stayed quiet as you continued.

“I'm just scared it'll start up again,” you said, “I don't want to be in pain in the morning for no reason and spend hours at the hospital only to have the doctors tell me that it's 'probably' just stress.”

“That won't happen,” she reassured you, “this is just a one-off thing.”

“You're sure?” you asked.

“Positive.”

She reached over to pet your hair, her fingers going through the strands as she caressed you.

“.... Are you okay?” you asked.

Paku brushed some of the hair out of your face, her fingertips on your forehead as she replied with “what makes you ask?”

“You seem a bit sad,” you answered.

The edges of her lips turned upward in a small smile as she said “I don't think anyone can be all that happy when someone they care about isn't feeling well.”

“I need to hurry and get better, then,” you said, “I don't like it when you're sad.”

She chuckled a little before saying “just don't push yourself.”

Pakunoda moved in closer so she could wrap an arm around you, kissing your forehead before she told you to rest up. When exactly you fell back into sleep, you weren't sure, but you remembered that she was still laying next to you when you did.

A light shaking of your shoulder and a voice that softly called your name brought you out of sleep, and you found Pakunoda standing over you and dressed like she was going to go out.

“Something unexpected came up and I need to take care of some things. Will you be okay if I leave?” she asked.

You nodded.

“I'll be fine. Go do what you need to.”

“Alright. But before I leave, I want you to promise me something.”

“Yeah?”

“Promise me that you won't do anything stupid while I'm gone.”

“... What exactly counts as stupid in this situation?” you asked.

“Getting up and walking around when you're still feeling nauseous,” said Paku, “if you don't feel well, then I want you to take it easy. And definitely don't go outside.”

“I don't think I'm that sick, Paku,” you said.

“Do I need to remind you what happened last time?”

“.... No.”

“Then just promise that you won't push yourself and that you'll stay in.”

“Okay. I promise.”

Pakunoda smiled once you said that, and leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead.

“I'll be back.”

You said your goodbyes as Paku left the bedroom, and a short while later you heard as she left through the front door, the lock clicking shut after her.

Your migraine didn't feel quite as intense as it had when you first woke up, but you were still very far from feeling like you were okay. Doing as Paku had said, you put your focus on getting rest in the hopes that the migraine would go away while you slept.

Do as Paku told you and take it easy so you can get better.

And pray to whatever god might be listening that the trend of having almost daily migraines doesn't start up again. You hoped that Paku was right in it being a one-off thing.

Despite how easy it was to lose yourself in your worries, you did get back to sleep for a bit, periodically waking up for brief moments while the pain in your head slowly lessened.

All you really remembered in those moments was that Paku didn't seem to be back yet, still out doing whatever errand of hers had popped up while you were still alone. After realizing that, you would drift off again, not taking note of anything else.

Except one thing.

In the midst of your dozing, you were vaguely aware of the doorbell ringing, and after a moment of silence, someone knocking at the door. Whoever was at the door definitely tried more than once to get someone to come open it, but you couldn't say how long it lasted before they gave up. With the haze that your mind was in during that instance, you were able to do little else besides acknowledge the fact that someone had rung the doorbell before you ended up drifting back into a longer and deeper sleep.

It was late afternoon when you woke up, judging by the color of the sky that you could see through the window.

You felt a lot better. The pain in your head was gone, and though you felt a bit dizzy when you sat up, other than that you were fine.

Figuring that it was probably safe for you to do, you got out of bed and headed to the kitchen just to stretch your legs as well as grab a glass of water. Pakunoda likely would've wanted you to stay in bed a bit longer if she was here. You remembered the promise you'd made, that you wouldn't push yourself. And you weren't. While you were moving at a slower pace, you still felt okay, so there was no way to say that this was you pushing yourself.

After setting the glass down, you walked about the house a bit, eager to move about after spending such a long time laying down. As you walked, you wondered when Paku would be back. Did she say what time it would be? …. No, she just said she'd be back. It felt safe to assume that she'd be back before evening, so most likely at some point soon. Unless something else came up, in which case you needed to check your phone in case you had any messages.

You were about to head back to the bedroom when you glanced at the front door as you passed by, and you remembered that moment when you'd been in bed and you thought you heard the doorbell. Had that actually happened, or did you just imagine it? Tough to say, but now you were distracted from your goal of getting your phone from the bedroom as you went for the door, curious to see if there was any sign of someone having been there earlier.

If someone really had been there, you couldn't tell, as when you opened the door just enough to poke your head out, the front steps that lead to the walkway looked just as they normally did.

Seeing that wasn't surprising in the slightest, and you weren't sure what exactly you'd been expecting.

You were going to shut the door and head back to the bedroom when you caught sight of one of your neighbors across the way heading out to his mailbox. When he pulled out a stack of letters, you looked to the one in front of your house. Paku hadn't gone out too early, but it seemed unlikely that the mail had been delivered before she left. The mail carrier had recently been delivering a lot later in the day than you were used to.

You found yourself going back into the bedroom, grabbing a hoodie and a long pair of pants so you didn't look as much of a mess when you went outside. It wasn't like you ever got anything too important in the mail aside from bills, the rest of it usually being junkmail. But you were feeling a lot better, and although it was minor, grabbing the mail was something you could do so Pakunoda had at least one less thing to worry about.

The fresh air was nice, you noted when you first stepped out, and although you walked a bit slower than you normally did, you managed to make it down to the mailbox without issue. As expected, all you found was junkmail, and as you closed the box back up, you looked at your surroundings briefly. The only person you could see was a man on the other side of the street who was getting out of a parked car; not a guy you knew, so presumably a guest of one of your neighbors. And as for them, none of your neighbors seemed to be out at the moment. Probably a good thing; you didn't know that you were in the mood for a conversation at the moment.

With your goal accomplished and nothing to keep you outside, you made your way back to the front door.

“Have you had time to think about what I told you?”

A man's voice called out from behind you, and instinct had you turning around. The man from the car was now approaching you. He was older, maybe in his fifties, if you were to guess. The unkempt beard was what stood out most about him, but as you looked closer at the suit he was wearing seemed a bit ratty. The color of the suit wasn't too appealing either.

Although considering the messy state of your hair and the fact that you were the one wearing a hoodie and a loose pair of pants over your sleeping clothes, you probably didn't have much of a leg to stand on when it came to judging other people's appearances.

He stopped when he reached you, and gave you a pointed look as he asked “well?”

… What?

“.... I'm sorry?” you asked, your confusion evident.

“What we talked about yesterday; have you thought on it?” he asked.

“Talked yesterday?” you repeated, even more confused as you continued with “sir, I've never spoken to you before.”

Now he was the one who looked confused.

“You're kidding me, right? We spoke for half an hour yesterday,” he said.

What?

“No.... No we didn't,” you said, shaking your head.

“We did,” he insisted. His eyebrows were furrowed, like he was starting to get frustrated.

Did you have the strength to be able to run back into the house if this guy got mad enough at you? And were you jumping way too far ahead and assuming the absolute worst about this guy? Maybe, but seeing as you'd never seen him before and didn't know anything about him, it might be better to err on the side of caution. You didn't want to end up injured or worse because you stupidly thought that some stranger wasn't a threat to you.

“I really don't think we did,” you replied, taking a small step back.

“I told you, we spoke for half an hour,” he said, taking a step forward as he continued “we talked about your girlfriend and the lies she's fed you. We also talked about how your family wants to see you again. They're going sick with worry over you and all they want is for you to come back home.”

You went quiet after he said that, things falling into place in your mind once he mentioned your family.

“.... Did they hire you to come here?” you asked.

“That's not important.”

“That's a 'yes',” you said, sighing after.

So this was what they were resorting to now, huh?

After a moment, you answered firmly “my family doesn't care about me. They haven't cared for a long time, and I doubt that's changed.”

“Goddammit, you said the same thing yesterday,” he said, “they're paying me to find you because they want you to come back! I told you, they're worried about you.”

“No, they're not. Those people aren't capable of compassion; all they do is use others. So if they want me back, all it means is that they want something from me,” you said, “and whatever it is that they want me for, I don't want any part of it. So go back and tell them to stop wasting their time. I don't need them and I don't want to see any of them again.”

He was looking at you in disbelief now.

“You said the same thing yesterday,” he said.

“I didn't speak to you yesterday,” you reiterated.

“You did,” he insisted.

Then he added “your family was right; the amount of control she has over you is terrifying.”

The implication that Paku was controlling you made you upset as you replied with a defensive “Pakunoda isn't controlling me. She hasn't done anything except give me a happier life.”

He scoffed then.

“That bitch really has you wrapped around her finger, huh.”

Anger swelled in your chest upon hearing him talk about Paku in that way.

You'd had enough.

“Leave,” you said.

“Let me show you something.”

“Whatever it is I don't want to see it. Go away.”

“So you're not even going to think about what I've said?”

“What's there to think about? You've harassed me, admitted to being paid by my asshole family to hunt me down, and now you've insulted my girlfriend. Say what you want about me, but don't talk about Paku like that,” you said.

“Just look at-”

“No! Get the fuck away from here and don't come back. I don't want to see you ever again,” you spat.

You turned and headed back to the house, ignoring everything else he said while he called for you to hear him out, locking the door after yourself before you leaned back against it, trying to steady your breathing and calm down.

Emotions were building in you with a strong desire to punch something in an effort to vent out some of your feelings.

Of all the things they were resorting to now, this? Hiring someone to find you? So what, you could go back to the unhappy life you'd had with them?

No doubt that guy had his head filled with stories about Paku that your family had told him, making her out to be some terrible person who was manipulating you. That was what they'd tried to make you believe, and had been a major factor in you cutting them off. That, and a pile of resentment over the years that had been building up slowly before the dam finally broke.

You weren't going back to them.

Placing the mail on a small table next to the door, you found that you felt incredibly tired again as the adrenaline from the encounter began to wear down. Although you had been feeling better, getting worked up like that hadn't done you any favors.

Once more making your way to the bedroom, you collapsed on the bed, managing to pull the sheets over yourself before you closed your eyes again.

She wasn't happy with you.

You could tell when you woke up next and found Pakunoda in the bedroom with you, frowning when she saw that you were awake. Once you saw that look on her face, you immediately felt guilt wash over you.

“You told me you would stay in bed,” she said, holding the junkmail you had collected earlier, proof that you had been up and about. It was clear that she was disappointed with you.

“I'm sorry,” you began, “I wasn't feeling as bad so I wanted to help out a little.”

“I understand that, but you also promised me that you wouldn't go out.”

….. Ah. That had been something she'd told you. And you had promised that you wouldn't do that.

You really managed to forget that?

“I'm sorry, Paku,” you said. You stayed quiet after, worried that if you said anything else it'd come off like you were trying to make excuses.

After a moment, she let out a soft sigh.

“I don't have it in me to stay upset with you,” she said, placing the mail on the end table as she continued with “at least nothing happened.”

The second she said that, you remembered the incident with the man from earlier. Seeing Paku being disappointed in you had caused you to not think of it immediately, but now that you had, you felt yourself tensing up.

You needed to tell her.

Pakunoda clearly noticed your reaction as she asked “what's wrong?”

“..... My family hired a guy to hunt me down and take me back to them,” you said.

She blinked at that.

It probably wasn't the best move to just blurt it out like that, and you explained “he came here and spoke to me when I was outside. I think he was trying to make me leave with him.”

“He was saying awful things about you,” you added.

Pakunoda looked even more unhappy than she had been when you first woke up, frowning as she sat down next to you and took your hand in hers.

��Start from the beginning. What happened?” she asked. Her voice was calm, and the feeling of her hand holding yours made you feel a little bit better.

“I went out to get the mail,” you began, “and when I was going back inside he came up to me. And – it was weird. He was acting like we'd talked before. He even said that we'd spoken to each other yesterday. But that didn't happen, and I told him that it didn't happen, but he kept saying that we did. Then he mentioned my family.”

“He admitted that your family had hired him?” Paku asked.

“Yeah. At first he said that it wasn't important, but he did eventually admit it,” you answered, “but he kept going on about how we had spoken yesterday, but I stopped talking to him when he insulted you. I told him not to come back but if he's being paid to harass us, I kinda doubt he'll listen to me.”

A terrifying thought came to mind, and you squeezed her hand as you asked “do you think he's a Hunter? If he is, he can get away with taking people by force, right? What if he takes me when you go out again? If that happens, what can-”

Pakunoda shushed you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as she held you close.

“If he was a Hunter, I don't think he would've bothered speaking with you first,” she began, “based off what you've said, it sounds like he's some sort of private investigator and he was trying to make you go back willingly. The amount of trouble he'd get into for kidnapping someone wouldn't be worth it, so don't worry about that.”

You nodded. As usual, she was much better at keeping a clear head on her shoulders.

“As for your family, while this is new for them, I can't say it's entirely unexpected,” she continued, “all we can do about them is hope they give up on you eventually.”

“.... Do you think he's told them where we live?” you asked.

“Possibly,” Paku said, “but the good thing about being in a completely different country is that it won't be so easy for them to show up unexpectedly. Not without spending a lot of jenny on air travel.”

“Yeah. But still, maybe we should think about moving in case they do decide to come here,” you said, “I don't want to see them screaming at you again.”

“I know. And I don't want them anywhere near you.”

She pulled away slightly, putting both of her hands on your upper arms and squeezing lightly to calm you further.

Paku continued with “we don't need to go with the nuclear option right away. We can keep an eye out for anyone who looks like they're watching us and deal with them if we run into them. And if your family does show up, they can't make you go back with them. You're allowed to make your own decisions. They can't make you do anything.”

Then she kissed you before she hugged you, saying “everything will be okay.”

Despite how uncertain you felt in that moment, you nodded as you hugged her back. The idea of possibly being confronted by them again was scary, but at least you knew Paku would be with you if that were to happen.

“I really am sorry, Paku,” you said after a moment, “I hate being a burden on you.”

“You aren't.”

Pakunoda pulled away, cupping your cheek with her hand as she smiled at you.

“Everything will be fine,” she said, “and we'll always be together, right?”

You smiled back as you said “right.”

Paku glanced over to the largely darkened skies that were visible through the bedroom windows.

“We should start on dinner. You haven't had anything to eat since this morning, right?” she asked.

The instant she mentioned that, you felt the emptiness in your stomach and you nodded.

“Should I still stay in here?” you asked.

“I don't see much point in that if you're feeling well enough to walk around,” she answered, “might as well have you keep me company while I make us something.”

With that, she led you off the bed and out of the room, holding your hand as the two of you made your way to the kitchen.

And when she sat you down at the table and she saw the way you smiled up at her, Pakunoda felt secure.

There was no need to use Memory Bomb on you today.

As she began to put dinner together, she released the memories she'd collected of what you'd told her, letting go of the conversation you'd had with the investigator instead of putting them into one of her bullets to shoot into your head.

She'd needed to do it yesterday to get rid of everything that the investigator had told you, causing you to awake with a headache that morning.

Just like you, she also hoped that pattern wouldn't start up again.

It had begun early on in your relationship, when Pakunoda had quickly seen how suspicious your family was of her and how they were trying to subtly push you towards breaking up with her out of fear for your safety that she had decided to take action. Pakunoda had decided that she didn't want to lose you, so when she was able to convince you to move in with her, she began the process of altering and removing your memories of your family.

She made a point to take her time with it, carefully sifting through every memory of yours before she would return it to you by way of a bullet, which caused you to forget the memories that had been returned intact and replaced by the ones she'd fabricated. To make you more reliant on her and more willing to cut off your family, she'd gotten rid of almost all of your happy memories with them and altering the negative ones so they were even more egregious in your mind; things that to you, were unforgivable, and that the only reason you were still in contact was because of familial obligation.

The whole process took a period of several months as she worked her way through your memories. And while the amount of time spent hadn't been ideal, it was far safer than to try and change all of the memories in your head at once. Doing that could have disastrous consequences if she messed up.

She knew from experience: Pakunoda had done an experiment once to see how much of a person's memory she could take, and how much she could destroy by sending those memories back into that person. Back when she'd just gotten to the point of perfecting her hatsu, she'd captured a man and tied him up while she interrogated him on every aspect of his life, getting every single detail she could.

Those memories were placed into a bullet with the use of Memory Bomb. Much to her surprise, the multiple years worth of memories were able to fit into a single bullet. When she fired that bullet into his skull, the shock of the impact was so great that the chair he was sitting in was forced backwards, causing him to fall.

There wasn't much left of him when she pulled him back up into a sitting position.

He barely remembered how to speak.

And when she released him into a nearby forest, he stumbled about, confused and not understanding his situation at all.

Before she'd taken his memories, he was someone with an expertise in the wildlife of the area, his memories telling her that he'd gone there to study a herd of carnivorous pigs. But he shambled his way past a pile of animal bones that had been cleaned of all meat, and his cries accompanied by the sounds of tearing flesh and breaking bones that she heard not long after were a clear indicator of what his fate ultimately was.

Pakunoda didn't want you to become like him as a result of her ability; she wanted you for you, not a husk that looked like you.

So a few times each week she would remove something, change a little bit, and then return it to you when she shot you. You would forget what she had left intact and only remember what she had changed. A side effect of this was the awful headaches you had when you came to in the morning that left you barely able to sit up. That had been a bit unexpected as none of the troupe had ever mentioned such a thing when she'd used her ability on them, but she welcomed it as it was something she could use to her advantage. Taking care of you without complaint, Pakunoda got you to fall in love with her even further.

Which in turn caused you to push your family further away.

At the end of it you were more than happy to move away with her and you cut ties with your family completely, something that would've been hard to convince you of near the beginning, but by that point you trusted her without question, and all you wanted was to live with her someplace where the two of you could be happy.

That had come under jeopardy yesterday.

She didn't anticipate that your family would give up on you, but after the efforts she'd made to cover her tracks, it was a bit annoying to have a private investigator manage to track you down.

And even worse, he'd managed to get you to question yourself as he'd shown you something that had confused you: a picture of you with your family at a graduation, something that had seemed far too detailed to have been fabricated, and it showed all of you smiling on what was clearly a happy day.

In your memory they hadn't bothered to show up.

Pakunoda had known immediately that something was wrong when she saw you after that meeting, and when she brushed a hand against your cheek as she asked you what was wrong, your mouth gave one answer while your memories gave her another. You lied to her, and she saw that not only were you questioning things, but you were considering talking again to the investigator.

Without hesitation she'd pulled out her gun and fired it at you, wiping your memories of that afternoon and catching you before you fell.

Today her plan had been to get rid of that man while you stayed at home to recover, having gotten the investigator's name after she called Shalnark to check what accounts your family was transferring money to. It was easy to find out where in the area he was staying at after checking his credit card history.

