#my head hurts my bones ache i am weak and miserable

[gayangelcrimes]

Having a dta moment (having a fever and fucking hating it)

[reiding-writing]

Hi i am absolutely in love with your writing. If you want to, could you write Reid having one of his migraines and reader just comforts him, yk massaging his scalp and forehead and whatnot while he lay in her lap. Idk man i just wanna see my boy get some relief from his headaches because in the show he just suffers through them ☹️

migraine massages [ s.r ]

Summary:

Migraines are the worst. They hurt and they stop you from doing absolutely everything. Spencer was silently pleading for relief from his own body, and you plan to fulfil those needs.

WARNINGS: details of migraines, vomit mentions, mentions of spencer’s addiction, mentions of relapse

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

genre: ANGST, hurt/comfort

wc: 2.7k

masterlist!!

a/n: can’t have hurt/comfort without the hurt. from a personal perspective, migraines suck bro. they suck so bad.

i’m also mildly disappointed that they didn’t expand the migraine thing after they dropped the original tumour reason, like they could’ve done so much with it-

thanks for the request! <33

Spencer felt like his skull was being hammered from the inside out. Like his brain was silently vying to escape it’s confines and break out of the bone. He felt like every nerve of his body was working against him to make sure he had the most miserable day humanly possible.

He felt like if he moved an inch from his position that the coffee and croissant that he had for breakfast this morning in an attempt to make himself feel better was going to force it’s way up out of his stomach and paint his desk in a sea of vomit.

The tinnitus ringing in his ears didn’t help, nor did the agitatingly bright while florescent lights of the office that he’d never seemed to take much notice of before.

His shoulders ached as he rested his head in his hands, his thumbs negligibly working against his temples to attempt to relieve some of the aching pressure that sent waves through his head and made him want to curl up into ball under his bed covers and never wake up.

“Spence? Are you okay?” Your voice is deliberately quiet as you approach his desk on your return from the kitchenette, steaming mug of coffee cupped in your hands and concern written all over your face.

You can almost hear the sigh of relief as he realises it’s just you and not Hotch asking him for the fourth time today for the file he’d been trying to finish for the last almost three hours.

He doesn’t look up at you yet, merely replying a weak “hi…yeah…just a headache”

You can see him try to suppress a grimace as his own voice overloads his eardrums and sends another wave of pain through his head.

You knew what a headache looked like. And what he was experiencing looked nothing like ‘just a headache’.

“A headache? You look like you’re in a lot of pain, have you-” You begin to question his pain relief, but catch yourself before asking about painkillers. As much as they definitely shouldn’t be, opioids are the most common form of pain relief prescribed for migranes, and you knew that if he had gone to the doctors for the pain, he would’ve turned them down.

At least you hope so anyway.

“Have you… had it for long?”

There’s a pause, before an almost imperceptible nod comes from him. “Three hours… three hours and eighteen minutes…. I thought it was gonna pass but… it’s getting worse….” he swallows before forcing out the next part “…I feel sick….”

You give him a small nod and a pursed expression, becoming increasingly concerned as he continues his explanation, and you can just barely catch how pale his face has gone underneath his hands.

“You should go home Spence…”

He looks up from his desk at that suggestion. As he’s trying to answer he gets cut off by a blinding pain that explodes behind his eyes. He gasps and clutches his head, dropping back into his chair before closing his eyes. “Agh….”

“Spencer…” You can’t help but wince slightly at Spencer’s clear display of pain. “Let me drive you home, you’re not fit to work right now,”

He wants to argue but his mouth is dry. The pain is just too much for him to focus on anything else, including having an opinion, so instead he simply nods.

“Give me two seconds okay? I’m going to go and tell Hotch and then we can go,”

That seems to be a satisfactory answer for now, because he just nods again. He’s not quite ready for the onslaught of light and sounds that will be the outside world just yet. He simply leans his head back and closes his eyes, trying to relax and focus on his breathing.

It takes you a little under two minutes to return, and the first thing you do is take both of your messenger bags onto your shoulder and dispose of your coffee mug on your desk.

You hold out a hand tentatively to him to help him up from his chair. “Here, let’s get you home,”

He takes your hand, slowly getting on his feet as his change in positioning sends another wave of pain shooting through the front of his head. He’s leaning on you for balance as you lead him out of the BAU office. His vision is still blurry, but at least having someone to lean on stops him from having to risk tripping over.

You have to help him into your car once your reach the parking lot, reclining the passenger’s seat as far back as it’ll go so that he’s not forced to sit upright for the whole ten minute drive.

You make an effort to keep the vehicle smooth as you pull out of the office, checking periodically over at your side to make sure that Spencer is alright. Or as alright as he can be anyway.

Once you reach Spencer’s apartment complex, you shut off the car and collect both of your belongings, getting out yourself and then walking around to assist Spencer in getting up.

It’s clear from his expression that he wouldn’t’ve managed the task on his own. He leans on you in a combination of gratitude, comfort and convenience, and he continues to use you as a crutch through the front entrance to the elevator and all the way up to his apartment door, where he struggles to insert his key in the lock through his shaking hands.

“You got it?”

He gives a weak “mhm” as he fumbles with the keys in the lock for a few seconds more, but eventually manages to unlock the door and step inside with you.

“Take a seat Spence,” You lead him carefully over to his couch and sit him down before walking across the room to pull his curtains shut and dump your bags on his reading chair.

As you pull the curtains shut and turn around again, you notice the room being a little messier than usual. Books and papers have been scattered over the room, and there were several mugs and glasses dotted around.

Clearly this wasn’t his first migrane.

Spencer is increasingly grateful the room isn’t too bright as the shade covers the room, allowing him to relax into the cushions of the sofa as you kneel to help him remove his shoes before removing your own.

He doesn’t resist your assistance. The pain still hasn’t subsided enough for him to be in the mood to resist anything. He keeps his eyes closed the whole time you unlace his shoes, just grateful for any relief he can get.

“l’m going to get you some water okay?” Spencer nods at this suggestion. At this point he’s too tired and nauseous to try and fight you, so as you leave the room, he lays his head over the back of the couch and just waits for you to come back with the water.

You return with both a glass of water and a small holding a few ice cubes, handing Spencer the glass and leaving the towel on the coffee table to chill under the presence of the ice. “Drink,”

He takes the glass from you, before slowly leaning forward and sipping the water. Your presence seems to bring him a lot of comfort, much more than he probably realises.

He continues drinking until the glass is empty, seemingly more dehydrated than he realised.

You take a seat next to Spencer has he finishes the glass, and you take it from him gently and place it down on his coffee table.

He takes a deep breath in, and out, leaning back into the couch once more.

He’s trying so hard to focus on something other than his pain, but it’s difficult. So instead he focuses on one of the only other things he can feel, which is the warmth you radiate as you sit next to him. “Here, lie down Spence,”

You put a hand on his shoulder to help try and ease him down slowly so he doesn’t put himself in any more pain. “But there’s no space..”

“You can put your head in my lap it’s okay,” You lean over to grab the now cold towel, leaving the ice in the empty glass before patting your thighs as an indication for him to lie down. “Let me see if I can relive some of that lingering tension,”

If he were of his right mind right now he would’ve been somewhat embarrassed in such a scenario, but right now he’s just too tired and in pain to do anything else but submit to the situation.

