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hoe-doroki · 4 years

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stay

A response to this ask:

Reader having a silent mental breakdown and trying to hide it with Bakugo and iida!( bakugo’s fine if not iida)

warning: detailed descriptions of panic attack, self-loathing

pairing: Bakugou x gn!reader

genre: hurt/comfort

word count: 2.2k

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

It seemed stupid to have any kind of mental illness around someone like Bakugou.

Bakugou had experienced near death multiple times by his mid-twenties had had witnessed the worst of the world first hand. His teens had been littered with trauma and, as an adult, his work was constantly throwing him into circumstances where his body, his life was at risk. He did this day in and day out and it wasn’t even a question. He survived it all and, more than that, he let the world think it was easy.

Sometimes just getting out of bed wasn’t easy for you.

You felt like your body was rotting. You’d been on the couch all day and it smelled stale from the layers of lazy sweat you’d gotten on it. From the shower you hadn’t taken and the hair you hadn’t touched. But was it rot from the outside in—something a bit of soap and buffing could slough off—or was it the inside out? Harder to reach, harder to fix. As your brain sent your every thought clenching on your veins, your vital organs, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was both. Rotted from the inside out and the outside in.

You tensed when you heard the door to your shared apartment click, a key being shoved into the lock. Over the cold numbness that you’d felt all day, a shot of panic sprinted through your bloodstream as a million ways to lie popped into your head. You popped off the couch and tried to think of a way to look busy, so you ran to the kitchen and started boiling some water.

This was something Bakugou couldn’t see. The last thing you wanted, the last thing he needed was for you to be another person that he had to save. Another person to risk himself for.

You eyed Bakugou when he came in, shoulders drooped, gait wide. He looked tired, but otherwise normal. You usually tried not to worry yourself with the cuts and scrapes he often showed up with after work, and, so long as he was walking, he usually told you to calm down and that he was fine. You weren’t going to test it today.

“Hi, babe,” you said, putting strained effort into your pitch, your tone, your face. Maybe your voice was too high, maybe the smile spread a bit too wide, so you turned back to the water, watching it heat.

“Hi,” Bakugou greeted as he kicked off his sneakers, voice gravely as it usually was after a shift. He was in civilian clothes now, having showered and changed at the agency. A black tee and jeans that never fit quite right on his narrow hips and tall frame. “What’re you up to?”

“Oh, I, um…” You looked down at the water, still cool enough to stick a finger into. You’d done nothing all day, having skipped out on all your classes with half-assed emails sent to the teachers. The idea of going had been too much to take—for reasons you had no language for—so you’d wallowed on the couch as the hours of the day had bled away. So the question felt like an interrogation about to put a scalpel to your flaws. “I’m just heating some water for tea. Was gonna get started on dinner.”

“What were you gonna make?”

Bakugou was in the kitchen now, coming up behind you to press a kiss against your temple. Your heart rate increased but not in the good way. Not in the way that it should. Instead of flutters it was pounding, smacking against your ribs in a reminder that he was too close, you were too visible—you might explode and you would hurt him.

“I, um, I wasn’t sure,” you said, the answer sending shameful heat to your cheeks. And then you were slapped the other way by how stupid that was. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Okay,” Bakugou said, going to the fridge. “I’m sure we can figure something out.”

Bakugou was always insistent on having a stocked fridge. With his job and you in your master’s program it was hard to find the time to grocery shop, much less eat consistent meals together, but those were the kinds of things that Bakugou prioritized. The things behind his sharp persona and shrinking legacy of reckless anger that made him a good boyfriend. An amazing partner and enviable roommate.

And what did you offer him? Emotional instability without just cause? A nascent—at best—career while he was climbing the pro hero charts every cycle?

Who were you kidding? You hadn’t even gone to class. You hadn’t done any of the work that you needed to do—the evening was a wash now, so you wouldn’t catch up. You were just wasting everyone’s time, like you always did.

“Hey, babe?”

By the tone of his voice, you realized that Bakugou had called you multiple times. Your eyes flicked toward him, but your head felt heavy to lift. “Hmm?” you asked, squeezing every last bit of breath into that hum.

“The water’s boiling.” Bakugou walked over to you, two mugs with teabags slumped at the bottom. He set them on the counter and put a hand on your shoulder, turning you a degree closer to him.

“Oh,” you intoned, pulling away and turning off the fire. Stupid. You were about to grab the pot when Bakugou dropped his hand down to your elbow, giving a firm squeeze.

“Are you okay?”

You ignored his gesture to stop and reached for the kettle, putting all of your effort into keeping your hands steady as you poured hissing water in one mug and then the other. Doing something was the only thing keeping you upright as your thoughts continued to swirl in your head poisoning each brain cell you had. You hadn’t done anything worth living for today. But goddamn it, if you couldn’t make these mugs of tea, then you should just walk out of the apartment and let Bakugou be better off without you.

“Woah, woah, what’s happening?”

Bakugou’s hand was on your chin as he pulled your face a little too roughly towards him. Or, rather, it wouldn’t have been rough, if you weren’t resisting it. But you didn’t want him to look you in the eye. See what a failure you were. Someone who couldn’t even overcome a bad emotional day to go to class while he’d been out saving lives—as usual. He took the pot from your white-knuckled grip and set it on the stove.

“Why are you crying?”

Were you? You hurriedly brushed a hand under your eyes and they came away slick, the water hot as the tea you were steeping.

“The…The steam…” you started, prepared to lie and lie and lie until there was nothing real left. The real stuff was too hard to hold. “I think…It just must have irri…tated my eyes.”

Your breathing was running away with you, chest heaving as you pulled away and faced the other direction. Your attempts were thin, too threadbare to hide behind. And your boyfriend wasn’t nearly stupid enough to be fooled, even by your best efforts.

“Babe, tell me what’s wrong,” Bakugou said forcibly, stepping around to face you again.

His eyes were searching for yours, but you held fisted hands to your cheek as you turned away from him. Now you could feel the tears streaming, and you couldn’t turn them off. But what was there to tell him? That you were just a big, stupid idiot who cried for no reason? That watching him become a better man only emphasized how totally shit you were? That when the two of you were on the street together, you knew that people wondered what a guy like him was doing with a person like you?

“I just want you to stop crying,” Bakugou said, and you could hear him getting desperate, only making you feel worse. You were biting your lips closed to keep the sobs from tearing out, but that only made embarrassing little huffs come out your nose, whimpers sneak past the back of your throat.

You couldn’t stop crying. How could you stop it when you didn’t understand what had started it?

“I’ll just,” you hiccupped, backing away from him. “Just give me…I’ll be fine, just give me a minute.”

“Fuck that,” Bakugou said, grabbing your wrist. “Do you want me to go because you want me to go, or because you think you deserve to be alone?”

The words felt like a trick, a riddle from some fairytale turned nightmare intended to make you fail either way. Telling him the truth would trap him in whatever trip wires had you tied in knots right now. But, at the same time, he was expecting the lie. He wasn’t letting you save him from this.

But why? He was always saving people. Why, for once, couldn’t you save him from you?

“Idiot,” Bakugou said, pulling you in to him. You cried harder, the weight of your failure dropping in your well and spilling more tears out of you. “Why would I leave you alone?”

A sob crashed out, breaking through haphazard letters of attempted defense. He needed to go; him seeing you like this only made it worse.

“It, um,” Bakugou’s voice was low, a register that was unfamiliar even to you, unsteady and unrehearsed. “It seems easier to be alone. I know it does. But…you’ve shown me that’s not true, so just. Let me show you the same, okay?”

You could feel how hard he was trying as he pressed you into his chest and you finally, finally let him. The sobbing made you weak in the knees, light in the head, but he held you. He held you up, held you close, and he wasn’t letting go.

Everyone always talked about how crying felt good. About it being a release that helped you process your pain. And maybe that was right when talking about grief or loss, but not this. These tears felt like nothing more than splashing in the masturbatory wallowing hole of your self pity. Embarrassing and stupid.

“Why?” you finally whispered when the sobs subsided a bit, letting you keep enough of the air in to at least say that.

For a moment, Bakugou didn’t say anything, and you wondered if you’d imagined the words. If you were imagining the whole thing and he really had left like you’d wanted. But then you heard breath catch in the back of his throat as he seemed to try and fail to find the words a couple of times.

“In another world,” he finally started. “I’d come home from a day of work fucking exhausted, slump on the couch, eat, and pack it in to go to bed before starting all over the next day. And I’d probably be fine with that. But I’d be a fucking idiot, because coming home to you makes it worth coming home.”

Your breathing was steadying as he talked and you could feel the tears cooling against your cheek, against his wet t-shirt.

“Even with you looking like a damn mess like this,” Bakugou said and you could hear the smile in his voice. His smile, which had grown less rare over time, was always so wide that it made his words sound different. Warmer. They managed to draw a haggard chuckle out of you. “I’m happier just to be around you than convincing myself that being lonely at the top is the best way.”

“I don’t want to drag you down from the top,” you said. “Your company shouldn’t be dead weight.”

“Dead weight?” Bakugou repeated, pulling back to look at you. “Dumbass.”

He pulled you in again, both of his arms around the back of your head so that you were nearly smothered in his chest.

“That’s the stupidest fucking shit I’ve ever heard. You’re fucking incredible, and if that’s why you’re crying today, then you and me have to do some talking.”

Another laugh managed to crawl its way out of you and Bakugou let you pull back to breathe again.

“Are you okay now?”

‘Okay’ felt like such a far ways away. But you were above water again. Somewhere next to okay, distance undetermined.

“I’m surviving,” you decided.

Bakugou looked at you, a couple different things flashing over his eyes, too quickly for you to identify. “Well, that’ll do for now, but we’re not settling for that. Just talk to me. I’m not the best at this, but…I want to be better at it.”

In that moment, you remembered that Bakugou wasn’t perfect either. That he constantly had voices in his head telling him that he wasn’t doing enough and, not only that, he had the public constantly critiquing his attitude, his skills, his work. That, to some degree, this was already something you were going through together.

“I think you’re better at it than you think.”

Bakugou smiled again, this one not so wide, but more private. “You too, he said. Whatever bullshit you’re telling yourself—you’re better than you think.”

He pulled you in close again, and this time you sunk into it, enjoying his warm muscles, the way that his hair was still a little damp from the shower. You weren’t sure if anything had changed—all your problems were still present as they’d ever been. But yet, there was one thing. Now, with Bakugou’s arms like a buttress to your shaky but standing foundation, you, paradoxically, hoped that he would stay and stay and stay.

#bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo #bakugou #bakugo #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #mha x reader #hurt/comfort

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ohmygodtheywereparabatai · 3 years

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Day 5 | Role-Reversal

Because who doesn’t want to see Firelord Zhao, five-pronged crown and all @zhaozaipalooza?

OKAY hhdhdjd while that was my initial plan, @fire-lady-ilah’s thoughtful and bittersweet Good!Dad Ozai AU made me decide on another approach for today’s prompt(s).

Taking her lovely concept a step further, I thought I’d flip the personality of every AtLA character I can get my hands on. No more gentle, loving moon spirit, only a tidal goddess of wrath! Well, okay, okay, I should slow down…

Let’s start small.

—

Not that he would tell, but… the musician’s self-imposed trembling was, not so imperceptible.

Had he left his children to chart out the course of his remaining life, and sailed the path like a star-wise captain? Most definitely; they were his greatest counsel as Firelord. A Fire Sage couldn’t have convinced him to remarry after Ursa’s loss - but they did.

Darling heirs that held her eyes and her laughter, and where they pointed, he found himself surely to go. Was Ozai still bound to encounter waves?

… It would seem so.

He wouldn’t so much as peep: a timid, jittery captain with no growth permitted of his facial hair than what was painfully humble. Or perhaps it got in the way of his instrument - was it a jaunty pipa? A carved flute, perfectly hollowed? The erhu, once the sole sound of his wife?

Ozai floundered to begin a conversation that didn’t end before he could grow a smile. And it happened quite quickly! Still! “I find myself curious…”

The gifted, devout soldier of a respectable rank - his children’s hand-picked selection - had not taken to him like he had him. At least, he assumed.

Ozai didn’t enjoy making assumptions - not of a man’s worth. Some he would never get to know in their bravest hour; from that roused the rest of his sentence, “… to know what you think of the state of the world.”

“For- I, what?”

“As Firelord, I court many things.” He coaxed him from the shadows, moved from pillar to pillar that entwined the gardens. “The content of my people is… the result. I only influence it, and I barely can during war, can I? Families are splintered, loved ones lost… it’s a cost I can never repay. Not with a thousand years of prosperity… But I listen to their stories.”

After a tense silence that would cue a tight-lipped reply - the Firelord’s only reward for gentler inquiries - Zhao spoke, and this time, for as long as he dared:

“… Ocean.”

Ocean? The Firelord was about to turn in his hand at untangling the enigma trailing his lofty steps - what was it Azula said, that he enjoyed theater? What had Zuko prized about him… that he hid a host of gnarly battles in a crimson ledger? Then Zhao breathed out,

“I chose… a naval career. Because the waves always roll toward home. Of course, it’s concerning - since Chieftess Yue used the spirits against their will, at the cost of her tribe’s safety… The waves have risen higher, moved faster to Fire Nation shores. She may use the ocean and moon to tear us down.”

“But, if my men drown, I can hope - the bodies… they wash up where…”

Ozai sensed, rather than heard, the knot in his words, and dove to console him. “Then I pray Agni should watch over their safe return.”

He nodded, turning away.

“My wife would… take us to the waterfront, set lights and lotus flowers adrift to float down the canals.” He paused, leaned his weight against one pillar. Zhao jerked to a stop, heels meeting with a click.

“They went past grieving houses, some bereft of sons, as a sign of our deepest respect. The city grew to see them as… a brightly lit path for spirits to follow in the afterlife. We carried on the tradition after she - left.”

“My con-” Zhao began, then stuttered.

“Oh.” A shiver crawled into his tone. “Is that why… My lover, he kept a small book, made paper animals from the pages. He set them on the water for our friends. My hands weren’t for folding. I only played the song.”

“And I only played the song, when he…” His voice watered. “I couldn’t fold any paper. Couldn’t sing - couldn’t breathe. Just the erhu. No faith protects the dying… only swallows the living.” Lu… Lu… Lu.

It blossomed in Ozai, spread like wildfire through the recesses he’d barred after Ursa’s loss - a weighing darkness bursting with light. A voice crying it’s him, it’s him, your children found a jewel. And at all costs, he would protect the faith he had left.

“Seems we are no strangers to grief.” He reached for the underside of his palm, the way Ursa would when his beloveds were small - stroking the beating vein until it stilled, and the kids slipped back into sleep. How many weeks had they walked like this? Wasn’t it time to tell him - blessed enough, to taste him?

Zhao ripped out of his grasp with a start, nearly tumbling over the stone railing into a bush of pale flowers. Nearly.

He whirled on him and shrieked, “What is this for? Is it some arrangement? A charade, a test of faith? You think you can invite believers for the amusement of - of burning in your shade?”

“Wh-”

“If there’s something I should atone for - i-if there’s someplace I should voyage with the knowledge that I won’t return… If you’re waiting for me to - to - throw myself at your feet or offer up the blood in my body as tribute, a god needs only speak.” The flurry of words even the Firelord, trained socialite, couldn’t string together ended on a hiss.

Ozai fumbled. “This isn’t - no, no - I’m only a man looking to make his children happy, and what they want is a happier father.” He sought to yield or compromise in an affair, and admitted his flaws when they were complicit. I’m only a man.

His smile was soft, real. And yet.

“You are Agni incarnate.” The noise in Zhao’s throat was a bow raking over untuned string, and I am nothing, I am nothing. “If I have duty here, I will finish it. Otherwise… mercy. Mercy. Please.”

Lack of faith hadn’t ground him into silence. It was pious zeal. Clinging desperately while living stagnant; the thought of letting belief go was more terrifying than it failing. He revered spirits that would never return the favor. Ozai thought of his daughter, throwing herself into the first pair of open arms, indifferent to reason - fear is for fools. Trust is reliable.

He was on his knees - hands too unsteady to fold paper into cranes but perfectly balanced for compositions to take flight, hands calloused from war and clutched in prayer - wanting mercy.

Living to see another day, and knowing nothing more of being spared than a terrifying way to be loved.

Ozai felt the spark in himself simmer to a boil, and even behind closed lids it read, your faith will protect him.

Better than any god could.

Wasn’t that the prerogative of kings?

He knelt by the shivering body, elbows tucked to pull him in with his palms. Their heads touched, royal silk gathered against the gritty, unswept courtyard stone… but that didn’t matter.

“Too many soldiers made of this war… too many lives lost.” He didn’t consider himself soothing by any means, not as Ursa was; Zhao stilled, if slowly. “I should be the one devoted to you.”

Taste could wait, yet his conviction was overwhelming. Ozai pressed his lips to the side of his hair, and stayed; my, was he prepared to stay. “Give me the chance.”

#the polar opposite au where ozai is a sweetheart and zhao has 12 different shrines for the spirits he worships #a healthy zhaozai?? in MY rarepair fleet? a hEALTHY ZHAOZAI ??? inconceivable #thank you angie love for the inspo <<3 #good!dad ozai au #zhaozai palooza 2021 #zhaozai #zhao #ozai #YUE NO #your local clown writes!

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gaycrouton · 3 years

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post-one breath

scully angst | 2.5k | ao3

scully is having a hard time feeling normal after returning from the hospital after her abduction.

(these were written for my five times exchange story, prompted by the always wonderful @mmeadowlarkk, but I wanted to post them here too!)

It was usually one of two things that woke her up: the sound of a drill or feeling like someone was shining a light into her eyes. Neither was actually happening of course, but she'd start up in bed, sweat covering her body and a scream caught in her throat.

It had been like that since she returned home. Granted, that was only five days ago, but even in the hospital her sleep was always restless. In total, she'd been out of her coma for two weeks, but it was hard to tell with how trapped she felt in her own body.

"Are you okay?"

I'm fine.