Take care of him while you slept so there was no chance of you running into him again; that was what Pakunoda had been hoping for. But instead of the investigator giving you a few days to think over what you'd seen like he told you he was going to do, he ended up going back to the house she shared with you. Something she had learned when she caught him on his way back to his motel room.

His tenacity had been frustrating, and after looking through the conversation you'd had from his perspective, she anticipated that she would once again need to remove your memories of that afternoon.

This time, however, you weren't as receptive to him. Clearly because of his insistence that the two of you had spoken prior. And when she looked through your mind as she asked her questions, she saw that there weren't any doubts in you: you trusted her and her alone.

No need to use her hatsu on you.

It was actually a relief to not do so. Even though you would quickly forget, she always remembered the sight of your shocked face every time she had placed the barrel of her revolver against your forehead: confusion, fear and sadness taking over you as all you knew in that moment was that your girlfriend was holding a gun to your head.

Tonight could be a peaceful one, and tomorrow there would be no need for you to awake with any awful migraine.

No need to fear the investigator coming back, either, as his body would likely be on the way to a garbage dump by now, and Shalnark had said he would take over his identity for a bit so it appeared that he was still alive so your family would be pointed in a different direction as to where you were currently living.

Even if the man's body resurfaced, most of the identifying features had been destroyed, so it was unlikely that anyone who found him would be able to give him his name back. Just another John Doe in a sea of unidentified bodies.

Pakunoda glanced from the cutting board to find that you were watching her.

You smiled when you made eye contact, and you asked “did everything go okay with the stuff you needed to take care of?”

“Yes. Everything's fine now,” she answered.

“Was it something that would've been bad?”

“If it had been left the way it was.”

You hummed, saying “I'm guessing it's work related since you're being pretty vague.”

Paku smiled at you, which seemed to confirm your suspicions.

“I won't ask anymore, then,” you said, “I'm glad it all worked out.”

“So am I.”

As she focused again on what she was doing, Pakunoda's mind went back to the investigator.

At the moment she was letting you keep those memories of him as it was a good way to reaffirm that you shouldn't have contact with your family, as everything he'd said to you this time had upset you greatly.

But if his body did resurface and your suspicions were somehow raised again, she'd remove them. While it took a physical toll on you, it was worth it to keep things peaceful.

She'd keep an eye out for now, and if something changed, she would know.

After all, there wasn't a single thought that went through your head that Pakunoda wasn't aware of.

#Pakunoda #yandere #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hxh #hxh pakunoda #pakunoda x reader #yandere pakunoda #reader insert #hxh

346 notes · View notes

something-tofightfor · 2 years

Text

Competing For Christmas 4: Frosty the Snowman

Pairing: Modern Din Djarin x Female Reader

Word Count: 15,660

Rating: M. language. Some thoughts/mentions of sex.

Summary: In the week following the trivia event, you and Din navigate your newfound friendship.. but a setback before the cookie decorating contest might change everything.

Author’s notes:

So I am still blown away by the response to this story. This chapter is EXTRA long, but it’s definitely important.

Questions, concerns, comments? My inbox is open!

*special thanks to Alyssa (@the-blind-assassin-12) for the reminder about a Din-specific phrase that I was able to work into this chapter.

To get alerted when I post new chapters/stories, follow @somethingtofightfor-shares and turn on post notifications - you can also ask to be added to my tag list (link in bio or at the top of my taglist reblog)

Thank you to everyone that’s showed interest in this so far.

Mando’a translations at the end!

Masterlist / Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

The Thursday after trivia night, you woke up with a pounding headache two hours before your alarm was set to go off.

Stumbling into your bathroom took an endless amount of effort, and when you flipped the light on, you immediately hissed out at the brightness, turning it off again and then blindly clawing for the bottle of migraine pills in the cabinet.

You dry swallowed three of them and then hurried back into bed, pulling the blanket all the way over your head, groaning. I don’t need this today.

You didn’t get severe headaches often, but when you did get them, they were terrible unless you caught them early, and all you could do as you rolled onto your side, burying half of your face in the pillow was hope that it was early enough to keep this headache from becoming worse.

It only took you a few minutes to fall back asleep, and the last thought that you had before you were out again was that for the first time since you’d broken up with James, you wished that someone was in the bed with you, even if only to provide the comfort of their presence.

—

When your alarm went off, the headache was still there but nowhere near as bad, and though you contemplated calling out of work to sleep, you opted not to. I have too much to do today. There’s no way I can call out.

By lunch, you were regretting your decision. The headache was still there - lingering at the base of your skull, dull but ever-present, and it was difficult to concentrate on the things you needed to do. The numbers on your spreadsheets blurred together, the body of every email that you read swam in front of your eyes, and you’d had to pop another pair of the pills you’d taken that morning just to get through the first half of the day.

Aside from the headache, you felt fine - and it was frustrating, because all you wanted was to feel better, to get through the day, and make it some so that you could crawl back into bed and sleep it off. Because I have to be better for this weekend.

Rubbing at your eyes, you stood from your desk and moved to the window, twisting the wand on your blinds to darken the room further. Instead of going to get food, you’d decided to take a nap in your office on your break, but before you could settle in on the small couch, there was a knock on your door - and you couldn’t hold back your groan at the sound.

“Whoa, why’s it so dark in … are you alright? You don’t look great.” Cracking one eye open, you watched Din stride into the room and head over to you, the man pulling your desk chair out so that he could sit down in it, leaning forward and reaching out with one hand for you. “Are you sick? You look tired, and -”

“I have a headache.” Mumbling the words, you sat straight up and forced both of your eyes all the way open. “It’s not as bad as it was this morning, but I already took pills, and they’re not helping.”

“You should go home.” He pressed the back of his hand to your forehead, and you knew you didn’t feel well when you leaned into his touch, groaning as he pulled his hand away. “You aren’t warm, so there’s no fever. Do you get these a lot? I don’t think you’ve missed much work since I’ve been here, but…”

“You noticed?” That brought a smile to your face, Din’s return one small but still there. “I get them a couple times a year. Mostly when the weather changes. This one came out of nowhere, though.”

He was still sitting directly in front of you, legs spread and his hands hanging between them. “I really think you should go home. I’m sure your manager wouldn’t try to keep you here. You’re obviously sick, and not faking it.”

“I would love that.” The idea of your bed was enough to make you weepy, but the fact that you’d need to get there wasn’t going to be an easy thing to manage. “But I’ll just nap here for an hour, and then see how I feel.”

“You can’t drive like this, you can barely keep your eyes open.”

“I’ll call an Uber.” Mumbling the words, you covered your eyes. “Din, I appreciate you worrying about this, but I’ll be fine. I just need to lay down for an hour, and then I can finish my -” You took a deep breath and forced your eyes open again, trying to focus on the man. “My day.”

You swayed on the couch, and Din’s hands shot out to steady you, the man holding onto your biceps and saying your name. “Lay down. I’m going to go talk to your boss, and tell him I’m taking you home.”

“Din, no.” You groaned, but let him ease you down and onto your side on the couch. “I’m f-”

“If you tell me you’re fine, I’m going to have to call you a liar.” Peeking at him, your lips twitched into a small smile. “And I don’t want to call you that.” He stood, smoothing the legs of his pants and then crossed his arms. “Give me five minutes, alright?”

You wanted to argue, but chose not to because the thought of being snug in your bed hours before you’d planned on it made you feel almost giddy. So you whispered the word “OK” and closed your eyes all the way, lifting one arm to cover your eyes and make it even darker.

You heard the sound of his footsteps receding and then the door closing, and must have drifted off, because the next thing you knew, Din was back and saying your name quietly, his mouth inches from your ear. “Hey, can you sit up?” Humming in reply, you lowered your arm and pushed with that hand, both of the man’s steadying you as you moved yourself upright. “You’re good to go home for the rest of the day, and your boss said that if he doesn’t hear from you tomorrow and you don’t show up, that’s fine. I guess he gets migraines too?”

You knew that was the case - Dereck had tried multiple treatments to manage his, but nothing worked, and you were immensely grateful to him and to Din for going to him. You told him as much, standing and swaying slightly, as he continued to hold onto your arm. “But I’ll order a ride. You don’t need to take me and waste your lunch hour.

“What kind of competition partner would I be if I let you do that?” He let go of you, turning to reach for your coat. “Besides, I can stop on my way back for something and eat at my desk. It’s no big deal.”

It wasn’t worth trying to argue with him, and so a few minutes later, after Din had shut down your computer and made sure you had everything you needed in your bag, the two of you were walking out through the hallway and toward the parking lot, Din next to you but not touching you.

“How am I going to get to work tomorrow if you drive me home?” The cool outdoor air made you a little more alert, and you slowly turned you head toward him, frowning. “My car will be -”

“I can pick you up if you need me to.” He shrugged, touching you elbow to guide you toward where he’d parked. “Not a big deal, you’ll just have to let me know if you’re coming in or not. And if you decide not to, we can come get your car before we go to the community center on Saturday.”

It made sense, so you said nothing, blinking at the early afternoon daylight - but when you stopped in walking, you couldn’t stay quiet. “This is what you drive, Din?”

“Yeah, it’s not much but it … I needed a way to get around when I got here, and I saw her on a lot, and kind of … fell in love.”

“No, I like it. I just thought…I don’t know. You didn’t strike me as the truck type.” You smiled at the sight of it, taking a few steps closer and reaching out to touch the hood. “Early 2000’s?”

“Yeah, it’s 20 years old, but it was in pretty good shape.” He unlocked the doors, resting his elbows on the hood. “There’s a bench seat in the back, if you wanted to lay down, but you can sit in the front if you want.”

“You’re being so nice.” You eyed the truck again, taking a longer breath and holding it. “I like the decals, by the way.”

“It came like that.” He grinned at you, shrugging. “Silver and yellow? Weird combo, but it grew on me. Now get in and tell me your address.”

Giving the outside of the truck one more look, you opened the passenger door and climbed in, immediately sinking into the plush front seat as Din settled next to you. “I really appreciate this, Din.” Sighing, you closed your eyes and then buckled in. “I only live about fifteen minutes away so you’ll have plenty of time to get food and get back.”

“We’ll see.” He started the truck and then twisted the heater knob, making sure that it wasn’t blowing frigid air onto you. “Address?”

You told him, and the next thing you knew, you felt headrest of your seat move, Din using it to steady his hand as he backed out of the parking spot.

Despite being an older vehicle, the truck didn’t feel old while you were sitting in it - the ride smooth and comfortable, Din confident and capable behind the wheel. He didn’t talk much, either, content to let you sit in silence next to him.

“I owe you, Din.” You finally spoke when you opened one eye and caught sight of the mall that was around the corner from your house. “You really didn’t have to do this.”

“I know, but I wanted to.” He cleared his throat. “I know you’re going to tell me no, but I’m going to make sure you get into your house and to your room. It’ll make me feel better about leaving to go back to work.” Of course you are.

“That’s… I appreciate that.”

Neither of you said anything else until he pulled into your driveway and put the truck in park. “Let me have your keys, I’ll go and unlock the door so you can walk right in.”

“Din I really am feeling better, I can…” But when you leaned forward to grab for your purse, you swore and squeezed your eyes shut as another wave of dizziness overtook you. “They’re in the main zipper pocket.” He took the bag from you and you heard the sound of keys moments later, followed by the gust of cold air when he opened his door to get out.

After it closed and you peeked enough to see him pass in front of the truck, you groaned loudly, raising one hand to cover your face.

Not only were you sick in front of the man, but you came off as helpless, needing him to drive you home and get you into the house. “Just because of a stupid headache.” Wetting your lips, you groaned again. “This is so damn…”

You trailed off when he opened your door, saying your name. “Go ahead and unbuckle. Door’s open. You’ll be in bed and rid of me in less than five minutes.”

In too much pain to deny him, you unbuckled your seat belt and let him help you out of the truck, not even bothering to try and push him away when he wrapped an arm around your back to steady you on the short trip from the driveway to your front door.

His body was solid next to yours, the weight of him comforting, and for a brief moment, you contemplated asking him to stay, though it passed quickly when you remembered that he was going back to the office. He’s done enough, and you can’t ask that because you’re not there yet. And you might never be. The thought was sobering, even as the door shut behind you and the familiar scent of your living room wax melter filled your nose. “Is your room upstairs or down?”

“Up.” Turning in the direction of the stairs, you forced your eyes all the way open so that you could climb them - Din directly behind you with one hand pressed to the center of your back to steady you. You stayed quiet until you were in your room, slipping your shoes off and settling down onto the bed. “Can you close the blinds?”

You hated asking him - hated how weak your voice sounded with the request, but he moved right away, reaching for the drawstring and lowering them, the room getting darker. He pulled the curtains closed then, and even with the light spilling in from the hallway, you breathed a sigh of relief at just how dark the room got, the pain in your head decreasing slightly. “Anything else?” He turned to face you again, one hand on his hip. “There medicine in your bathroom? I can grab you a bottle or a glass of water or -”

“Din I really think I just need to lay down. It’s better now that I’m home and it’s dark, and you’ve already done enough.” Rubbing at your forehead, you smiled up at him. “I’ll take another dose when I wake up later. I want to see if things are any better.”

He eyed you for a few seconds and then nodded, crossing the room to stand in front of you. “Text me later? Or if you need anything?”

“I will.” He reached out again, the back of his hand resting against your forehead for a second time, and even though it wasn’t as much of a shock, you still leaned into his touch, eyes closing again at the warmth of his skin. “And I can just get a ride in to work tomorrow, don’t worry about coming back here.”

“We’ll see.” He said your name as he backed away, hand moving back to his side and then disappearing into his pocket. “Your keys are on the table next to the front door, and I’ll lock it behind me when I leave, alright?”

“Mmhmm.” Taking a deep breath in through your nose, you pressed the heel of your hand to your forehead. “Really, Din. Thank you. I hate admitting I’m sick, and -”

“Just get some sleep. I need you this weekend.” That got a smile out of you - and it matched the one on his face. “I mean it, if you need anything, I’ve got nothing going on after work.”

“Just Grogu.” He nodded. “Hope the rest of your day is less eventful than this.” He laughed, the sound quiet and headed for your door - pausing with his hand on the knob.

“Open or shut?”

“Go ahead and close it.” He said nothing else and you watched as he stepped through the door, pulling it shut behind him - and when he disappeared from view, you were stunned to feel a pang of sadness in your chest. “This is stupid. He had to leave.” You laid back on your bed, pulling the blanket over your body and then rolling back onto your side. He was never going to stay.

But part of you wondered if he would have - if you’d asked.

—

When you woke up later that night, you felt much better - and were able to get out of bed and into your bathroom, swallowing down another dose of pills and then making your way back downstairs to grab your phone.

The keys were where he’d said he would leave them, and your bag was on the kitchen table, the rest of the house silent in a way that you’d never really noticed before. Because it hasn’t been this quiet in years.

You and James had spent a lot of time in the house together, the sound of the radio or your voices filling the space, and that night - in the early evening darkness - the absence of noise was deafening.

So you changed that - turning the radio in the kitchen on as you began to look for something to eat, choosing to use the softer over-oven lighting instead of the brighter ceiling light fixture to illuminate the space.

The headache returned the longer you were on your feet, but it was nowhere near as bad as it had been earlier, and you figured that after you ate, you’d feel even better. I have to. I caught it early enough, and I’m doing everything that I can to fix it.

Your meal finished, you changed into your pajamas and flipped the switch for your tree before you settled onto the couch, unlocking your phone and finding three messages from Din.

Hope you got some sleep.

And that you feel better.

I meant it about tomorrow morning, just let me know.

The smile that tugged at your lips was genuine, and after spending a few long seconds staring at the brightly lit tree in the corner of your living room, you decided to message him back.

I did sleep, and I feel a little better. Headache isn’t gone, but I just ate dinner. We’ll see what happens.

You didn’t expect a reply, but got one only a few minutes later, his message brief.

Good. I’m glad to hear it.

But that didn’t answer his last message, and so with a sigh, you set out to do that, typing and erasing multiple times before you came up with something that you were happy with.

I think I’m going to take the day off tomorrow. I can have Stacy take me to grab my car tomorrow afternoon, but I appreciate the offer.

He started typing back and then stopped three times before sending a response to you, and with a frown, you set your phone down, unable to figure out exactly what tone he’d meant to convey with it.

Whatever you want to do - it’s up to you.

And so you sent back a final message before putting your phone down, chewing on your lower lip.

Thank you again for earlier. I appreciate you helping me out.

There wasn’t an answer, but when the little “thumbs up” emote popped up next to the message, it made you smile.

—

By the following afternoon, you were happy that you’d chosen to take the day off.

The headache had intensified in the middle of the night - turning from a nuisance to a full blown migraine, and you’d spent the last few hours of the night and most of the morning in bed with the blanket completely covering your entire body. This is bullshit.

You’d made yourself a black coffee, hoping that he caffeine would help, but it hadn’t done much, only reminding you that you were insanely hungry and had very little in the house grocery-wise, since Thursday night was the night you usually stopped after work. Of course.

So you chewed on some crackers, and thought about turning the brightness on your phone all the way down and making a delivery order… but were interrupted by a knock on your front door, the sound startling you.

You figured that it was Stacy, since you’d messaged her earlier about needing to go and pick up your car, but when you opened the door, Din was standing on your porch, a paper bag in one hand his keys in the other. “Din? What are -”

“Your car was still at the office when I left, so I figured I’d stop on my way home and bring you something to eat.” He held up the bag, wrinkling his nose. “You want some soup?”

Shaking your head and laughing, you invited him in and Din followed you into your kitchen, setting the bag down on your counter while you reached into one of the cupboards for a bowl. “First you drive me home from work and literally put me to bed. Now you’re bringing me soup because you know I feel like shit. Who are you, Din Djarin, and where did you come from?”

“Well, you’ve been to my house, so you know where I -”

“That’s not what I mean.” Pouring some of the steaming liquid into a bowl, you held up the container. “You going to help me eat this?”

“If you want.” He stepped next to you, picking up the bowl and carrying it to the table. “I’ll come back and get mine, hold on.” Seconds later, he was next to you, picking up the second bowl and heading back to the table, you following with two spoons.

“How did you know what to get me?” As you settled into one chair, Din took a seat across from you, shrugging.

“I went to that place everyone at work orders from, and when I went in, I asked them if there was something you usually got.” Smart. That’s really smart. “And here we are.”