He lays his head into your lap slowly, his face relaxing as he looks up at you with grateful eyes.

You chuckle softly as he blinks up at you, leaning down over him slightly to brush some hair off of his forehead. “Close your eyes Spence,”

You can see a slight pinkness in his cheeks as he closes his eyes. His expression is the perfect combination of relaxed and sleepy, although you can still see the traces of the pain he’s feeling through the knit in his eyebrows and the tension in his shoulders.

Just hearing the sound of your voice fills his head with warmth and relaxation; Even if his head is still pounding he feels a lot better just being able to listen to you.

As his eyelids flutter closed, you place the damp cold towel over them, raking your fingers gently through his hair to ensure that nothing gets caught underneath the fabric ans slowly detangling it in the process.

For a moment your touch sends him into heaven, and he can actually feel the tension and pain receding from his body.

As he relaxes, his body slowly begins to respond to the touch with warm and fuzzy feelings. He wants to savour every second of this, to commit the sensation to memory, to never forget the feeling of your warm and gentle touch.

“How long have you been having migraines for Spencer?” You make an effort to keep your tone as soft as possible, moving your attention from running your hands through his hair to kneading your fingers against his temples.

“they’re a fairly recent thing… been having them on and off for a few weeks now….” As your hands work on his temples the pain once again starts to recede significantly. It’s still there, it probably will be for a long time, but it’s no longer all pervading. “…they can be a little debilitating some days….”

“Have you…” you trail off your question, unsure if your right to ask him it. “Never mind-“

He pulls the fabric of the towel from his eyes and blinks them up at you. The dark circles under his eyes are still clearly evident, but it’s not really surprising considering all that’s been happening to him. “…you were gonna ask if i’ve been using again weren’t you?”

“…i’m just worried about you…”

You continue to gently massage at his temples as he sees right through your apprehension.

He can’t help but sigh softly as you indirectly admit to him being right in his assumption of your question. Your concern is appreciated, albeit unnecessary. “…I’m not using anymore… I quit… I’m serious…”

He plasters a small smile on his face as a form of reassurance, though it’s pretty weak considering the fatigue his headache was providing him. “Just having a bad bout of migraines this week… that’s all….”

“Can I just- see your arms? Please?” Your fingers halt their movements as you ask the question, fully focused on receiving an answer. “I just want to make sure…”

His body tenses up a little bit as the request is made, but he complies nonetheless. He slowly raises his arms and hikes up his shirt sleeves, exposing the flesh of his forearms to your view.

There’s no marks on them, no dark scars and no signs of track marks.

He’s clean, and you can tell from his body language alone that he’s telling the truth.

You can feel your shoulders physically relax as your eyes examine his skin, and your expression softens as you look down at him. “thank you…”

“I told you, I’m serious about staying clean….” He lowers his arms, closing his eyes again. He’s back where he was a few minutes ago, a man almost fully at peace despite the fact that he’s still in pain.

“I know Spence..” You scratch gently at his scalp, feeling a little guilty about unofficially accusing him of a potential relapse. But you had to know. You had to know that he was alright.

“I just care about you… I want you to be okay..”

As your fingers brush the base of his scalp he shivers slightly. The feeling is incredibly relaxing, more so than even the previous massage. He smiles softly at the fact that the pain has at least become bearable for now. “Thanks for looking after me…”

“Always,” The pad of your thumb brushes lightly against his cheekbone as you move to tuck a stand of hair behind his ear, knocked loose by him pulling on the hand towel that now laid crumpled on the floor.

Spencer’s eyes flicker slightly. The movement of your fingers across his cheeks is soothing, but also makes him feel something else entirely. It’s hard to describe.

He can’t deny the sensation that rises up from his stomach at these small gestures of affection. A part of him is enjoying it more than is probably okay, given the situation and how tired he is. All it amounts to are butterflies, but that’s enough to make his cheeks flush slightly. “you should take a nap Spencer,”

“mhm…” He nods in agreement. “but can I ask you a small favour first…?”

You mirror his nod with one of your own, your fingers returning to scratching gentle lines against his scalp. “Of course you can,”

There’s a small moment of silence before he speaks again, his eyes flickering between you and the ceiling.

“can you stay with me?”

His question is more of a request, and you swear that you melt from the innocent pleading in his tone.

With you around it’s almost like he doesn’t notice the pain at all. When he closes his eyes it feels like the world is completely at peace, like there’s no need to worry about anything else at this moment in time.

“…please…?” the last word is almost a whisper.

You don’t hesitate in your answer, giving him a soft smile. “of course i will..”

You let out a small breath of air alongside your words, your eyes entranced with the relaxed expression on Spencer’s face, mixed with relief at your willingness to spend a few more hours with him.

Spencer feels a small smile form on his lips as you respond. His hands raise slightly and clutch at your thighs, gently gripping at them almost compulsively.

Now that he knows you’ll be sticking around for a while, all he wants to do is fall asleep in your company.

[pupculture]

i hate being sick. not just because it sucks but because it makes me weak in a way i have no control over.im not choosing this surrender my bodybus choosing it for me llike my body is betraying me and there's nothing i can do about it except lay here and wait it out. and waiting is the worst part. i would eathee all the pain and all thw aching just come all at once and breaknthrough me than make me wait like this. alone. it is so so cold and iam wairing dor their warm arms to hold me. to warm me up the way i actually need. iwant them ro squeeze me tight enough thar i can srop feeling like my insides are going ti spill out. notwant thats wrong. not going back. NEED. i need and need and need and iam so so sorry. i wish there was a way to live without needing.

and i need them not just any arms any warm body its not the ssame and i need them i wanr to curl and shrink and mold into them and finally fall asleep and then maybe i can wake up and feel safe. reallt safe like the kine that settles in toue bones and they feel steong enough to hold you and whatever is piled on you. my bones are rotting inside me and there isnt enough left to hold me up much longer and it hurts. but im choosing to stay standing until theyre not just mush but fully liquefied and maybe its just a different way im harming myself bur at least this way is socially acceptable.

camt even do what i would normally do. trade my touch for their comfort and sex for a momentary bit of safety. i cant because i am so sick and nobody wants to hold simething tbis fragile unless they actuallt care about it. otherwise why risk being blamed for it breaking

i don’t need them to say it. i don’t want words. i just want to feel it. i want to feel them hold my head in their hands and know, in that deep, unshakable way, that they believe i’ll be okay. not just from this. but from all of it. everything that’s wrong. everything that hurts. everything every day every where. but i don’t think they do. i don’t think they believe i’ll be okay. and the worst part is, i can’t even ask. not with words. not without touching.

want to let my body go heavy and limp and lean into them and beg them to hold me together for five fucking minutes because i need a break. i like to imagine i understand how Atlas feels how his arms are numb and tired and just all of it just from how i feel with my arms wrapped around me.

they’re not here. and they’re not coming. and i know that. i know that. i play make believe bur im reallt not stupid. but mt body is, my body is so stupid and weak and ir doesnt srop aching aching aching like its missing something vital. like im starving for it.