"How are you?"

Fine.

"How's recovery?"

Going fine.

Fine was all she could manage during the barrage of questioning she received every day from seemingly everyone in her life. It seemed to placate her mother, her sister would smile in response, but Mulder's eyes would bore into hers while he searched for the real answer within their depth.

It was when he looked at her that she realized just how absolutely not fine she was. While her family and the doctors saw a shocking story of recovery, Mulder could see she was struggling. The title of survivor had been bestowed on her before she could even process the extent of her victimhood. She didn't even have a full understanding of what she was a victim of.

With a shaky hand, Scully drew back the dampened covers and sharply inhaled as her bare feet touched the cold, wooden floor. She padded over to the bathroom, flicking on the light before discarding her sweaty clothes. When she turned, she caught sight of something she'd been avoiding for a while now: her reflection.

However, in the soft lighting of her bathroom and the full length mirror precariously tucked in the corner, she couldn't look away when she caught sight of the woman on the other side, for surely that couldn't be her.

Walking over on unsteady legs, she stood on uneven ground with one foot on the linoleum and one foot on the plush bath mat as she took in the sight. Her skin was ghostly pale barring the ruddy flush of her cheeks. She could see the blue spider web of veins spreading like a grid underneath her skin, cobwebs in an empty shell.

Her face looked different than it had for the past few months, as if her slight, lingering baby fat had been taken from her but her face had yet to compensate for its loss. She was thinner when she came back, she knew that when she looked at her chart. Within three months she'd lost enough weight that the doctors had to monitor her intake so she didn't overdo it and make herself sick with the sudden adjustment.

Even though she'd lost the weight, her stomach looked slightly different to her, slightly swollen and tender to the touch. There had been a sharp pain in her lower belly that over time had become just a dull ache.

It felt like a menstrual cramp, like her uterus was screaming at her.

Like every other aspect of her life, she wasn't certain if her menstrual cycle was still regular since she had yet to get her period. Scully hadn't gone back on birth control since her return, partially because the dull pain was concerning to her and she didn't want any dependent variables taking away from her ability to monitor her body's recovery.

She knew from the test run by her doctors upon her admittance that she wasn't pregnant. It was a relief, but it was only one concern addressed with a hundred others still unanswered.

After admitting her discomfort to the doctor at the hospital, they'd both reached the conclusion that, while odd, nothing appeared to be wrong. He offered to do a more in-depth pelvic exam since they'd been too worried about keeping her alive when she first arrived to try and gather evidence of anything, but she refused. She didn't want anyone else touching her.

And she knew she had been - much like her hair had been maintained to stay the same length over all these months, her pubic hair had also been trimmed, a detail she'd kept to herself.

Scully felt a wetness on her sternum and she looked up to see she was crying with a shell-shocked expression on her face. She raised a shaky hand and smeared the tear into her skin and rubbed her eyes.

She was alive. Scully knew she should be grateful for that miracle, but she'd lost a lot more than three months when she was abducted.

A sob escaped her throat as she flicked the lightswitch off and walked over to her boudoir, grabbing an old grey sweater with "FBI Academy" embroidered on the space above her left breast. It was slightly scratchy from being mass produced for all the Quantico trainees, but it would have to do. Her favorite University of Maryland sweater was retired to an evidence bag covered in Duane Barry's blood - another loss.

She slid the matching oversized sweatpants up her legs, satisfied when her body was shrouded and hidden from her own view. An irrational part hoped the polycotton blend could act as a metaphorical cocoon, and when she shed it off later maybe she'd come out a different person. But she knew from past nights' experience that it wouldn't happen.

Knowing she was too worked up to go back to bed, she made her way to the living room. While she knew it hadn't been a drill or blinding light that woke her up, she couldn't help but hear the similarities between her nightmare and the storm currently brewing outside. The wind sounded sharp against the side of the building, and every two Mississippi's the cracking of nature's whip would follow a bright lightning strike.

It hadn't stormed this hard since-

"Mulder! I need your help! Mulder!"

The sound of glass shattering ricoheted through her mind, and she took a sharp breath as she told herself that no one was breaking in. It was just in her head. Looking over, she could see the spot it had happened, the weather outside macabrely setting the scene.

Scully felt her heart hammering in her chest as what once was her sanctuary quickly became her mental prison. She wanted to be better. She was tired of this affecting her in this way, but she couldn't help it. For what felt like the thousandth time since she'd been back, she felt the overwhelming, albeit irrational, panic that someone was going to come and take her again. She didn't feel safe.

She hadn't even processed she'd moved. One minute she was breathing heavily in the middle of her living room, and the next she was pressing her back into the crevice where two walls met while she held her phone in trembling hands. She was rubbing the number two with the pad of her thumb, and in her state of hypersensitivity, she felt like she could feel the grooves of her thumbprint catching against the silicone of the button. The printed numerical "2" felt like braille against her thumb, but it also felt like a life preserver and she was drowning. If she pressed that and the accompanying nine other digits she knew by heart, she knew she'd be safe.

Mulder would answer.

She looked down and pressed the buttons, the key tones sounding deafening in the silence as the pitch went up and down with the different numbers.

202-

The sound of something tapping against her window made her jump and she looked up and saw a shrub outside was being knocked against the glass in the storm. Mulder had gotten the windows replaced while she was gone, and it would be nearly impossible for someone to shatter them as easily as Barry had. He'd invested in her safety because he knew it would come in handy for when she returned. Because for Fox Mulder, it had always been a matter of 'when' and not 'if'.

Her eyes were drawn to a blinking red light on the opposite side of the room, and she realized it was past three in the morning. Her confidence in her plan faltered as the landline started beeping from the rest of the number not having been entered.

She was too late.

During one of the first times Mulder visited her at the hospital, she'd been chatting with her mom while Mulder and Melissa sat in seats against the wall. Apparently she'd gotten too wrapped up in the conversation because by the time she looked back to Mulder, he was out cold, slouched in his seat next to Melissa who was trying not to laugh at the way his mouth gaped open with his head resting on her shoulder.

"Mul-" she'd started, intending to wake him up only to be hushed by her mother.

"Let him sleep, Dana. I'm quite certain that man didn't sleep once while you were in your coma," she chided.

"I don't think he slept since you disappeared," Melissa corrected, her eyes widening comedically as Mulder snored loudly.

When she asked him how he'd been doing a few days later, her insomniatic partner even himself said, "I've been sleeping better this past week than I have my whole life."

Because she was safe.

Scully couldn't bring herself to call him and shatter that illusion. She couldn't think of him laying sound asleep on the other side of town, only to be woken up to her sobbing, causing him to rush across town to be with her. Because that's exactly what he would do and she knew it. Mulder was concerned about her now, but she played it off as him worrying too much. If she confirmed his fear and admitted that an hour hadn't gone by that she hadn't been scared, he wouldn't be able to rest until she felt better. She didn't know if she could promise she ever would.

Part of her considered calling her mom or Melissa, but the same concern was still there. They wouldn't be as relentless with the information as Mulder would be, but she knew if she called them now at this low point, she'd have to field questions down the line. She'd have to be fine even more than she already was.

Heat started burning uncomfortably on her face as she thought of someone she wanted to call who wouldn't have made her feel fragile. Who would have told her Scullys can get through anything, and she was one of the toughest of the bunch.

She wanted her dad to hold her and make everything better.

A hot tear slid down her cheek as she felt more alone than she had in her entire life. Every sniffle and whimper she made echoed against the walls of her large apartment and it made her feel small. She'd come back to the people she loved and she was too stubborn to let them in.

Her chin trembled as she made her way to her couch, tripping slightly when plastic caught her foot. Scully regained her balance and looked down to see she'd gotten caught on the brown plastic sack Mulder had given her. Bending down, she took out the VHS tape that lay inside. Superstars of the Super Bowl.

A small smile erupted on her face, her cheeks protesting as the tear tracks that had dried against her skin shifted uncomfortably. She stood up with the bag and VHS in her hand, popping the latter into her VCR. Scully listened to the clicks and whirs of the machine starting as she turned on the television, basking her couch in an indigo blue haze.

Scully pulled a blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around her, sitting cross-legged on the middle cushion while the roar of an audience filled the empty space, making her feel a little less alone. Her hands found their way back into the plastic bag as she sifted through the miscellaneous other presents Mulder had brought to her over the stint at the hospital.

She chuckled as her hand came in contact with what she was looking for, and she pulled a bright pink Hostess Snoball out of the bag. These were her favorite treat to indulge in, and during one particularly long road trip with Mulder, fueled by period cravings, she'd picked up three at a gas station and eaten them all within an hour. Mulder had been so tickled by it that any time he picked her up for a road trip, he grabbed her a pink fluffy cake to go alongside her rootbeer. When she lamented that she only could indulge once in a blue moon, he'd scoff and tell her she deserved to have one every day if it made her happy.

The memory lightened the thick miasma that had brewed around her, and she wiped the remaining wetness from her cheeks. The coconut ball had been dented by the corner of the VHS tape, but it was delicious all the same. Scully watched as men wearing various colors of spandex ran around the field. She didn't even know what team Mulder rooted for, she thought he was more of a baseball or basketball guy if anything, but watching this silly tape he probably pickled up at a bodega made her feel close to him. She reached back into the bag to pull out another snack, but as her fingers grazed the bottom, she felt something had spilled. She scooped it up in one hand, pulling it out and looking at her palm. Sunflower seeds, little tokens of Mulder left in his stead.

Scully picked one up between two fingers and brought it to her lips, the salt burning the part of her lip that was raw from her worrying it between her teeth. She moved the seed around her mouth tentatively, not having the same dexterity Mulder did. After a few seconds, she cracked the shell and the meat of the seed fell onto her tongue.

She continued that with the next few seeds and she started to find a groove with it. Her worry and anxiety started dissipating as she got lost in the comfort of the game on television, she felt like she was just a member of the crowd like the people on screen. It made her feel less alone than she had backed against the corner of her living room, despite nothing really having changed. Mulder was just somehow able to make her feel better, even without physically being here.

For an hour, she continued imbibing in Mulder's brown plastic bag of gifts, and she felt connected to him in a way she hadn't anticipated, and it made her feel strong and unafraid. After all, he had been brave for three months, she could be brave for tonight.

#x files #one breath #msr #scully #angst #x files fanfic #fanfic

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thewritewolf · 4 years

Text

Running to Catch An Airplane Trope

Adrien has lost just about everything now that his father has been unmasked as Hawkmoth. But he isn't about to lose her too.

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

Adrien watched as Nino walked up to the podium and took his diploma, to general applause and the loud cheers of his family.

His hand tightened around his own diploma. There hadn’t been much of either when Adrien walked up, the first name called.

Barely any applause. Mostly just whispers. Some worried. Some… accusing. He supposed he couldn’t blame them, after everything that had happened still so fresh in the mind of the public.

There weren’t any loud cheers from his family. Mostly because there wasn’t much of one left anyway. He’d known for years that his father would never attend something as plebeian as a high school graduation, but…

Adrien hadn’t thought it would be like this. He’d had no clue at all about any of it.

It had taken all five of them - Ladybug, Chat Noir, Carapace, Rena Rouge, even Queen Bee - but they’d finally done it. Hawkmoth and Mayura, unmasked for all the world to see. No going back, no sneaky tricks to get away from it.

The only cost? Adrien’s family. His father and Nathalie, jailed. His mother, gone for a second time. His home, leveled in the pitched battle that followed. All his life except for his heartbeat is what it took to bring Hawkmoth to justice.

His teammates still didn’t know why he’d left so quickly afterwards, how he’d immediately detransformed and broken down. For most of them, they would never know. After all, no need for the secondary heroes now that the terrible Hawkmoth had been unmasked. Paris would rest easy under Ladybug and Chat Noir’s watch.

There is more clapping and Adrien mechanically joins in, only to be startled when everyone begins standing up around him. The ceremony is over, just like his days of childhood. His classmates are chatting excitedly amongst each other as they head across the street. It takes him a moment to gather the strength to stand up, but when he does, he is surrounded by his real friends.

Nino. Alya. And…

“How are you feeling?” Marinette asked softly.

This was the worst part. It was their graduation! Everyone should be happy and celebrating and here he was, dragging down the mood with his own misery. Just like always. It wasn’t fair to them, not in the least. Swallowing his emotions, he offered a strained smile.

“I’m doing better,” he lied.

Marinette didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t say anything. Nino threw his arm around Adrien’s shoulder and they all followed after the rest of their class. For a moment, the prospect of having Dupain-Cheng pastries was almost enough to make Adrien forget it all. It was a good choice of venue for them - what better place to end their time together than the site of so many of their happiest memories?

Adrien was just about to sink his teeth into a passion fruit macaron when he started listening into what his former classmates were saying.

“-Going to school for botany, so I can open my own flower shop!” Rose said, giving Juleka a hug out of excitement.

Adrien shoved the macaron in his mouth and walked toward another part of the shop to find another. There, he overheard what Alix was saying.

“Yeah I got a plan to skate with the best in my new university. Gonna try to keep the family tradition of historians alive since clearly big bro ain’t up to it with all his conspiracy stuff. But that doesn't mean I gotta be a stick in the mud about it.”

Eventually, Adrien found a place in a corner, a good ways away from the rest of his friends. Some of them cast glances his way, but no one made a move to talk to him. What could they say anyway? ‘Sorry your dad was the magic terrorist that turned every single one of us into super villains at one point or another?’

And he certainly wasn’t about to approach them either. Not if they were going to be talking about the future. They all sounded so hopeful and excited, he didn’t want to bring them down with his uncertainty.

Having his entire life charted out in meticulous, color-coded detail, he wasn’t very confident in his own planning abilities. Even in his superhero career he was more often than not following someone else’s plan. What was he going to do with his life now, when even his superheroics weren’t necessary?

The party was still going on when Adrien sneaked out. He was sure nobody would miss him from there. No doubt the mood might even lighten once he was gone. Nino and Marinette would at least have a better time now that he wasn’t bringing everything down.

The only good thing he could say about his father now was that at least he’d actually paid Adrien for his modeling. Even if Adrien only recently got access to that bank account, it meant that he could afford a house to rent now that his childhood home was cinders.

Turning the lights on as he entered, he shuffled over to the television and hesitated. He used to like turning it on to have some background noise, but it was hard to escape the news about his family these days. Backing away from the TV, he opted instead to turn on a music playlist.

Adrien collapsed onto the couch, the weight of his loneliness bearing down on him now more than ever. Maybe he could have handled everything else, but on top of all of it, the defeat of Hawkmoth meant that Ladybug had basically gone off the grid. No akuma battles, no late night patrols.

His mind wandered - Where was Ladybug? What she was doing?

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

Long after the party had died down, Marinette went up to her room and pulled out a letter that she had hidden away months ago. It almost felt like another lifetime when she had sent out that application. She had sent it not because she had intended to go but because it was something she was expected to do.

Someone like her, with her hopes and dreams worn on her sleeve since she was twelve, didn’t just ‘forget’ to send out her university applications. It would’ve looked suspicious. So she sent the letters, knowing in her heart that she would never be able to leave Paris because walking away from it would mean leaving it defenseless.

But now the danger was gone. She didn’t need to protect her beloved city anymore.

Holding the acceptance letter to a semester long fashion internship in Milan, her heart pounded in excitement. After so long, she could finally start living her life again.

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

There weren’t a lot of people left in Adrien’s life.

He’d never been super close to most of his classmates, so that wasn’t a huge loss to him. But the retiring of most of the super hero team, plus Nino, Alya, and Marinette being super busy these days did cut deep.

But, as he leapt from rooftop to rooftop as Chat Noir, he reflected that at least he had Ladybug. Getting a call from her out of the blue was surprising, but he jumped at the chance to see her again after the maddening quiet of the last couple months.

A part of him was worried, however. Why did she want to see him? Ladybug didn’t do anything without good reason. And what good reasons were there left for them in a post-Hawkmoth world? Did she want his miraculous…? His hand brushed over his ring. No, she would never. She knew how much being Chat Noir meant to him. Besides, if she wanted to disband all of them, she would’ve taken his ring along with the other miraculous.

Heart pounding for more reasons than one, Chat Noir landed on their favorite meeting spot in one of the towers of Notre Dame. As he spots her iconic red and black outfit, he pushes aside his worries. Everything else aside, Ladybug was here - that alone was a huge load of his shoulders.

She turns around at the sound of his boots landing on the ground.

“Just the cat I was waiting on,” she said with a smile.

“I hope I didn’t keep such a beautiful woman waiting for long,” Chat replied, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to it. “What’s up, bugaboo?”

“I’ll get right to the point, chaton.” Ladybug took a deep breath. “I’m going to be going away for a few months. I got an internship in Milan. I’ll be leaving next week.”

His heart dropped and he took both of her hands in his. Eyes locked onto their interlocked hands, he murmured, “Lovebug, I’m not sure I’ll be able to make it that long…”

She freed one hand to cup his chin, pushing it up until they were looking eye to eye. There was a soft but sad smile on her face.

“I know its a whole new world for us, and I’m sure its been rough for you. So I’ll make you a promise-”

“A purromise?” He punned half-heartedly.

“...sure, a purromise,” she replied. “The first time I see you after I get back, chaton, we'll blow this whole thing wide open.”

He frowned. She couldn’t mean…?

“We'll reveal our identities, I swear." To prove her sincerity, she held out her pinky.

“But… why can’t we do that now?”

"To give you something to look forward to, of course," she said with a smile. “So what do you say?”

Staring at her pinky for a long time, he eventually grabbed it with his own pinky. The promise had been made.

They chatted for a little while after that, but eventually Ladybug had to leave. People would notice she was missing if she was gone for too long.

Chat watched her leave, turning into a dot on the horizon. After all, who was going to notice, even if he was out for an hour more?

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

The days run by, lost in a blur of video games and books and other distractions that kept him in his room. There was no Nathalie to force him into his usual activities. No father to breathe down his neck. Just him slowly losing track of time as the days ticked past, unnoticed by Adrien. He didn’t even realize it was the day that Ladybug had said she was going to be leaving for Milan until his phone lit up for the first time in days.