You took a few bites, letting the warmth of the meal fill you, but when you were about halfway done, something occurred to you. “Wait, Din… if you went on your way home, then that means Grogu’s …”

“I might have lied about that.” He set his spoon down and leaned back in his chair. “I went home after work and let him out and then I came here.” But that means he had to backtrack, and it was out of his way, and … “Sorry about that.”

“No, don’t apologize, but if you need to get home, don’t let me …” Licking your lips, you shook your head. “I’m doing much better. This is the longest I’ve been upright in 24 hours, and I think I’m just going to take a shower when you leave and relax for the rest of the night, that way I’ll be 100% for tomorrow.”

“You still want to go?” He leaned in, picking the spoon back up. “If you don’t feel good, we can -”

“No, we’re not sitting it out. It’s cookie decorating, Din, it’s not manual labor.” He cracked a smile at that, lifting the bowl from the table and tilting the rim of it toward his mouth. You watched him without shame - eyeing the way his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down while he swallowed, skin taut over the muscles of his neck. It was difficult to look away, but as he lowered his bowl, you did, stirring what was left in yours with the spoon. “You know, you’re the first person to come over and eat since … since I’ve been single.”

“Yeah?” He used his thumb to wipe his lips dry, the motion drawing your attention again. Does he know he’s doing this? He has to. “Well that wasn’t the plan, but I’m not going to complain.”

“Plan? What do you mean?” Din narrowed his eyes, leaning forward.

‘I’ll forgive you this time for not noticing because you weren’t feeling well, but I came to your office yesterday for a reason.” Oh. That made sense - though he’d stopped in unannounced earlier in the week on his way to install a hard drive in someone’s computer, that had been a short visit made in passing. Yesterday was different.

“What was the reason?” You got up from the table and reached for his bowl, taking it - along with yours - to the sink and running water into them before you turned back toward Din. “Because I’m sure whatever the reason was, it wasn’t to play taxi service.”

“It wasn’t.” He didn’t get up, though he linked his fingers together on the tabletop. “I was going to ask if you wanted to use our prize from last week tonight. I figured the closer it gets to Christmas, the busier you’ll be with friends and family stuff, and I didn’t want to intrude.”

You felt your eyes widen at his admission, feet freezing in place. Oh, that… The two of you hadn’t settled on anything definite after your trivia win - it was clear that you’d asked him out and wanted to spend time with him, but you’d decided to play it by ear and pick a day that worked best for both of you. “Din, I’m sorry I ruined your plan. I would have loved to -”

“You didn’t ruin anything. I’m here with you right now, aren’t I?” He stood then, heading over to where you stood, though he stopped with distance between the two of you. “And I’m glad you let me bring you home yesterday, too. You needed it.”

“My knight in shining armor.” You made the joke, holding out your hand toward him and gesturing to the coat that he’d worn in, the garment hanging over the back of a kitchen chair. “I -”

“Prince, actually.” He grinned, tilting his head to the side in the way you were becoming accustomed to. “Not a knight, but …”

“Ha, ha, very funny.” You winked at him, moving away from the sink and back toward the table. “We don’t have those here.” But I could see it. Sitting back down in your chair, you said his name and watched as Din turned to face you - a fleeting look of unease in his eyes before it was replaced with his typical neutral expression. “I would have said yes, though. To dinner and a movie.” Checking the time, you quickly turned your attention back to the man. “It’s still early. I’m sure there’s a movie we could catch, and you could drop me off at my car on the way back.”

“No. Not tonight.” He stepped closer, head shaking back and forth. “I haven’t been on a da… out with anyone since I got here, so I want to do it right.” Wait, he hasn’t been out with anyone in eight months? How is that even possible? “And it’s still a little off because we won the prize, but…”

“The sentiment’s the same. I get it.” It wasn’t lost on you that he’d referred to it as a date at first - or that despite your offer to go that night, he wasn’t trying to rush it, even though it was clearly something you both wanted. “How about next week? I’m going shopping with Cara and Stacy before the snowman thing, but I’m free Friday and Sunday all day, if you are.”

“I am.” He slid into the chair across from you again, eyes locked with yours. “D’you want to go get dinner and see a movie with me next Friday?” He ended the question with a broad smile, and despite the lingering pain at the back of your head and the fact that you were tired from not feeling well, you returned it, nodding.

“I do. Very much.” He looked relieved that you’d agreed, but that expression didn’t last long on his face before excitement took over, the man’s brown eyes glinting.

“Wizard.” At your confused reaction he waved you off with one hand, laughing. “It’s just something we say at home. It means … cool or awesome or -”

“I get it.” Eyeing him, you shook your head slowly. “You’ve got a lot of different phrases, Din. Womp rat, dank farrik, wizard… and the way you trained Grogu in a different language? One of these days, you’ll have to tell me more about yourself and where you grew up, because it sure as hell wasn’t anywhere around here.”

“One of these days.” He winked at you, glancing down at his watch. “Do you want me to take you to get your car now, before it gets too late?” You did - you needed to go to the grocery store the following morning, but at the same time, you didn’t want him to leave, especially since if you hadn’t gotten the headache, you would have been spending hours with him that night. Don’t push your luck.

“Sure. Let me go change clothes, and -”

“Why?” He frowned. “You look fine. We’re just going to the parking lot at work.” You didn’t have an answer for him, and so you just agreed, telling him you did need to switch out your slippers for actual socks, and that you’d be right back.

As you headed up the stairs and into your room, you were dreading looking into the mirror - sure that after barely doing anything earlier in the day, you’d look a mess. But I don’t… I don’t look terrible.

Sure, your hair was a little messy, and you looked tired, much less put together than you were at work or had been on trivia night or when you’d gone to Din’s place, but it wasn’t bad. Fighting the urge to change clothes and fix your hair, you pulled socks on and went back downstairs, Din still sitting at your table with his eyes on his phone. “All set, Din. Just need shoes and a coat.”

He stood, following you back into the living room, and when you’d slung the strap of your bag over one shoulder, keys and phone inside, you led him into the driveway, shivering at the chill in the air. “It got much colder today, I hit some ice on the drive in to work.”

“You did?” He unlocked the door and you climbed in, taking a few seconds to look around the interior of the truck since your head wasn’t pounding. “I hope you have good tires on this thing, it can get slippery here, especially when there’s a bunch of snow.”

“She might not look like much on the outside, but like I said, I take care of her.” He patted the dashboard a few times before he twisted the key in the ignition and then moved his hand to the shifter knob, his fingers winding around the smooth metal surface. “Yes, I have good tires.” It relieved you to hear it - not only because you were in the car with him, but because you didn’t like thinking of him possibly getting into an accident on unfamiliar roads. “What about you, do you get new tires in the winter?”

“Actually, yeah. Stacy’s husband usually switches them out for me. I know how to do it and could if I needed to, but using the tire iron isn’t easy, and I’m always worried I won’t tighten them enough and then I’d be on the highway and one would fly off or something.” He laughed - the sound more like a snort, but it was quick, and then he spoke again, his voice quiet.

“Can I be honest with you about something?”

“Yes.” Turning your head and shifting your shoulders so that you could look at him, you waited. Din took his time, both hands on the steering wheel, his eyes forward and fixed on the road. What does he want to say?

“I won’t go as far as saying that I’m glad you and James broke up because I’m not that much of an asshole, but I am glad that you being single means that we get to spend time together.” The interior of the truck was completely silent for ten seconds - you frozen in place and Din gripping the steering wheel tightly, eyes still focused forward.

“I…” When you finally opened your mouth, you weren’t sure what to say, but at the sight of the muscles in his jaw flexing, the man clearly worried he’d overstepped, you spoke up, reaching over with one hand to touch his arm. “I’m glad we do, too.” He sucked in a breath, surprised that you’d reacted the way you had. But is he really, after last weekend? After today? “You’re so quiet at work, Din, I had no idea that this is what you were really like.”

“I keep it hidden well.” Glancing over at you, he arched a brow. “Can’t tell everyone all of my secrets.”

“I don’t know, Din, a whole bar full of people saw you singing along to Mariah Carey last weekend, I’d say that some people might have an idea that you’re a lot more fun than you let on.”

“Dammit, you might be right.” He laughed again, making a turn down one of the side streets that led to your office building. “I should be more careful.” Humming quietly, you turned to look out the window, eyes on the lit up houses and buildings you were passing. “Do you want me to pick you up tomorrow? There’s no reason to take more than one car, right?”

“That works.” Or… “Or, since you’ve been driving me around the last two days, if you come to my house, I can drive to the community center.”

“We could do that, too.” As you turned into the lot - empty aside from your car and one that belonged to the security guard, you gripped the strap of your bag tighter, chewing on your lower lip.

It was easy with him - simple in a way that things hardly ever were for you and new people in your life. You still knew very little about him on a personal level, but what you did know seemed genuine, the man’s demeanor much different around you and in public than it was at work but not forced in any way. I’ll try and get him to open up tomorrow. There’s a lot of time for talking. “At least it didn’t snow today. My snow brush is in my garage, and it would have been a pain in the ass to clean my car without it.”

“I would have helped.” Din put the truck in park, turning the top half of his body to face you. “Or I would have offered and you would have told me no… but I would have helped anyway.”

“You know me so well.” Rolling your eyes, you reached over and pushed on his arm, head shaking back and forth. “I would have said no.”

“I don’t know you well.” He said your name, pausing after. “But I’d like to.”

It was an opening - a clear one, the man more direct with you after two weeks of spending any time at all together than you’d expected - and you took it. I have to.

“I’d like that too.” Lifting your hand up from where it rested - the armrest between your seats, you hesitated before you reached out, fingertips settling on his denim-covered knee. “And I meant what I said earlier, Din. I’d love to know more about you.”

There was a flinch - small but visible thanks to light poles in the lot, but Din nodded, his eyes darting down to your hand. “We can start tomorrow.” He wet his lips and then cleared his throat. “What time do you want me over? Starts earlier than trivia did, so -”

“It does, because there’s an event for the kids going on at the same time.” You left your hand in place, still looking over at him. “If you get to my house between 4:30 and 5, we should have plenty of time. There’s no food tomorrow, so if you want to stop on the way and get something, you can or we can on the way.”

“Good to know. I’ll let you know tomorrow.” He dropped his hand and let it rest on top of yours, the weight of it grounding you. You didn’t know if it was an unconscious action on Din’s part, or if he was aware that he’d done it but you knew one thing: you didn’t want him to move it. Take another leap.

“Din?” Your heart was beating rapidly, anxiety growing by the second - but you felt good, sure about what you wanted to say next. “You could come back over tonight. We could watch a movie or something, and -”

“No.” It was only one word but it turned you cold, the man’s reply immediate. “Not tonight.” Oh. Alright. “Hey.” He squeezed your hand, thumb slipping beneath your fingers. “I want to. But I don’t… I haven’t…” Save him. He’s not turning you down because he’s not interested - it’s something else.

“That’s the second time tonight you’ve turned me down, Din. You’re gonna give a girl a complex.” He laughed at that, still holding your hand.

“It would be only fair if you canceled last minute for next Friday.” He shrugged. “I should probably -”

“No way.” Taking another chance, you flipped your hand over, palm pressed to his. “I can wait a week, I just thought … I don’t know what I thought, Din.” Going silent, you finally looked away from him, your eyes locked on your joined hands. “I’m gonna go. Thank you again for … everything. Like I said, I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me a damn thing.” He tightened his hold on your hand. “Get home safe, alright?” You assured him you would and then fished into your purse with your free hand, unlocking your car doors. “I’ll wait here and follow you out.”

Telling him that that was fine, you pulled your hand back, though Din didn’t let it go right away. “Din I -”

He said your name quietly, and when your eyes met his again, you saw longing in them, Din swallowing hard before he said anything else. “I’ve never done this before. Haven’t really dated much, so I’m not…”

“You’re doing fine.” You squeezed his hand again and then pulled yours away, fingers curling in toward your palm. “More than fine, actually.”

You needed to get out of the truck and the longer you stayed, the harder it got.

“Good. That’s good. Really good.” He lowered his head and inhaled, holding his breath. It was a change from the man you’d been spending time with - and altogether different from work-Din too, and it made you bold, your fingers uncurling before you pressed your hand against his thigh and leaned in, your lips finding his cheek and landing there - just above the scruff of his beard.

And you lingered there for a few seconds before pulling back and sitting straight up, your hand reluctantly pulling away from his leg. “Goodnight, Din. Thank you again for -”

“You’ve got to get out. Right now.” He’s mad. I shouldn’t have done that. His head turned and he eyed you, the man breathing hard. “Because if you don’t, I’m going to kiss you, and I’ll be damned if the first time I do that is in the work parking lot when I can’t do it right.”

You couldn’t help it - you laughed, the tension in the cab of the truck breaking immediately. “Alright, Din.” Hand moving to the door handle, you pushed it open, a blast of cold air hitting your skin and making you shiver. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You will.” He was fighting back a smile - but so were you. And it’s for the same reason. “Goodnight, wero.”

“What does that mean?” Wrinkling your nose with one foot on the ground, you stared back at him. “Din?”

“I’ll tell you later.” He grinned then, both hands back on the steering wheel, one finger pointing at the window. “Go.” With a quiet laugh, you got out of the truck and headed for our car, hunched over slightly to combat the cold.

He’d parked so that he was facing your vehicle, and when you climbed in, turning it on and letting it warm up, you finally let yourself look in his direction again. He was watching you through the windshields, his lips set into a tiny smile - and when you returned it, his grew into a grin, the man raising two fingers from the wheel in a silent acknowledgement. He likes me. He likes me and he likes me enough to take time with this and not rush, and…

“He’s different,” you muttered to yourself as you leaned over, adjusting the passenger vents to redirect the warm air to your side. “And I appreciate that.” Straightening back up, you locked eyes with him again and put the car into drive, Din nodding once as you started to move.

Like he’d promised, he followed you out of the lot, though when you turned right, he turned left - honking once as you separated. Watching his taillights in your rearview mirror, you let out a nervous laugh, pressing the fingertips of one hand against your forehead.

“I’m in trouble.”

—

There was no lingering awkwardness from the previous night when Din got to your house the following day, and you were glad. You’d been worried about it - worried that because you’d both said things that crossed a line and you’d then kissed him, that seeing the man in the light of day would have changed everything. And I don’t want that.

So when he’d knocked and you opened the door, inviting him in, Din’s smile wide and contagious, you let out a sigh of relief. We didn’t screw it up. “I just need to grab a couple things from upstairs, give me a few seconds?”

“Sure. Do whatever you need.” Din leaned against your kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better.” Gesturing to yourself, you winked. “No sweatpants today, and I actually got things done this morning.” You pointed at the doorway. “If you want to go sit, you can. It won’t take me long.”

You made quick work of finishing what you needed to do - one last look in the mirror upstairs, sitting on the edge of your bed to pull on socks, and brushing your teeth before you headed back down, Din no longer in the kitchen.

Instead, he was standing in front of your lit up tree, both hands in his pockets. “Looks great.” He sighed, turning his head toward you. “We never had a tree like this growing up. Didn’t decorate much, either. That’s one of the things I like about being over here so much. Everyone … everyone goes all out for the holidays.”

“We do.” You moved to stand next to him, reaching out to adjust a few of the ornaments. “And I love having this thing up as early as possible every year. When I watch TV, this is the only light I use. It makes it cozy.”

“I bet.” Looking over at you, Din nudged your arm with his elbow. “You’ll have to tell me the best place here to get a tree. Might grab a small one and some lights. I bet Grogu would love it.”

“He would.” You beamed at the thought of the dog sleeping beneath the twinkling branches, nose resting on his paws. “And I can do that. Or,” you continued as you turned toward him. “I can take you to get one. We’d need to use your truck, but -”

“We could go Friday after work and before the movie?” He sounded hopeful, and when he met your gaze, you were surprised to see hesitation in his eyes. “It shouldn’t take too long, right?”

“Right. You wouldn’t have time to decorate it then, but you have to let the branches settle anyway, so that would be good. And then you could decorate it Saturday or Sunday.”

“Alright. Sounds good.” Din nodded. “You ready to go?”

“I am.” You checked your watch and then looked over at Din again. “I know we both already ate, but did you want to stop for coffee on the way? They have it at the community center - and hot cocoa, too, but it’s usually kind of weak, and -”

“And we need energy if we’re going to frost these cookies, right?” Right. “I like that idea.”

Ten minutes later, the two of you were pulling into the drive-thru line at the downtown coffee shop, and Din was in the middle of a story about one of his oldest friends from home - Fennec - and how she’d sent him a message the previous day about winning a sharp-shooting competition. “I’m good. But she’s better. And she has to be, because of her job.” He swiped a hand over the back of his head, ruffling the hair there. “I love it here, don’t get me wrong. But I miss her sometimes. Her and the rest of my … friends.”

“I don’t blame you. You haven’t gone into much detail about them, but it seems… I don’t know. You all seem really close.”

“Yeah. I’ve known them most of my life, and this past year is the first time I’ve really been … away.” He wet his lips. “Here, look. This is her.” As you waited to pull to the order screen, Din held his phone out and showed you a photo of a pretty dark haired woman - slightly older than you - holding what looked like a rifle in one hand and a medal in the other. “She takes it really seriously, but that’s just how she is.”

“Yeah?” Inching up, you gestured to the screen. “What do you want, Din?”

“Hot dark roast. Mocha.” Shifting, he reached for his wallet. “Here, let me -”

“No, I’ve got it.” You made your order, shivering slightly with the window down, and then closed it as you pulled away from the screen. “So Fennec… what does she do? You said she’s a good shot because of her job.”

“She’s…” He paused. “She’s a bodyguard. Does personal security.” Oh, I wasn’t expecting that. “It’s a surprise because she looks so non-threatening, but she… I wouldn’t want to get into it with her.” You laughed at that, still trying to figure out what to say. “You’d like her, though. I think. He cleared his throat. “I’ve been thinking about it, and I think… I think you’d like most of my friends.”

“If they’re anything like you, I’m sure I would.” Glancing over at him, you shrugged. “Maybe if they come visit sometime, you can introduce me.” He’s the one that mentioned them, so it… my response is normal.

“Definitely.” He laughed, holding his hand out and waiting for his coffee. “If they ever come visit. It’s not that simple for them to make the trip.” The more you learned about him from his offhand comments, the more intrigued you were. And he was telling you more - little by little - which was a good thing. “Thank you.” He sipped from the cup, large fingers wrapped around the brightly colored surface of it. “This place is kind of out of the way for me, so I usually just stop at the one by my house.”

“Yeah, I like this place better, too.” You accepted your cup, thanking the woman in the window and then pulled away, lifting it to sip. “Are you ready for today? This is a lot less stressful than trivia.”