I am sick. sad. empty. not just the fever.

but i am a liar. i am so good at lying and pretending and so ill just lie about all of this. see im smiling. there's nothing wrong inside if im smiling.

what the fuck am i supposed to do with all of this? just live with it? just carry this around like it’s normal? is this what people do??? nobofy will tell me. i dont want pity or comfort i want truth even if i don't deserve it.

and it fucking burns in and under and all over mt skin qhen they say they miss me. how the fuck can ou miss me? you took a poece of me with you. i’m right here, sick and miserable and empty, feeling the exact shape of everything they were to me, and they miss me?

i resent it i resent it i resent ir. dont miss me! i domt want to be missed. i am nothing. i dont know if i ever was anything. nothing whole at least. but now i know for sure i am nothing and so they can't miss me. im not real. i was never really and i am nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing

the rythym is soothing it was hard to stop.

but you do have something of me! you took a piece. it’s yours now, forever. and i’m sorry for that. i’m so so sorry i can’t imagine a piece of me being a good thing. i can’t imagine it feeling like a gift. more like a weight, a burden, a parasite. i didnt mean to give it to someone i love and i would take it back if i knew how.

you were my first love, and all i can feel about that now is sorry. sorry that i gave you something you probably never wanted. i am a broken bleeding screaming nothing that attached itself to you and i am so so sorry.

please dont miss me please im sorry i love you

nothingnothingnothingnohingnpthingnothingnorhingnkotyjingnoyhingnothingnothingnorhignnothngnotjingnothingnotjingnothinghlnothingnothingnothingnothingnjothingnithingnithingnothignnoghigtnothingnit hi ignononononono

[yesimwriting]

Dying Starlight

A/n: i dont think an audience for this exists?? ik it’s not shadow and bone related, but ive been reading red queen and i wanted to try writing maven and ive been playing with this idea. umm...on the off-chance that there is an audience for this i do think of this as more of a series but i’ll probably end up deleting this lol 

(Series?) Summary: reader is a childhood friend of Mare’s who isn’t officially part of the Scarlet Guard but gets captured by Maven. As a prisoner, she feels like her mind is being messed with as she begins to see a more human side of Maven. The new King tells himself the only thing he sees in her is that she’s a way to get to Mare, but something about her genuiness is infectious. 

-- 

Irony twists things. Right now, the irony that my last thoughts might be about how I wish I had been trusted with a suicide pill twist my impending doom into something almost comical. I’d laugh, but I’d rather not startle the rats in my cell. This has been their home for presumably years, but I’ve only been down here a few hours. 

I scratch the back of my wrist, staring at tired stone walls like they’ve done something to me. I wish I knew what time it was. How long have I been down here? How long has it been since I was separated from Mare? An hour? Three?Each passing minute strikes me like a bullet, but I can’t count them. I’ve never had a talent for accurately feeling the passage of time.

My head aches, frustration and dread tangling themselves in the pit of my stomach. Mare told me the Queen can search through someone’s mind, seeing memories even they can’t remember. What will they do when they see I know virtually nothing? What will happen when they see how close Mare and I truly are? i can’t do anything and the unknown hurts more than my bruised rib. 

The sound of the heavy door that divides the luxury of the castle from the wasteland of the cells creaks. I only let my arms flinch, moving from my side to wrap defensively around my stomach. Dull footsteps echo down the pathway that lead to the cell I’m in. I don’t cringe, not even when the sound of walking stops. 

I was not born into a rich family, but I was born into a proud one. Fear was practically a criminal act in my household. I’ve been trained to suppress all signs of weakness. My eyes don’t leave the stone wall, I mentally trace the pattern of a long crack in a specific rock. It reminds me of the slope of the Big Dipper. 

Will I ever see stars again? The answer leaves a sharp pain in my chest. 

“Mare told me about you.” 

The words jar me, my stomach dropping in revulsion. Mare had trusted him, and here he stands--successful because he’s a traitor. I know what it’s like to be the most overlooked sibling and to crave to change that. I know what it’s like to want to succeed more than you want air in your lungs, but I don’t think I’d ever betray someone. I like to think that there’s a line even the monster in me won’t cross. 

I don’t look at him, partially out of an attempt to protest and partially because I’m afraid of what I’ll see. “She might have mentioned you in passing.” 

His scoff is ridiculous. “She didn’t lie about your sense of humor.” 

That almost makes me wince. His words are too close, too personal. It’s like he knows me. I turn my. head, ready to cut through the uneasy beginning to get to the miserable middle if it brings me to the end faster. 

“You’re here to torment me, not make small talk.” Turning had been a mistake. I regret it instantly. His expression is unforgiving--cold, sharp, and made up of only angles. But that’s not why I stare. I did not expect him to be objectively attractive. The fine slope of his nose, the sharpness of his cheekbones, and the ice blue of his eyes. I need to snap out of this mindset. I’m sure his beauty will not be so distracting when he’s burning me. “Though some might consider that the same thing.” 

He scoffs again, the sound dry. The sneer of his lips does not diminish his attractiveness. The fact makes me loathe him. “I wonder if you’ll still be so prone to humor after you’ve been broken--any information of worth extracted from your thoughts.” 

“Let me save everyone the trouble and just tell you everything that I know now.” My back straightens despite the pain in my ribs. I look pathetic, dirty and in a torn dress. He’s regal, dressed in fine, all black clothing. “I know that Mare wanted to kill you today, I know that she needed a distraction and that her distraction needed to be expendable, which is why I’m sitting in front of you.” I squeeze my hands together awkwardly, a bit of genuine irritation rolling in my stomach. “That’s literally all I know, I’m not even part of the Guard.” I scratch the back of my wrist. If I were him, I wouldn’t believe that, but I’m being honest. How pitiful can one person be that they’re worth more disconnected from the group they work for than as an actual member? “You don’t take that kind of risk for someone that’s only skill set is in thought.” 

I didn’t mean to say that out loud, but I don’t regret it. Maybe he’ll think that my story is so pathetic it has to be true. “You have to know more than that.” 

“The Scarlet Guard only reaches out to me on a need-to-know basis, and anything worthwhile to you is something I clearly didn’t need to know.” In a way, I’m glad I can’t give him anything. “So are you going to kill me with a bullet or do you prefer more flamboyant executions?” My death should be plain. I am human completely--I bleed red and I have no powers. “I do think anything more than a simple death is more trouble than I’m worth.” 

His lips press together oddly, something beneath his expression tightening. “You don’t think your dearest friend will return for you?”

The sarcasm in his voice sparks something in me I thought only my sister could. “I think she has a lot of responsibilities and I wouldn’t blame her for having priorities.” 

His eyebrows draw together. “I think you’re painfully unaware of how attached to you she is.” I press my lips into a thin line. “She’ll come for you.”

Something selfish in me hopes that he’s right. No one has ever wanted me enough to come back for me. My mother wanted perfect daughters that knew how to only think in terms of trapping men with stable careers. My sister did it, but I could never manage, and to my mother that made me useless. 

“If you believe it,” I mumble beneath my breath.

I don’t know if he hears me. I can’t bring myself to care if he did. “For your sake, you better not have lied to me.” 