It was Nino, of course. He was practically the only one calling him these days, except for the group chats that he was in. And even then, the last few calls had been a bit of a blur, running on autopilot like he was.

Adrien answers the phone. “Hey, bro, what’s up?”

“More like - what’s out? And the answer is me. I’m outside. Open the door, my bro.”

Nino hung up, leaving Adrien to blink in the darkness of his living room, illuminated only by the light of his paused game. Standing up, he rushed over to the door and opened it a crack. Sure enough, Nino was standing there.

“‘Sup dude?” He pushed open the door, letting the sunlight filter into Adrien’s house for the first time in days. Nino scrunched up his eyebrows in concern. “T-shirt and sweatpants this late in the day, my dude? You feelin’ alright?”

“Same as usual, I guess,” Adrien said with a shrug. “What’s the occasion?”

Nino let himself in and pulled open Adrien’s curtains. “Don’t really need one to hang with my best bro, do I?” He saw Adrien’s face. “Okay, okay, so I needed some time outta the house. Can you blame me? With everything going down with Marinette, I could use some space away from that bummer fest to take my mind off things.”

“Things going down with Marinette?” Adrien asked. Did something happen?

“Yeah man, Alya was a wreck last night. We helped Marinette pack up and honestly, watching those two say goodbye just about made me tear up." Nino tugged at his cap, getting ragged from the years.

Adrien takes a moment to shake off the gray stupor that's been hanging over him for months, that had been doubled because of Ladybug’s absence.

“Uh... what? Is Marinette going somewhere?” That is someone he should make more effort to keep in touch with, if he's being honest with himself. Maybe once she comes back from her vacation or whatever, they can get coffee.

"Dude, you never listen to anything I say anymore,” Nino said, clicking his tongue and rolling his eyes disapprovingly. “I know it's tough with your dad and all, dude, but you've got to get out of your own head. Marinette's leaving."

"What? Leaving? Like, leaving leaving?"

"Might as well be, dude. She's getting on a plane this afternoon and not coming back for 6 months." Adrien got stuck by deja vu. Something about that time frame sounds familiar... "She wanted me to tell you she'll miss you while she's gone."

"I... can't believe I didn't say goodbye. Where is she going? Why is she going?" He’s more alert than he has been for months. He took a seat next to Nino, leaning forward a little as he hung on Nino’s words.

"A sweet fashion internship dude. Way over in Milan."

And it clicks. Internship. Milan. The whole semester. There’s no way… it can’t be a coincidence.

If Adrien is wrong, he doesn't lose anything. He'll see his lady and his friend when they both return. But if he's right - and he's got to be right! - then she's gone. She's gone and he won't get to say goodbye, to tell her that he loves her, that he's always loved her.

Nino's still chatting away in the background, "...and to be honest, I'm surprised she didn't come see you before she left. Alya said she wanted to clear the air about that massive crush she had on you in high school-"

"I'm sorry WHAT?" Adrien tries and fails to keep his voice level.

Nino raises his eyebrows. "Dude, I thought you knew by now.” He shakes his head. “Everybody knew."

That raises far too many questions for Adrien’s liking, but he is too focused to be sidetracked now. He leans into Nino’s space, clarity in his eyes for the first time in a long time, one question on his mind.

"When does her plane leave?"

"What? Like in, an hour or so, dude.” Nino’s eyes widened as he realizes what Adrien might be planning. “But there's no way-"

"-igottagoniceseeingyouninobye!"

Adrien throws on a pair of converse sneakers, tongues sticking out in his haste out the door, untied laces flying. Nino is shouting something behind him, but Adrien doesn’t have the time to listen. Once he was out of his friend’s line of sight, he transformed and ran. He runs faster than he ever had in his entire life, his rooftop blurring under his feet as they carried him across the city.

He can't believe it took all this for him to figure it out. At this point, he doesn't care that she might reject him. The only thing that matters is that he has to know for sure. Nothing was more important to him in this moment than to look in those bluebell eyes and tell her he's figured it out. Figured her out.

He can't have her disappear for six months and forget about him. About what they could be.

Getting to the airport took longer than expected. Getting across the whole of Paris wasn’t easy, but he did it. Even if he had to stop way outside his destination to detransform. Nothing was about to stop him. Not even his own body, wheezing and protesting the sudden activity after a summer of slacking could slow him down. There was something more powerful than muscle and sinew at work here.

The airport was busy and Adrien froze at the front door, catching more than a few odd looks from people. He didn’t have any time to spare for them, however. His eyes, his heart, were too busy frantically searching the crowd for just the barest sign of her. Despair that he was too late had begun to lace its tendrils around his heart when the crowd parted for a split second.

He saw her.

Not just Marinette, in a cute floral summer dress, hair tied back and lugging her bags behind her.

No. In that half of a moment, he saw Ladybug and Marinette as one. The strength behind her eyes, the determined squaring of her shoulders even though he knew she was scared. If he had any doubts before, they were gone like mist before the sun. He was only barely aware of himself bolting towards her, parting the crowd in front of him to a tune of a host of disgruntled French travelers.

His hand snags her wrist just before she reaches the security checkpoint. She turns, part of surprise, part out of curiosity. Her eyes widen when she sees him, but he doesn’t have the chance to savor it. He’s already pulled her into a hug, pouring all the love he’s bottled up inside himself into it.

Hand cradling her head, his mouth close to her ear, he can barely manage to pant out a few words, the exhaustion of pressing himself so hard so fast finally catching up with him.

"M'lady.... princess....found you..."

In a voice so quiet only his senses, made keen by years of using the black cat miraculous, can make out, she whispered, “...Chaton?”

He grins, gasping, and nods. Her eyes tear up and she hugs him back twice as hard. "How did you know?"

"Internship in Milan. Had to say goodbye. Had to tell you...Mari, I love you."

She's stunned for a moment, and pulls back to look him in the face. Matching her gaze, he feels himself falling inescapably into those bright blue eyes. He never thought he could fall even more in love, but today seemed to be the day for revelations. The moment broke only when she rolled forward on her tiptoes, placed her arms around his neck for leverage, and pressed her lips to his.

Time began again when a booming voice called out a flight number overhead. Marinette, kiss-drunk, pulled back and bit her lip, making Adrien’s heart do a backflip.

“That’s mine.” She pouts, then brightens and smirks, "You know, I hear Milan is lovely this time of year. You should come visit me sometime, Mr. Moneybags."

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

Two months later

Adrien rose with the sun, one of the few habits from his teenage years he’d never managed to shake off. Marinette was a few rooms over, taking the guest bedroom of his Italian villa while they lived in Milan. He started to make breakfast.

It wasn’t a miraculous cure - their relationship, her being here with him. His life was still in shambles. There were moments where he couldn’t be strong. He still felt lost most of the time.

But she was a constant. He could build a life around her - together. She was there when he needed to be weak. And her steady determination that he’d find his way was more often than not enough to ground him.

He put his breakfast on a plate and left Marinette’s on the kitchen counter, knowing the smell would do more to coax her out of bed than any amount of knocking or reminders. In the meantime, he pulled out his laptop to get a head start on his online class work for the day. It was just general requirements, but it gave him time to test the waters, see what he liked and what he didn’t.

No matter what, though, he knew she was going to be there every step of the way, cheering him on just like he knew he would be right there for her. A perfect team, just like they’d always been.

Yesterday was rough. Today would be better. And tomorrow? Adrien smiled as he heard Marinette's morning grumblings down the hall. Tomorrow shone bright with possibilities for both of them.

#Miraculous Ladybug #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Adrienette #Chat Noir #Ladybug #Ladynoir #Nino Lahiffe #ml fanfiction #my writing #Running To Catch An Airplane Trope

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vtforpedro · 4 years

Text

medical update and stuff. trigger warnings in tags I’m extremely frustrated. it’s been 15 months of frustration lol so so so sick of doctors, so sick of living through this. I am tired and getting no relief you might remember, but I was given a ‘possible’ IIH diagnosis in October. we’ve been treating it like it is IIH, which means everything has always been real etc etc and the treatment is weight loss. started my ‘better eating habits’ on nov 1st. then I immediately had the thing with my chemo pill packing on a ton of excess fluid, worsening my head to the point of ER and calling my neurosurgeon, getting taken off my chemo pill, and it wasn’t until mid-december that I actually started to see any fucking weight loss cause of that my pcp told me 5lbs a month. so I’ve been right on track with that despite wishing I could lose 10 a month but that’d be starving myself so lol I’ve lost 15lbs but now something exciting is happening again!! I am retaining fluid and I have NO idea why. which means my head is now as bad as it was last summer when everything was at its worse. constant all day long, pills barely doing anything for me, vision issues, pain issues. it feels like something broke in the base of my skull/neck because I get the scariest sensations there. it’s horrible. no human being should have to live this way and I do it every single day, numerous times a day anyway I had to go to the ER last thursday A G A I N because a doctor sent me. my pupils were noticeably two different sizes. I’d noticed three days beforehand and convinced myself I was imagining it cause it wasn’t a huge difference. finally took a picture and no, def not the same size and my eye looked like it was going inward? anyway, called my pcp, they had me come in that day, he saw it from a foot and a half away, sat back, and said I need you to go to the ER, you need your brain looked at. so again, I’ve been seeing this for three days while my head has been 10/10 extreme due to pressure in it. I get there and have to wait a while but less than two hours later when they finally looked at me? gone. pupils back to normal. doctor talking down to me like I was just an anxious mess and not that another dr sent me cause he saw what I did lol and his notes were in my chart. so, wasted visit and they put a covid patient 15ft from me and intubated them, so get to remember what that sounds like forever and ever (covid patients are supposed to be separated from other ER patients). now I’m doing a 10 day quarantine while I am so severely disabled I cannot bend over to take care of my cats food/litter/etc and it’s why my mom half lives with me but she can’t right now :) getting a covid test in three hours and it’s been eight days with nothing but head issues + fluid retention so hoping it’s negative the fluid retention I had before was a side effect of my chemo pill. I don’t know why this is happening. I should be 17lbs down now and I’ve actually gained weight despite being on the same diet that lost me the 15. I’m back to 13lbs down. this makes me feel like I might be carrying 4lbs of water weight. let me break this down because yesterday a PA told me my symptoms were too ‘ambiguous’ to say if fluid retention is happening or not - fluid retention from the chemo pill was ALL felt in my stomach. it was distended and bloated like I’d eaten at a buffet every single day - head got massively worse, enough to go to the er, doc and I agreed the fluid retention causing me to fluctuate between 15lbs was making the IIH worse - not urinating often despite drinking a normal amount - got on a diuretic, seven days later the weight was gone, head was better, started losing weight this is what I’m experiencing now - fluid retention that is causing my stomach to feel very bloated and look/feel distended - head has gotten massively worse, enough to send me to the ER - should be losing weight, have actually gained weight on a low fat, low calorie diet - the only difference this time is that I am dehydrating myself (yes I know, bad, but it is literally saving my life) because I experimented one day with half my water intake and my head was miles better. still experiencing a terrible head episode once or twice a day but it’s not 10/10 constantly - and the second difference is despite not drinking enough water, I am actually urinating more often and it’s a lot more clear than it should be, the color I expect when I’m hydrating well I consider this ^^^^^ to be a good case of why I think I have fluid retention but being told my symptoms were ‘ambiguous’ and throwing me to my neurosurgeon instead is HNNNNG (esp because diuretics are known to help IIH symptoms FOR THIS EXACT REASON) I have VERY recently had my sugars checked a few times, glucose is normal. VERY recently had an abdominal CT, also normal. it’s not diabetes, it’s not something happening in my abdomen. they hear abdomen vs legs swelling and think it’s GI because doctors never fucking listen and actively put their patients in danger but o h w e l l, I guess anyway as it’s been for 15 months, I am stuck between a rock and a hard place. I go this way and experience agony, I go that way and experience agony I need extra hydration for weight loss, leukemia, being obese. I need less hydration because it worsens IIH to the point of 10/10 I want to die (which makes me heavily and actively suicidal. doctors see I take anti-depressants and assume idk I’m being dramatic but no, it’s really this fucking bad. I would rather die that moment than keep feeling what’s happening in my head) there’s like no middle ground and my body and these doctors are making it impossible to figure this shit out. my mom had to come over at 1:45 AM last night (hasn’t had to rush here since april 2020 cause that’s just how bad it is) because I lost my balance twice and was lucky I had something to catch onto or I would’ve been on the ground (neuro symptoms which could be IIH, could be chiari, could be stroke) and my speech got SUPER bad almost immediately. scared the hell out of me, I have never in my life lost balance that badly before things are going downhill and I would’ve thought losing weight they’d start improving but when has my body ever made this easy lol meeting a new neurologist on monday who works in the same building with my neurosurgeon. I’ve been avoiding them cause every single one of them told me I was just anxious despite specific physical movements causing an episode lmao but hopefully this guy is better and he has access to all of my neurosurgeon’s notes and stuff. I can’t keep dehydrating myself but at the same time I can’t let my head get so bad I make a farewell note for my mom, you know? it’s just been really bad and I don’t know how to get people to listen to me. I have a 99% diagnosis and they still don’t take me as seriously as they should. this has ruined my quality of life and they would have you believe that doctors take that seriously but they do not neurosurgeon wants me to see an ophthalmologist again cause of my vision issues and to check for specific things that relate to IIH. he wants another MRI done in early may cause it’s been a year since my last one by then (actually a month later, my last one was in april, but I’m curious if the neurologist will order one sooner) to check to see if anything has worsened so yeah living in absolute hell again and don’t know if I can just get a simple one week diuretic to get this fluid out of my body. what the FUCK else can it be when I’ve experienced this exact thing twice!! before. it happened to a much, much lesser degree the first time I got on the chemo pill. but the same shit :) hanging on by the thinnest thread guys and 15 months of feeling like I’m going to die almost every single day through that has destroyed my psyche. destroyed me as a person. I don’t know what to do anymore sorry this is all a lot of Bad™ but it’s been a lot of bad for 15 months. if I can keep going, I hope one day to be able to give an update of improvement love you all

#medical #medical trauma #tw suicidal thoughts #personal #long post

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7to3sorcerer · 4 years

Text

Of Waltzes and Sugar Plum Fairies

rating: explicit hehe

word count: 11.5k i am so sorry

warnings: fluff! angst! daddy!kink if you squint, loss of virginity, uhhhh sexy times? porn WITH plot because i can. this is truly filthy and totally self indulgent, enjoy at your own risk.

a/n: ok so first fic on here, yay! also, i recommend visiting this page to give you some context about Arkanians if you don’t know about them. idk if the nutcracker exists in star wars, so just go with it. listen to this if you wanna get immersed in the sounds of the dance scene.

ao3 link here

Din Djarin knew exactly what he was doing bringing her to Chandrila in the winter.

His princess - a literal one at that - from Arkanis, had missed the taste of home. Not in so many words, but he could tell by the wistful look on her face whenever they passed a shop with dancing gear or a music store.

He also knew that Life Day was her favorite holiday.

“It’s perfect,” she had said one day in the cockpit, her eyes starry as she watched the planets fly by. “You just spend the day with your family, dancing and eating and celebrating. Some cultures even give presents.”

He didn’t know what to say to that then, just gave a grunt and kept his eyes on the nav chart.

But since that day, he’s thought of what that would be like, spending a Life Day with his foundling and his crewmate who he wished would be so much more.

Ever since she dropped everything and ran off with him and the child, his life has been so much...brighter. Full of color when she skips around the ship, the child in her arms as they play dress up with her seemingly endless wardrobe (Din still doesn’t how she manages to keep her quarters clean). It’s full of sound when she plays her holorecords from her favorite ballets, the child following behind her as she does allégros and arabesques.

When she agreed to join his crew to take care of the child and give her extensive knowledge of cultures and history that she gleaned from university, he also made a pact: he would give her firsthand experiences of the galaxy that her life as a royal had robbed her of.

Her first wish was to visit a cantina, a wish that was fulfilled within her first three days aboard the Razor Crest. Though the dingy, thin clothes she bought from a merchant blended her in well, her stark white hair, white eyes, and ethereal beauty caused a bar fight, one that may or may not have ended with Din breaking a man’s arm, simply because he looked at her suggestively.

In the year that she’d been traveling with him, he’d tried to accommodate her wishes as best as he could, but with the Empire constantly on their trail, their time had mostly been devoted to tracking down the child’s people. But it seemed that the galaxy was on his side for once.

Life Day was rapidly approaching, and Din was scrambling to try and make it special for her, and with the information that Bo-Katan had given them about Ahsoka Tano, Din was torn about what to do. That was, until he charted a path to Corvus and realized it sent them right by Chandrila - the dance capital of the galaxy. A couple of holonet searches later, and he found a showing of The Nutcracker.

He knew it’d make his princess happy, he just didn’t know how to tell her that there weren’t anymore tickets left. He wasn’t surprised really, after all, it was already Life Day Eve, and he knew The Nutcracker was wildly popular, even though it was a Wookiee ballet that was centuries old.

The rapid beeping of the proximity indicator dragged him out of his thoughts. He disengaged and the ship lurched into real time, the blue streaks of stars fading into black mottled with blinking white. He made up his mind in that moment. Squaring his shoulders, Din set the ship on autopilot and made his way down to the cargo hold.

Stopping in front of her room, he could hear giggles and her soft voice as she spoke to the child.

“...and then he transforms into a handsome prince, and leads Masha away into the forest!”

He hears the child giggle again, and can only assume they’re playing with the wooden toys she had crafted once while bored when Din was on a hunt.

Steeling himself, Din knocks.

“Hey, we’re landing...put on something...nice,” he says through the door. He moves to return to the cockpit when the door whooshes open, revealing the princess’s glowing smile.

“Why?” She asks, her eyes wide.

His hand itches to brush the wisps of hair that got displaced from her bun when the door opened.

“I um, I have a surprise,” he says tentatively, suddenly feeling unsure of himself. He shifts his weight as she turns to the child.