“Maybe for you.” He laughed, cutting it off with another drink. “I’m not the best with cooking.”

“This isn’t actual cooking. It’s baking, and …” Eyes on the road, you shrugged. “And it’s not even baking. Like I said, we just decorate.”

“Do we have to do all that complicated shit they do on TV? With the … icing and the little plastic bags and -”

“Yes. And no. They don’t expect us to be Food Network quality, but yeah… we do ice them. And we have to make a design based on the shape of cookie we get.” You were going by the previous year’s rules, but you figured it wouldn’t change much. “It won’t be Tina, but they’ll explain the way it works when we’re waiting.”

“And what about the… gingerbread? Do we have to do that, too?”

“No. It’s not mandatory. That’s set up so that we have something to do while they judge the cookies.” Turning into the parking lot of the community center, you found an empty space and eased into it. “ I’ve never actually made one of those here before. We always just … socialized while we waited.”

“Well then we’re doing it this year. I want to be around for something you do for the first time.” Getting out of the car, Din waited until you circled it to stand next to him to say anything more. “If you want to.”

“I want to.” You pointed, cup in hand, at the front doors of the building. “You ready?”

“Yep.” Switching his coffee to his left hand, Din reached for you with his right, raising an eyebrow. “Are you?”

There wasn’t any hesitation before you took his hand, lacing your fingers with his and squeezing - his palm dwarfing yours. “I am.”

—

Unlike for trivia, there weren’t assigned seats, and so after checking in, you and Din found an empty table and sat, removing your coats and getting comfortable. There was a large basket in the center of it that was tied with a bright green ribbon, and another smaller box that had a gold bow on it next to the first. “Bet we can’t touch those yet, right?” He pointed at the boxes, sighing. “I have a bad feeling about what’s in them.”

“The big one is probably cookie decorating supplies.” You sipped your coffee. “Frosting and sprinkles and napkins and paintbrushes and all that.” You arched a brow. “Glitter and gold flake and -”

“We have to use all those things?” He sounded worried and you laughed it off, waving your hand.

“No, they just give us options. It’s easier to do it this way than it is to have everyone rush a supply table. And whatever we don’t use, they give out to schools and daycare centers so the kids can decorate cookies even if they’re not here tonight.”

“OK, good. Because I can probably figure out how to frost a cookie, but adding all of that extra stuff… we don’t have enough time for that.”

“It’s fine, Din.” Settling back into your chair, you looked around the room, watching as it filled. The kids were off in one of the smaller spaces, their own event already underway, and you watched as the members of the other 7 teams filed in, filling the tables around you. “So they always take extra teams for this.” You pointed at the other tables. “What they do here is we frost these cookies and then after they look over what everyone did and all of the cookies are set, they package them out into an even dozen. Every box gets one of every design, but since there aren’t always 12 teams…”

“I like that.” He smiled, leaning closer. “How many cookies do we have to make?” This is where I lose him.

“Um…” Taking a long drink of your coffee, you set it down and licked your lips, avoiding eye contact. “It changes every year, but it’s at least five dozen.”

“Five dozen!” He nearly yelped, fingers tightening on his cup. “That’s 60 cookies. That’s -”

“I said at least, Din. It depends on how many people signed up to receive a box.” Laughing at the expression on his face, you reached forward, touching his hand. “And it’s not that bad since they’re all the same design, so…”

Lifting his pointer finger, Din hooked it over yours, the man’s lips twitching. “That was a little loud, right?”

“Just a little.” Wrinkling your nose, you bit your lip. “We’ll figure it out. As soon as we know what design we have to do, we can make a plan.” He looked down, eyes on your hands for a brief moment before he spoke.

“You said the plans never work.” Leaning back, Din lifted the coffee cup, leaving your hand on the table. “So why would we -”

“Because we’re smart. We can come up with something that doesn’t suck.” He looked away, eyes widening, and before you could say anything else, he’d interrupted you.

“Oh, this is interesting.” What? You turned your head to see where he was looking and barely concealed a roll of your eyes at the sight of Omera and another woman from work walking into the room and closer to where you sat. If it’s not one thing it’s another.

“Hi, Din.” The woman stopped next to your table, smiling brightly at the man. “I had no idea you were doing the competition this year. You said you didn’t know if you wanted to.”

“Yeah.” He let his gaze wander to you, where it lingered for a few seconds before he looked up again. “My partner here made a really compelling case for pairing up, and I couldn’t tell her no.”

“Oh, yeah…” Omera’s attention turned to you, the smile she’d given Din changing into something decidedly less friendly. “You used to compete with your boyfriend, right? I thought I heard someone at the office talking about how you’re single now.”

You wanted to react - wanted to snap at her and put her in her place… but you held your tongue - and the only reason for it was that Din was sitting across from you because he’d chosen to. He turned her down and turned someone else down and… didn’t turn me down. “I did. And when I ended things at the end of October, I lost my competition partner, and Din was kind enough to join me.”

“And we won last week.” He spoke up, a smug tone to his voice. “We kicked ass at trivia, and got a great prize.” Din said your name, your attention going back to him. “How much was it on that gift card?”

“No specific amount.” Hiding your smile by taking another drink from your cup, you gave your head a minute shake in Din’s direction, his eyes locked with yours. Oh, I see what you’re doing. Much like he had with James, he was telling Omera everything in very few words, making it unmistakable that he understood what she was trying to do… and that he wasn’t going to stand for it. “It’s just dinner and a movie, whatever that ends up costing.”

“Ah.” He sighed. “Well, still. It’s a good prize, right?”

“Right. Sure.” Omera’s tone changed, the woman looking to her friend and then at you, her gaze sharp. “Well enjoy it. I’m… sure you’ll have a good time.”

“We will.” Din cleared his throat. “Thanks, Omera.” There wasn’t much more to say, and so the two women headed to an empty table, leaving you and Din alone. “Her friend’s the other one that asked me.” He leaned in. “I wonder if she knows.”

“Probably.” They probably bet to see which of them he’d say yes to. “But if she was that rude to me about it, I can’t imagine that she would have been any happier for Tanya, either.”

“She knew damn well I was here with you. My name’s on the site with yours, and I’m sure she checked it.” You agreed with him but didn’t have a chance to reply because one of the community center employees took the stage, the room going quiet. “OK, Din. Rule time.”

He turned his entire chair toward the stage, leaning in and letting his hands dangle between his knees. “Welcome to the second event of this year’s Christmas competition.” The man onstage grinned, eyes scanning the room. “Ready to decorate some cookies?”

There were polite cheers and claps from throughout the room, and after they died down, the man continued.

“There are two boxes at the center of your tables. The larger one contains everything you need to make the perfect cookies. Frosting, icing, sprinkles, edible glitter, candy .. it’s in there.” He held up a finger. “As soon as I finish explaining the rules, my assistants will bring your cookies around to your tables. The shapes - like always - are randomized, and you won’t know what you’re getting until you open the boxes.” He paused and you looked at Din, the man concentrating hard, brow furrowed.

You’d seen him looking that way before - working on someone’s computer at work, as well as for a few minutes at the trivia competition - and you smiled at the sight, resting your chin on your hand. He is so fucking handsome. The thought came to you unbidden, but you didn’t try to deny it, instead letting yourself look at him and enjoy the view. Why not?

“This year, we have seven dozen cookies per team, with a few extras in a separate box just in case something happens and you need to replace one or two.” Seven dozen? That’s almost 90 cookies. “You’ll have three hours to complete the designs and arrange them in groups of 12, to make the counting easier on us.” He pointed. “There are 7 tables set up along the far wall, and when you finish, you’ll deliver one dozen to each of those tables so that we can look them over.”

“Ninety cookies.” Din muttered the words, looking back over his shoulder at you. “That’s a lot.”

“It is.” You had to admit that you were worried, too. “Maybe we’ll get the round ornaments. Or the candy canes. That’s easy, right?” He let out a long breath and covered his face with his hands. Yeah, that’s about how I feel, too.

“Remember, this isn’t a race, and you’re not judged on who finishes first. But all of the designs need to be the same on your cookies, and we will look for the similarities of those designs when we’re deciding the winners.” He grinned. “So pick something that you can easily repeat, because these cookies do need to be finished within the allotted time.”

“We can do this, Din.” Drumming your fingers on the tabletop, you sighed. “We’ve got -”

“The second box on your table is our little gift to you.” What? “Inside, you’ll find holiday themed aprons to wear today - and to keep, because we know that these cookies can get messy.” Oh, I wasn’t expecting that. “Go ahead and open those now.”

“Can I?” He reached for the box, a smile on his face. “Christmas aprons?”

“Of course.” You pushed it forward, Din grabbing the package and pulling it toward him. “And you can choose first.”

He pulled the box open and then laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Oh, these are … wow.”

The first was a standard Santa apron - bright red with the white fur trim and a puffy golden belt buckle that sat around the middle. But the second actually made you laugh - an elf costume, complete with tiny little legs printed on the front of it, red and white striped tights and curly-toed shoes on the feet. “Oh.” Holding back a snort, you covered your mouth. “Well, which one do you want?”

“I think you should wear the Santa one.” He held it out to you. “Because it comes with this.” Reaching back into the box, he held up a fur-trimmed Santa hat. “And because I want to wear this.” Din pulled a second hat from the box- a dark green one with bells attached to it, a puffy red pom pom at the tip. “You’re already going to tell me what to do with these cookies, so why not make it official?”

“You want me to wear this and boss you around like Santa does his elves?” He nodded slowly, his expression serious. “Din, I think that might say a lot more about you personally than in relation to cookies, but we don’t have time to get into that right now, so…” He laughed then, and you stood, circling to take both things from him. “Fine. You can be my elf for the night.”

As you settled the apron over your body, you reached behind yourself to tie it tightly, smoothing your hands over the front. “Looks good.” He stood, too, putting on the second apron and you laughed when he did, the sight of it hilarious because you knew just how broad he was beneath the thin material despite the fact that it was printed to make him look tiny. “What, you don’t like it?” Frowning, he tugged the hat onto his head, cocking it to the left and making the bells jingle. “I think it’s great.”

“No, Din. It’s perfect.” And it was - if you hadn’t known any better, you never would have been able to tell that it was his first American Christmas, or that he’d just been introduced to the concept of festive aprons five minutes earlier. “You look …”

There were plenty of words that you could have used, but instead you settled on just winking at him and circling back around to your seat, hands flat on the table. It didn’t take long for one of the assistants to reach your table with their wheeled cart, Din standing almost immediately to help her with the large container of cookies.

As he settled it onto the tabletop, you saw the blush creeping over the girl’s cheeks, the teenager thanking him quietly before she moved on to the next table. “You’ve got another fan, Djarin.” Catching his eye, you sipped from your almost empty cup. “See? It pays to be a gentleman.”

“Does it? He gripped his neck, eyeing you. “I’ll remember that.”

The organizer got back onto the stage a few moments later, tapping the mic to draw everyone’s attention. “Alright, teams. If you’d please go ahead and open your cookie containers, you’ll have five minutes to plan before the decoration begins.”

Din reached for the lid and you stood again, moving back to his side of the table and peering down. “I don’t know if you’re religious, Din, but right now I’m praying for the -” Shit.

You hadn’t gotten the round ornaments. You hadn’t even gotten the Christmas tree shapes or the candy canes. “Seriously?” The man’s eyes rose, locking with yours. “Not the star or the mittens? We could have even been alright with the gingerbread men. We had to get the -”

“Snowflakes.” Covering your eyes with one hand, you breathed the word out. “We got the snowflakes.”

“OK, so what do we do?” He sounded panicked and you lowered your hand quickly, reaching into the box for one of the cookies. “Just make them white? Use sprinkles?”

“Give me a second.” You pulled one of the extra chairs over, dropping into it - and right next to him, cookie still in hand. “We have to add frosting or icing. And there has to be some sort of design, so no, we can’t just do a white cookie with sprinkles.” But we can do white. We can … Din said your name, the man reaching over and touching your shoulder. “It’s ok, Din, just …” Biting down hard on your lip, you took a deep breath.

“How are you so calm?” He scooted closer, his voice quiet. “We have 90 cookies to -”

“Because even if we don’t win, Din, it doesn’t matter. We just might not … this might not be our event.” And we probably won’t, because… You turned the cookie over in your hand, still thinking. “We shouldn’t be stressing. They’re cookies. No one’s will be perfect.”

“I still want them to look good.” Din’s pointer finger bounced on the tabletop, “What if we frosted them in one color and then used a different color on top of that?” That could work.

Setting the cookie down, you eyed it. “What if …” Pointing at the basket, you sighed. “What if we used like a really pale blue and then a darker blue or a white … or maybe both to make the actual snowflake shape on top?” You licked your lips. “And then we could add some of the tiny sugar crystals on top right before the icing gets too hard?”

“You want me to use multiple colors? On these cookies? I …” Din’s head whipped back and forth, his eyes wide. “There’s no way.”

“I think you can do it.” Reaching over and laying your hand flat atop his, you squeezed. “And you know what, Din? We might have lucked out. The designs have to be similar, but no two snowflakes are exactly the same, so we might have a little more slack than everyone else.”

It took a second, but Din laughed, closing his eyes and letting out a long exhale through his nose as the sound trailed off. “I trust you. I’m going to need you to help me, but… I trust you.”

“I’ve got you, Din. All we can do is start and see what happens.” He agreed, taking another deep breath.

“So what’s our plan?” You knew that the time was winding down in your five minute session, and so you quickly explained what you wanted to do.

“I’ll mix the icing colors while you get the other stuff ready.” Pointing at the basket, you went on. “Piping bags. Toothpicks. Glitter or the sugar, whatever you think will look best.” He nodded, the look in his eyes less crazed. “I’ll do the outline on the cookie shapes, and then you can follow after me, filling them.”

“I can do that.” He nodded. “I can try to do that.”

“You can.” You continued to squeeze his hand. “And then once we get all of them done that way, the very first ones will have had a chance to start hardening, which means we can add the second color - which will be the snowflake shape.”

“The hard part.” Yes, Din. The Hard part. “Then what?”

“Then, we work our way through those, add the design, and then start moving them over with the last fifteen or twenty minutes.”

“Not when we finish them? This table is small, they won’t all fit.”

“They’ll have to.” You taking a long breath, you closed your eyes. “If we move them too fast, we might smudge or smear or tilt them, and then they’ll be ruined. We have to wait until the last possible second to move them, because then the icing will be somewhat set.”

It was a risk - and you knew it - but it was the only way you could think of to ensure that your cookies would survive the trip from your table to the judging tables. “Alright.” Din sighed, the man onstage letting everyone know that the decoration phase was about to start. “You say it’s the right way? This is the way.”

You hadn’t even opened your mouth to reply when a loud whistle sounded, signaling the start of your three hour time block.

—

Just under an hour and a half later, you and Din had worked your way through outlining and flooding all of the cookies with a pale, icy blue and were focused on the white detailing. “You don’t need to squeeze hard, Din. You want a thin line, kind of like I did before I passed them off to you.”

“OK.” He took a breath, pulling a practice cookie toward himself. “And I just follow this pattern?”

“Yes.” You’d each taken a few minutes to draw a reference pattern for yourselves on paper, providing a visual guide while you worked through the cookies. “Six of each in each dozen.”

“So we each do three trays and then split the last one.” He was watching you closely, his elbow propped up on the table. “And when do we add the sugar?”

“Right before we switch them to the other table and new trays.” You pointed. “That way, the excess isn’t just piled up around them.”

There was nothing else to say, and so Din leaned over, picking up the bag of white icing and placing the newly cut edge of the tip just above the surface of the cookie. “I’m going to fuck this up.”

“You’re not.” closing your eyes as you tilted your head back, you took a deep breath. “I know you’re not.” He carefully trailed the icing over the surface of the cookie, and less than a minute later, Din leaned back in his seat, frowning.

“I think I did it.” Peering over at his design, you sucked in a breath, closing your fingers into a tight fist.

“You did, Din!” The look of joy on his face was contagious, and when the man met your eyes and smile broadly, you couldn’t stop yourself from returning the expression. “Now you’ve only got 40 more to go.” The smile faltered but didn’t disappear, and to your surprise, Din only nodded, sliding the completed cookie onto an empty tray and reaching for the next. We can do this.

… And an hour later, you still believed it, the two of you working steadily through your individual shares of cookies.

You’d both messed up a couple of them, hissing through your teeth and groaning, the unusable snowflakes going onto a separate sheet and the extras replacing them without pause.

There’d been one disaster for another team, a man and a woman trying to carry two trays each at a time to the tables - and like you’d predicted, it ended badly. “They always make extras.” You winced at the sight of splattered frosting on the floor, looking over at Din. “Everyone’s going to get their dozen, even if that happens multiple times.”

He’d looked worried but kept at it, eyeing you briefly before returning to his cookies, and to your surprise, he’d finished his set before you, getting up from the table and sprinting toward the bathroom.

You had five left to finish before you’d add the sugar to the tops of them, and figured that by the time Din returned, you’d be ready - or at the very least almost ready. “Hey.” He slid back into his seat, beckoning you closer. “I peeked as I walked by the other tables.”

“And?” Your head close to his, you waited. “How do you think we -”

“The trees are really good. And the wreaths, too.” Jerking his thumb at Omera’s table, he wrinkled his nose. “They got candy canes, and they look good, but they’re simple.” Hmm. That might not be a bad thing though. “We have a chance, is what I’m saying.”

“Good to know.” Rolling your shoulders back, you sighed. “Let me finish these, so we can get to the sugar.”

He leaned back in his chair, pulling his phone out, and before you’d realized what he was doing, Din took a picture of you, bent over your cookies, though your eyes were still on him. “That’s a good one. I’m gonna send it to Fennec.” He showed you the screen, but before you got a good look, he’d turned it back to him, a smile on his face. “She can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“Yeah?” Your cheeks were heating at the thought that his friends knew about you, but you tried to focus on the cookies, slowly piping the final designs onto the smooth surface. “Well now she’ll have to.”

The last cookie done, you straightened up, putting the almost empty frosting cone down. “She will.” Din’s phone went back into his pocket, the man pointing at the basket. “Sugar?”

“Sugar.” You reached for the gold and Din for the silver, and not even five minutes later, you were done and standing side by side, staring down at your cookies. “They look good, Din.” Arms crossed over your chest, you squinted down at them. “I’d eat them.”

“I’m going to eat one of them.” He interrupted you, one hand held out toward the plate of messed up cookies. “Or maybe a few.”

“If we get these to the tables without ruining them, you can eat as many as you want.” Checking your watch, you saw that there was only 20 minutes left, meaning that you needed to start transferring. “Do you have steady hands?” Biting your lip, you shook your head. “Because I’m worried about moving these.”