My back relaxes against the raspy wall, fighting down a grimace as the motion irritates my rib injury. “Cross my heart, Your Highness.” 

I watch him carefully, his expression turning into something much more grim. “A King is referred to as His Majesty.” 

“My father was a prominent war general and my mother only wanted daughters she could use to social climb.” I fight down a grin. “I know what I said.” 

His expression darkens into something bone chilling. “I am the King and you’ll refer to me as such or deal with even less pleasant circumstances.” 

I fight against the urge to cower, picturing Mare’s strength in my veins. There’s weakness in everyone, and if I squint I can see the thin cracks in him. “You have everything--the crown, the power, the support of the people, and it’s still not enough. You won and you still feel like you’re competing.” 

“You don’t know anything,” he seethes, practically growling. 

I shouldn’t press him, but the more he reacts, the more weaknesses are revealed. “I know what it’s like to have a sibling that’s the sun, and no matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, you’re always trapped in a shadow.” 

The lighting makes his eyes look almost glazed over. “My mother will be here soon and the truth will be revealed.” 

He can run from me, but not the truth. Cal has nothing, he has everything--the father that never cared for him is dead, and yet he’s still trapped. Our similarities hurt me more than my physical injuries. 

Maven turns, his gaze moving off of me feels like the removal of heavy shackles. “It would do you well to not press me. You’re worth as much whole as you are broken.” 

There’s the strangest hint of something more to his voice. I wonder if he’s speaking to more than just me. “You haven’t won until that voice in your head telling you that you’re not enough is silenced.”

“You’re a powerless girl who isn’t even wanted by a dying cause and couldn’t find a husband to drag her above the poverty line. You know nothing about me, and if you keep pretending I’ll slaughter you in front of your dear friend.” 

He leaves without another word. I fall asleep with my back against the wall and my ribs aching. 

[warmblanketwhump]

safe enough to fall

a little university-themed thing I wrote using @sicktember prompts: comfort item, sneaky temperature check, medicine, unlikely caregiver, and lightly inspired by these prompts

the grip of the winter’s cold was their constant, unrelenting companion - but sometimes, B just wished it would be a little less faithful.

It doesn’t ease in the morning, when B wakes up coughing with a cold nose and stiff limbs. It stays as B shivers through the lukewarm shower and the hurried layering of clothes over damp, goosebumped skin. It sticks to them like cling wrap on the bus, in the lecture hall, the windy walk to their next class, makes them tense their rattling jaw, and leaves them hunched over and huddled up, desperate to conserve any scrap of heat.

This was a fact of their university existence - that after the pleasant crispness of fall, their poor, scholarship-funded body was plunged into four months of frozen hell. They didn’t like to complain - after all, they were getting a free education. But no one told them how brutal their university’s winters would be, nor that dorm heating was little more than a few puffs of warm air every hour, or that regardless of how many layers they pulled on, they’d be chilled to the bone until late March.

Their final class of the week is in a drafty science lab, and they hold back a groan. The cold's not the only source of their dread - it was the thought of spending 90 minutes with their perky, overly friendly lab partner, A.

A, whose parents were well-off, well-known benefactors of their university. A, who lived in a nice house with proper heating and had the money for a warm winter coat. A, who obliviously chattered on about anything and everything. Besides that, they were just so...happy. All the time.

The can afford to be, B thought miserably. There was no way all that sunshine could be real.

B really tried to tamp down their bitterness, but it was hard to listen to someone gush on about their amazing weekend their family spent on some tropical island when B spent the same weekend wrapped up in blankets, trying to stay warm enough to study their nomenclature notes.

Two minutes before class, A bounds into the lab like a freed golden retriever and begins their usual volley of caffeinated questions, which B responds to in short, clipped answers. Suddenly, the questions stop and A’s brows furrow.

“You look cold. Are you okay?”

B shifts on their stool and tucks their fingers into the sleeves of their worn secondhand coat, pulling it tighter with a shudder. “I am cold. It’s winter.” They cough weakly into their elbow - the nagging cough has gripped them for weeks now.

“Are you sick?”

Direct, then. That was new. “No. At least, I don’t think so. I don’t have a fever or anything.” In truth, they had been feeling a little lower than usual the past couple of days, the chill a little deeper, the aches more pronounced, the cough a bit more painful. But in their book, that was hardly enough call themselves sick. B sniffles and A opens their mouth to comment further, but the professor calls the class to attention, and the moment is gone.

90 minutes later, they’ve got their work cut out for them - a ten-page lab report that’s going to count for nearly a quarter of their final grade. And as luck would have it, it was a partner project, which meant B got to spend more time with the equivalent of human rocket fuel.

“So...do you want to just knock this out tonight?” A's eyes dart around nervously.

B frowns - it’s almost the weekend, and they figured A would have plans with friends this evening. But B sure doesn’t have anything going on., so they don’t protest. “No… I s’pose we should get as much done as possible while it’s still fresh. Want to go to the library?”

“Ugh." A cringes. "Do we have to? That place is like a tomb.”

B huffs indignantly. “It's not that bad," they mumble in a weak defense of their favorite study spot. A shoots them a glare, and B rolls their eyes. "Do you have somewhere better? It's Friday, so most places are closing up.”

“Well, my parents decided to go on some last-minute ski trip to the Alps again, so my place is free," A says as they step out into the biting wind. "Plus, I have a ton of food and it's actually warm in there, unlike these buildings.”

The promise of decent heating and food that wasn't from the dining hall was enough for B. "Fine. Your place." The pair trudge through the bitter wind as the sun begins to set, and soon they arrive at A's parents’ home - a beautiful, winding estate just a couple minutes away from campus. B has to bite their lip to keep their jaw off the ground - in the blustering snow, this place looks straight out of a Christmas card. Another reminder of how they don’t fit in this world.

Will you stop? B chastises themselves. A having money isn't a personal attack on you. Just enjoy the free food, finish the assignment and get over it.

Despite the towering exterior, B's house was quite cozy, colored in warm neutrals and filled with soft, comfortable furniture. Just past the mudroom, they spot a big living room filled with with an enormous overstuffed couch, squashy-looking pillows, and soft throw blankets. Everything about this place screams warm. A rubs their arms, suddenly aware of how cold they are. The heat nearly makes them dizzy, and they can feel the temperature difference as it seeps into their cold skin.

"Want some cocoa?" A tosses their bag into the corner and heads for an electric kettle in the kitchen, and B follows. "It always helps me warm up." B nods. A couple minutes later, A pushes over a steaming mug with the top entirely covered in marshmallows.

B wraps their chilled fingers around the mug and takes a sip, and the warm, rich liquid feels like heaven to their cold body. "That's amazing."

A smiles. "It's the good stuff." They sip in a surprising silence for a few moments, before A sighs in resignation. "As much as I wish this was just a social call, this report isn't gonna write itself." They grab a bag of popcorn and nod their head toward the living room, and B follows dutifully. A flicks on the gas fireplace and tosses B a throw blanket, and the pair gets to work.

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

After a couple hours of studying, three instances of indignantly thrown popcorn, and a dramatic reading of the periodic table, B realized that they may have misjudged A. Deep down, under the bubbly exterior, A was a genuinely kind, sweet person. It wasn't an act - they just were human sunshine. And the longer they spent time with them, the more B realized they didn't mind their company at all.