“You hear that? Daddy has a surprise for us!” She coos, sweeping him up into her arms as he laughs. She turns back to Din.

His stomach does flips hearing that word come out of her mouth, no matter how innocent the context.

“Well, what is it?”

“That kind of ruins the point of the surprise, don’t you think?” He says, a hint of humor in his modulated voice. He finally gives in to his urges and gently tucks he hair behind her slightly pointed ear.

Din’s heart feels as though it might burst out of his chestplate as she tries to hide her blush behind the baby’s ear, playing it off as though she’s giving him kisses. She hums before looking back up at Din.

“Okay, well what should I wear?”

“I don’t know, something nice.” It comes out a little rough, and Din mentally kicks himself, seeing her face turn into a slight frown.

“Din, I’m a...” she pauses, covering the child’s ears before continuing. “I’m a fucking princess, Din. You can’t just say ‘wear something nice’ expect me to know exactly what you mean by that.”

He huffs. “Move.”

She complies, and he enters her small quarters, stepping over the various toys that litter the floor. He opens her closet, running his gloved fingers along the plethora of lush fabrics inside.

Life Day, Life Day, Life Day, he thinks to himself. What colors go with Life Day?

He pauses on a silky green gown, thinking about how good it would contrast with her skin tone. He hesitates a moment before removing it from the hanger and holding it out to her.

“Here.”

She sets the child down before taking it from him and examining it, a slightly confused look on her face.

“Din, this is...this is one of my nicer ones. Are we doing something quite fancy?”

He says nothing for a moment, watching the way her milky eyes scan the dress before deciding on his answer.

“I just think...that it’ll look good on you,” he says, so quietly that the modulator barely picks it up.

Her head shoots up to stare him straight in the visor, the very faint grey of her irises making her expression unreadable. Everyone likes to think he’s intimidating, but they’ve obviously never never made eye contact with an Arkanian. Arkanians that belong to the oldest bloodlines have pure white eyes, but if you catch them in the right light, you can barely make out grey irises and darker grey pupils.

Experiencing second thoughts, Din quickly exits her room without another word and the door whooshes shut again.

He leans on the wall next to the ladder leading up to the cockpit feeling like he’s just run a marathon. His heart races as he begins to worry that he was too forward.

“Fuck...” he mutters, leaning his head on the wall behind him. “Too late now I guess.”

Sitting back down in the cockpit, he guides the Crest into the docking bay that air traffic control instructed him to, and sets the ship down as gently as possible, not wanting to disturb anything the princess may be doing to get ready.

If she’s even getting ready at all, his conscious supplies. She’s probably gonna bolt as soon as the cabin depressurizes.

But as he descends back into the hold, he’s pleased to hear her puttering around in her room. He checks the time on his chrono.

“Hey, I’m going out for a few. I should be back in a bit...make sure you’re ready by then, okay?” He calls out, holstering his gun and attaching his jet pack.

Something in her room clatters to the floor, causing her so let out a string of curses. He hears her give the child an apology, who just giggles in return before he himself gets a response.

“Yeah! Sure, sure, yeah I’ll be ready!” She says from behind the door, but her voice is unsteady, like she knows she won’t be ready in time.

Din just huffs out a slight laugh before exiting the ship.

...

He returns to find her heels click clacking back and forth between the ‘fresher and where the child sits perched on a box, wiping his face down with a rag and the spots of food on his clothes. She turns to Din, who stands just inside the ship, a dumbfounded look on his hidden face.

Her hair is in a low, loose bun with a few pieces of hair framing her face that he can only assume came out while she was getting the child ready. The matte maroon lipstick she wears gives the allusion that she’s much older than 23, but the subtle blush and highlight adorning her cheeks and nose do well to bring back her youthfulness.

“I tried to get him cleaned up as best as I could. I also fashioned this little hat to fit his head as best I could. I don’t want him to be spotted, and I know it’s cold out there,” she rushes out breathlessly, running back into her room and grabbing the beanie and smushing it on the child’s head. “I know it’s not perfect, but I just want us to be able to have one night where we’re not constantly looking over our shoulders.”

She runs back into her room and returns with a small scarf, wrapping it around the child’s neck. Din wants to reassure her that everything’s okay, but he’s speechless, admiring the way the silk hangs on her body, accentuating her curves. His eyes are first drawn to the slit that exposes her leg almost to her hip when she bends down to pick up a toy the child dropped.

She speaks again, but he still can’t answer. He’s transfixed by the way the neckline plunges down her sternum, just shy of where her ribs start. Her tits are unbound, supported by the fabric that stretches up and over her shoulders, turning into yards of thinner fabric that cinch the dress up across her back. The straps criss cross her exposed back and end in a bow just below the dimples of her lower back, highlighting the expanse of tight muscles that she’s earned in her tenure as a crewmate, and from her earlier days as a dancer.

He watches as that enticing triangle of missing fabric on her chest gets closer and closer until it’s right in front of him.

“Hey, laser brain! Are you listening to me?” She says, waving her hand in front of his visor and snapping him out of his trance.

“What?” He asks, his voice cracking and making it sound like he hasn’t had anything to drink in days.

She huffs, before saying “I was asking if you were ready to go.”

“Oh,” he coughs out. “Y-yeah, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

“Are we taking the pod, or just carrying him?” She asks, holding the child on her hip.

He thinks a moment before saying “The pod.”

The princess sets him in his pod before slipping on a long black coat and following Din out of the ship. They head out into the busy streets, the child floating in between the two of them.

“Soooooo,” she drawls out, clasping her hands and giving Din doe eyes. “Where are we headed?”

“Uh uh,” he tuts. “Don’t even try that on me. That’s cheating.”

“Why?” She asks, jutting her lip out. “Because it works every time?”

“Yes,” he sighs. “Because it does work every time.”

She just hmphs and says nothing else as they walk along the sidewalks dusted with a light covering of snow. The streetlamps above cast an orangey-yellow glow on the pedestrians that pass them, many of them carrying parcels covered in paper, or large sacks filled with delicious smelling food.

The child makes grabby hands at some of them and the princess chuckles. Din glances over at her and sees the corners of her eyes crinkle as she laughs. They make eye contact for a brief moment before she looks at something above his head and her eyes go wide.

Din flinches, looking up for the threat, but all he sees is snowflakes beginning to fall from the sky. He looks back down at the princess and watches her stick out her tongue to catch a snowflake. They make eye contact again, but this time, she doesn’t look away. She keeps her tongue out until a small fleck of snow lands on it, then she pulls it back into her mouth. She throws him a sideways grin and then looks away, facing her eyes forward.

Din feels his hands get clammy as blood starts to flow south. Fuck, nononononononono, he thinks, balling his hands into fists and trying to think of literally anything else besides they way that snow looked on her tongue. He grits his teeth and looks around, hoping they’re close to the theatre. Thank the Maker.

Just ahead across the street sits the theatre, its twinkling lights and marquee sign dazzling in the white snow. He peeks at the princess without turning his head, and comes away satisfied when she doesn’t seem to notice it yet. He quickly grabs her elbow and pulls her into an alleyway on their right, covering her mouth with his gloved hand when she lets out a yelp.

“Do you trust me?” He breathes out, his chest mere inches away from hers. She nods her head and he lets go of her mouth. He looks down and presses some buttons on his vambrace, quickly recalibrating the child’s pod before shutting its hatch. “Hold onto me.”

She arches her eyebrows before stepping forward and pressing her chest against his, hissing at the frigidness of his beskar against her clavicle. She wraps her arms around his neck as he hooks an arm just below her ass.

“Din...” she warns, not sure where this is going.

“Just be quiet and hang on.” He commands, and with that, they shoot up and into the sky, the baby’s pod going up with them. He feels the princess bury her face into his cape and groan. In his excitement about the surprise, he forgot she doesn’t care for heights.

They land on the rooftop of the theatre, his knees and his back protesting from the extra weight that he’s not used to. Din gently sets the princess down and opens the child’s pod to make sure he’s okay. He smiles up at Din, who waggles a finger in his face.

The princess still hasn’t let go of Din, and Din still hasn’t entirely let go of the princess.

“Hey,” he says softly, and she pulls her head back from his shoulder but keeps her eyes squeezed shut. “It’s okay, we’re done with the flying.”

She exhales a breath he didn’t know she was holding and lets go, opening her eyes. Din reluctantly lets go of her and she takes a step back, looking at their surroundings. The faint sound of instruments taking their final warmups can be heard through the duracrete below them, and the princess finally puts two and two together.

“Din,” she gasps, shaking her head and covering her mouth with her hands. “You didn’t...that’s like, impossible. These are impossible to get. There’s no way...”

He grimaces behind his helmet and sighs. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I couldn’t. But I came by earlier and figured out another way for us to get insi-oof.”

He’s cut off when the princess envelops him in a hug so tight, he feels his back creak in objection.

“I thought you forgot a-about Life Day,” she says into his neck. “You didn’t have to do all this. N-no one’s ever-”

This time, it’s his turn to cut her off. He gently pulls her back until he can see her face, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“You can thank me later...it’s cold out here, and we don’t wanna miss the show.”

She nods and sniffles, dabbing under her eyes and motioning to the roof access. “Lead the way then, captain.” She says with a blinding smile.

A wall of warmth greets them as Din slices the door open. He glances around to make sure no crew members are up this high before motioning the princess in. The door zips shut behind the three of them and they’re sheathed in darkness, save the warm glow coming from the theatre below them. Catwalks stretch out in either direction, one going across the crowd, the other going adjacent to it toward the stage. They have to be at least 20 meters above the crowd.

The princess rushes toward the railing on the catwalk above the crowd and peaks down and Din finds himself surprised she’s not fainted yet. She answers his question before he asks it.

“This, I’m fine with. What I’m not fine with is careening up 100 feet into the air and 60 miles an hour with no warning and no seatbelt,” she says, fixing him with a glare that could cut durasteel.

This time, he doesn’t hide his chuckle, moving to stand next to her as she removes her coat and drapes it over the guardrail. He leans against the railing, the child floating just to his left, the princess on his right.

“You’re sure no one will see us up here?” She asks, lowering her voice as the lights begin to dim and the music starts.

“Would you be looking up to the rafters during this show?”

“Fair point, but I meant the dancers...”

“No, I think we’ll be fine, it’s dark up here.”

She just nods in return and keeps her focus on the stage as the curtains draw up and reveal the setting of Act I.

Din looks down at the child whose eyes light up at the glimmering tree on the stage. Underneath it sit huge presents wrapped in patterns of paper that Din couldn’t even think up. Multicolored garland hangs from the windows on the backdrop. Fairy lights dangle from the ceiling, bathing the stage in a magical light. He sees the children on stage laughing with each other as their parents dance to the music and suddenly feels the urge to cry,

His heart sinks at the thought that he could’ve had all this if the Separatists hadn’t invaded Aq Vetina that fateful day - and maybe he did have all of this, he just doesn’t remember. Did he have brothers and sisters? He hardly even remembers what his parents look like, just blurry features, sad eyes as they locked him away in that cellar to save him. What did he used ask for for Life Day? Did his parents dance with each other like that?

Resentment burns so hot inside of him that he has to tear his eyes away from the ballet and stare down at the crowd below. He grits his teeth and wills the tears threating to fall away. His bitterness flares briefly toward the princess as he catches the gleam in her eyes, the joy on her face as she looks on with glee as the act progresses. But it fades as quickly as it grew, his features softening under his helmet.

Who am I to be spiteful toward her for something I had no control over?

He looks down at the stage again, having not even noticed that Act II began. The music crescendos as the Nutcracker, having just turned into the Prince, begins to dance with Masha. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the chlid giggle in delight.

Just because I don’t have happy memories of my parents, doesn’t mean he can’t. Woah shit wait fuck. No, Din, shut the fuck up and don’t overthink the weight of that.

Carefully, Din removes both of his gloves and tucks them into his belt before gently resting his hand on the princess’s lower back.

He feels her gasp before she melts into his touch. She looks over her shoulder at him, the light from below causing her features to look sharp and dangerously beautiful. He leans forward so that his helmet is right next to her ear.

“Show me how you’d dance...if that were you on that stage down there,” he whispers, and this time the modulator doesn’t pick it up, so all she hears is his raw, unfiltered voice.

The princess looks up at his visor and smiles before nodding enthusiastically and backing away. She leans down and ties her dress in a knot at her knees before unbuckling her heels.

Din finds himself thinking that she wanted this all along, that she was made for this. His little wild fairy, stripping herself of the titles and the pageantry, barefooted and relaxed with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

She hasn’t taught him much, but he’s tried to listen as best as he could when she’d be doing a routine on the ship.

That’s a pirouette...I think. Okay, okay, plié. That’s first position? No...? Okay, yes, that was first position because this is second position, and now she’s in third.

Din finds himself swaying back and forth and nodding his head to the sweeping instrumentals, and the princess seems to smile when she notices this. She completes an attitude devant before slowing and giggling at him.

“What?” He asks, not quite laughing, but the smile in his voice is evident.

She just shakes her head, her own brilliant smile still plastered on her face before holding out her hand.

“Come on...look, he wants you to,” she says, pointing at the child who has long forgotten the ballet below, instead focusing on the ballerina in front of him.

Din watches the child for a moment more before pushing himself off the railing and taking her outstretched hand. He would be lying if he said this wasn’t the outcome he was hoping for, but when she pulls him into position, he realizes he’s in way over his head.

“I...I really don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing...” he murmurs, trailing off when she places his hand on her waist, his fingertips meeting the bare skin of her back. She grabs his other hand and holds it up at a 90° angle and it completely swallows her own. He watches her eye their conjoined hands for a moment, an almost awestruck look on her face.

“I’ve never...I’ve never touched you before,” she whispers, looking into his visor where his eyes are. “Like this at least. Your skin.”

He leans in closer to her before whispering “Would you like this to be the last time?”

She slowly shakes her head, keeping her eyes trained on his visor.

“Me neither,” he breathes out. “Now show me what to do.”

She inhales as if falling out of a haze. Clearing her throat, she adjusts Din’s legs by tapping them with her feet before getting into her own position.

“Okay, now I’m not going to tell you it’s simple but you are a fast learner, so I expect you to excel, unless you have two left feet,” she chuckles, straightening her back. “But I’ve seen you in a fight, and fighting and dancing are actually more similar than you’d think. Just like in fighting, if you’re not doing a practiced routine, you have to predict your partner’s moves, and for you, this isn’t a routine.”

“Mmm, cocky are we?” He teases, her reassurance easing a bit of his tension.

“For good reason,” she purrs, giving him a smirk. He doesn’t have time for a smartass reply because she’s already moved on. “Now, the music should be at a good tempo for us to start at any moment if I remember correctly. We’ll take it slow, just remember, feel me, okay? Anticipate my movements, and you’ll be fine. Nothing fancy for now until you get the footwork down.”

She taps her foot and looks out over the balcony, and Din swears he can see the notes swimming in her brain. He notices that in this light, he can see her irises better than he ever has before. But again, before he can complete the thought, she begins moving.

He follows her feet, feeling the way her muscles tense and flex underneath the tips of his fingers. Her eyes move back to his visor from their position over his shoulder and it’s like it clicks for him. If he weren’t going to sound crazy, he’d say it was like she transferred her consciousness to his.

They glide together like that across the catwalk, the child’s giggles following them as the pod, still connected to his vambrace, moves with them. The princess moves to twirl them around and Din’s foot catches a little, but he quickly corrects himself, getting back into step with her.

She suppresses a laugh before asking “Ready to step it up a notch?”

He just nods and she - seemingly reluctantly - lets go of her grip on his hand and twists so that her back is facing his chest. He readjusts so his grip is on her opposite hip, and she guides him to take her other hand.

“Same steps as before...yeah, good job,” she instructs, and it kindles a fire in his stomach that he thought he had quelled about an hour previous. “Okay, when I tell you to, keep stepping but lift me as you do a 180°, got it?”

His heart stutters, mostly out of fear of his poor, abused back. At 37, he shouldn’t be groaning every time he gets out of bed. But when he glances over at the kid, who is excitedly clapping his hands, he decides he’ll do it.

“Sure, but you’re gonna have to give me a few bacta patches on my shoulders later,” he says, slight amusement in his voice.

“I’ll do whatever you want...now!”

He falters for a moment, his brain short-circuiting like a C-1 series astromech before he realizes she means the lift is now, not...everything else that he wants. She pushes off of her right foot and he lifts her into the air, spinning counter clockwise before setting her down just as the music crescendos and finishes with a loud clash of cymbals and flutes.

They’re both breathing heavily as she turns in his arms to face him, and neither one of them go to move away. The tension is palpable at this point, with Din wanting to just bend her over and take her right there. His helmet tilts down to where her chest heaves and he swears he can see her heart beat in the pulse point on her neck. The thought of sinking his teeth into it and marking up her skin is suddenly overwhelming.

It’s only when the child squeals in delight that they’re snapped back to reality.

“I...I think we should go,” he says, catching his breath and tightening his grip on her waist. “Y’know, because the show’s over and crewmembers are gonna be up here any minute.”

She nods.

“Do you wanna take the elevator this time?” He asks her, hesitantly removing his grasp on her.

Again she shakes her head. “No,” she says hastily, donning her coat and looking like a ball of nervous energy. “Just do whatever gets us to the ship faster.”

They exit the way they came in, the princess clinging to Din, but he notices she’s not nearly as stiff as she was on the short flight up. They land near the same alleyway as before. The princess immediately exits the alley, setting course for the ship as Din struggles to keep up with her brisk pace.

“Hey,” he says, grabbing her arm. “You okay?”

She huffs air out of her nose before crossing her arms and shifting her weight. The snow has picked up since they entered the theatre, big enough now to cling to her hair and eyelashes. He watches as she leans over and snaps the child’s pod shut.

“I don’t know how to say this...” she begins, and Din’s heart sinks.

Dank farrik, I’ve gone and fucked this up, he thinks, his thoughts so loud that he only catches onto the last part of her sentence.