“Start combining the trays.” He reached over, laying a hand on your shoulder. “I’ll be right back.” You were confused but did as he told you, carefully picking up and moving the cookies so that there were six of each design on a tray. You alternated their placement, the effect somewhat striking, and by the time Din returned, you were on dozen three, fingers turning the cookies into position. “Instead of carrying them, we’re going to wheel them over.”

He’d brought back the cart that had delivered the cookies in the first place, and once again, you felt an overwhelming appreciation for the man’s thoughtfulness. “That’s perfect.” Head moving back and forth, you sighed. “That’s… you’re so smart.”

“Sometimes.” He loaded up the first three trays, leaning closer to you. “I’ll be right back.”

You didn’t look after him as he wheeled away, instead continuing to re-plate the cookies, and so with five minutes to spare, the two of you had delivered all 7 dozen, Din taking the cart back to wherever he’d gotten it from and then returning to your side as you glanced down. “What’s our competition look like?”

“Let’s go look.” He pointed, giving you a wide smile. “And then we can head over to the gingerbread houses.” You walked side by side over to the tables, both of you quiet. It’s alright if we don’t win. We tried. At the sight of all the cookies, you let out a gasp, followed by a quiet “fuck” under your breath. “Told you some of ‘em were good.”

He hadn’t been lying. Your cookies weren’t the worst looking ones on the table, but you didn’t think that they were the best, either. “The trees are going to win.” Pointing at the cookies, you sighed. “The trees or the wreaths.”

“Maybe.” Din reached over and took your hand. “We’ll see.” Yeah, we will.

A few minutes later, the two of you were seated back at your table, all of the ingredients needed to make a gingerbread house in front of you. Instead of across from each other, you were side by side, Din’s eyes scanning everything laid out on the table.

“This is easy, Din. Logical, right? Build the house, give it a few minutes to set, and then start decorating it.” Reaching for the icing, you gestured with the tip of the bag. “Want me to hold the cookies, or do you want to do it?”

“I’ll…” He sighed. “I’ll do the frosting, I think my hands are too big to hold the gingerbread pieces.” You didn’t disagree, and so you passed him the bag and reached for two of the house’s walls, eyes on Din as he squeezed a line of frosting down one edge. “I’ve always wanted to do this kind of stuff.”

He continued as you worked to assemble the house - giving the walls some time to set before you tried to add the roof. “Yeah?” He nodded, his hands joining yours while you held the sides in place. “Why didn’t you?”

“Growing up …” He sighed, glancing down. “We were always really busy around the holidays. It was a lot of traditional stuff and not much time for fun.” He cleared his throat and said your name. “We did presents and had family meals, but the extras? We didn’t have that.”

You felt for him - it was clear that Din believed he’d missed out by not having the opportunity to celebrate fully. And if the way he’s approached these first two events is anything to go by… “Well it’s never too late to start celebrating.” You pulled your hands away from the structure you’d built, making sure it wasn’t going to collapse. “You can let go, Din.” He did, eyes on the house. “We should let it go for a few more minutes before we decorate. Want to go grab something to drink?”

He stood before you did, and you followed him without speaking, weaving through the crowd and toward the snack bar. Part of you wondered if he regretted telling you so much, but when he turned back to face you, bottled water in hand and a smile on his lips, those worries disappeared. “Thank you for being so patient with me.” He cracked the bottle open, taking a long swig before going on. “I know you’re used to -”

“There’s no reason to thank me, Din. I’m doing this because I want to. And because … it seems like you’re enjoying it.”

“I am.” You set off back down the hallway, fewer people there than were in the large room you’d been decorating in. “There’s still a couple weeks to go, and I don’t know how it can get much better, but this is the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”

“Well, wait til you get your tree, Din. And wait until you see Grogu under it. And wait until -”

“Question.” He stopped walking and you did, too, waiting. “What’s that?” With one hand, Din pointed up, his head tilting back. “I’ve seen it all over the place, and -” Shit.

“That’s… mistletoe, Din.” Chewing on your lower lip, you closed your eyes. “Christmas tradition. Some people say it’s just a parasitic plant, but most people think differently. It’s a tradition that if you’re under the mistletoe with someone, you’re supposed to kiss them or it’s bad luck.” Taking a deep breath, you shifted both feet. “The town’s named after it.”

Finishing your water, you stepped away and tossed the bottle into the trash, turning back to see that Din was still staring upward, a tiny frown on his face. “What if you’re under it with someone you don’t like? Or if you’re married to someone that isn’t the person you’re with?”

“Well then you just pretend you don’t see it.” Grinning, you stepped closer, crossing your arms over your chest. “Or you can kiss them on the cheek. It doesn’t have to be a romantic kiss, even though all the movies make it out to be.” He was quiet for long moments, the sounds of the crowd in the next room filtering in through the open doorway down the hall, but it was only you two out there, Din’s eyes trained upward and you standing a foot or so away, waiting. “The story is -”

“Come here.” He held out one hand, waiting for you to take it. “Don’t leave me standing here until someone else comes out into the hall.” You took his hand and Din pulled you closer, his other hand rising to steady you by the hip. A tiny gasp escaped your lips before you could stop it, Din’s smile growing. “I don’t want to ignore it.” Oh, shit.

“I don’t either.” Your heart was pounding in your chest - beating out a rhythm that it hadn’t played in months, and without letting go of his hand, you pressed your other one to his shoulder, waiting. “I -”

“I don’t just mean this.” He looked up and then back at you. “I mean …”

“I know.” Your lower lip trembled, but you didn’t look away. “I do too.”

He moved slowly, closing the distance between you, and when Din’s mouth met yours, you felt warmth wash over you as your eyes closed, calming the thumping of your heart slightly. His hand tightened on your hip and then rose, palm settling against your jaw and his thumb stroking over your cheek.

It was a gentle kiss - tame in the sense that neither of you tried to deepen it, but he didn’t pull away when you gripped his shirt tighter, the man’s hold on your hand steady, your palms pressed together. “Did I do that right?” He breathed the words when he backed away, his intake of breath somewhat shaky. “I -”

“Yeah.” Wetting your lips, you nodded. “Yeah, Din, you did that right.” More than right, that was…

Unable to help yourself, you leaned in again and kissed him a second time, the hand releasing the material of his shirt and lifting to settle at the back of his neck, the tips of your fingers touching the velvety material of his hat. “Ori wero.” He whispered the words against your lips, laughing quietly.

“What does that mean?” You dropped your hand and took a step back, keeping his fingers entwined with yours. “You said the one part before, and I’ve been…”

“It means you’re trouble. Big trouble.” Din’s shoulders rose and fell, his smile growing. “But I’m not going to complain.” Me? Trouble? No, that’s definitely you. “We should get back in there. We have a roof to attach.”

He didn’t let go of your hand as you moved from beneath the mistletoe and toward the open doors, but he did drop your hand as two small children ran past you and toward the smaller cookie room, Din raising both of his arms into the air and laughing as he spun out of the way, you stumbling a step backwards with an equally large smile on your face.

“That’s what happens when you give them unlimited sugar for three hours.” Arching a brow, you laughed. “They didn’t step on your feet, did they?”

“Nah.” He waved a hand in the air. “Not even close.”

You headed back for your table and made quick work of adding the roof, Din holding the pieces in place while you sealed them with icing, his hands dwarfing the pieces of cookie. And you let him choose most of the design - the man dripping icing on the roof’s edges to resemble icicles, picking peppermint discs for stepping stones that led up to the house, carefully piping windows and a door onto the sides of the structure. “It looks good.”

You watched him as he worked, the man leaning close and furrowing his brow. “Does it? I’m just winging it.”

“You’re taking that apron very seriously. Like one of Santa’s little elves is right in front of me, and -” He rolled his eyes, but you saw his mouth twitch upward, even though he didn’t look away from what he was doing. “You’d never know it was your first, Din.”

“Wait, why am I doing all of this?” He sat up, holding both hands out to you. “You’ve never done this either, and I’m not letting you … sorry.”

“I was having fun watching you, actually.” Shrugging, you reached over and picked up a small bowl of gumdrops, pressing them into a line on each side of the door of the house. “You did the details, I’ll just add in the extras.”

You worked in silence for a few minutes - finishing the path, adding a wreath to the front door in green frosting with tiny round red sprinkles pushed into the surface and then pressing a mini candy cane to the side of the house, sticking it to the outer wall with some of the piping icing. “You know you’re going to have to take this thing home with you, right?” He was watching intently, eyes focused on the motion of your hands. “Grogu would destroy it.”

“I didn’t even think about that.” Looking up at him, you gritted your teeth. “But if that’s what you want me to do, I will.” Oh, wait he’s got... Reaching over the house, you extended your thumb. “You’ve got frosting on your cheek, Din. Let me…”

There was no pause when you swiped your finger over his skin, clearing away the sticky, white smudge, and without thinking you brought it back to your lips and sucked it between your lips the sweetness coating your tongue. “Wero.” He winked at you, voice low. “You’re doing this on purpose now.”

“I could say the same thing about you.” Returning your attention to the gingerbread in front of you, you pushed your lower lip out. “You think I’m trouble? What about you? And all…” You circled your hand at him, meeting his eyes. “This?”

Din’s laugh was loud, drawing the attention of some of the other people in the room - Omera and Tanya looking over at you, too. “Good point.”

You weren’t surprised when he leaned back in and started adding more things to the house, the two of you working together with your heads bent, talking quietly to each other.

It was nice - comfortable, even, and you were stunned by the fact that there was no lingering awkwardness following your kisses in the hallway, you and Din simply going on like none of it had happened. No, not quite.

You made eye contact a few times as you worked, Din grinning at you over the roof as he passed you mini M&Ms, you returning the smile when you handed him the icing bag. Finally, when there was nothing left to add, you reached for the remaining package on the table - two gingerbread pieces shaped like people. “Gotta add yourself. Too bad there’s not one that looks like a dog.”

“Yeah, that does suck.” He pulled one of the figures from the bag, settling it in front of himself. “But at least there’s two people.” He slid the second one to you, saying your name. “So both of us will be on here.” That what you want? “Should we make our aprons?”

“I don’t think either of us are that talented.” Scoffing as you smeared frosting over the lower half of your cookie to make a pair of pants, you let out a breath. “But if you want to try…”

“No way.” He spoke a few seconds later, holding up his cookie - the outline of a t-shirt and pants on the body and a smiley face on the head. “This is as creative as I’m gonna get.”

“Looks just like you.” Pressing your lips together, you held up your own cookie - frosting shirt and pants, the same style face as Din’s. “What about me?”

“I like the real thing better.” He didn’t look away when he spoke, and you felt your grip on your cookie tighten, your eyes going wider. “But they’ll look good together.”

He set gingerbread Din down into the frosting and then propped him up with a large gumdrop, gesturing for you to do the same. And so you did, placing your figure an inch or so away from Din’s, the two of them standing just in front of the door. “You’re right. They do look good together.” Eyes on the cookies, you couldn’t keep the smile from your face. “So -”

You were interrupted by the return of the man onstage, the entire room going quiet as he tapped on the microphone. “Hello, everyone. I hope you’re enjoying your night and the opportunity to make some gingerbread houses, but it’s time to announce the winners of the cookie contest.”

“Here we go.” You let out a slow breath, spinning your chair so that you were facing the stage. “I bet it’s the trees. It has to be.” He reached for your hand, closing his fingers around it, though he let both of them hang between the chairs and out of sight, his thumb circling slowly over one knuckle.

“In third place with their take on the classic snowflake design, we have Clan Mudhorn.” Well that was fast. You couldn’t help feeling disappointment, unable to look over at Din as the man continued. “That means they add 10 points to their total score going into round three.”

“Hey, it’s alright.” Din leaned over, knocking gently into your arm with his elbow. “We still got some points.” Yeah, but…

“In second place and earning fifteen points, team Threepeat made beautiful wreaths. The bows, you two? Perfect touch.” A table a few from you erupted into cheers, your eyes going to the pair. OK, those were really nice though. “And finally, first place winners and our grand prize for the night goes to Nut Crackers with their Christmas tree cookies.”

“Knew it.” Din sighed, turning his head toward you. “At least we lost to two good teams.”

“Yeah.” Frowning, you nodded. “And we did come in third, so that’s something.”

“Plus,” Din continued, scooting in. “None of the teams that beat us scored points last week, so we’re still in the lead.” We are. I didn’t even think of that. “So it could have been worse.”

“Yes.” Nodding in agreement, you squeezed Din’s hand. “We did good, Djarin.”

“Don’t forget to stop on your way out if you placed in the top three.” The man onstage was still speaking, your attention breaking away from Din and going back to him. “Second and third will receive gift cards and a voucher to pick up a dozen of the cookies you spent all afternoon making.”

“We get another gift card?” Telling him yes, Din’s smile grew. “Nice. Where to?”

“No idea. Probably one of the cookware stores, or maybe a grocery store. Depends.” Finally standing, you reached for your coat. “This place usually clears out pretty quick when the event’s over, so we should probably get going.” He stood too, though he looked surprised at your abrupt exit. “Do you want to carry that out to the car? We can stick it on the floor in the back seat.”

“Yeah, are you going to go get the prize for us?” Telling him you would, you zipped your coat and walked to the prize table, a young woman handing you an envelope and congratulating you.

You didn’t want to open it without Din, so you made your way back to him, tucking the envelope into your pocket and watching as he lifted the gingerbread house from the table, carefully carrying it with both hands. “I’ll go first and get the doors.”

So you did - carefully pushing them open and holding them until Din was through, hurrying across the parking lot and back to your car to open that door so Din could set the house down. “Drive slow.” He popped up on the passenger side, both brows raised. “That thing could collapse at any moment.”

It didn’t though, the two of you making it back to your house without incident, both of you nervously eyeing the back seat on the entire trip. “Will you carry it in? Once it’s on my counter, it’ll be fine, and you’ve gotten it this far.”

“Of course.” Din got out of the car and then opened the back door, reaching in and slowly lifting the house. “Open your door?”

“Yeah, and then I’m going to go and get the mail.” You unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping to the side as Din passed. Once he was inside, you headed for your mailbox, reaching in and pulling out a small stack of envelopes. Oh, the prize. I almost forgot.

When you were inside with the door shut behind you, you made your way into the kitchen, Din leaning on your counter with both elbows. “Made it. Nothing collapsed.”

“Good.” You unzipped your coat and hung it over the back of one chair, reaching for the envelope. “Here, you open this.”

He straightened up and took it from you, fingers brushing yours as he did. “Hope it’s something good.” I’m sure it is. He pulled the envelope open and reached into it, a thin piece of plastic held between his fingers. “And you were right. Grocery store.” He held it toward you. “$50.”

“Oh, that’s a lot!” Holding up one finger, you grinned. “And instead of trying to split it, how about you use it on Grogu? Buy him something good for Christmas?”

“Too bad we can’t use it on more of those treats he had at the tree lighting. He loved those.”

“They’ll have something else that he’ll like just as much. Seriously, though. Take it with you.”

“I can’t -”

“I mean it, Din. And …” You fought back a laugh, looking down. “You might want to take that apron off before you drive home, too. We both forgot and now…” He set the gift card down and unzipped his jacket, reaching behind himself to untie the strings before pulling it off and over his head. “Hat too, Wow, we were so distracted that …”

“We were.” His hair was rumpled, the act of removing the hate making it messier than usual. I want to run my fingers through it. “What about you?”

“Yeah.” You pulled your hat off first, setting it on the counter and then moved to undo the apron, removing it in one motion. “I can’t believe I didn’t realize I still had this on.”

It got quiet in your kitchen then, both of you staring at each other without speaking - and it was you that moved first that time, stepping forward and reaching out for Din, the man’s arms going around your waist and drawing you even closer.

You dragged your fingers through his hair, pulling his face closer to yours, and that time, it wasn’t a quick, closed mouth kiss. Instead, you met his lips with yours already parted, fingers curling around the soft strands of his hair.

He groaned against your mouth and you took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, trailing the tip of your tongue over his bottom lip before pushing it between them, Din not resisting at all.

Instead, he drew you even closer and brought one hand up to cradle the back of your head, angling it so that you were more comfortable as the kiss went on. And he kissed you like he’d wanted to do it for months, the man’s mouth moving with yours with no hesitation, his enthusiasm shifting the momentum so that it was him leading you, Din’s teeth grazing the inside of your lip and tugging before he released it, his nose dragging along the side of yours while he inhaled. Oh, that might have been… that might have been a bad idea because…

“I could do that all night.” He was breathing hard, his forehead pressed against yours. “I want to do that all night.”

“I won’t say no another kiss, Din.” He was gripping the back of your neck tightly, the man’s warmth overwhelmingly cozy. “Not from you. Not tonight.”

“Good.” He backed off enough that he could look into your eyes, your fingers stroking through the flattened curls on the back of his head. “Ori’jate.”

—

Wero = trouble (direct translation is problem, but I’m modifying it based on context since there’s no actual Mando’a word for trouble)

Ori wero: big trouble

Ori’jate: very good

---

Tag list coming soon!

243 notes · View notes

lumine-no-hikari · 3 months

Text

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #187

I still don't have quite enough sleep. I stayed up a little later than I wanted to, but I still wanted to go to the nice place with the awesome leader, which meant I woke up early, because the place is an hour away. It has been some time since last I wasn't too overwhelmed to go. I'm glad I went.

I was in a lot more pain than usual today, though, so I wasn't able to be chipper or to mingle in the way I usually do. I'm really glad that no one seemed to mind.

At the place, there is a young teenage girl who I wanted to give my collection of Pokémon cards to. She is very interested in them, and I had a great big huge binder full of some of the old ones that were around way back when they first came out. I arranged them in pages of sleeves - 18 cards per page - in numerical order. The formatting of these cards has changed dramatically over the years. I don't really like the new formatting, and the old formatting isn't widely available anymore, so I don't collect them anymore. So what's my binder gonna do other than sit on a shelf somewhere, collecting dust? Better that it goes to someone who will be able to appreciate them a little more.

But she hasn't been coming to the place recently, I guess. So I left it with the older gentleman that she is usually with; he will give her the binder. I hope she likes it. But if she doesn't, I suppose I can always take it back, if she doesn't want it.

When we were done, J and I went to Eggcellent again. I was extra tired and cranky from the sleep deprivation and the rib pain, so I got two matcha lattes; one had rose syrup, tea jelly, and cream cheese foam, and the other one was basically the same, except it had lavender syrup instead of rose syrup:

I split each of these with J; he seemed to like sharing them with me, and that was good.