"Alright." A drops their pencil and rubs their eyes. "If I have to balance one more equation, my brain's gonna explode. Study break time." A flips on the TV and puts the volume on low.

B leans their head back on the couch and pulls their throw blanket to their chin, trying to ward off the shivery feeling in their core. Despite the heat of the fire, the mug of hot chocolate, and the thick blanket, they just can’t seem to get warm.

Their face feels hot, but their blood feels chilled and heavy, the weight of it making them ache deep down in their bones. B wraps their arms around their knees, trying to rub away the throbbing pain and get some warmth into their skin. They glance out the picture window at the now-blowing snow. It's gonna be a miserable walk home.

"B, you're shivering." A's turning to look at them now.

B startles. "It's-It's nothing. Just a chill." The concern in A's voice triggers their flight response. "I....I should probably get back to the dorms. It’s late–" They're cut off with a hacking cough that leaves them breathless and they wince at the ache in their chest.

"B, it's snowing, and you haven't even had dinner-"

"Where's my jacket?" They push themselves up and toss the throw blanket off, instantly regretting it as the air invades their pocket of hard fought warmth. They’re trembling and dizzy and desperately freezing, but they cannot stay here. Then, the world tilts and they fall back on to the couch. For a moment, they're just laying in an icy, spinning world, trying to catch their breath, when warmth suddenly envelops them.

A's tucking the same thick grey blanket around their shivering form. As they pull away, their hand lightly brushes over B's neck, then freezes. B twists away from the gentle touch, but it’s too late. Realization floods over A's face. Caught. "You lied. You are sick."

B groans, even as their fingers weave into the chunky knit and pull the warm layer closer. "A, please. Just let me go home. I'm probably contagious. You don't want me here."

"B, you look like death warmed over. I'm not sending you out in a blizzard when you're feverish like this. I won't do it." There's a spark in their eyes and a set to A's jaw that dares B to challenge them.

B leans back, defeated. Even though they want nothing more than to run out of this room, they're too weak to stand and too cold to move. So here they'll stay.

It's okay. Someone's here. You can give in now.

No. I can't. I can't let them see me like this.

What choice do you have? You already look awful. Let them help you.

A covers them with another blanket and places a gentle hand on their back, rubbing slowly. The firelight flickers, casting light and shadow across their solemn face. “B. Tell me what you're feeling, and I'll get you what you need.”

B swallows down the rising panic, the helpless vulnerability they feel, and takes a shallow, shaky breath. “I…I guess I just feel….not right. I’m always cold...but it's...worse.” They sniffle weakly, trying to still and order their swirling thoughts. “Chills, fever, cough, sore throat, kinda stuffed up. And it just hurts everywhere.”

A nods slowly, then leaves the room. They return in a few minutes with a few small bottles, carefully scanning the labels and holding them up for B to see.

“Can you take this? Any problems with this one?” B had to take a moment and match the brand names with their usual knockoff brands, but soon they had a couple over the counter medicines picked out, along with something for their cough.

A glances at the medicine labels once more. "This one says to take with food. I've got some leftover chicken and dumpling soup I can heat up - does that sound okay?"

B nods almost imperceptibly. "Sounds wonderful." A gets up to heat the soup, and B feels the anxiety rising in their stomach when they're not in the room with them. A returns with a mug and manages to gently spoon a few sips of broth into B's mouth before B starts falling asleep, clutching the grey blanket even tighter to their shoulders.

A smiles sadly. “That blanket's my favorite whenever I'm not feeling good. It's the best thing you could have to fight off what you’ve got. Trust me.”

B curls into the soft fabric. It was as if the warm environment of the apartment and the comfort of the blanket had been a signal that it was safe to leave survival mode, rest for a moment, open the floodgates that had been holding back whatever had been ailing them for weeks.

After B takes their medicine, A’s eyes shift awkwardly around the room. “So….when you’re sick, do you like having someone with you? Or do you want to be by yourself?”

A sudden rush of emotion crashes over B. They’d so rarely had the choice. It takes all they’ve got not to throw themselves around A and beg them not to leave. “Stay, please,” they ask in a small, trembling voice. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

A smiles halfway and gently pats B’s leg. “Seeing as how I live here, I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” They take their spot at the end of the couch and pull B’s legs over their own, flicking the TV to a familiar movie. B tries to keep up with the plot, but they keep falling in and out of a fitful, restless sleep, tossing, turning, unable to get comfortable enough.

When B’s about ready to cry from exhaustion, A’s there, covering them up with another blanket, bringing them a glass of water, gently stroking the damp hair off their forehead before laying a cold cloth over it. They flinch at first, but the cool dampness eases the fire of their fever, even for just a moment. The last thing B remembers before falling unconscious is a gentle hand squeezing theirs.

It could be minutes or hours later when they jolt awake from a fever dream in a cold sweat, choking and coughing. They’ve kicked off their blankets and the cloth is nowhere to be found, but the chills are back in full force. A appears in B’s blurred vision, hand held to B’s forehead. “Poor thing. Your fever’s worse,” they murmur.

B’s still gasping for breath, curled up in the fetal position, body wracked by the shakes as they try force the words through their chattering teeth. “A...It's so cold. I’m so scared.”

If B was more lucid, they’d see something in A’s eyes crack wide open at their weak, fearful cries. A pulls the trusted grey blanket from the floor and wraps it back around B, rubbing their arms to try and make them feel warmer. There's something in the tenderness of the gesture, and B’s panicked gasps turn into soft, quiet sobs. They try and cover their face with one hand, but A’s hand is there, catching their wrist and wiping the tears away with their thumb.

“Hey. You’re gonna be okay. We just gotta get through tonight, alright?” A’s voice matches their usual cheery demeanor, but B can see the fear in their own eyes. They don’t know what they’re doing either.

“Why are you helping me?” B whispers in a tear-roughened voice.

A shrugs. "You're sick. You need help. Is it that so surprising?"

B's eyes flash a delirious spark. "You don't get it. I'm a broke scholarship student. I'm nothing like you. I'm not fun, or bubbly, or rich, or any of those things you are, and I don't fit in here. So why?"

B can't stop the words now, every single insecurity laid bare. "Why do you try to talk to me when I'm nothing but rude to you? Why'd you invite me here? Am I just a project to you? Why are you helping me? I'm not worth it!" The words spill out before B can stop them, and the raw hurt in A's eyes nearly rips B's heart out of their chest.

B claps their hand over their mouth, tears flooding their eyes. Now they've done it. They've laid it all out there. A's gonna kick them to the curb. And B won't blame them one bit.

But instead, A just looks at them, and pulls B into a hug. Their voice wavers only a bit as they whisper in B's ear: "You're not a project. You are completely worth being cared for. And you’re not the only one who knows what it feels like to not fit somewhere. Trust me.”

Alone. In a big, empty house. Studying on a Friday night. No plans of their own.

A, are you lonely, too?

Their words are so simple.

And yet they're everything B didn't know they needed to hear. A's got one arm around their shoulders, and one hand threaded through their sweaty, fever-damp hair, and they're cradling B so tightly it’s like they're the one who needs to be held.