“...a virgin because of tradition on Arkanis, but I’ve wanted you to fuck me on every surface of the Crest since you asked me to join you. And I know this is forward, and maybe too brash, but I can’t stand it anymore and I just think that...I think I lo-”

“Woah, woah, woah. Slow down. I...” he licks his lips under his helmet and lets his brain catch up. “You want to...you want to have sex with me?”

She fixes him with a look that says “duh, weren’t you listening, dumbass?”

He sighs before responding. “Okay, look, I want this too, I have since the first time Karga, Dune, and I saw you at that library on Coruscant. But listen, if you’re...if you’re a virgin, then this is something I don’t want you to just decide to do on a whim, you understand me? That’s something that should be done with s-someone you care about.”

“Is that how your first time went?” She questions, narrowing her eyes. It’s a low blow because he revealed the answer to her one night while they were both drinking up in the cockpit. In this light, he can’t see her irises at all, and it’s extremely intimidating.

“I, well, no, but you’re missing the point-”

“Am I? I care about you, Din. Do you care about me?”

There’s no trepidation in his voice when he answers this time. “Yes.”

“Then what’s the holdup, hm?”

“Because I don’t want to hurt you!” He shouts, earning furtive glances from the few last minute shoppers out and about. He sighs. “I’m not a prince, okay? I’m not some nutcracker that turns into a handsome prince and runs away with you into the forest. I’m not what you were taught to look for in your happily ever after. I’m not supposed to be your forever. I’m not even supposed to be the kid’s forever...”

The princess glares at the sky, clenching her jaw, and Din can tell from past experiences with the cauterizer that she’s trying not to cry.

“And don’t even try to tell me that it’s not about that. I know you. You crave connection, you feed off of it. You just deserve someone better than me. After I find his people, I’m gonna go back to the only thing I was ever any good at: killing.”

She sniffles and he suddenly, selfishly wishes he hadn’t been honest with her. That he would’ve just lied and whisked her back into the ship so he could fuck her every day until he inevitably broke her heart.

She looks back down, and the placid look on her face terrifies him more than the thought of someone ripping his helmet off (though his faith in the Creed is becoming increasingly shaky). She just sets her jaw and nods, turning on her heel and getting back to her brisk pace from before. It’s then that Din realizes he’s turned the sexual tension into the need for a nasty, ugly fight, having denied his feelings for so long that he’s used to feeling anger and frustration after a close encounter with her.

“Since when are you one to run away like a Corellian hellhound with your tail tucked between your legs, huh?” He says, grabbing her elbow again once he’s caught up with her.

She yanks her arm out of his grip and faces him with a scowl on her face. “Since you decided you were so unlovable, that’s when. You think you’re this horrific, terrible person. Well, Din, I’ve got news for you; plenty of people all over this galaxy do what you do for a living, and then go home and eat dinner with their partners and kids. It’s you,” she says, jabbing a finger into his chest. “That has decided you’re so unlovable. Not this galaxy, not your profession, you. You can’t even call your son yours because you’re so afraid of what? Commitment? Someone giving a damn? And guess what? Even more bad news; you’ve failed so fucking miserably at that, because he loves you. You’re his father, Din, and he loves you. I love you. And you’re not doing yourself any favors by ignoring those two blatantly obvious facts.”

The unshed tears in her eyes start to fall and Din wants to rip his helmet off right there and kiss them off her face, but he doesn’t even know what to say except that she’s right. She’s exactly right and oh, Maker, he’s a dumbass.

“To have you sit here and say that you even might possibly feel the same way about me but in the same breath say that you’re afraid of breaking my heart is...well it’s fucking stupid!” She exclaims, tossing her hands up in the air. “I’d be stupid not to love you, I would know, I literally have three degrees, Din. You risked your life to save your son, you’ve risked your life to save me, Karga, and Dune on multiple occasions. You’re trekking halfway across the galaxy to find some fabled wizard, all for your kid to be reunited with his people. You are one of the most selfless people I’ve ever met, and the only person you’re convincing that you’re some bad guy is you. You’re the good guy...that much is true.”

“I’ve done...I’ve done bad things, sweetheart. I can’t even begin to name them all...” he mutters, looking over at the child’s closed bassinet.

“Okay? We all have. My parents were grooming me to be a politician for fucks sake. What could possibly be worse than that?”

She turns and walks away then again, while he sits there staring at her before his brain, reliable as ever, finally does the mental math. “Oh, Maker, I insulted you, didn’t I?” He calls out.

“Yes!” She barks without turning around, stomping through the snow that builds up on the sidewalk. “If you got me a present for Life Day, I’ll consider it forgiven. Come on, it’s cold, we can talk in the ship...after you’ve fixed that.”

Things Din Djarin needs to stop forgetting: 1) don’t ever insult an Arkanian, or you’ll spend your whole life savings trying to get back in their good graces.

...

They don’t speak a word until they get back to the ship, and even then, words spoken aren’t to each other, only the child. The princess gets him fed and tucked in for the night before disappearing into the ‘fresher. Din fiddles around, unsure if he wants to keep going on their journey or stay on Chandrila for the night. Eventually, he decides to keep going, knowing that the temperatures will drop too much overnight on Chandrila to keep the engine off.

He hears her emerge from the ‘fresher just as the ship lurches into hyperspace, and he reaches over and grabs a parcel from underneath the control panel before heading down into the hold. He gets a strange sense of déja vu, except this time, he knows where he stands.

She’s in her quarters, but the door isn’t shut, so he takes that as an invitation to enter. He sits on her bed, watching her wrestle a chunky knit sweater over her wet hair.

“That’s more like it,” he says, and she turns to face him, a quizzical look on her face. She spots the parcel in his hands, but says nothing of it, just looks at him expectantly. “Your look, I mean. You looked, incredible tonight, but this feels more authentic, more you. You look freer.”

She just nods and bends down to slip on some socks. He holds the parcel out to her when she’s finished and she takes it without a word, sitting down next to him and unwrapping it.

The paper reveals a box. Even though her irritation at his earlier behavior rolls off of her in waves, he can almost feel her excitement piquing.

She opens the box to reveal a pair of pointe shoes in a blush pink color, delicately wrapped in red and green paper.

“...does this make up for me being a fucking idiot?”

She holds the shoes up to the light to inspect them, a revered look upon her face.

“I...I don’t even know what to say.” She whispers.

“Well, you could start with ‘thanks’.” He says, which earns him a light punch on his pauldron.

“I hope you know it’s customary to give the present on Life Day, not the night before, so don’t think this means you get yours tonight. But how did you know?” She asks, finally turning to look at him.

“Well you only drool all over the sidewalk every time we pass a store that sells them, so I picked some up a few rotations ago when we stopped to fuel up.” He answers softly.

She smiles bashfully and tucks her hands into her lap, suddenly finding a spot on the floor very interesting. Din gently takes her chin in between his pointer finger and thumb, guiding her to look at him again.

“I’m sorry...for everything I said. I’m not used to this, any of it. I didn’t mean to insult you in anyway, but you understand that you and I come from completely different worlds, different realities...” he trails off, trying to find the right words to say. “The truth is...I’m scared, terrified of you leaving me. Everyone I’ve ever loved has...has, well, left. I know the kid is gonna have to leave at some point...I don’t want you to, too.

“After we left Nevarro, before we came here, I wanted nothing more than to take off my helmet and tell you...tell you how I love you face to face, and I’ve wanted to do it so many times tonight, but I don’t think I’m ready yet...to take off the helmet, that is. I-I don’t want you to think less of me for that, but I do love you.”

The princess, his princess, cocks her head to the side.

“I knew what I was signing up for, silly. I never expected you to take it off in front of me, not now and maybe not ever. That doesn’t make it any less meaningful.” She tells him with a smile, resting her hand where his cheek would be. “Even though I would really like to kiss you right now.”

“Well, that I can make an exception for.” He says, and removes his hand from her chin, moving it to the lip of his helmet and pulling up slightly.

He knows she’s staring at his bronzed skin and three day old stubble when he says “Well, kiss me then.”

It’s awkward at first when their lips meet, the angle of the helmet meaning that she has to tilt her head almost sideways to avoid a large gash on her nose from the sharp edge, but after a second or two, it’s like magic. They move in sync, chapped lips moving against perfectly moisturized ones. After a moment, Din takes the lead and deepens the kiss, keeping one hand on the helmet and moving the other to the back of her neck. He tentatively pushes his tongue into her mouth, but his eyes almost pop out of their sockets when she starts to suck on it. He groans and she moves her hands up to the sides of his neck.

“How’d you get so good at this?” He asks as they both pause to take a breath.

“Just because I’m a virgin doesn’t mean I wasn’t a horny teenager once. I spent plenty of summers at the Young Senators Retreat and-”

“Yeah, okay I get the picture,” Din huffs.

She laughs a full bellied laugh, the kind that crinkles the skin around her eyes and shows her teeth.

“Aw, is someone jealous?” She teases, poking the sliver of his cheek that was revealed to her.

He slips the helmet down and moves to stand up, and she does the same.

“Wait I didn’t mean to-”

“Sit down. I’ll be right back.”

He exits her room and takes a deep breath. He’s wanted this for so long, to be touched by another...to touch another. To touch her.

He returns moments later with a strip of thick black cloth in his hand and shuts the door behind him.

“As much as I want to see the look in your eyes when I make you come, I’d much rather be able to see the pretty little expressions you make when I eat you out.” He says moving to kneel on the edge of the bed. Her mouth drops into an “o” shape, her face flushing as bright red as it possibly can.

She clears her throat as he ties the cloth around her head, sheathing her in darkness. “You’re, um, good at complimenting.”

He laughs darkly, removing his helmet all the way and setting it on the floor at the foot of the bed before placing his lips next to her ear. “I think you mean dirty talk, angel.”

If it was possible for her to flush anymore, she would’ve, he thinks. He suddenly stops when a thought flashes across his mind that maybe she’s just doing this because he wants to.

“Hey, is this okay? I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with or not ready for, so if you want me to turn off the lights, or we can just stop altogether, just-”

“Din,” she whispers, reaching her hand out until she finds purchase on his knee. “It’s okay. Please, just touch me before I melt into a puddle of goo.”

Din just hums and stands, beginning to remove his armor. The pieces clank to the floor by the edge of the bed one by one, and he swears her face gets redder and redder from the anticipation. Finally, he’s left only in his underwear. He reaches out and grabs her hand, pulling her to stand. His fingertips move down to brush against the hem of her heavy sweater.

“Is this okay?” He asks, tapping his finger over her stomach and he feels her muscles flutter. She nods her head and he tries again.

“No, you have to use your words, sweet girl. Is this okay?” This time, his tone is more firm.

“Yes,” she replies breathlessly. “Please, Din.”

“Please what? What do you want?”

At this point, he knows he’s just riling her up, making the tension palpable before she snaps. He hears a whine in the back of her throat before she responds.

“I-I want you t-to do what you said you’d d-do to me earlier.” She mumbles, looking down at the ground as if to avoid his gaze, even though she can’t see anything.

“Mmm,” he tuts, stepping closer to her and leaning down to nuzzle his nose against the pulse point in her neck. “Which was?”

She huffs. “I want you to eat my pussy until I cry, and then pin me down and fuck me however you want.”

He pulls back at her sudden forwardness, not expecting her to be baited by his teasing. Her hands are balled into fists at her sides and her chest heaves. She huffs again and starts pulling at her clothes.

When her sweater comes off, Din’s cock gets ten times harder at the sight of her bare chest. He’s so caught up in the way her nipples harden and her chest flushes that he doesn’t realize she completely naked until she gingerly steps back toward the bed and flops down.

“Are you even still alive?”

When Din catches a glimpse of wet slick in between her legs, he decides that he’s not.

“N-no, I’m still here...you’re just. Looks like you were sculpted by the Maker himself. I’m not ever gonna to be able to keep my hands to myself around you.” He murmurs, stepping in between her legs and drawing a finger up her calf.

“You haven’t even hardly done that yet.” She grumbles, twitching as his hand trails behind her knee.

“Mmm, that may be true, but I’m never gonna want to leave this room ever again.”

She smirks and he leans over her to plant a kiss on her mouth, his body not yet touching hers. She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him in closer, winding her legs around his torso. When Din feels her wet heat touch the skin just below his bellybutton, his patience thins. He deepens the kiss, carding his hands through her hair and holding her flush to him. She lets a soft moan out and he thinks he might explode.

He pulls away and moves down her body, leaving wet kisses in his wake that have her shivering. He licks a long stripe with the tip of his tongue from just above her clit to her navel and she claps a hand over her mouth.

He stops himself from drowning in her cunt and reaches up to pull her hand away from her mouth. “I shouldn’t have to tell you that I wanna hear you, sweet girl.”

As soon as she says okay, he dives in, immediately attaching his lips to her clit and sucking gently. Her hands fly to his hair and tug, which makes him groan at an ungodly loud volume into her pussy. He releases her clit and licks figure 8′s on her fluttering hole and back up to her clit.

She squeals and brings her thighs up to cage his head, and Din resolves that if he dies, this is how he wants to go; devouring her pussy and soaking up the cute little noises she makes, getting his head squeezed by her thighs and his hair pulled by her tiny hands.

He sucks on her clit again and she lets out a long moan.

“Din, please, s-something put something-”

He cuts her off by slowly wedging his pointer finger into her and starting to thrust. Her back arches off the bed and she lets out an even longer moan than before.

He lets go of her clit and asks “Is this what you wanted, angel? My thick fingers? Or just my mouth?”

She hums before shaking her head. “I-Is both an option? I w-want both, please.”

“Good job using your manners. And yes, both is an option.” He says before diving back in.

This time, instead of hearing her moans, he’s not even sure he can hear her breathing. He inserts a second finger and she exhales, letting go of his hair to fist the sheets. His dick jumps at the loud squelching sound his fingers make in her pussy as he picks up the pace.

“Ohh,” she groans out, and his eyes flick up to see her tits moving slightly with the force of his fingers. “Din, that feels so good.”

“Mhm, I’m gonna have to give you one more finger, sweet girl. Do you think you can take one more?” He asks, his voice muffled as he keeps slurping on her clit.

“One more? B-But it already feels so...so...” she trails off into a whine when he curls his fingers up and gives her the ‘come here’ motion.

“Tight? Yeah, angel, I know. But I’ve gotta do one more if you wanna be able to take it.”

Her pelvic floor contracts at his words and she squirms, bringing her hands back up to his hair and tugging.

He slowly gives her a third finger and watches her face to control his pace. It scrunches up into a frown that wrinkles her nose, but relaxes when he uses his tongue to lick a flat stripe across her clit. She uses her purchase on his hair to guide him to suck her clit again, and shortly after that, she’s moaning again.

He scissors his fingers on every thrust, trying to get her as relaxed as possible for the real thing. He curls his fingers up one more time and she’s inhaling loudly, her thighs shaking around his head and her fingers tightening around his locks. She screams as she meets her release, the sound coming out rough and scratchy. She curls in around his head, refusing to let go of his hair as he continues to suck on her clit.

She finally lets go and Din keeps thrusting as she exhales and it turns into a whimper. He slowly removes his fingers and crawls back up her body, pushing her legs back up to his torso as he goes. Her chest is still heaving from her orgasm as he leans down to give her a thorough kiss.

“Suck,” he gently commands, bringing the three fingers that were just inside of her to her lips. She hesitates a moment before opening her mouth and doing as he says. He groans as her tongue slips in between each digit and she licks off her come.

Din feels his heart stutter as he watches her.

“You look so perfect like this, all open for me, being a good girl.”

She hums around his fingers and he removes them, shucking his underwear off and fisting his cock with her spit.

“Are you on the implant?” He questions.

“Yeah, it’s against the law not to be on Arkanis...is it going to hurt?” She asks softly, clutching her hands to her chest.

“I think I’ve got you pretty wet and worked open, but we’ll go slow. It might hurt a little,” he answers, rubbing his thumb on the inside of her thigh while his hand spreads her spit around the head of his dick. “Are you ready?”

“Mhm,” she says, nodding her head, but she replies again, seemingly remembering his warning from earlier. “Yes.”

He adjusts her legs so that her calves are resting on his hipbones. He brings his thumb back to her clit and rubs gently as he starts to push the head in.

Now, Din is a cocky bastard by any means, but he’s not surprised when she starts to scrunch her face up and hold her breath when his cock gets about an inch in.

“Uh-ooh uh Din...Din it’s thick. Let me...can I feel...” he slows his movements as she trails off, grabbing her hand and bringing it down to the rest of his length that isn’t inside of her yet.

“H-how is the rest of this supposed to fit in me, what the fuck?” She asks incredulously, barely able to wrap her hand around the diameter.

Din laughs lightly, reaching up and grabbing one of her pillows before lifting her hips up and sticking it under her.

“This might help. Just relax, the more relaxed you are, the quicker you’ll adjust.” He tells her, leaning down to give her a lingering kiss. He stays there, hovering over her as he gently pushes in some more, kissing her again when her face scrunches.

He gets about halfway in before she finally relaxes and Din’s cock doesn’t feel like it’s being strangled. He sits back up and watches as her pussy swallows the rest of his length.

“Oh, sweet girl you’re doing such a good job already. I wish you could see how good your little pussy takes this dick.” He tells her, choking on his words when her muscles flex and squeeze his dick. He pulls out a fraction of an inch before pushing in again and she mewls. “It’s like you were made for me.”

She brings her arms up to drape over her already covered eyes.

“I-it feels good...go faster, please, I want it.” She whines and Din can’t help but run a hand up her stomach and to one of her tits, pinching her nipple lightly before pulling back and giving her what she wants.

“I love it when you beg,” he breathes out, enunciating each word with a thrust that’s not too hard, but just hard enough to redden her chest and make her tits bounce. “Look at you, I’ve got a little princess speared on my cock, hardly able to even talk. Have you thought about this? Huh? Thought about how my cock would feel? I knew you were wearing those tight little leggings and those little tank tops with no bra on for a reason. Dancing around my ship like I didn’t want to bend you over a crate and take you right there.”