...I spent the rest of the day trying to design a house, with mixed success. It's nowhere near done yet. And I'm not really sure I'm liking the layout. And no... I can't show it to you when it's done, which really super sucks, but it is what it is.

At some point during all that, J reminded me that I have to come up for air every now and then when I'm working on things; I'm a lot like you in that if I'm left to my own devices, the hyperfocus becomes strong, and I don't eat, drink, or sleep properly like I should. I'm probably pretty dehydrated, actually... Suppose I had better fix that...

Well, in any case, J took me on a brief walk outside. The sun was setting, and it was especially nice today, so naturally, I tried to snag a few pictures for you...

...And that's all I've got. I hope you enjoyed looking at these as much as I enjoyed taking them for you; the world is full of beauty amidst the darkness. You just gotta know where to look.

...I should get to sleep. So I'm gonna get some water, and then go to sleep. I've got a visual field test tomorrow morning, I guess, because I had been having this weird thing happen in my left eye somewhat recently whereby a decent chunk of my vision is obscured by a navy-blue splotch for a fraction of a second, every several minutes.

It was doing that for a number of weeks, and then it stopped happening. But they don't know what it is, and my eyes look healthy from the exam just a few days ago. They imagine it's an ocular migraine of some kind (though there was no headache), but they're gonna do the visual field test just to make sure there's nothing weird afoot. I'm gonna assume it's nothing to worry about; possibly just stress-induced or something.

...Next week is gonna be rough. I've got the eye doctor, I gotta get a dress modified, there's therapy, and then orientation for the new job, and then I'm gonna get 4 teeth extracted. It's a lot. I'm daunted. But it'll be okay. I've got this. Don't you worry your pretty little head about me, all right? I'm gonna be just fine. But if you wanna maybe wish me a bit of luck, perseverance, endurance, and resolve, I certainly would appreciate it. And if you don't wanna, then that's okay, too; I'll be all right either way.

I love you. I'll write again tomorrow. Please stay safe.

Your friend, Lumine

7 notes · View notes

wordsmithwhumpsandfluff · 3 months

Note

spirit as sickie (you can choose caretaker), with migraine and emeto, maybe some angst too? curious to see what you come up with!!

Oliver {lil bro}: Hey, Spirit.

Oliver {lil bro}: I hope you’re doing okay today!😉✊

Oliver {lil bro}: I’m coming over to bring you some food from Subway. Keiko said you left campus before noon, and I just wanted to be sure that you ate something. I know that you usually forget to eat on this day.

Oliver {lil bro}: Hey? You there?? I’ll be at your place in five minutes.

Spirit could hear her phone buzzing. She wanted to throw it against the wall, but she couldn’t move to grab it from her bed. Even lifting her head up just a bit was painful. Besides, she had a feeling that all the notifications were from her mother. Spirit was fed up with that woman.

The headache had been slowly building throughout the day, and Spirit finally couldn’t take it anymore when she wound up in a screaming match with her mom and she just hung up, cutting the woman off. After that, Spirit just sat on the floor, curled up with a hand pulling at her hair, silently cursing at the jerk who was playing metal music somewhere in the building. Her phone kept ringing and ringing, and now Spirit was getting text notifications, but she just wanted to ignore it until it stopped. She just wanted everything to stop!

The thing is, Spirit knew she had to get going soon. She had to stop at the bakery, and she needed to find her guitar picks. Not to mention she needed gas if she was gonna drive all the way to—

The pain seemed to triple as Spirit went through the list of tasks in her head. She groaned, pulling harder at her hair. It had been about a month since her last migraine. She felt dizzy and off balance, and her stomach was queasy and churning uncontrollably. And all because Spirit had made the stupid decision of calling her mom, despite having a strong feeling that they’d wind up in an argument no matter what. As usual.

The pounding continued to worsen. The dim lights in Spirit’s room seemed too bright. And saliva was pooling in Spirit’s mouth as the feeling of needing to puke worsened.

Then, suddenly, someone knocked at Spirit’s door. She lifted her head slowly and opened her eyes, wincing from the pain of just doing that. Everything looked like it was swaying, and tears blurred in the corners of her eyes. A few more knocks, and even though they were relatively soft, the sound of each one reverberated painfully in Spirit’s head, making her bite back a whimper.

It was probably just her neighbor at the door anyway, probably wanting to ask her for some spare cash or something, or to try and sell her drugs again. Spirit hated that girl.

More knocking, and Spirit closed her eyes and hid her face in her arms, one hand going back to tugging at her hair. Spirit wanted to yell at the person outside the door to go away, but all that came out was a whine that was barely audible.

“Hello? Spirit?” That was Oliver. The person outside Spirit’s door was Oliver. “You in there?”

Spirit heard the doorknob jiggle and open. She had been on the phone with her mom when she got home and was too frustrated to remember to lock it.

She heard the door open, she heard Oliver’s gasp, and she heard him place something on the floor. Then he shut the door again and shut off the lights in the room. He crouched in front of Spirit and placed his hand on the one she was tugging at her hair with, whispering, “Hey hey, stop that. You paid a lot to get these red highlights, so it’d be a shame if you ruined them.”

The humorous comment missed its target and Spirit didn’t chuckle or even look up. Oliver, who understood how to help with Spirit’s migraines and knew how bad they got, went over to Spirit’s mini fridge and grabbed a cold water bottle. He sat beside her and pushed her hair off her neck so he could press the cold bottle to her nape. She groaned at the contact, but knew that the discomfort would soon turn to relief.

“When did this hit?” Oliver whispered, holding the bottle with one hand and using his other to hold her hands to keep her from tugging at her hair anymore.

Her only response was an unhelpful whine.

Oliver just sat with her silently, occasionally running a hand through her hair. The silence stretched for a while, and then it was broken by a sob.

Oliver’s eyes widened with surprise when Spirit’s shoulders began to shake. She whimpered with each sob, and Oliver set the bottle aside with a sigh. “Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered, slowly and gently wrapping his arms around her. “You’re okay.”

She allowed herself to uncurl a bit so Oliver could pull her to him. When he saw her face, he saw the tears streaming down her cheeks and the pain all over her expression, both physical and emotional. He held her against his side, and she broke, the pain of her migraine and the stress of the day making her break down at this moment. She began to sob against his shoulder while he held her, whispering soothing words and petting her hair.

When a sob suddenly turned into a heave, Oliver was thankful that they were on the floor because he could grab her bin without moving. He held it under her mouth, and after a few more heaves, one of them proved productive and a dribble of puke came up.

“F-fuck,” Spirit mumbled with tears still actively falling down her face. She gagged, a larger stream came up, leaving her gasping between more heaves and soft sobs.

Oliver continued to hug her to his side and comfort her until she was entirely empty. He set the bucket aside, and was about to ask her something when her phone began ringing and Spirit cursed.

“Oh my God, just stop,” Spirit whined, tilting her head back against the wall with her eyes squeezed shut.

With a frown, Oliver reached to her bed to grab her phone so he could shut it off, only to scoff with understanding when he saw the word ‘Mom’ on the screen. He hung up without answering, and then saw that among the unanswered texts he sent—he had to refrain from chuckling at his name on Spirit’s phone—there were voicemails and missed calls and angry messages from Spirit’s mom.

“She said she’d actually come this time,” Spirit said when Oliver scrolled through the many notifications.

“What?” he asked, wondering if he heard her wrong.

Spirit was wiping tears from her eyes, still squinting in pain from the migraine. “A few weeks ago. She promised she’d be in town, and said she’d go with me to celebrate his birthday. When I called to ask when she wanted to meet up, she said she’s at a luxury resort in Alaska. Apparently, enjoying a spa and seeing the Northern Lights is more important than my dead dad’s birthday. She literally said that it’s absurd that I’m not over him yet, and she wanted to enjoy herself than have to deal with my ‘gloomy vibe’,” she said with finger quotes. Then her face suddenly twisted and she looked like she was fighting back a new round of fresh tears. She cursed and clutched her head in her hands, her fingers once again tugging at her hair as the pain worsened.

Oliver quickly cleared all the notifications before crouching in front of her again. “Your mom’s a total bitch, and I know your head hurts, but you should still get to celebrate if you want to. I’ll spend his birthday with you, if you want. Or I could call Birdie?”

It was out of character for Oliver to just call someone a bitch, and Spirit chuckled a bit. She was silent for a second before her face softened and she smiled gratefully. “Thank you. It’d be nice if you stayed,” she said. But then she frowned again. “I can’t go to the spot like this, though. My head hurts too much. I’d throw up in the car.” She looked like she might cry again. “Fuck. . . I-I don’t think I could even manage to play the song. I’m too dizzy.”

This was an important day for her, Oliver knew. Every year, in the afternoon on this day, she’d drive to a spot in the mountains that her dad used to take her to as a kid, and she’d play his favorite song there with a slice of birthday cake. It was the day she honored her father. And Oliver knew she was right, there was no way she could leave in the condition she was in.

Spirit curled up again, knees to her chest and crying softly. It was so unusual for Spirit to cry, which told Oliver just how horrible she was feeling. Plus, he could tell that the strong emotions were just making her migraine worse.

He sighed. “Here, let me help you up. You should be lying down, Spirit.”

Spirit, while still crying, allowed Oliver to pull her up and she sat on her bed, lying down and curling up there while Oliver pulled out his phone.

Spirit suddenly froze when the first few fun chords of ‘Chicken Fried’ by the Zac Brown Band began to play. She looked at Oliver, who smiled down at her. “This is the song, right?” he asked. “I’ve only heard you play it twice, so I’m not sure.”

Slowly, Spirit nodded. Then, she slowly smiled a little bit. “Thank you, Oliver,” she whispered, her voice shot from crying.

“You’re welcome.”

Despite the funny name, the song was a really good country song. Spirit’s dad played it for her when she was little, and it was the first song she ever learned to play. Oliver left his phone with Spirit while he went to find some meds. He found her ibuprofen and brought it to her with the discarded water bottle.

She took the meds without arguing, too focused on the song to do so, and thanked Oliver again. Then she laid back down with her eyes closed while continuing to listen to the song.

By the time the song ended, Spirit was half-asleep. She opened her eyes slightly and saw Oliver in her bathroom, wringing out a handcloth in her sink. He came back over to her and wrapped the cold cloth around her neck, helping to soothe the remaining pain in her head.

She sighed, pressing half of her face to her pillow.

But then, Oliver was aware that he hadn’t silenced Spirit’s phone, because it began to ring again, and Spirit wanted to scream, her face twisting with pain and annoyance. Oliver was about to decline the call when Spirit sat up and said, “Lemme talk with her.”

Oliver frowned, brows creasing. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Spirit. Maybe you should talk to her tomorrow if anything.”

Spirit shook her head, holding her hand out. Reluctantly, Oliver handed the phone to her.

Spirit answered, holding the phone to her ear. “Why can’t you leave me alone, mom?” she asked, calmly and softly.

There was yelling so loud that even Oliver heard it. Spirit winced and held the phone away from her ear a bit, massaging her temple with one hand.

Back and forth, Oliver listened to Spirit calmly try and tell her to leave her alone, and he heard the woman yelling and heard words like ‘failure’ and ‘ungrateful’ and ‘overly-sensitive’. Spirit wound up once again just hanging up, cutting the woman off, and she shut off the phone completely so she couldn’t get any more calls. Then her eyes brimmed with tears. “Oliver—?”

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” he said, sitting beside her on the bed and hugging her. He didn’t feel the rise and fall of her chest, and she wasn’t making a sound, and when Oliver pulled away, he saw she was staring straight ahead at nothing and wasn’t breathing. Her whole body was tense, and she was cold to the touch.

Oliver hugged her tightly, rubbing her back and coaxing her to breathe since she forgot how to in her silent panic. She took one difficult breath, and then she choked on the second one.

“Breathe,” Oliver coached, speaking quietly. Spirit was a strong person, but she got so powerless and down whenever it came to her mother. “Everything’s alright. Your mom is a jerk, and she is in the wrong for everything she’s done to you. Just breathe, please. You need to take a breath. You’re alright.”

Spirit eventually hugged him back once she was breathing again and crying normally. Like her migraines, Oliver was also very used to her silent panic attacks. Almost as much as Birdie was.

“You okay?” Oliver asked when Spirit finally pulled away.

She nodded, sniffing. She’d gone three shades paler than normal, and Oliver knew that her head must’ve been killing her by now.

“You need to sleep,” he stated, gently pushing her back to get her to lay down.

She did, immediately closing her eyes. She squeezed them tightly, as if the room was illuminated. It was very dark, actually.

Oliver stroked hair away from her face while waiting for her breathing to even out. She was nearly asleep when she quietly whispered a sentence under her breath.

“Hmm?”

She didn’t repeat herself, but Oliver had a feeling that what she had said was one last “Thank you, Oliver.”

He smiled at this girl who was the closest person he had to a sister and whispered back, “Your dad was lucky to have a daughter like you.”

#I just finished this at 12:08AM😭#Making myself cry at midnight might not be healthy :')#thebrilliantidiots #spirit #migraine #oliver #ask game!!!#This fic took me so long to write🥲🥲🥲!!!!!!!#Oliver gives magic hugs. I don't make the rules. That's just a fact.

8 notes · View notes

katblu42 · 11 months

Text

Today is a horrible day.

Just gonna have a little rant below the cut.

I have stuff I need to do today. I have a whole weekend off from work and there are also things I want to do today.

But, no. Can't.

On top of some kind of mystery illness (that I've been seeing a doctor about, and getting tests done) that makes me feel . . . digestive discomfort (not quite nauseous, but very uncomfortable), I have my period - which also causes nausea.

It also gives me headaches.

And I woke up to a migraine aura in the middle of the night the night before last, and ended up coming home from work early yesterday because of the migraine fuzzies.

Went to bed early last night - post migraine sleepies - but woke up 11 or so hours later with horrific pain right above my right eyebrow and right temple which will not go away, even with the pain meds.

My gut is in some constant war between hungry and nauseous, so eating/drinking is . . . chancy at best.

Can't concentrate on anything for more than a few minutes.

Can't go back to bed - too noisy, too much pain.

So, mostly I'm just sitting on the couch going through waves of pain and tears and slight nausea and wishing it could all just be over so I can get something done!

19 notes · View notes

smolgloves · 2 years

Text

Engulfed

"Are you okay?"

The booming voice above Stella caused the sharp pain in her head to throb with intensity. She looked up to see Clair's gaze had fallen onto her, concern had filled her blue eyes. The past few days, Stella had been getting migraines; normally, she was able to power through the day without anyone else noticing, but today was just too much to deal with. Whether it was Jason clanging pots around as he cooked dinner, or James and Charlie getting too excited about how their day in school went, or the chair scraping at the floor as everyone came for dinner. There was nothing Stella could do to hide herself from cringing at each sound that decided to instigate her migraines.

"I'm… fine." She squeaked, but Clair pursed her lips and raised a brow. It was a look that Stella had seen her do a thousand times on her sons when they tried to fib their way out of trouble, now the motherly expression was being pressed down upon Stella. Her eyes shifted away from Clair but it was too late, the guilt was already setting in and Stella could not stay tight lipped for much longer. "I think I'm getting a migraine."

The realization immediately clicked in as Clair glanced around the kitchen and living room to hear dishes being washed and the boys cheering on as they progressed through their video games. Suddenly, the environment looked a lot more chaotic for a human with a migraine. A gentle hand inched towards Stella and laid flat on the table, Clair gave a soft smile. "Let's get you out of here."

Stella crawled onto Clair's palm and buried her face into her arm to block the light from her eyes. Fingers curled around her small body and engulfed the human in a warm darkness that muffled out the racket of the world. Each step was soft and made Stella sway like she was on a boat in gentle waters. The moment didn't last long as Clair's fingers uncurled around her and deposited her on a plush surface. The tiny woman sat up to view her new surroundings, she was resting on a pillow that sat on Clair and Jason's bed. The noises felt distant as the door to their room was shut, although it still was loud enough to continue the dull pain in Stella's head.

Clair grabbed a bottle of pills that was on the nightstand. The sound of them clattering inside the container caused Stella to grimace. "Sorry." Clair whispered as she fished out a pill out as quietly as she could. Breaking off a small piece that would be suitable for a human, then she grabbed the half empty water bottle from the same nightstand and opened it to use the bottle cap as a make-shift cup for Stella. Once she had the supplies together, she offered it to her tiny friend and let her take her medicine.

"Thanks." The human breathed out.

"Of course." Clair whispered. "You're always welcome to ask for help from us."

"I know," Stella wrapped her arms around herself. "It's just… still not easy to do that."

"I get it," Clair brought a fingertip out and stroked the tiny woman's arm. "Just know that you're a part of our family now, and you're not going to burden us by asking for some Advil."

Stella smiled as she leaned into the touch, and she began to relax enough to sink back down into the pillow. Clair withdrew her hand and began to shuffle away from the bed to give Stella some time to rest.

"W…wait." Stella chirped up just before Clair could reach for the doorknob. "Can I… ask you a favor?"

"Of course."

"Could you… maybe stay and keep your hand over me again? Just until my migraine goes away." Stella stammered as she shifted her eyes away from Clair's gaze. "I think being engulfed in a hand kind of… soothes my headache."

"Absolutely." A smile reached up to Clair as she strolled back to the bed to lay down on the open spot beside Stella. Her hand snaked its way up to the girl who was curled up on the pillow and covered her like a blanket. "I'll stay here as long as you want."

A sigh escaped Stella's lips as the world around her grew dark and the chaotic world outside sounded like it was miles away from the small woman. No longer could it agitate the migraine that was already fading away from Stella, along with her consciousness.

47 notes · View notes

cryptidsurveys · 27 days

Text

Thursday, August 29th, 2024.

Will you answer these questions as personally as you can? Yeah, sure, I'll give it a shot.

Why are you happy? I have so many reasons to be happy. All the way from the "big stuff" like having a safe place to live, enough food to eat and clean water to drink, people who love me, a job that gives me a sense of passion and purpose, etc; to things like the fact that it's cloudy today, I'm eating a yummy breakfast as I take this, I don't have a migraine, autumn is soon approaching, and so on and so forth. Sometimes I lose sight of the good because I'm too focused on things that are going wrong or stressing me out, but I try to routinely remind myself of everything that's going right or that does make me happy.

Who’s the last person you hugged? Nan. I mentioned her in a recent survey. She's a volunteer at the shelter who does heaps of our dirty laundry. I don't know where we would be without her…probably suffocating beneath a mountain of stinky blankets and towels. Anyway, I went out to greet her the other day and she was like, "You're always smiling!" and gave me a hug. :')

Would you pay someone to kill the person who hurt you a lot? I would never do something like that. I wouldn't even wish death on any of the people who have hurt me. However, if there was some magical way to guarantee that I would never encounter those people again…I might take it.