B can't find the words to apologize or comfort them back. They're too tired for that. But they wrap their other arm around A and let their head rest on their shoulder. They stay like that for ages until their head begins to drop, and A shifts so they’re both laying down, B curled against A, A’s arm wrapped around their shoulders as they tuck a blanket around them both.

And finally, finally, B lets go. It's safe to fall, this time around. Because for the first time, there's someone there to catch them.

[dapandapod]

geraskier and 40 from the hug prompts if its not too much?

40. post-nightmare hug

It's not! Thank you very much for the prompt my dear, comfort is such a sweet thing when head is being miserable.

I am still working on all my lovely lovely hug prompts, but I had to slow down a little, partially because I had to go to work (booo) and partially because my brain decided to be a meanie. And how do we battle that?

hurt/comfort FLUFF!!!

Please enjoy!

Send me a hug prompt

On ao3 Hug collection here

Geralt sits up with a start.

Fuck.

He fell asleep. He hadn’t meant to do that, and now he is sweating and panting and he can’t really place where he is. Long gone pains that had made themselves memories under his skin, ghost fingers clenching around bones long since healed flare up.

The fear is the worst of it. Witchers don’t feel- bullshit. It is just what they all tell themselves to be able to go on, on all ends. His end, eventually.

Dragging a hand over his face to chase the sensations away, he doesn’t much notice Jaskier wake up next to him. It is a slightly colder night than usual at this time of year, making them push their bedrolls closer and causing his bones to ache.

Jaskier grumbles something unintelligible, turning around and forcing his eyes open.

“Bad night?” he asks, voice hoarse with sleep, and Geralt aches for other reasons entirely.

He is not used to having someone there. Someone watching.

Some nights, he even lets himself believe Jaskier cares.

Geralt grunts in reply, pushing back his hair and laying down again, back to Jaskier. Tonight is not one of those nights.

“Nightmares?” Jaskier says, yawning, and Geralt ignores him, trying to find peace, trying to find anything to calm his frantically beating heart.

He does have control over his body, most of the time. It is all about being centered.

A hand grabs his shoulder, and Geralt lets himself be turned on his back, then to his other side, facing Jaskier. He doesn’t want to look at him, doesn’t want to see the pity on his face. He knows he is weak.

Where he expects words, which Jaskier always provides, asked for or not, there are arms. Hairy arms, wrapping around him and pulling him into Jaskier’s chest, placing arms where he wants them and tucking heads under chins. Without any words at all, those ghost sensations and past pains are wiped away, replaced with warmth, the smell of sweat and morning breath, and safety.

Jaskier is holding him close, and having already placed Geralt’s arms around him, hugging him back is no trick at all.

There are no sweet nonsense words or gentle promises. There are calming hums and gentle snuggles as sleep once again claims Jaskier.

Geralt doesn’t really like to sleep. He much prefers meditation, where the dreams are kept at bay and he can care for his aching heart from a distance.

But every once in a while, he finds that someone else caring for his aching heart can be just what he needs.

[excitedlysuffering]

How He Hurts Your Feelings

Here’s some angst for ya :p wait is this even angsty?? Idk it’s the angstiest thing I’ve ever wrote XD

Masterlist Part 2

Naruto~

You sighed as you neared your second home, a ramen shop. You loved ramen, of course, but it was tiring having to cater to your boyfriend’s uncanny obsession with it. For once you wanted to have a choice. He never listened to your ideas anymore, recently he had made your relationship all about him, and it was beginning to eat at you.

You didn’t even necessarily want to eat. You just wanted to spend time with Naruto without having to eat ramen. Was that too much to ask?

“Naruto, we always go to Ichiraku’s for dates… maybe we could do something different?” The blonde turned to you with a pout. “Why? I thought you loved ramen?” You sighed, shaking your head.

“I do, but it’s all we seem to do these days.” His frown deepened. “But, I’m hungry!” You nodded, trying to control your patience. “Me too, but maybe we can go somewhere else to eat? I heard there’s a new BBQ place opening!” He was full-on scowling and his arms were crossed.

“Why are you being so disagreeable? You wanted to go out and here we are.” Your face fell at his hostile demeanor, but you refused to back down.

“I’m not being disagreeable, Naruto. You always pick out our dates without considering my opinion, I’m simply asking if we can do something different.” He rolled his eyes, his cerulean eyes burning with irritation.

“Fine, whatever. Go to your BBQ place. I’m going to get ramen.” Without another glance, he turned around and ducked into Ichiraku’s, leaving you alone on the street. Tears filled your eyes and blurred your vision as you ran back home, suddenly having lost your appetite.

Sasuke~

The Uchiha rarely got sick, but when he did he was more irritable than usual. You knew that when he did it was best to take his words with a grain of salt, as he was just trying to seem tough to make up for his perceived weakness at being sick. However, there was only so much you could take and you were slowly reaching your limit.

With every snide remark, you felt yourself grow a bit more upset. As it was Sasuke had tried to slam the door in your face when you had arrived, given you the silent treatment, complained about every little thing about the soup you made, he even griped about the tomatoes you’d brought him.

However, what was really pushing you over the edge was his ungratefulness. When you were sick, you let him take care of you, why couldn’t you return the favor?! You had been nothing but patient and gracious, and still, he had a problem with everything you did.

“For crying out loud, woman, I don’t want the medicine!” He snapped. At that moment, you snapped too. You threw down the spoon of medicine and a loud clang resounded. “FINE! I’ve done nothing but help you, same as you’ve done for me, but all you’ve done is treat me like some kind of pest! I get that no one is themselves when they’re sick, but I am not you’re personal punching bag, Sasuke!”

He seemed taken aback by your outburst, even to the point of silence. “You’ve made it clear I’m not needed here.” His eyes narrowed as you grabbed your bag. “Because you’re not.” You froze, trying to school your expression. “What?” He scoffed. “I said you’re not needed.”

Refusing to tolerate any more of his verbal abuse, you walked out his door without a word, not caring if he saw your tears.

Neji~

If you were being truthful with yourself, you knew you had been a bit neglectful of Neji lately. In the last two weeks, you had last minute canceled three consecutive dates. In your defense, you were so close to finishing the novel you were working on, and you had completely immersed yourself in it, excited for it to be so close to completion.

You had pushed him to the back of your mind and wrote day and night. You were just pages away from completion when you heard an obnoxious knocking at your door.

You were surprised to see your boyfriend, who looked furious, to say the least. “Oh, hey, Neji, what’s up?” You stepped back letting him in. His lilac eyes met yours and it felt like staring into a typhoon.

“It’s been three weeks since we’ve gone out, and all you can say is ‘what’s up’?” His voice was deadly quiet and you sheepishly avoided his eyes. “I’m sorry, I know I’ve been distant, but I’m so close to finishing my novel, and I just-”

He was in your face before you could blink. “Your novel?! You’ve been avoiding me for that stupid thing?!” Even though his words stung, you knew he had every right to be mad; you hadn’t been very considerate lately.