She moans, long and loud, and he picks up his pace, lifting up her legs and holding them against his chest.

“K-keep talking, please, please, ple-” Her voice turns into a whine when he angles his hips up and hits a spot inside of her that has her legs locking up and her ankles tightening behind his head. He has to grit his teeth to stop himself from coming too soon because of how much tighter her velvet heat gets.

“Yeah, you like that? This pussy feels so good, baby. I-I wanna spend the rest of my life just fucking you.” He grunts out, emphasizing his last few words with a hard thrust.

She lets out an absolutely pornographic moan when he does that, but it turns into a whine when Din abruptly pulls out. He pulls away to grab his helmet and slip it back on before plopping down on the bed next to her and pulling her hips up and over so she’s straddling his. He reaches up and yanks off the blindfold, causing her to reflexively cover her eyes.

“I have the helmet on, it’s fine,” he tells her, watching her shoulders deflate. “I want you to watch the way I fuck you, angel. Uncover your eyes.”

She tentatively does as he asks and when she looks down at his cock that rests on his stomach, her eyes bulge. When she takes it in her small hand, Din wants to burn the image into his brain. She looks back up at him with a look of amazement.

“There’s no way this was in me...” she trails off, lightly stroking it.

“Mm, yeah, well you can have it back in you if you’d stop talking. I like it more when you beg.”

He watches as the look of amazement turns to mischief, similar to the look she gave him earlier at the theatre. Her milky eyes pierce his visor as she licks her hand and then rubs her pussy, dragging her other hand up her body to grab a handful of her tit.

“Then why don’t you put it back in and keep fucking me?” She asks, looking down at him through her lashes.

“Every fucking day you’re full of surprises, angel,” he groans, grabbing his cock and teasing her clit with it before pushing up and into her. She throws her head back and Din suddenly wishes she had the blindfold back on so he could fulfill his earlier wishes of marking her up.

He grabs her hips and pulls her down to meet his thrusts.

“Look,” he barks, causing her to jerk her head down to the place they meet. “Look at how this cock stretches you. Look at how well you’re doing, such a good girl. Always such a good girl for me, doing what I ask you to.”

He rambles as his thrusts get harder and faster and the princess starts to clench around him again.

“Are you gonna come for me? Gonna come all over this cock? One of these days, I’m gonna make you squirt all over my armor and then I’m-I’m not even gonna clean it, I’m just g-gonna go pick up a bounty.”

The princess lets out a laugh at that, clapping a hand over her mouth as she does and Din slows his pace.

“I’m sorry this feels really good still, but that was just funny. Hot, but also funny. I-I think it was just your delivery,” she giggles, removing her hand from her mouth and placing it on his chest.

Din’s heart skips a beat at the sight of his girl straddling his cock with a smile on her face, looking at him so lovingly. It’s a gaze he hasn’t been on the receiving side of in a long time. He finds himself thankful for once that the helmet is on because of the tears that spring to his eyes. Crying during sex? Not Din Djarin.

He sits up then, holding onto her back and folding his knees under him, hearing them protest as he does. He pushes her shoulders down so that he’s bottomed out inside her pussy and she groans.

“Please don’t ever leave me,” he pleads, looking up and fixing his visor on her face. “Him and I, we need you.”

“I-wh-where did that come from? Are you okay?” She asks, placing her hands on either side of his helmet and looking concerned.

He ignores her question, opting to bury his helmet into her chest and hug her tight while starting to thrust back into her.

“Din...” she warns, but hugs him back anyway.

They stay like that for a few minutes, just slowly moving back and forth together until Din’s patience breaks and he can’t help but start thrusting harder and faster. His hand snakes down her front to rub at her clit and he can feel her start to come undone. Her cunt clenches around him as she’s quickly and quietly tipped over the edge, her thighs and back spasming. She says nothing, just pants heavily above him, clutching his shoulders and brushing the strands of hair at the back of his neck that have escaped his helmet.

“Can I-can I come inside? Please-”

“Yes,” she cuts him off breathlessly. “Please, Maker, yes.”

He thrusts in a few more times before speaking again.

“Tell me you-mmm. Tell me you love me, cyare.”

“Oh, Din, I love you so much. You’re so special, you’re such a special man. I loveyouIloveyouIloveyou.”

He comes inside of her with a long groan, burying his face further into her chest as she repeats herself over and over.

Eventually, Din flops back onto her bed and she follows. He notices she takes extra care to make sure his cock doesn’t slip out of her.

“Wanted to keep all that come in there, huh?” He jokes lightly, giving her a soft pat on the butt.

“Shut up,” she huffs with a laugh into his neck. “I’m gonna have to get up eventually though to turn off the light. Are you...will you stay with me? If the lights are off?”

He rubs his hands up and down her back before exhaling deeply and responding.

“I would sleep in all of my armor just for the honor of falling asleep next to you.”

“Mmm,” she hums, tracing her finger along his collarbone. “Well lucky for you, I have a strict ‘no armor’ policy in my bed. It reads like this: ‘No beskar? No problem.’.”

Din awakes with a start to a loud thwump, thwump, thwump from somewhere in the ship. Immediately fearing the worst, he throws his undershirt and pants on and rushes into the hold.

There she sits, his princess, in one of his long-sleeve tunics and a pair of his underwear that fit her like shorts, banging the absolute shit out of one of her pointe shoes. The child, his son, he reminds himself, sits across from her holding the other shoe, trying to mimic her and bobbing his head along to the music playing softly in the background.

He calms his racing heartbeat as he goes to take a seat on the floor next to them.

“Happy Life Day,” she says, leaning over to place a kiss where his cheek would be.

“Happy Life Day to you, too,” he responds tenderly, booping her nose. She looks down to return to her work and Din turns to his son. “Happy Life Day, buddy.”

He babbles in delight, holding up the shoe to show Din all the work he’s (not) done on it.

“Sorry if I woke you up...actually, no I’m not. He told me to,” she says without looking up, nodding her head toward the child who just laughs. “He wants his presents, daddy.”

Din clears his throat and stands back up while the princess just smirks, knowing exactly what she does to him.

“Oh, and while you’re at it, there’s one for you underneath my bed.” She calls out to him as he leaves to go retrieve the Life Day presents.

“Alright, but next time I sit down, I’m not getting back up for at least 20 minutes.” He calls back from the ladder.

When he returns, he sees that they’ve switched shoes.

“So what does that do anyway?” He asks, setting the presents on the floor in between them. The child immediately makes grabby hands.

“Oh, it just breaks them in, but trust me, you’re not gonna want to see my feet for at least a week once you see what pointe shoes do to them,” she laughs.

Din’s helmet tilts, trying to gauge if he should have even bought them.

“Hey,” she says softly, placing a warm hand on his shoulder. “Thank you. They’re perfect. You have to do this with all of them, I promise.”

He just nods and pats her hand before reaching over and handing the child his present.

“This one’s mine?” He asks, holding up a large box wrapped in purple paper with a silver bow on top.

“Mhm,” she responds with a smile, tossing the shoe aside to pull his son into her lap and help him unwrap his present. “There’s a few things in there, but I could only do one box because the paper tax on Vardos was high.”

“That’s rich coming from the princess,” he teases, gently tearing into the paper.

“Hey! You know I don’t like using my parents’ capitalist credits,” she frowns.

He laughs, the modulator making it sound raspy. Their attention is grabbed by the child, who finally gets the box open and squeals in delight at the objects inside.

“Show dad what you got!” She tells him.

Din ignores his own present for a moment to watch as his son shows him a red shirt and black pants.

“Wow! That’s cool! Do you like them?” He asks.

The child babbles and Din looks at the princess. “Where’d you find something that small?”

“A maternity store,” she responds with a shrug, still looking down at the child. “Show him the next one!”

Din’s thoughts are swimming with the idea of her walking around a maternity store when the kid shows him his next present. The mental image has his blood rushing south until he reminds himself where he is and what he’s doing.

He clears his throat for the second time that morning because of explicit thoughts. “Oh, that’s neat!”

His son holds a tukka doll close to his chest with bright eyes and a beaming smile that shows his little teeth.

“Tell your dad to open his present,” the princess leans down and tells him, giving him a scratch on the head. When he babbles at Din again, his heart melts.

“Okay, okay, I’m on it hang on,” he responds, gently peeling open the cardboard.

In the box sits a camera, a photo, a cushion of some sort, and a folded piece of deep red fabric. The first thing he pulls out of the box is the photo. It takes him approximately ten seconds to realize that it’s a picture of him, smiling, as a boy. Next to him sits a girl, about four years older than him, and behind them stand his parents. There’s a tree with lights and ornaments decorating it in the background.

“Do you like it?” She softly asks him, placing a hand on his knee.

“I...how?” Is all he can muster.

“Well, I did some digging...a lot, actually. I found this on the holonet on an Aq Vetina tribute page,” she says, scratching the back of her neck and looking away. “It’s sad how many of those there are. Anyways, I saw your last name, your family’s last name, and figured it had to be you guys. I, uh, had it printed out because having to boot up a piece of technology every time you want to see that seems silly.”

“Is that...did I have a sister?” He whispers, drawing his finger over her picture.

“Seems that way. I could probably do some more digging if you’d like...maybe teach you how to use the holonet while I’m at it, old man.” She softly teases, squeezing his knee.

He’s scared that he broke something when he practically tackles her in a hug. His son hoots in delight, crawling his way up her front to be in the middle of the embrace.

“Thank you...so much,” he whispers in her ear, this time doing nothing to stop the tears that roll down his cheeks and catch on the lining of his helmet.

“It’s the least I could do,” she replies, giving him a soft smile when he pulls away. “If you need a moment, we can take a break before you-”

“No, no it’s okay. I’m fine,” he reassures her, the barest hint of a smile in his voice. “I’m right here where I want to be.”

He pulls the camera out of the box and inspects this.

“This is an older model,” he comments, looking through the viewfinder. “This must’ve been hard to find.”

“Yeah, but I wanted one that prints the photos out so you can keep them on you,” she responds.

“What’s this?” He asks, holding up the cushion.

She laughs. “It’s for your butt. For your chair in the cockpit. It’s supposed to help with back pain.”

He gently pops her on the head with it and she giggles. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

“Mhm...pull out the last one.” She tells him, nodding to the box.

He removes the fabric from the box and it unfolds as he holds it up.

“It’s a new cape. I got it so you guys could match.”

The smile on Din’s face threatens to break his helmet in half. “Hey, buddy, look...we’re matching.” He says, holding the cape out to his son.

The child giggles and wraps it around himself like a cape, and goes parading around the little half circle they’ve formed.

“This is...this is nice,” Din compliments, scooting over and slinging his arm over the princess’s shoulder. “All we need now is a tree.”

She leans her head into the crook of his arm and sighs contentedly. “Yeah, well they don’t survive in extended periods of hyperspace...trust me, I already thought about it.”

“I feel bad I only got you the one present,” he remarks, a tinge of disappointment in his voice.

“Mm, I’ve got everything I want right here,” she singsongs, poking him in his side. “Now lets get all this paper cleaned up so we can eat.”

She holds her hands out and he follows her up.

“What if we...uh, can we recreate that picture? The one of my parents?” He asks tentatively once he’s fully standing.

“Like...with the three of us?” She inquires, her eyes widening.

“Yeah.”

“Of course,” she answers with a soft smile. “It’d be best to do it after breakfast before his nap though.”

He watches for a moment as she starts cleaning up the multicolored wrapping paper, thinking about how peaceful and domestic this moment seems. He almost brings up getting their implants removed and having a few more monsters running around the ship, but he decides that maybe that’s a conversation for next Life Day, where hopefully they won’t have to live in the ship anymore or be on the run.

Even if there aren’t any more kids in the picture, or if we never settle down somewhere, this is more than enough, he thinks before joining his princess and his son in the kitchenette for a Life Day feast.

And for a day, all is well with the Mudhorn Clan.

#din djarin #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #no y/n's around here #baby yoda #star wars #pedro pascal #reader insert

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lokiwritess · 4 years

Text

Colors - Commander Colt

So... I fell in love with another clone today and it’s all @cxptain-rex fault. Anyway Colt is alive and well, haven’t you heard? I’m not sure I got his character right? Let me know what you think xx

"Commander, we need to relocate you to a different station."

The curtain before his bed was hurriedly pushed away by one of the human nurses, that the Kaminoans had imported directly from Coruscant. He wondered what was going on outside.

How long had he spent, staring at nothing, just pressing down on his makeshift bandage, and listening to more wounded people being brought in? Was the battle finally over?

"Why? What's happenin' out there?", Commander Colt slurred, numb.

Maybe now someone would answer his questions, or treat him or do anything but let him wait in silence, alone with his own thoughts.

He didn’t understand how he even made it into that bed in the first place.

He'd come face to face with that Assasin, but somehow he'd made it back to the medbay only half-dead, left to contemplate how he was even alive.

Was that a blessing or a curse?

Images kept flashing in his head. His dead brother's, his men, the walls glowing the color of freshly spilled blood in the light of two sabers.

Maybe dying at their side would have been better than what awaited him. Or maybe that was just the blood loss talking.

"Don't worry, Commander, the battle is over. We simply have too many injured patients. We're receiving help from other healers, so we're going to relocate you to one of them to get you the help you need immediately."

Colt managed a slight nod, watching through hazy eyes as the nurse made the preparations to move him and left him in the care of a medical droid.

For a fraction of a moment, the ARC-Trooper felt fine, peaceful even, like he could just fall into a dreamless sleep and wake up completely healed. He watched tiny droplets of his blood, cascading down his fingers onto the almost too white sheets that he'd hurriedly been covered with.

Somehow, he found it extremely amusing to see the sheets of white being tainted by his blood. If the Kaminoans could see this, they would surely faint at the sight, after all, he was destroying their perfectly sterile environment.

Everything on Kamino was either too white or grey.

"Commander? Commander Colt? Can you hear me?"

The voice that called out to him was new. He realized that immediately because it sounded sweet and lively. Foreign in a place like Kamino. Out of place.

Lively. Nothing about Kamino could be considered lively.

"Blood pressure is dropping. Get him into that OR now!"

The words that the new voice used didn't sink in properly. Was he dying?

Was that against the rules of the GAR? Could he be demoted for that?

Colt didn't really care, not at that moment, feeling so warm and tucked away safely in his own head. Like a big, comfortable blanket had been wrapped securely around him.

That feeling was foreign to him as well. A strange sensation he wasn’t used to but enjoyed nonetheless. So he decided that just for a second he was safe enough to allow his brain to wander freely.

Somehow he came to think of colors again.

Maybe dying meant he would see something other than grey and white again.

What an exciting thought, that for a second, seemed like a reason worth dying for.

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

Nothing could have prepared him for the way he felt when he woke up. Everything was too much. Too many people, too much movement, so many signals from the world around him.

The safety and warmth he'd felt had been ripped away. Reality took over where fantasy was too tired to work.

And everything hurt.

"Commander Colt? Can you hear me?"

Colt faintly recognized the voice he heard, calling out to him. It'd been the last voice he'd heard before his brain took over, yet now it sounded less like he was stuck in a dream. It sounded real, so real that he realized it was coming from right beside him.

Just turning his head seemed like almost an impossible task to the usually strong Commander, but tired curiosity got the best of him. Every muscle in his body felt unforgiving and unmoving, as heavy as the durasteel that the LAAT Transports were made of.

Yet when he finally laid his eyes on you, he felt some of the weight drop, pain replaced by (only partly stim-induced) wonder.

You were definitely foreign to Kamino and he definitely hadn't ever met you before. He would have remembered your face, no matter what. Even just the first impression you made on the trooper screamed that you were… different, standing out against your sterile white surroundings.

The fogginess of his brain made it hard to keep his eyes focused, but he wanted nothing more than to keep looking at you. After so much time with the Kaminoans, and their boring white and grey world, you were like a breath of fresh air in the Commander's lungs.

You were color, he decided, because of the way your stunning *eye-color* eyes glowed as you looked at him. And you were Warmth. He couldn’t explain why, but the temperature around you must surely be the exact opposite of the rainy and harsh planet as well. He could just feel it.

Maybe he died after all?

"Welcome back to the world of the living, Commander Colt. You sure made it hard for me to keep you here."

He was entranced, watching as the corners of your mouth pulled upwards into a smile that could only be described as magical.

The inside of his chest burned, flaring up with the overwhelming desire to talk to you, but unfortunately for the trooper, his brain and mouth were not on the same page just yet, leaving him to stare in silence.

"I see you're still enjoying the effects of the anesthetic, Commander. Don't worry, when they wear off there's more where those came from.", you joked, glancing at the charts in your hands again.

When you let your gaze connect with that of the drugged-up Commander again, he looked back at you in awe, clearly still struggling to process things.

"Well, the good news is, surgery was a success. All internal damage was successfully repaired. The bad news is, you're going to need some time to completely heal from a wound like this. So you'll be staying here for a while.”, you explained, slowly sounding out the words in the hope that the trooper would be able to follow them more easily.

Colt needed a second, but then he nodded. Because he did feel tired enough to sleep for at least three rotations. Yet there was a small selfish part of his brain that just wanted to continue listening to your voice.

"Wh- Who are… you?", he managed to press out, realizing just how exhausted he really was.

"My name is Y/n, and it looks like I'll be your healer until you're back up on your feet."

" 's... pretty.", he slurred.

Embarrassment seeped into the mind of the Commander, even through the fog of medication. He most definitely had wanted to say anything but that, but the words had slipped from his mouth before his brain could catch up.

It was worth it, if only for the sparkle of surprise in your eyes and the small laugh that escaped your beautiful lips. Oh, what a heavenly sound.

“Alright Commander, get as much rest as possible. I’ll be back in a couple of hours to check on you again. And remember, if your medication wears off, there’s more where that came from. Just contact a nurse.”, you mused, turning away with a smile that immediately etched itself into Colt’s mind.