Do you like the song ‘Sick Little Games’ by All Time Low? I've never heard it before; lemme go take a listen… It's alright, but it probably wouldn't make it onto my nonexistent playlist.

Last night you felt? Grateful for the day. I went to the Mountain Park with my dad and it was such a relaxing and nostalgic time. You know when the weather has a certain quality to it and it brings up all kinds of memories? Well, it was like that. I was also relieved that I didn't have to go to the shelter the following morning. My last few "weekends" were busy and exhausting and I spent the last one with an on/off headache, so it's just been nice to have two full days of chillin' and feelin' good.

How are you feeling right now? Tired but relaxed. Introspective. Twinges of dread/nervousness about tomorrow, but for no real reason (everything should be fine). Loving this cool and cloudy weather with its promise of fall.

Are you drifting away from someone you were close with? No.

Is there someone you’d like to fix things with? Yeah.

Have you ever liked someone that treated you like crap? Ehhh.

What are you listening to? Esther purring. She's curled up behind me on the computer chair.

Have you ever stayed in a hotel? Plenty of times.

What is in your pocket? My pockets are empty.

Have a best friend? I do.

Does it bother you when your best friend does stuff without you? My best friend lives in California, so they're always doing things without me.

Do you keep any secrets from your best friend? They know most of my biggest secrets.

What were you doing 60 minutes ago? I had just arrived home from grocery shopping, made myself breakfast, and started browsing for a survey to take.

Is there a secret you’ve never told your parents? My dad knows pretty much everything. There are a lot of things I haven't told my mom and probably never will.

What’s something that can always make you feel better? Aside from partaking in my favorite hobbies and doing things I enjoy, it's usually time that does the trick.

What do you want right now? Ugh. I just realized that one of my kitties might have another UTI. She gets them occasionally, so she's going to have to go to the vet later. :'(

What would you name your future son? I don't want children.

If you had to eat 1 thing for the rest of your life, what would it be? Oatmeal.

How’s your life lately? Busy.

Last person to send you a text? My dad. I texted him on Tuesday to let him know I was on my way home from the shelter and he sent me a brief reply.

What were you doing at 8:00 this morning? Eating breakfast while taking this survey.

Did you have a good birthday this year? Yeah. It was snowy, I spent the morning at the shelter, then went out to lunch with my parents.

Have you done anything embarrassing lately? I'm embarrassed by it, but was it actually embarrassing…? Idk. When I see other people get upset or vent about Diane, I don't think, "Oh my God, how embarrassing." I'm more like, "FVCKING SAMEEE!!!" Talking to Iris (manager) about it was excruciatingly awkward, but it's probably all in my head. As a manager, she's probably used to dealing with issues like that.

Do you trust easily? No. But like I've been saying - I don't know how much of that is a "me thing" versus the fact that I spend a lot of time around people I find to be untrustworthy. Maybe I would open up a lot more in a different environment.

Do you like cookies n’ cream ice cream? Yeah.

How often do you raise your hand in class and answer a question? I'm not in school anymore, but in the past, almost never.

Ever been mistaken for someone else, and took it as an insult? No.

Would you get a mega bag of skittles, or three regular ones? I'm not a big fan of Skittles.

What color shirt are you wearing? I've got on a black t-shirt, a sort of slate gray/blue long-sleeve shirt, and a pine green sweater.

Is there a boy that would do absolutely everything for you? Not in a romantic sense, but my dad is always there for me.

Did you ever think you had the Swine flu? Possibly.

Who was the last person to smoke a cigarette in your presence? I smoke, but aside from myself, I'm not sure.

Who was the last person you talked to before you went to bed last night? My dad.

Are you a mean person? No. I can be mean (selfish, thoughtless, etc), but I don't think I exhibit those qualities to the extent that I would be considered a "mean person."

Does anyone hate you? Idk.

Do you usually tell people when you’re mad at them? I really only feel comfortable expressing anger with my dad and my therapist. When it comes to other people, I tend to stuff it down until I inevitably explode - which was what happened with the Diane situation. It probably took everyone by surprise, including me! It's not like I woke up that day planning to go all scorched earth.

This time last year, can you remember who you liked? No one.

Will this weekend be a good one? I hope so.

Have you ever liked someone older than you? Yeah.

Are you mad at someone right now? Ehhh.

#survey #surveys #personal survey #random survey #survey blog

2 notes · View notes

theglowstickchronicles · 11 months

Text

Long whiny personal update under the cut

Up early cause I picked up call today cause I need the moneys. I haven’t been the best tumblr friend lately, going a week or two between posting and not responding to anyone else’s posts. It’s been a really difficult autumn so far. If it makes y’all feel better I’ve also been a shitty friend IRL too.

Back in mid-September I got a regular old headache on a day off, took an Excedrin and sumatriptan that didn’t help but didn’t think much of it. Went to work the next day and it got progressively worse until I was cold sweating, nauseous, shaking, and having trouble seeing. My manager and both assistant managers were on of course and bullied me into going to the ED. Was there for about 8 hours getting CT scan, MRI, blood work, migraine cocktail, and neuro consult. Ended up being put back on my old dose of diamox and a 3-day course of prednisone with an emergent visit to my neuro-ophthalmologist the following week (since this was a Friday night).

She doubled my dose of diamox and started me on topiramate. We staggered this to try and suss out side effects and y’all…. Jesus Christ.

Without any attempt at eating better/dieting and absolutely 0 exercising (I actually had to cancel my hiking trip to the White Mountains / my first of the NE67, super sad) I’ve lost 15 lbs since Sept. 20. My days off are spent mostly laying in bed, although I picked up 4 hours of OT at work the other week and finally got a TV for my living room so now days off can also be spent on the couch. I didn’t decorate for Halloween. I haven’t mowed my lawn in a month (although to be fair it’s been super rainy on like every single day off, thanks New England). Haven’t picked my pumpkins from the garden yet! My house has been absolutely disgusting with bare minimum amounts of cleaning because I’m so tired and feel so shitty, although I just spent the last two days really working on it because I’m hoping to get my basement finally redone in the next few weeks.

Also started going to therapy cause like…this is not how I want to be living my life and sometimes I wake up and wish I hadn’t? And also like I stepped on Duncan’s foot the other day by accident and had a complete MELTDOWN about it. Like he’s fine and I still feel guilty and teary about it. Also. Like. I had a 5 year plan to start trying for kids soon cause I’m getting old and now I’m SOL???

Anyway. My therapist wants me to journal more and I HATE it but I’m gonna start tumblr-ing more and see if that helps. Will not be telling her that lol.

Thanks for dealing with me.

#personal

14 notes · View notes

pbandjesse · 2 months

Text

I am just crying a little bit laying here. I have what I think is a migraine. James pulled out my prism glasses to try and help because I deteriorated so quickly. Nausea, headache, dizzy. It's horrible. I felt mostly fine all day! It's incredibly frustrating and honestly I just want to go to sleep. So I am going to try and finish this up quick.

Today was kind of hard. I slept okay, falling asleep really quickly last night. I had fun yesterday and went to sleep happy. I did have some intense dreams but I was doing alright. Even if getting up was very tough.

James would help me gather myself. I wasn't super nauseous but I was not thrilled about going to camp. I was just feeling like I was very very fragile. I tried to remain positive. James made me lemonade and sent me off into the world.

I got to camp at 8 and had to clean up all the clay sculptures from last week. I put them all in one box in case people want to come back for them. And Jorge would so I was glad I didn't toss them.

I would spend some time setting up the project. Finding objects that the kids could cast and stuff. I was annoyed I couldn't find more small creatures so I would go to the office to look through the attic.

The day itself was tough. The project wasn't working as good as I was hoping. I did the plaster casting two ways. With overnight I would have them press objects into clay. And with day camp we did plastic bag casts. The ones in the morning had more trouble drying and I have a better idea of water to plaster to get things to set. But the morning groups would have to come back for their pieces. And the boys always struggle with that. But fingers crossed they come back.

The kids though were rough. Every group today had one or two kids who were just really struggling with rules and community and it was very frustrating. And it's like things that are bigger then just not listening. Like one kid was dropped off at 10pm last night??? Excuse me?? Crazy behavior on the part of the guardian. And then another kid keeps leaving the cabin and running away and screaming at his counselor. Like that sucks? Don't do that. Everyone just seems really stressed out this week.

At lunch I just enjoyed hanging in my hammock. Eating barely happened but it was fine. I would try and eat just a little but everything makes me feel sick.

James would promise to take me to Mathews for pizza later so I just focused on that as a goal.

The afternoon was fine but I was very tired and struggling with the heat. Thankfully it's going to cool down throughout the week, if the weather app is to be believed, but today was rough. I was dusty from the plaster and hot and sweaty and I could not wait to take a shower.

My last group of the day was bontkirchen and they were mainly good but there was one little girl who just was trying to get everyone's attention by telling outrageous stories and screaming and calling herself names and like. I understood her but also girl. Everyone else is being calm please calm down.

I was starting to fall apart though and was glad when they were cleaning up and heading out. I had been making a bracelet and teaching a few girls how to make a look bracelet and it was nice but I was just done.

I drove home (after stopping at the office to get my package. My new garden bed was delivered!) and it was a tough drive. I slowly started becoming nauseous and in pain and was almost crying out loud at points I was so uncomfortable. It was not fun. I don't know if it was the motion from the car or what but it was horrible.

I got home right after 4. James was still waiting for the guy who was coming to measure our backdoor. They would hug me encouraged me to take care of myself.

So I went and took a shower. And it helped a bit. And then I laid down for 20 minutes. James came in when the door guy was done and would lay with me for a bit. But soon we were off for dinner.

And it was a good dinner. We had some serious talks about how bad I am feeling and ways they can support me. The food was good. I had to breathe through nausea again half way through dinner. But the pizza was great.

It was honestly to great. And for the next hour I just kept thinking about it. To the point I started crying?? And James went and got us a second pizza. That I could barely eat because I became so nauseous again. And I feel very stupid about it and I know I am being very irrational right now but man am I trying to keep it together. I am failing but I am trying.

We went to ace to get another fly trap. I pet the shop cat who is so cute and chunky. And then we went to the grocery store to get a few things. I was really happy to go home.

When we got back here I would end up wildly nauseated again. To the point of tears. And James would search for my glasses and I think it's helping a little but I mainly just want to close my eyes. So that is what I'm going to do.

I truly truly hope to tomorrow is better and I don't fall apart at the end. I love you all dearly. And I hope you are all okay out there. Send me good thoughts. Until tomorrow!!

2 notes · View notes

justinewt · 9 months

Text

Keep the Peace - THE 100 REWRITE Chapter Twenty-One

[THE 100 MASTERLIST]

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Summary: Michelle had to rest after the head trauma she suffered when she and Bellamy tried to rescue Clarke after risking both of their lives. She would be fine but there was something brewing ever since Pike joined the people of the Ark in Camp Jaha. And after an explotion occured at Mount Weather, to whom Bellamy’s loyalty belonged was put in question.

Words: 5.9k

Warnings: The 100 season 3 spoilers (mention of events from episode 3 “Ye Who Enter Here”; episode 4 “Watch the Thrones”), mention of wounds/concussion, dried blood, guns, pike is racist

The whole trip back to Arkadia had been a pain for Michelle. The swirls of the car on the forest roads made her even sicker and sicker than she already was due to the acute vertigo and migraine from the head trauma. At one point they had to stop the car because she was moaning so much. She had gotten so nauseous that the moment Kane opened the door, and she stuck her head out, she threw up but again, it was only bile and it felt like fire went through her throat. He gave her several sips of water from a canteen as they continued the road and she lay down, resting her head on Kane's leg. Driving in Arkadia, He carefully hoped out the rover and was met by Abby on his way to the infirmary of the camp where he went straight to put his daughter on the nearest bed available. The car ride really took a toll on her, and she was unable to respond to Abby as she examined her but the state in which she was in gave the doctor and Chancellor enough information on how bad the injury might be, though she later determined it was only a mild concussion, which was already enough to make her sick for days. She told Kane to stand aside as Jackson joined to assist her. They slowly sit her up and Jackson placed his hand on both side of her temples to stabilize her head and keep it aligned with her spine and prevent movement while Abby firmly pressed a clean cloth on the wound. It had stopped bleeding by now, meaning it had already started to coagulate, which was good news but it still required to be cleaned and bandaged and so she did. She then covered the wound with a piece of gauze and wrapped her head before resting her on the pillow. Without even flinching, Michelle swallowed the medicine which was put on her tongue and eventually fell asleep, the last image before she closed her eyes was of her father sitting beside the bed, running his hand worriedly over his beard.

The next 48 hours, Abby came in to check on her every hour or so, but Jackson stayed in the infirmary to always have an eye on her, cleaning her head injury about three times a day and changing the bandage. The pain killers she got every now and then helped her not to be in so much pain and really calmed down the migraine. She didn’t have to stay in bed all day but because every time she tried to stand up and take a few steps, she was seized with dizziness which forced her to sit down again so it really narrowed down the options of what she was able to do. Like Abby told her, after a whole week most of the symptoms should have resolved on their own and it did, except for the migraine which came back every now and then especially when triggered by loud noises or vertigo if she moved her head too suddenly but thanks to supplies taken from Mount Weather, she was able to get pain killers when it was too much to bear.

“It’s been a week. How are you feeling today?” Abby came into the infirmary and walked up to her, pulling a chair next to Michelle’s bed. She got up to sit in her bed, placing her pillow behind her back for support. She didn’t have her head bandaged anymore since the wound had scabbed for a few days already.

“Just a headache when I woke up, but Jackson gave me painkillers. Now it’s fine.” The Chancellor turned her head towards her and held a small flashlight to her eyes to check her reaction and sensitivity to bright light. Michelle barely squinted her eyes. She then had her lean her head forward to clean the scab that formed over her head wound. It was mostly healed by now, but she still had to be careful so that it didn’t start bleeding again if she scratched it off. Abby got her to stand up and walk around a bit. No vertigo to report. This was a good sign that things were going the right way. She sat back down on her bed and Kane arrived at the same moment that she started asking about the Summit they were supposed to attend at Polis City with the 12 other clans and the Commander.

“You’re not coming.” He straight up said, his arms crossed.

“Didn’t expect you would let me anyway.”

“I sent Bellamy to Mount Weather, so he’s not coming either. But you, will stay in Arkadia, and you will not leave campgrounds. What you did the other week was stupid and reckless. I had asked you to be careful and you left with him without telling anyone. You both could have been killed.”

“I am sorry, okay?” She apologized, frowning. Now that she was better, his worry was overpowered by his need to scold her and act like the parent he should have been in her life and no matter how much she deserved it, she didn’t like to be addressed like a child. It was her decision to go with Bellamy and it was to look for Clarke, so she wasn’t actually that sorry, though she understood the stupidity of it. That was that kind of interaction that harmed her relationship with her mother, prior to her getting sent to solitary confinement for an entire year. Michelle stood up after taking an antibiotic and painkiller and Abby stopped her before she walked out. She still wasn’t allowed to take part in any activity that required effort and be careful not to touch her injury so it wouldn't bleed again. Even though in the past few days, she had had to stay within the walls of the infirmary for obvious reasons, she felt like she had been grounded ever since her return to Arkadia, a camp she still couldn't call home.

Michelle had taken care of doing what she could, chores here and there to help out among little trips to the infirmary when she got dizzy but knowing on the one hand her dad and Abby in Polis and her friends in Mount Weather were enough to keep her mind busy for the day. In the evening, she wandered around the camp, taking deep breaths of the fresh air. The weather was good, and the mood was calm and relaxing until the sound of an explosion in the distance disrupted everything. Given where the sound came from, it didn't take her more than a couple seconds to realize that it had occurred in Mount Weather, where she knew her, friends were, which immediately worried her. She watched the smoke rise above the treetops with wide eyes. Unable to go to bed, she stood pacing near the station entrance, watching for the camp gate until she saw a car drive in in the middle of the night and she ran to the hangar. Her father, Abby, Bellamy, and the others came out. She tried going up to Bellamy, but he walked past her and left. He seemed out of it.

“Dad, what-- what happened? What was the explosion earlier? Where are the others? Is Bellamy okay? What—" She was so confused and worried she couldn’t stop asking questions. He grabbed her shoulders.

“The Ice Nation blew up Mount Weather. Gina died in the attack.” It was the only piece of information she needed. She rushed to catch up with Bellamy who was walking down a hallway towards his bedroom. It was late and a lot had happened, so she understood he probably needed to be alone right now, but she had to check on him. He didn't even turn when he heard hurried footsteps coming from behind him, until she called his name. Then he stopped and looked at her before avoiding her gaze. She could see the neon light above them reflect the tears that made his eyes glisten.

“Bellamy, I’m sorry.” He knew what she was apologizing for and just looked down. She had never been close friends with Gina, because she was the girlfriend he got after they had gotten close and she pushed him away, but she would never have wished something like this to happen to her. She was a nice person who didn’t deserve to die. For some reason, Michelle drew Bellamy into a hug, and he wrapped his arms around her after a second. Acting tough wasn’t everything, he needed to be comforted too. They spent the night sitting on the floor next to each other in his room, not really talking or saying anything, just keeping each other company so neither of them would be alone. She saw him let his guards down and be vulnerable in front of her. The events at Mount Weather had really taken a toll on him and she had never seen him so bummed about something before, only when Clarke had left them. After a while, they fell asleep, their heads resting on the bed behind them, their foreheads pressing against each other. This was the kind of intimate moment that they hadn’t shared in forever and Michelle realized how much she had missed it. She was quite unsettled by the resurgence of her feelings for Bellamy, not knowing what to do about it since the death of his girlfriend had just happened and she would hate herself if she tried getting with him just yet. She would deal with all this later, right now she just wanted to be there.

Shortly after the sun finally rose outside, the rays entered the room and illuminated Michelle's face. She placed her hand over her eyes and rolled onto her back, when she realized that she was lying on the bed. At first without straightening up she raised her head and looked around in confusion and finally sat up seeing Bellamy standing near the table. He looked away, looking preoccupied. She was already over the fact that he woke up first and carried her on the bed, which somehow warmed her heart and wasn’t surprised by the expression on his face as he observed his Ark guard’s jacket hanging from the coat rack on the wall, near the door. He was as silent as last night, and it took her a minute to understand what was going on in his head. Because of what happened, he wanted to resign.