“I’ve been working on it for so long and I just wanted to finish it, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” You insisted. He sneered. “I can’t believe you’re spending so much time on a pipe dream. I’ve read it, and it will amount to nothing.” You had no idea how to respond, you could feel tears forming. “Get out.” Your voice was quiet but firm. “What?” You looked him directly in the eyes. “Now. I won’t repeat myself.” He stormed away with a scoff, leaving you with new insecurities.

Shikamaru~

Much to your delight, Shikamaru had agreed to go walking in the park with you. He had been away on a mission for a month and had gotten back a few days ago. You had missed him greatly and you were ecstatic to finally have him back.

“What did you do while I was away?” You looked up at the Nara as you walked. “A lot of training, really… not much else besides that. I missed you a lot.” He threw an arm around your shoulder, a small smile on his face. “I missed you too, (Y/N/N). I’m glad to be back.”

You passed a few kids who were playing a game of tag and weaving in and around the area, laughing all the way. You smiled at the sight, leaning your head onto Shikamaru’s shoulder.

“Shika?” He looked down at you letting you know he was listening. “How come you didn’t want to go cloud watching? Not that I’m complaining, it’s just unusual.”

He chuckled, steering you around the rambunctious children as they ran by. “I’ve been gone for a while, I figure it’d be nice to walk around a little bit. Don’t get used to it though, this is special.” You giggled, not surprised in the least.

“At least some things don’t change.” He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What things?” You smirked. “You’re still as lazy as can be!” He dramatically rolled his eyes before letting a smug expression settle on his face.

“And you’re still abnormally short!” Shikamaru snickered. You rolled your eyes, punching him in the shoulder. You were about to reply when there was a plume of smoke. Shikamaru was no longer in sight.

You felt your mind blank for a second. A shadow clone. Your own boyfriend had rather send a clone than actually see you after a month of being apart. You felt an ache in your chest as you angrily wiped the tears from your eyes. Had he really not missed you at all?

Kiba~

You screeched indignantly as a bucket full of water rained down on you. Tears of frustration gathered in your eyes, much to your chagrin. This was the third prank today, and you were more than tired of Kiba’s antics.

You were going to your room to grab your jacket and was in too much of a hurry to notice the trap. Now you were in the doorway, soaked to the bone, shaking with anger and cold while Kiba just laughed.

First, it had been replacing the sugar with salt so your morning coffee had been spoiled, then it had been hiding every article of clothing you owned and then having to find each individual piece, one at a time. Now you were wet and miserable and Kiba looked like he was only just beginning your torment.

“You know what, Kiba, this isn’t funny! This is the third prank in as many hours! What is your deal?!” He looked confused as if he didn’t know why you were angry. “They’re just harmless pranks, babe, no reason to get worked up.”

They were harmless pranks, but it was your… not so special week and you didn’t have the energy to deal with it. “Look, I’m tired, okay? So can you please just quit it?”

He rolled his eyes as if he were exasperated. “You’re so boring (Y/N). Why can’t you just loosen up once in a while?” You harshly rubbed your temples, trying to push down your hurt. You knew you weren’t overreacting, you were sore and drained, and he was making it that much worse.

“I’m going back to bed. Please don’t bother me.” You waved a hand towards him and walked away and slammed the door behind you. “God, what did I do to get such a whiny girlfriend?”

Your mouth fell open as you heard his voice. Was that really how he thought of you?

Gaara~

You sighed dejected, as you stared at the empty seat your boyfriend was supposed to be. You knew that as the Kazekage, Gaara was a busy man, but he was the one who planned the date and he had promised to be there.

After thirty minutes of pity filled stares and waiting, you figured he wasn’t going to show up. This was the fourth time this month that he had stood you up and you couldn’t help but find yourself hurriedly heading in the direction of the Kazekage building to confront him.

By the time you had finally reached his office, you had calmed down, but that wasn’t to say you weren’t still angry. You knocked harshly on his door and waited for his response. “Enter.” You stormed your way in, your dress swishing behind you as reached his desk.

“Gaara. I was expecting you forty-five minutes ago.” Seafoam eyes met yours, before sweeping over your outfit. “Oh, god, (Y/N), I’m so sorry, I got caught up-” I scowled at the overused excuse.

“This is the fourth time! For goodness sake, this date was your idea!” He stood up, holding your trembling hand. “I know, and I’m so sorry. I’m going to make it up to you.” Your frown deepened as you turned away.

“Do you know how foolish I looked? Having a reservation for two, and sitting there for thirty minutes?” He sighed, but it didn’t sound remorseful. “I said I’ll make it up to you, okay? I was in the middle of something important.”

Your eyes hardened as they met his. “Important? So more important than me apparently? I know you’re busy, Gaara, I do, but this is getting ridiculous! Not only are you neglecting our relationship, but you’re also neglecting your own health!”

The crimson-haired Kazekage’s eyes left yours as he sat back down. “I’m very busy right now, (Y/N), can we finish this later?” He suggested emotionlessly.

Your fists were clenched. “Don’t bother, I have nothing more to say.” The slamming door had a note of finality to it as your left.

Kakashi~

You hissed as the peroxide touched the wound on your stomach. “You were reckless, (Y/N).” You glowered at the head of silver hair that was hunched over your bruised and bloody form, medical supplies in hand.

“I wasn’t reckless, Kakashi. My team was in shambles and we were outnumbered. I did the best I could with what I had and the mission was a success and everyone is okay.” Even through his mask, you could see his frown. “But at what cost? You should’ve waited for back up!”

I rolled my eyes. “Tsunade-sama was proud, everyone is fine. These injuries are nothing. I’m a shinobi and so are you. You know the cost and this can barely be considered a cost.” He shook his head, frustrated, as he wrapped your bandages.

“I get worried, okay? I know you, and I’m scared of the day you finally go too far and do something stupid-” You shot up, no longer being able to tolerate his attitude.

“Do you doubt my abilities that much? Even though I graduated from the academy, passed the Chuunin exams, and got my Jonin promotion the same as you?!” Kakashi simply crossed his arms.

“Well, I’m having to stitch you up, right?” You swatted his hand away from the cut on your shoulder. “That’s enough! I don’t have to take this! I’ve earned my place here, no matter what you say! The number of times I’ve patched you up and never complained and this is how you treat me?” Your words faded to a whisper hurt shining through your tone.

“That’s different! I can handle it!” Your eyes widened at the words. “Seriously? So what? You’re calling me weak now?”

“That’s not what I said, (Y/N).” You chuckled humorlessly, still in disbelief that you were even having this conversation. “You didn’t have to. It was pretty clear. I think it’s time you left.” The Jonin did just that, without another word or even a glance in your direction.

With tears dripping down your cheeks, you addressed all your minor injuries, trying not to think of Kakashi.

~Akatsuki~

Pein~

In hindsight, you knew it wasn’t the best idea to rip up the forest fighting Hidan. But the Jashinist had run his mouth a little (a lot) too far this time and you dismembered him. It wasn’t that big of a deal, almost everyone had done it at some time so you thought nothing of it. Pein didn’t have the same sentiments, however, and had wasted no time calling you to his office.