#star wars imagines #star wars x reader #commander colt imagine #commander colt x reader #commander colt #clone troopers #arc trooper colt #arc commander colt #clone wars imagine #clone wars x reader #louistrying

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orcinus-ocean · 4 years

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I am watching hours worth of ex-vegan “interviews” or testimonials, so you don’t have to.

I link to each one so you can see them for yourself, but I wrote down the important points of each one, since I believe this is not just important, but vital information. This could save people’s lives, if they just stop and think and look at another perspective before they go into it.

These are real people. They really wanted it. They really knew what they were doing. They weren’t “doing it wrong”. These are their experiences.

Ex-Vegan (8 Years): Veganism Is a Teeth Rotting, Muscle Atrophying, Degenerating, Fart Fest

A young man with a lot of health issues including severe eczema, got into veganism to get healthy

He had previously been living the typical “college” lifestyle with lots of fast food, no health-thinking at all

For the first year or two, he felt amazing, he did fine for four years, had a successful YouTube channel talking about skin health and the vegan diet

Emphasizing how “literally obsessed” he was with his dental hygiene and health, four years into veganism, his teeth were deteriorating and every time he visited the dentist, he had to have a root canal, he had cavities, infections, receding gums, always something

He was always bloated with a visibly bloated belly

Despite being a very health-focused athlete, his muscles wouldn’t grow the way they should

His skin started going “grey” and his hair lost its rich color

His memory and ability to focus deteriorated

He completely lost interest in food - everything “disgusting”

Feeling a craving for protein, he upped the high-protein vegan foods, and he only felt worse and worse

After realizing this diet was making him sick, he took one bite of salmon and “it was like taking drugs” - clear, physical reaction to it, and compared to the plants giving bloating and gas, “it felt like I was eating nothing, but I had so much energy”

After going back to eating animal protein (as much wild fish/meat as possible), his weight corrected itself, strength in the gym went “off the charts”

The pain and irritation he had on the vegan diet went away

His gums went from white pink to red, “right away”

Digestion issues - gone, hormonal issues - gone

“Since I’ve been eating animals, I feel more humble and more gentle towards animals, I feel more respect towards them, and I feel like I understand the cycles of life and appreciate life even more”

He says the vegan diet can help people to “clean out the body” as it did for him, but veganism, he doesn’t understand. “If your mom was on her death bed, and she had the choice: Die a horrible, painful death, or eat salmon, you would want your mom to die a horrible death rather than eat salmon. I’m asking this to vegans, and a lot of them are like ‘Under no circumstance would I ever have my mom or anyone I know, eat salmon, because it’s killing an animal, it’s abuse’. And I’m like aren’t humans animals?”

“I view the vegan diet as a disease-reversal protocol, not as a ‘forever diet’.”

Ex-Vegan Family: (6+ Years): "Healthy" Vegan & Vegetarian Dogma Depleted Health and Vitality

Casey vegetarian/vegan for ~15 years

Did it to try to clear up his eczema and staph infections (which were so bad the doctors wanted to amputate his legs), didn't really work

He did feel great for the first few months as a raw vegan, but looking back, he believes it was more due to cutting out grains and processed foods, since he found grains are terrible for him

Lost a lot of weight, rotting teeth, reoccuring cavities

Gina became vegan at the age of 13, being a picky eater and caring about animals

The "readymade" vegan food wasn't doing well for her, so she started eating only raw vegan food

She felt really good - for about six months. After six months, a very severe depression, accompanied by brain fog, lack of mental focus, constant hunger, weight loss and joint pain, kicked in

She believed so hard that this had to be right, that she stayed a vegan for 6 years, before introducing dairy

At the age of 17, after four years on veganism, developed a cancerous tumor on her leg (not necessarily connected, but worth noting)

Five years into veganism she was pregnant, and began craving red meat - they started buying local dairy, meat, liver and eggs

After the baby, she went back to raw veganism, and the joint pain came back, "it's detox"

She instead went back to being vegetarian rather than raw vegan, but she still suffered from worsening joint pain, fatigue, brain fog

A couple of years later, she was pregnant again and she was craving red meat so much she even dreamt about it

Her conclusion was "I must be doing it wrong, I must just eat more of the high-protein vegan food"

For her third pregnancy, she stayed vegan, and the birth was the hardest one she had

The baby had the lowest birth weight of the three, still normal weight, but later, he wasn't gaining weight normally

The child couldn't sit up at six months, couldn't walk at a year old, was depressed, only learned to walk after they gave him meat, and he finally became happy

Then on her fourth pregnancy, she was not vegan for the first half, but went back to raw vegan on the latter half of the pregnancy, and this child was healthy

On raw veganism at the end of the fourth pregnancy, her teeth were "falling apart", her bones were aching, and she was so foggy she couldn't think or remember anything

At the end of her pregnancy, she hadn't gained any weight, just stayed the same

Her teeth were full of cavities, despite having been to the dentist and "fixed everything" just some months prior

They could never manage raw fruit more than six months at a time, constant hunger

They believed the constant hunger could be due to parasites, so they ate anti-parasitic herbs which only made things worse

When she stopped eating vegetables (only fruit?), she got skin rashes as well

When they went back to meat, they felt full for the whole day, while on raw veganism, they had to eat all the time and were still always hungry

At the time of filming, they were completely off veganism for four months and she feels like her brain has "grown", she has energy, can exercise again, is gaining muscle

Ex-Vegan (4 Years): How Veganism Shortened My Lifespan

Started veganism as a New Year’s resolution to turn his life around, after living “like a degenerate”

He started with a month-long juice fast, where he felt great

On the first year as a “whole foods vegan” (mainly raw), he suffered from loss of libido, insomnia, migraines, arthritis, couldn’t build muscle

After a year, he went back to a diet of white rice, lean meat, bone marrow and occasional red meat

This diet immediately got his libido and muscle growth back

After some time, peer pressure made him drop the meat, but he still ate eggs

The vegans around him told him “if you continue to eat meat and dairy, you will not be able to ascend and channel divine guidance”

One of them was a nutritionist, and when he told her veganism destroyed his health, she said that he needs to be on 80/10/10, a fruit-based diet

He stayed on it for five months, and it was “the worst 4-5 months of my life”

He went on another vegan diet, based on sprouts, sea vegetables and algae, and a bunch of supplements

Same problems - lack of libido, insomnia, lack of muscle, migraines, cracking joints

A friend who saw him for the first time in years said “you look like one of those kids in the refugee camps”, because his face was so sunken-in

His friend eventually convinced him to go with him to a steakhouse, and he describes the first bite he took as “the fat going straight into my brain” and he felt “like a dying wolf”

He gorged on 2-3 pounds of fatty meat, slept for twelve hours, and his friends told him he immediatly looked like a completely different person

His cracking joints, dry skin and insomnia went away

Still, he went back to veganism, and all the problems came back

He went back and forth between raw veganism and primal diet every 2-4 weeks, rebuilding on an animal-based diet, deteriorating on a plant-based diet, always thinking “this time I will make it work”

He had to give up aiming for optimum health as a vegan, instead aiming for just “normal stability”

Staying at an old vegan institute managed by one of the creators of his sprouts-algae-supplements diet, doing a colonic, the worker there admitted to him most of them there are not vegan, because they fall apart on it, but go on a primal diet

During the colonic, the worker pushed his liver, and he felt “fire” going down his intestines. What came out was all green, spirulina, algae and other such supplements, which had simply stored in his liver

He speaks a lot about studies on different “uncivilized” peoples around the world, who were all eating high amounts of animal fat, wherever they lived

At the end, he speaks of where veganism might be coming from, and the lie that veganism is good for the environment

His message to vegans is to “quit bothering and harassing people”, and that if you care about animals, go buy cheap land in Arizona and make an animal shelter or something, instead of bullying people who eat meat

Ex-Vegan (2 Years): Vegans Have No Empathy for Humans

Vegetarian for six years, before going vegan

Ate mainly raw vegan, and then her stomach became “an empty, vacant hole”, she was always hungry

Throughout her time on veganism, she was taking lots of supplements

Her skin dried up, she got acne all over her face

She became “emotional and neurotic” and “absolutely insane” from a lack of B12

A lot of talk about the cult mindset in the “vegan community”

Starting to eat eggs again, she felt “a little bit better”, but still felt hungry all the time

Panic attacks over tiny things, anemia, constant diarrhea

Started eating fish, it didn’t help much

She was always hungry but had no appetite, had to force-feed herself

After a particularly bad day, she realized she was risking her life, and ate steak the next day

Eating steak for the first time in years, she felt warmth throughout her body, tingling on her head, and “satiated” for the first time in years, “it changed my life”

Ex-Vegan (12+ Years): Veganism Is Starvation - Fruitarianism Is Suicide

Started in 2002 as a vegetarian for a year before going vegan, became raw vegan from 2009-2011, then went on to fruitarianism until 2015

She says many feel great the first year or so on veganism, because they cut out all the junk from their diet

She had digestive issues prior to becoming vegan, thought it might help, but it only got worse and she got sicker as the years progressed

After six years and only getting sicker, she thought it must be the drugs for her health issues, "I'm doing it wrong", or "my body is wrong"

(They talk about some very interesting "meat and milk causes cancer"-studies four minutes in)

She said the raw vegan years were the worst of her life, that her brain “stopped functioning”. She became "permanently psychotic", she "saw hell" and heard voices - conclusion: "oh, it's detox"

When she stopped veganism in 2015, she had a test done on her hair. They said they had never seen that much heavy metal in someone's hair before

She had been doing nothing but "cleansing" and "detoxing" for the past five years, and she was "the most toxic, sick person you'll ever meet"

She was “literally dying” towards the end, freezing cold all the time, her bones hurt so much she couldn't lay on a hard surface

She couldn't digest anything but fruit anymore, it took two years of quitting raw veganism until the point where she could digest vegetables and meat again

Her teeth had to be all "redone", because they were rotten to the roots, her hair was falling out

She was told that on this fruitarian diet, it will feel like hell for 2-3 years, because of the "detox", then they will feel great, like godlike beings

But since 2-3 years passed and people still felt awful, their "leader" changed that to "people are so sick today, the detox will take 5-6 years!"

This also didn't happen, people stuck for 5-6 years and only got sicker, so the story changed to "7-8 years, then you will feel great!"

Her comment: "You can't be a herbivore and be healthy. If you want to have a life of mental illness and an early death and degeneration, go be vegan."

Many of these people have also spoken of how many well-known names in the vegan/raw/fruitarian communities (from YouTubers to authors) are known “cheaters” who eat meat frequently in order to stay healthy, while lying to their audiences and telling them to stay vegan.

These were only five. I will do more of these posts, to keep them at a readable length.

#vegans #veganism #raw vegan #plant based #ex vegan #anti vegan #fruitarianism #vegan health

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alexsfictionaddiction · 3 years

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Alex Recommends: September Books

Well, autumn is finally here! A lot of September was actually really warm, which I was really disappointed about. However, the cold is finally here, it’s looking beautiful out there and I am finally in knitwear!

I’ve been pretty busy with work recently, which has been a great distraction from impending stressful times. October is looking like another crazy busy month for me and I’ll be spending quite a bit of it away from Mark, which I hate. However, the spooky season is one of my favourites of the whole year and I’m looking forward to getting my fill of horror content over the next few weeks.

The theatres are finally open again in the UK and I’ve been lucky enough to take in a few shows recently with a few more planned before the end of the year. Whenever I go to the theatre, some kind of magical warmth and excitement floods through me and I’ve missed it so much.

I’m also trying to get fit again as I put on a lot of weight during last year’s lockdowns. I’ve been swimming twice a week and trying to go for long walks as much as possible. I wouldn’t say I enjoy exercising but I have the motivation to better myself at the moment, so I guess that’s something.

I’ve also been reading a lot and have surpassed my reading goal for the year. I don’t know whether to up the goal or simply just keep reading and see how many books I can get through before January. Let me know if you have any thoughts on what I should do! Anyway, here are five amazing reads that I’ve devoured recently and I think they should be on your radar. Enjoy!

-Love, Alex x

FICTION: The Beloved Girls by Harriet Evans.

In the summer of 1989, a girl named Jane Lestrange has come to stay at Vanes, a mysterious Gothic manor in the West Country. Vanes is home to the Hunter family, including twins Joss and Kitty and their younger sister Merry. The Hunters lead the annual ceremony that celebrates the ancient connection between the villagers and the bees. This year, Jane and Kitty will play the part of The Beloved Girls, a starring role in the strange ritual. Years later, successful barrister Catherine vanishes from her idyllic family life and career in London. Was this triggered by a ghostly vision or a troubled mind that has finally cracked? This bewitching novel charts an epic family saga, populated by some fascinating characters. It’s a heartbreaking story about resilience and memory with plenty of twists and dark witchy vibes, which is perfect for autumn. Beware of trigger warnings for sexual abuse and suicide before diving into this utterly beguiling book.

DYSTOPIAN: The Patient by Nick Tyrone.

Mr and Mrs Sincope are ready to welcome their first child but hours after being induced, Mrs Sincope is still awaiting her labour to begin. The hours slowly bleed into days and it becomes acutely apparent that something incredibly strange and sinister is going on within the hospital. This dark, unsettling story is full of thoroughly unlikeable characters and commentary on the very real treatment of women’s bodies when they’re at their most vulnerable. Amongst the witty social satire and funny lines, the attitudes displayed by many characters in this seemingly bleak dystopian aren’t too far away from those that really exist. This cleverly written, strange and unique read is a quick, absorbing, out-of-the-box look into the importance of women being in charge of their own bodies, which is incredibly relevant to today.

MIDDLE-GRADE: Keeper of Secrets by Sarah J. Dodd.

Since her mother’s death, Emily has been living with her vet father in a small rural community. There are lynx rewilding efforts being carried out and local farmers are viciously against the re-introduction of these beautiful, majestic cats. So when Emily comes across a cub that has lost its mother, she does everything she can to protect the animal from those who want to kill her. Ultimately, this gorgeous story is about grief and learning to live after devastating loss. Of course, it’s also about lynx rewilding and conservation which is a much-talked about topic in some rural areas of the UK. Emily seems like a very fickle character, but the heartbreaking scenes exploring what she has been through help the reader understand her better.

YA: The Devil Makes Three by Tori Bovalino.

Tess is working at her school’s library over the summer and spends her days seeking out the books that academic types need for their work. Then she meets Eliot Birch, who seems to be obsessed with grimoires. When Eliot persuades Tess to help him find a book in the restricted, forbidden part of the library, a malevolent force is unleashed and wreaks true bloody horror on Tess and Eliot’s lives. This unique YA horror has characters who are very easy to care about and a slow-burning, subtle romance. It doesn’t skimp on the gore, so be prepared to retch a few times while reading the quite graphic, visceral descriptions of the state of bodies both dead and undead. A perfect, bookish, YA Halloween read.

THRILLER: Rock Paper Scissors by Alice Feeney.

Amelia and Adam Wright's marriage is in desperate need of saving. So when Amelia wins a weekend away to Scotland, it looks like the perfect opportunity to spend some time together and reconnect. Adam suffers from prosopagnosia, face blindness, which means he can’t recognise anyone via their face -including his wife. Every year she writes him letters that she never gives to him until now. One of them has a long buried secret and someone is determined for Adam and Amelia’s happily ever after to come to an end. This thriller is incredibly unnerving and it seems that everyone has skeletons to hide. It’s very well written, truly gripping and highly unique with a few completely unguessable twists. I ate up this fantastically creepy page-turner in no time!

#september books #book recommendations #recommendations #books #bookworm

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suitofvibraniumarmor · 4 years

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Boston Boys [Part One]

Summary: Dr. Aurelie Juneau treats someone in the emergency room she shouldn’t, and get a visit from her brother a few days later. Pairing: Chris Evans x OFC, John Krasinski x OFC Word Count: 1700 Chapter Warnings: Hospital setting and treatment, mentions of guns, implied crime. Square Filled: The entire series (bits and pieces of it) will fill my Crossover square for @marvelfluffbingo. A/N: This story contains a character who lost her hearing as she got older. I do work closely and regularly with the D/deaf community (I’m a sign language interpreter), but my own hearing problems do not involve significant hearing loss. It is not my intention to offend anyone, only to bring in a character with a quality I don’t see often in other fics. If you have questions about her, feel free to ask :)

A busy emergency room wasn’t an unusual thing, especially in Boston, but tonight the chaos was weighing down on Aurelie. She pulled the magnet piece of her cochlear implant away from her head in an effort to drown out the sound for a few peaceful seconds. She stretched her neck from side to side, then rested her head in her hands. The near-silence was a welcome reprieve from the things weighing on her mind.

A tap on her shoulder prompted her to replace the magnet against her head and turn to see who was beckoning her. A nurse handed Aurelie a chart.

“The guy in room five is refusing to let anyone examine him or anything until he sees you. Says he’s got a lac, I see blood on his shirt.”

Aurelie frowned. “He seem legit?”

The nurse shrugged. “Seems like any run of the mill guy, middle class, whatever. We called security down, they’re waiting by the room.”

“All right.” She flipped through a few pages of the chart. “I don’t recognize the name, but I’ll check him out.”

She stood from the desk where she had been charting and skimmed over the rest of the chart as she walked. The curtain to room five was pulled closed for privacy, but the sliding doors were still open. Normally such a room would have been reserved for a psych patient or a near-trauma. Aurelie suspected that the nature of this patient’s refusal to speak to anyone but her had something to do with his room placement.

The request for her services was another common occurrence in the emergency room. Though no one, including most of her patients, particularly knew why she did it, Aurelie treated any injury or sickness that came into the ER, and she did so with a discretion that, at times, was outside of the law. Her casual manner about the treatments often went unnoticed by her co-workers, or didn’t bother any of them enough for them to speak up. If you lived in Boston and got tangled up in some mess that got you hurt but you didn’t want the authorities involved, you went to MassGen and asked for Dr. Juneau. That’s just the way it was.