“Whatever happened… it wasn’t your fault, Bellamy.” She finally broke the silence. Hearing his name spoken outloud, he turned his head to her, looking back at her. It was clear that he disagreed with what she said, but it was true, what happened to Gina was beyond his control. She was at the wrong place, at the wrong time.

“I could’ve done something. I should’ve stayed.”

“Stayed where? At Mount Weather? But weren’t you there when it blew up?” She tried to ask a couple questions, to get him to tell her what actually happened because all she knew was that Mount Weather blew up and Gina died, but she didn’t know the details. Her questions remained unanswered as he grabbed his jacket and walked out of the room. Michelle jumped out of bed and followed suit. He wasn’t any more talkative in the corridors. She kept asking him where he was going and suddenly step in front of him to stop him in his tracks, grabbing his arms. Quickly, he finally loosened his tongue and told her the whole story. How a Grounder he was locked up with came back and told them about a trap at the Summit and that he then decided to leave with the others, leaving Gina behind at Mount Weather, where she was murdered before the whole facility exploded. There was a second of silence and she let her hands slide off his arms, nodding. Repeating that he didn’t need to blame himself for this was pointless, as he truly believed it was his fault.

A man guarded the entrance. Inside, Kane and Abby were in a private meeting, probably assessing their next move regarding what happened. The door eventually opened, and the two young adults found themselves facing Pike who looked at them before leaving. They stepped in the room, watching Abby walk to the opposite side while Kane was leaning on the table, thinking.

“Sir?” Bellamy quietly called out to Kane. The latter straightened up on his stool and glanced at them, joining his hands in front of him. It took him a couple glances to notice his daughter standing next to him. She could tell he was wondering what they were doing together.

“Why aren’t you at your post?” He asked in a low voice, with a sigh. Bellamy put his jacket on the table and pushed it further away. “Don’t do this.”

“Forty-nine of the people I swore to protect died yesterday because I left them.”

“That’s not your fault, Bellamy.” Kane turned to face him. “Place the blame where it belongs. On the Ice Nation.”

“The Ice Nation didn’t tell Gina to stay there.” He paused, taking a shaky breath. “That was me.”

“Given the information you had at the time, you made a reasonable choice.” Kane stood up, placing a hand that was meant to be comforting on his shoulder. From the side, Michelle could see the pain and guilt that made his eyes shine in the faint glow of the light. “You were trying to save lives.”

“But I didn’t.” He looked away with a heavy sigh, his eyes getting watery as he tried to fight tears. He didn’t say anything else, maybe if he knew that if he did, he would have started crying, and instead just turned around and left. Michelle went to grab his arm as he walked past her, but she stopped herself and crossed her arms. She sighed, closing her eyes.

“All that’s certain is that we die. How we die is up to us.” Pike declared, standing before them as they all sat on chairs set in rows in the hangar. On Pike’s left side, Abby and Kane were sat together. They were all gathered here, attending a memorial for the ones that died in the explosition at Mount Weather. Michelle was next to Bellamy in the back row, sat straight back in her chair, fiddling with her fingers, eyes glued to her hands, her loose black hair falling in front of her face. She wasn’t good with feelings like sadness and grief and hated the heavy atmosphere that hung over them. It kept reminding her of the loss of her mother and she wanted to run away from it but there she was, stuck in this room and it would be disrespectful of her to just leave out of the blue. She wanted to be present, out of respect for the victims, but especially to show up for Bellamy, but she didn't feel able to look at the people around her. She didn't want to see the pain in their eyes. The former Earth skills teacher asked who wanted to speak for one of the girls that died in the attack and a man walked up to him after a moment of silence.

“Iris was strong. Good with a knife. She saved my life. I’m just sorry I couldn’t do the same for her.” He gave a sudden jerk with the knife in his hand to pull out the blade and put it down on a small piece of furniture nearby, before returning to his seat.

“We will miss Iris.” Pike resumed. “May we meet again.”

“May we meet again.” Everyone spoke in unison, with Michelle barely letting a whisper leave her lips. She hated that her grief made it all about her mother for her, and anything to do with loss and grief reminded her that she never had the chance to say goodbye to her mother and she never would. Neither would she ever see her again in this life. But it wasn’t what this memorial was about, and she refused to let herself cry over it while being surrounded by all those people. She never even told Bellamy about her feelings on this subject, despite pushing him to talk about what happened to his girlfriend.

“Who will speak for Gina Martin?” Michelle raised her head for the first time in the whole service and looked at Bellamy. He glanced at her and She risked giving him a small comforting smile and although he didn't return it before getting up, she knew he appreciated her support. Their relationship had been on and off those past few months, but they had never stopped being friends. He walked up to Pike, holding the book The Iliad in his hands. This time around, Michelle looked at him as he spoke, and he often met and held her gaze. Maybe he really felt her support, she didn’t know.

“Gina was real. She always saw the light, even here. She deserved better.” He went to put down the book when doors opened, and a bunch of Ark guards entered. Everyone straightened up in their chairs, looking at the soldiers and whispering to each other. Michelle noticed Pike talking to one of them, and she saw Lincoln alone. She followed Pike with her eyes as he walked to Kane and Abby. Seeing his lips moving as he leaned towards them slightly, she frowned. His voice began to rose.

“You gave a Grounder one of our radios?” Everyone in the audience stood up and the whispers became much louder.

“Sir, are we under attack?” Hannah enquired.

“No, we are not under attack.” Kane declared. “Their commander sent a peacekeeping force. To ensure that we can defend against any further attacks from the Ice Nation.”

“Peacekeeping force?” Pike was clearly not having it. “Even you can’t be that naïve, Marcus.”

“Watch your tone. You’re talking to the next Chancellor.” Abby chimed in, before addressing the crowd. “We’re all grieving. This has been hard on all of us. But we can’t let anger drive our policy.”

“Anger is our policy.” Michelle frowned even more at his aggressive response. His hatred for Grounders made him so biased and he really thought he was in the right. He rose his voice louder and talked to the people of the Ark present here. “If they’re here to defend us, as you say, then tell them to go home. We can defend ourselves!”

“Yeah!” Some of them began agreeing with Pike. Michelle looked around and exited the crowd through the left side to go to his father and Abby when a man dressed in the clothes of an Ark guard pointed at Lincoln in the back.

“You. You don’t belong here.”

“He’s one of them.” Said another man.

“My boy is dead!” A dude yelled and a stone was thrown at Lincoln, hitting him in the head with a thud. He groaned at the blow, and it quickly turned to chaos with some people trying to come at the grounder and others pushing them off. Bellamy ran through the mob to keep people from getting close to Lincoln. Kane ordered to arrest them and separated one of the many fights happenings when Pike let out a shrill whistle and things finally went to a halt.

“We do not attack our own!” He pressed each one of his words. “Fighting each other only makes us weak. The enemy is not in this camp. The enemy is out there.”

Michelle hated how everyone started listening to Pike suddenly, just because he was loud and strong with his words. She could tell he was going to cause troubles for all of them, especially those who weren’t pitting themselves up against the Grounders, like herself or her father. She looked at the people in the room and her eyes set on Bellamy and she wondered if that man would manage to get in his head, one way or another. It made her grind her teeth to think of Bellamy siding with Pike but when later that day, she saw the two men having a drink. She was sitting at a table in the corner of the room, having a drink on her own since without Clarke or even Murphy, well if she wasn’t hanging out with Bellamy, she really had no other friends. And Monty was nowhere to be seen anyway so she didn’t bother to look for him much. She couldn’t hear their conversation from where she was, but she watched them from the corner of her eyes. She noticed Monty’s mother at a table next to Pike and Bellamy’s and the woman was discreetly looking at them too, but Michelle wasn’t too sure if the latter wanted Pike to get the young man on their side. She didn’t know her too well, so she had no idea what was going on in her head. But to be safe, she preferred to assume the worst and to think that all the people from the Farm station were with Pike, and against her dad, and by association, against her.

When she saw Bellamy look around and the people from Farm Station that were there all gave him a glance, a glance full of the hatred for Grounders that they witnessed earlier, she understood that her assumption was in fact right. Sometimes being safe is being right and in that case she was. She didn’t like what was brewing. For some reason, and she wasn’t even a Grounder, so she wasn’t the group’s main target, but she started feeling unsafe and quite uncomfortable at that. She wished she could hear what they were saying so she could report it to Kane and Abby, but she at least knew that they were preparing something and trying to get Bellamy in on it with them, so that was already something, but she chose to wait a bit longer and see what more she could learn by just watching them from afar. The second she saw Bellamy give a nod to Pike, she knew whatever game they were all playing, it was over. For the Grounders at the very least, but also for anyone siding with them. She bitterly gulped down a last shot of alcohol and, grabbing her jacket lying on the seat next to her, she walked away as she put it back on. Not knowing where her dather would be as of now, her best guess was either the meeting room that she visited earlier with Bellamy or his own room, but she didn’t even remember where the latter was so she had to hope he and Abby would both be there. She had no idea where else they could be anyway.

After a dozen minutes just wandering around, she ran into Harper, and she grasped the chance. She wasn’t surprised at all to hear Michelle’s thoughts on the situation they had with Pike. It was already late, the sky was dark, and the two girls went to Lincoln and along with Zoe, they stood in the dark of the main gate, and it didn’t take very long for the group of wannabe vigilantes to come to them. When they noticed the four individuals, they stopped, and Bellamy walked up to them with a stern look on his face. He looked at all of them without moving his head, his eyes lingering for a little longer on Michelle. He was frowning.

“You need to step aside, right now.” He warned.

“What are the guns for?” Michelle asked after exchanging a glance with Harper. They knew very well what the guns were for, and Bellamy wasn’t so stupid either.

“There’s an army out there. And we need to hit them before they hit us.” As they spoke, Pike and the others slowly advanced towards them.

“That army was sent to protect us.” Lincoln said.

“Do we have a problem?” Pike asked this in such a way it sounded way more like a threat than a question.

“No.”

“I have always done what is best for us. I need you to trust that I am doing that now.” He glanced at Zoe in the back, and she subtly nodded before stepping away. Michelle frowned, taking a step towards him. Bellamy then looked at Harper and as if she understood his motivation, she nodded and apologized to Lincoln before leaving in turn. There was only Michelle left by his side, and she wasn’t about to walk away as well. She chewed nervously on the inside of her cheek, and she looked at Bellamy, trying to knock some sense into him before it was too late, even though she knew damn well that it was in fact too late. He would stand his grounds and side with Pike still, and he would realize only too late how far he went because he believed in the wrong person. Pike was loud and aggressive but that didn’t make him any less of a snake. Now she knew why she disliked him so much as a teacher on the Ark. He was never a good or a nice man.

“Bellamy.” Her tone of voice was soft. She was trying to do something pointless, but she still tried. And if she wasn’t on Pike’s bad side already, she would be now. “You’re not thinking this through. You can’t let Pike get in your head like this with all his Grounder hatred bullshit, come on. They’re not out there to kill us.”

“I am thinking this through, Michelle.” He came closer to her, and his brows relaxed but not hers. He spoke with determination to convince her this was the right thing to do. “I’m doing this for all of us. We have to hit before they hit us. Trust me on this.”

She looked away for a second. She wanted to believe him but with Pike in the mix, she just couldn’t, and it was tearing her heart apart to have to doubt Bellamy’s intentions but on this one, she couldn’t risk being on the wrong side. And she couldn’t be on the same side as Pike because it would always be the wrong one. She hated that Bellamy let himself be manipulated like this. She still believed there was a way to get him back on the right track, but she just couldn’t support him this time. She shook her head and looked back at him.

“You can’t just go out there to kill 300 people. They’re here to protect us.”

“They’re Grounders.”

“So were your fucking ancestors, Pike.” She spat vehemently, giving him a death stare.

“Watch your tone. You wouldn’t talk to your mother like this.”

“Don’t you talk about my mother.” She angrily rose her voice at Pike, suddenly walking towards him but she was stopped mid-way by Bellamy who grabbed her arms and moved her back in front of him. Pike obviously kept his composure and just looked at them. She hated how vicious he was, mentioning her mother like this, to try and get to her emotionally and he almost did get something out of her, but Bellamy prevented that. If she was alone, she would have bursted out in tears but her voice barely broke when she talked back to him.

“Let us pass.” Bellamy asked her, almost whispering. For a second, she got lost in his eyes, but this was nothing like the intimate and priviledged moments they had once shared. They were surrounded by Pike’s minions. She made a pout, shaking her head again as she pushed his hands away and stepped back next to Lincoln, staring at Bellamy. He seemed disappointed by her reaction, probably hoping she wouldn’t fight him, but he wasn’t Clarke, and the latter was the only one she would blindly follow.

“I can’t.” Bellamy let his arms hang at his sides and they held each other's gaze.

“Lincoln, you wanna prove you’re one of us, let us pass.” Pike spoke to the Grounder.

“I’m not moving.” One of Pike’s men suddenly aimed at him, urging him to get out of the way and Lincoln subtly pushed Michelle behind him as he grabbed the gun and made the man lose his balance, holding his knife up to the latter’s throat, backing away. Being behind him, Michelle was kind of stuck there, having to step back as well. The rest of Pike’s men brandished their guns. Bellamy told them to put the guns down and Pike encouraged them to listen to him.

“So much for the good Grounder.” Monty’s mother noted.

“Quiet, Hannah.” Michelle now stood aside, still not about to leave. “Whose people are you defending here, Lincoln?”

“Lincoln, put down the knife. No one has to get hurt here.” Bellamy added.

“I can’t let you start a war.”

“We’re already at war.”

“Not with the Grounders out there.” Michelle argued.

“They’re all Grounders.”

“This is so stupid… They’re not all Ice Nation. We’re not at war with them.”

“Neither of you can stop this.” She stared back at Bellamy, letting out a quiet but heavy sigh. Shaking her head in disbelief, not taking her eyes off him, she mouthed his name but not a sound came out of her lips, and she hated that she could see in his eyes that he wasn’t sorry for any of this. He truly thought he was doing the right thing here. The PA system in the camp went off and screeched for a second before a voice came on.

“All unstationed security personnel report at the main gate.” He repeated the message a couple of times as a buzzing sound sounded in the background. Octavia appeared in their sight and ran towards Lincoln.

“What’s wrong with you?” Bellamy closed his eyes and looked at his sister. A second later a bunch of Arkadia guards arrived with their guns. Michelle saw her father walking in their direction among the soldiers. She could’ve searched for him longer but when earlier she came across Harper, she didn’t waste any more time. They had gone straight to Lincoln. As Kane came closer, Pike asked his people to put their guns on the ground.

“Lincoln, it’s all right. Let him go.” At Kane’s words, he released the man who threatened him. The future chancellor and his daughter exchanged a quiet glance.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Abby enquired.

“What you didn’t have the guts to do.”

“Did you arm these people?” Kane headed towards Bellamy. He didn’t even answer but his silence alone was enough for him to understand.

“Guards take them to lock up now.” They were quickly all arrested as she told everyone else to go back to their quarters. It was late and there was nothing else to see here. “It’s over.”

“Nothing is over.” Pike exclaimed. “We are surrounded by warriors who want us dead.

“That’s enough!” Kane spoke up.

“No, it isn’t. Not even close. Why don’t you show us all what you let the Grounders do to you yesterday? Come on, Kane. I think that the people who are about to vote for you have a right to know.” Michelle frowned, having no idea what he was talking about. She got closer to Abby and her dad. He looked around him as people asked him to show them whatever it was. He lifted his sleeve and showed the crowd a red mark on his arm.

“It’s the mark of the Commander’s coalition. It means we are the 13th clan. It means we are in this fight together.”

“No. It’s what farmers used to do to their livestock.”

“Right before the slaughterhouse.” Hannah shouted, trying to entice the crowd into siding with them. And people started to be for Pike going as far as to tell him to be on the ballot for tomorrow’s election. Michelle turned around when she heard Bellamy chanting Pike’s name, followed by every single one of those who had been arrested, and a lot of people in the crowd. This felt like a nightmare. She stepped next to her father, and he put a hand on her shoulder out of habit. He, Abby, and Michelle looked at each other, worried and dumbfounded by the situation.

“I tried to talk him out of it.” She said quietly, looking at them walk away.

“You did what you could.” He gently squeezed her shoulder, unable to take his eyes off the people still chanting Pike’s name like a bunch of brainwashed people. Things were only about to get worse now that Pike convinced others to be with him. There was a risk he could be elected the next day and with him at the head of the whole group, it would be war against any Grounder in sight.

The next day, with barely a few hours of sleep as she was unable to get any rest, Michelle attended the election held outside in the camp and and Pike quickly received a majority of the votes. They couldn’t believe it. Once it was over, her father and two guards headed towards the prison wing of the ring. She followed them and hid behind the walls to let them pass without being seen and, to keep a certain distance. She followed them until they got to the portion of the corridor that went straight to the cell door. She stopped behind a corner and even though she wished she could be closer, it should be enough for her to hear them talk. If she tried to approach, it wouldn’t be the guards or Kane who would notice her, it would be the prisoners and she would be spotted by everyone anyway because if Pike saw her lurking around the corner, he would never keep his mouth shut. He knew she was out of reach for his manipulation tricks. She would never talk with him. He was only going there to tell Pike of his win at the election, but she still wasn’t supposed to be following him when he had asked her not to, though he knew she wasn’t always listening to him. She went ahead with following him because she was fully aware he wouldn’t get mad at her for something like this. He had other things to be uspet about anyway.

Kane pressed on the panel next to the door, unlocking the door before walking in. Everyone inside stood up. He walked up to Pike.

“Congratulations, Mr. Chancellor.”

“Where’s Abby?”

“Wishes she could be here.” He handed him the Chancellor pin. “The vote wasn’t close. Our people are now your responsibility, Charles. I hope you take that seriously.”

“Thank you, Marcus. I certainly intend to. For my first official action as Chancellor, I pardon myself and the others. For my second official action, I reject the brand that made us the 13th clan. For my third, let’s finish what we started.” Michelle felt a knot in her stomach just hearing this and she rested her head against the corner with a sigh, not caring if she was seen anymore. She crossed her arms and watched the people walk out of the cell, keeping her eyes on her father as he stopped Bellamy before he left. He spoke to him in a whisper so she couldn’t hear but the expression on Bellamy’s face as he walked past him. He noticed Michelle standing there and gave her a brief look but there was nothing there, no compassion, nothing. It was just the dark brown of his eyes looking at her like they were enemies.

[To be continued…]

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Published (12/29/2023) by Andrea

Taglist: @cathrin2405 @kika64 @mirellef2001

6 notes · View notes