Pulling the curtain to the side, she kept her facial expression neutral, as she would with any patient. She surveyed the man laying on the bed; at least six-two, maybe a buck-eighty in weight. Brown hair, face pale -- from his injury, Aurelie figured. She set the chart on the metal tray and crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’m Dr. Juneau. You asked for me?”

The man nodded. “I’ve heard that you’ll take care of someone and not put anything sketchy on the books.”

Aurelie licked her lips, pulling her bottom lip between her front teeth. She flipped on all of the lights in the room and surveyed the man again; his face was only vaguely familiar. Regardless, she wasn’t going to put herself on radar by causing a scene. So, she stepped out through the curtain again and told security they could go.

“He’s an old family friend, scared of hospitals. I’ll talk to him about it.”

The two guards who had come down from their bubble shrugged and left. Aurelie asked the nurse to give her a few minutes before she came back into the room. She donned a pair of gloves and disappeared back behind the curtain. After hooking him up to a heart monitor and a blood pressure cuff, she checked his temperature and respirations. With all of vitals noted, she took a seat on the rolling stool and asked where his laceration was located.

The man pulled his shirt up to reveal a cut above his left hip bone, pulling around to his abdomen. Aurelie positioned herself on the side of the bed and took a closer look at the cut.

“How’d you get this?”

“Does it matter?”

“Fair enough.” She rolled to the door and asked the nurse to bring a laceration kit. While she waited, Aurelie got a clean washcloth and doused it with sterilized water. She cleaned the dried blood from the area, then sat and waited in silence. When the nurse came with the lac kit, Aurelie sent the chart with her, and got ready to stitch the man up.

“This is gonna sting, but it’s better than taking the stitches raw,” Aurelie assured, injecting lidocaine to several places in and around the cut. She waited a little longer, then poked him with the needle again. When he didn’t even flinch, she knew she could start the stitches. “Do you need a tetanus shot?”

“Don’t think so.”

Other than that, she went to work in silence, quickly and neatly stitching up the cut, making sure the scar would be straight and minimal. The cut was halfway stitched when he spoke again.

“What’s that above your ear?”

Aurelie pursed her lips, completing two more stitches before answering him. “It’s called a cochlear implant. It helps me hear, to a certain degree.”

“You’re deaf?”

“I wasn’t always. Slowly started to lose my hearing as I got older, sometime in high school, it dropped out completely from the left side. Right side is there, but not nearly a hundred percent. They still don’t know why.” She bit her bottom lip as she struggled to knot the stitch she had just completed on. “My turn?”

He frowned. “What?”

“You asked me two questions. Now I get to ask you two questions, right?”

“I guess.”

Aurelie nodded. “Are you from Boston?”

He laughed. “The accent didn’t give it away?”

She smiled. “You needed to lighten up. It was worth wasting a question. What’s your real name?”

“My real name?”

“I know it’s not Boris Schmidt, even if that’s what’s on your chart.”

The man said nothing, and Aurelie knew better than to push the issue. They fell into silence again while Aurelie finished the stitches and bandaged the area. She left for a few minutes to fill out his dismissal papers, then returned to educate him on the aftercare.

“What are you going to put in my chart?”

Aurelie shrugged. “That you came in with a lac to your lower left flank and quadrant, there was no sign of infection or organ disturbance, that I stitched you up and sent you on your way. Nothing more, nothing less.”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

Aurelie snapped her gloves into the trash can and turned back to him. “You’re welcome. Good luck.”

At the curtain, Aurelie thought she caught him say something, but had to turn back around to ask him to repeat.

“John,” he smiled. “My name is John. Krasinski.”

Aurelie’s smile faded. “Krasinski?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, “it’s a weird one, I know.”

Aurelie nodded. “Do me a favor, John. Don’t tell anyone that I treated you.”

With that, she pulled the curtain closed behind her and went back to her desk to chart and catch up with her other patients.

GIF found via Pinterest search.

Three days later, another hospital shift. Fortunately, this night was not nearly as busy as her last shift. When Aurelie’s pager went off and she saw the code 613, she finished the current orders she was working on, then made way for the parking lot just outside of the emergency room lobby.

Her brother, Chris, was leaned against his car, a classic American muscle number, smoking a cigarette.

“You know this is a hospital, they’ll fine you for smoking outside of the designated area, dumbass.”

Chris turned with a chuckle, tossing the cigarette to the ground and put it out with the toe of his boot. “Better? Here. Your ma packed lunch for you.”

“That was nice of her,” Aurelie replied, taking the brown bag from him. “What’d she pack for you?”

“A nine mil and a wish that I wasn’t so much like my father. The usual.” He opened the driver’s side door of the car and reached in for another bag. “This is from him, by the way.”

Aurelie checked that no one was watching them and shoved the bag back at Chris. “I don’t want that shit, and you know it. I didn’t earn it, neither did you, neither did he. I don’t need it.”

“Aur, listen, all right? Hey, don’t make that damn face. Yeah, we’ve been over this a million times, we’re gonna fuckin’ go over it again. You’re his kid, whether you ever wanted to be or not. Maybe he’s not the dad you were born to, but he’s the one you ended up with. He’s just trying to take care of you.”

“He’s not over what happened. He still thinks my deafness is his fault, and if he pays me off long enough, I’ll come back to the family. Can’t you see that?”

Chris pursed his lips. “Why can’t you stop putting me in the middle of this?”

Aurelie groaned and tucked the extra bag into her white coat. “Fine.”

“All right.” He pulled another cigarette from the pack and held it between his lips but didn’t light it. “You been holdin’ up all right?”

“Yeah, of course. I can hold my own. You made sure of that.” She decided to take a chance and mention her patient from the other night. “Hey, you remember that guy who went to the high school, he was a year ahead of you -- John Krasinski?”

“Fuck that guy,” was Chris’s immediate response. “He and his family could jump into the river and not come back up and I’d keep walking.”

“Tell me how you really feel,” Aurelie snorted. “So that thing with your family and his, that’s still a thing?”

Chris nodded, tossing his cigarette lighter up and down in the palm of his hand. “Hell yeah, it’s still a thing. They’ll learn one day that we run shit, though. What made you think of him?”

“I don’t know. Random thought, I guess.”

The expression on her brother’s face told Aurelie he was going to be watching her carefully over the coming weeks. She thanked him for the food and went back into the hospital, careful to put the bag of money into her backpack before anyone else suspected something was amiss.

AllOfTheThings: @captain-s-rogers @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @hurricanerin @horsesandbandsforlife @im-not-an-armrest-im-short @captain-rogers-beard @shynara51 @sea040561 @anxiouskore @pinknerdpanda @xtina2191 @jackryanplz @beakami @heartsaved @fullprunerebelstatesman @blackwidowismyhomegirl

Boston Boys: @atc74 @the-murder-strut-murdered-me @becs-bunker @shield-agent78 @patzammit @crazyandanonymous4u

#chris evans #john krasinski #crossover #fanfiction #criminal!au #queue and i remember budapest very differently

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idgaf-what-you-call-me · 4 years

Text

This is the first time, outside of therapy, that I am opening up fully my past, I ask that you remain respectful.

Trigger warnings: Suicide, torture, neglect, alcoholism, … a lot listen you’ve got to be well resourced before you read this.

I know Dean, because I was Dean. I was raised to be “perfect”, I am so much like my dad, I didn’t have a childhood, I was tortured, I have lost time (dissociation not possession by an arc angel), I am fairly closeted, and I’m finally starting to get better.

Ever since a very young child, I was raised to be perfect. To look at a 99 and learn what I got wrong before I brought the grade home, otherwise, I was sent to study. I was raised to not be heard and taught to stay in my room. I was raised to not show emotion because anything more than stoic meant that I was an inconvenience. I had “fend for yourself nights” where I had to sort out what I would eat for dinner, and at inexcusably young ages, 5-6 years old. I learned to shoot at 8, and was taken fishing anytime my dad went. I was brought to the construction sites, learned how to use power tools, and eventually had my own set at home. While I wasn’t trained to hunt demons or other things that go bump in the night, I was molded to be just like my dad. My mom wasn’t around much when I was a kid, so I idolized my father. He was like a god to me. As I got older (legal), I even would drink things that my dad approved of like scotch and I smoked cigars. Often praised, “that’s my girl! Look guys, my daughter drinking scotch and smoking a cigar! Where are your kids?” The validation was like a high to me. I was desperate for his approval. Just like Dean. Talked like his dad, walked like his dad, drank like his dad, I get it.

I was blatantly ignored including being told that I was invisible by siblings. They would hold up a remote to me and say, “you’re invisible” and ignore me. I could leave the house and they would not come look for me. With my mom and dad often gone (usually working or partying we were quite poor), I didn’t have anyone looking after me since I was 4 so when my dad was around, much like Dean, all I wanted to do was make him happy and proud of me.

I was a closeted bisexual, who made so many gay jokes towards my cishet brother that I feel quite a bit of shame as an adult. I repressed every facet of desire I had for the opposite gender because being bisexual really meant that I must be gay. At least that is what Will and Grace told me, and I did not want to be gay. Things were bad enough, I didn’t need to add to my shit pile. By the time I was 12, I had no idea how to feel emotions and I had no idea how to love myself. Most days, now at 29, I still don’t know how to love myself. I am not out to everyone in my family. I don’t feel safe with everyone. All the gay jokes between the brothers, all the Dean is bi subtext, I lived a lot of it.

Torture can take the shape of many different forms but they fall under two umbrellas: physical and psychological. I was subjected to sound torture and sleep deprivation forms of physical torture that have lasting psychological effects. When you live through something like that, you don’t “rebound” in the traditional sense, and I would dissociate. My consciousness would retreat back into itself until it was safe enough to come back.

I dreaded Thursday nights as that is when it would begin. My father would bring home several cases of Michelob Ultra, from the store, and then he would start drinking. My dad didn’t measure his consumption in beers, instead he measured by the case. A form of extreme binge drinking that to this day I still don’t completely understand. While he would drink, his music would get progressively louder and louder until the whole house vibrated with noise.

There are some songs and artists that I cannot listen to anymore. They’re not songs by Metallica or Black Sabbath, instead they’re by Credence Clearwater Revival, Bob Dylan, Van Morrison and the like. Songs that people dance to at their weddings, sing at funerals, and enjoy on a road trip with the entire family. They are generally described as lively yet not heavy, yet this music was the conduit of 5 years of actual torture for me. I used to say that these were my favorite songs, but it was a way to cope with hearing them at home, and then hearing them play in the car on the way to school the next morning. In my house, the music was played so loudly that walls and floors shook and overwhelmed my senses and ability to sleep, think, do anything but have a heartbeat and breathe. It would last all night. I never learned to “fall asleep” I would pass out. To this day, I can be desperately tired, and able to drive for several hours without being a dangerous driver. Like my body learned to ignore fatigue. “I just need like 4 hours every couple of days,” yeah Deano, I’ve been there.

I would freeze mentally. Almost like a zone out but on steroids. Then I’d look around and things wouldn’t feel real to me. I would look in the mirror and see a stranger. Now I understand that I had developed dpdr as a way to cope. I don’t wish it on anyone.

My mother? She would leave the house and go clubbing. My siblings were 8 years older than me and lived on their own a great distance from where I lived. Besides, I had school to go to on Fridays. So I cooked, I monitored myself, I had to become an adult. I didn’t get to be a kid. My catharsis was angsty and fluffy Harry Potter fan fiction. You can find it on FF.net, RandHrFan I no longer post with that handle. Dean’s were movies, movies that my dad, and I’d wager his dad watched. I also love westerns just like my dad and my grandfather, there is something about them.

When Dean cries and opens up to Sam about his hell experiences, I get it. I’m so proud of him for telling Sam. To some it seems like he’s closed off but he’s not. He’s opening up as much as he mentally can. And Sam listens. Just like my sister eventually did. When Dean gets mad and yells at John and Mary, I’m proud of him, because he is fighting for himself. He knew he deserved better and he didn’t let it go. Just like I have done in my not so distant past.

All the while my parent’s marriage was fracturing and I was mentally declining. My mom began sleeping in my room and in my bed, and I was basically left to sleep on the couch. On days when my dad would drink, and my mom would go out, I could get to be in my room again. I could be on the computer (laptops weren’t a thing yet) which lived in my room. I could connect with the two other friends on AIM, but the reality of my situation I couldn’t escape. I was isolated, didn’t trust my family and I didn’t know how to ask for help.

One day I attempted to take my life. I saw no value in it. What was I doing with my life. I was a broken human who didn’t deserve love, who didn’t deserve safety, who didn’t deserve well anything. So I downed a bottle of pills. I had an iron clad stomach, I wasn’t too worried about not being successful. Except, I sent a goodbye message to a friend, and that friend saved my life. He got a hold of my sister who got to me in enough time to make me throw up. (She was a champ at that, having suffered from bulimia and taught to throw up from no other than my dad.)

I didn’t receive help afterwards. I signed a paper saying that I wouldn’t attempt again and was taken home. (I hope this isn’t how hospitals roll anymore.) I left my house, I went to school out of state and found stability, created stability for myself. But my past still haunted me whenever I went home. So when Dean has a death wish, and gets discharged from hospitals before he’s stable, I get it.

My parents eventually divorced, and I came home to a place where I couldn’t live anymore for a solid couple of months, I couch surfed, and again my mental health took a nosedive, but nevertheless, I persisted. I got my head back in the game, and finished my degree. Chemistry. I couldn’t go back home, because if I did I’d be working for my dad. I couldn’t do that, it was too painful. So I went to grad school. I got my Ph.D. I began to chart my own path. But there was a rage in me that I couldn’t escape. I lashed out at anyone and everyone to hide the pain that I felt all the time. People were afraid of me. I was great at what I did but I couldn’t make lasting connections with others.

When I was 27 suicidal ideations became dangerous, and I got about as dark. I tried to harm myself, and wanted my world to burn. It didn’t matter that I was married, with pets, and owned a home. Nothing mattered. I finally had to decide between life and death, I couldn’t continue in that state. I can say confidently that I would be dead if I didn’t get help that day. I wish Dean had this chance. He gets close to this in moments with Cas when he is honest about his feelings and experiences, he cries, he gets angry, lashes out, but Cas is there for him. From someone like Dean, I’ll tell you Cas being present holds more weight than gold for Dean.

I have been in intense therapy for a year. By intense I do mean more than once a week, regular check ins with her, and the occasional group session. She sends me articles to read, homework, and we do EMDR work, emotional integration therapy, mindfulness, etc.

It was then that I began to learn that all the rage that I had built inside me was hiding intense fear, loss, and disappointment. The rage gave way to tears, and the tears gave way to a new anger that I could make peace with. That anger comes from the person I am today. The person who fights for herself. Who doesn’t take shit from anyone. The person who says, humans don’t break, vases break, and I am a human. I see a lot of that in late season Dean. He is a fighter.

But I am still the person who receives a compliment and shuts down, there is still a side of me that doesn’t believe that I deserve nice things, good things to happen to me, but that person is getting smaller. My therapist likes to hit me with compliments when I am vulnerable as I am more likely to believe them. I still react like a dead fish when she says them, and then after the session sob for hours over it. One day my head and my heart will believe the same things about myself. I would have reacted the same way as Dean to that confession.

When the cards fall, I still know that I can depend on myself before anyone else because I had to. My life as an impoverished, unstable, depressed, neglected, and abused kid says I should be dead or amounting to nothing, but hear I am. I’ve now closely mentored about 20 undergraduate students, a handful of graduate students, and have helped them find their paths in life. I have taught nearly 1000 students. I made a difference with the life that I tried to throw away.

I have come to a place where I can love my dad. He is sober again, and yes, my love for him does depend on his sobriety. When he is drinking he is not the same person. I wouldn’t call him an A+ dad by a long shot, and hell I am so much like him that at times it makes me sick, but I do love him. I have been able to forgive him. Forgive in the sense that I can make peace with what happened. It doesn’t change what happened or how much it affected me, and I certainly don’t forget, but that isn’t what forgiveness is. I don’t hold the rage anymore. The fact that Dean is able to is personal for Dean, as it is for me, and it isn’t some “family that is what you do” type reason.

I do experience flashbacks when there are fireworks, I can’t go to a movie theatre because of the volume, when people play really loud music in their cars I typically have to peel off into a parking lot and meditate for 20 minutes to be able to drive again. There are some stores that I don’t shop at because their music triggers me. So when Dean experiences those flashbacks, I get it.

There is a belief in the psychology that monster shows help us become comfortable with our dark sides. My dark side saved me over and over again. My dark side told me to be better than them. My dark side told me to fight for me, to adopt a survivor mindset. (If you can’t tell I am a green veined Slytherin and have never been sorted into any other house even by random house generators.) The things I delight in are a bit off color. I cultivate a poison garden, consume way too much true crime, to gore I say give me s’more and so on. Dean gets to experience his dark side, and he has to make peace with it. He makes inappropriate jokes, laughs at it, but he also does talk about it.

This is the hard part: Just like Dean, I am also light. I love people (vomit), seriously though, they are more precious to me than any earthly possession. Plants bring me serenity. Animals are a comfort and companion in the worst of times. There isn’t much I wouldn’t do to protect living things. My motivations come from a place of love and a need to protect others from what I have been through. I know I can survive, but I don’t know if that is true for everyone else.

I know Dean. I was Dean. I see that every episode. Moments when he yells and screams for himself, I cheer him on. Moments where he tries to waste his life away, I understand, and am crying right with him. The purgatory apology guts me, I’ve had to make that apology more than once. The dead fish reaction, hell that is me at the end of a therapy session. I am here to say: Dean is not broken. Dean is strong. Dean is resilient. Dean doesn’t just fight for himself, he fights for the whole of creation. Dean is not a vase. He is a human.

Oh and John’s taste in beer, much like my fathers, is crap. Don’t drink shitty beer. Also, I don’t drink scotch anymore. I'm a gin girl and I drink *okay* beer.

I’m the same blogger who does drunk blogging regarding Supernatural on Saturdays. It is a lovely bit of comfort and joy for me and I won’t be stopping any time soon. We will get back to the lovely and light “Dean is Bi he he” commentary this weekend.

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