“What were you thinking?” He hissed. You simply raised an eyebrow, your lover hadn’t succeeded in intimidating you in a long time. “Hidan went too far and I did what everyone else has done in the past.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling. “That’s not an excuse, (Y/N). You’re being immature, and I will not stand for it.” You snorted. “Look, Kakuzu cuts off Hidan’s head like once a week and you’ve never had a problem, so what’s got you pissed about it this time?” He scowled, his Rinnegan becoming more prominent.

“I recruited you for your smarts and potential, not so you could bounce around doing whatever you wanted! I don’t have time to deal with your childish antics!”

You just snorted, trying not to show how deeply his words were cutting you. Pein was never like this with you, he always treated you like a goddess, and now here he was berating you over a minuscule problem.

“You don’t have to ‘deal’ with me, Pein! I’m not a kid, and if someone offends me, you’d best believe I’m not going to let it slide! Now I’ll ask you one more time. What. Is. Your. Problem?” He shot up, his hands slamming down on his desk causing you to step back, startled.

“My problem is that my girlfriend is being a fool and embarrassing me!” It really did feel like he had stabbed you through the chest this time. But you bit your cheek not to let it show. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “So that’s what it is, huh? You think I’m not good enough for the great ‘God’ Pein?” You mocked.

When he didn’t respond you waved a hand, walking towards the door. “I haven’t dismissed you yet, (Y/N).” Pein’s voice rang out. You shook your head as you reached the door.

“I don’t know about that, I feel pretty dismissed right now, actually.” With that, you left, not caring to hear what else he had to say.

Deidara~

You watched as Sasori and Deidara worked on their separate projects, while you yourself worked on your own. A large, half-filled canvas was before you, baring your newest artwork. It was an abstract graffiti painting, creating a 3D letter effect. You were quite proud of it actually.

However, you could feel eyes on you and you turned, giving Sasori a questioning look as you set your paints down. “What?”

His blank brown eyes ran critically over your artwork, before shrugging and going back to his puppets. You rolled your eyes at his typical behavior before walking over to Deidara’s table.

“Hey, Dei. Whatcha working on?” He turned to you, his smile wide as he held up a clay sculpture to you. It was a chibi version of you, causing you to blush. “Do you like it, hm? It’s my best one yet, yeah!” You handled it carefully, laughing a little. “Yeah, it’s adorable!” The blonde puffed up causing you to giggle more.

“And deadly, un! These are advanced, only for special circumstances, yeah.” You were just about to question what kind of special when you noticed the puppet master in front of your canvas, looking unimpressed.

“Um, Sasori?” He didn’t respond, just waved the two of you over. You sighed as you both followed him, slightly nervous about what he was going to say. “Look, brat.” You watched as the artist’s eyes looked over every line and color. “The strokes are uneven, and the shading is off. You call this art, (Y/N)?”

Your mouth fell open at his bluntness. “Okay, one it’s abstract so that’s the point, it’s not supposed to be precise! Second, yeah, I do call this art.” Deidara offered you an apologetic smile. “Sasori no Danna is right, un, it’s a little off…” You blinked twice not comprehending his words for a moment.

“Seriously?! I never speak badly about either of your pieces, so why don’t I get the same respect?!” Sasori just rolled his eyes, sitting back down at his desk. Typical. You turned your glare to your boyfriend. He crossed his arms, not looking at you.

“It’s fine, (Y/N/N), we all have bad days, un, nothing to get worked up about, hm.” You didn’t warrant his statement with a response. You just scoffed in disbelief as you stalked out of the room. Unbelieveable.

Tbh the pic has nothing to do with this but I found it and I thought it was hilarious?

[smaidjor]

and i pay for my place by the ring (Chapter 2)

This chapter took me so fucking long but after much struggle I have completed it!

It was supposed to be 3-4k words. It was exactly 6069 pre-editing according to google docs.

You're welcome.

Chapter Title: with your blessing i will go

Chapter Wordcount: 6073

Content warnings: suicidal thoughts, self-esteem issues, discussion of death, non-graphic injury.

AO3

Chapter 1

i know they're losing (companion fic)

Actual fic under the cut:

The next few weeks are miserable, and if Scott tried to claim anything else, he would absolutely be lying to himself. Not that he doesn’t already do that, but he’s not too proud to admit that not seeing Jimmy is torturous. He knows he can’t, he’s firmly placed Jimmy on the off-limits list, but that doesn’t make the self-imposed rule any easier to follow. There’s still a part of him that wants to go running back to Jimmy’s arms, to beg for forgiveness and pray that Jimmy’s warmth is enough to curb the chill in his bones.

Scott shoves that part of him down firmly. He has no time to hesitate or regret, and he will not spend his days pining and sighing over a human. (Or so he tells himself.) He will be the perfect model of an elven king if that’s what it takes to gain his people’s respect, and he will make his parents proud, not that they’re around to see it. He will . Because Scott may not care about what the Council of Elders thinks of him- he hasn’t for twenty years now- but he does care that the people of Rivendell get a leader who cares for their wellbeing. It’s the least he can do, really.

So he takes on the meetings and the paperwork and the aching, gaping hole in his chest with grim determination, ignoring the way his hands always seem to shake a little and he can never quite get warm. It’s fine. Scott is fine. He’s not going to think about golden smiles or warm brown eyes or the look on Jimmy’s face when Scott told him it was over. He’s fine .

Flipping through the stack of official mail he’s received, Scott’s startled when his hand falls on an elegant cream envelope stamped with the crest of the Ocean Empire. How long has this been here? He hurries to get it open, nearly slicing himself on the letter opener in the process.

Out slides an official invitation in neat cursive.

To High King Scott Dangthatsalongname Smajor, Lord King of the Rivendell Empire,

You are cordially invited to a royal ball to be held at the palace of Ocean Queen Lizzie Ldshadowlady, Queen of the Northern Waves and Reefs, at 8 pm on the fifth of August.

Formal attire is required.

RSVP as soon as possible.

At the bottom of it, there’s a note in slightly more rushed handwriting.

Smajor- elvenking or not, I will not appreciate it if you mess with Jimmy in any way, shape or form. This ball is to be a peaceful affair, and I will not hesitate to intervene should anything occur.

Lizzie

Scott winces. He...can’t say he doesn’t deserve the warning, any more than he can say that it doesn’t hurt to be warned away from his own husband. Ex-husband, he quickly reminds himself, reaching for stationary to pen a response.

Dear Ocean Queen Lizzie Ldshadowlady, Queen of the Northern Waves and Reefs,

He stops, giving it a bit of thought. Would avoiding Jimmy be worth the political consequences of refusing an invitation like this? No, he concedes reluctantly, it wouldn’t. He can always just avoid Jimmy at the ball- Lizzie would probably be happy for it, honestly. She’s been protective over him from the start. Scott puts the pen back to paper.

Luckily, I will be able to attend the ball. It sounds like a wonderful event and I eagerly anticipate it. As for your note, I will avoid antagonizing Jimmy as much as possible. I would hate to sacrifice diplomatic relations between our kingdoms for a petty squabble. Will that be satisfactory?

Sincerely,

High King Scott Dangthatsalongname Smajor

What’s going on between him and Jimmy is far more than a petty squabble, but Lizzie doesn’t need to know that. It’s fine. It’s not like he’s going to run into Jimmy anyways, right?

The day of the ball arrives, and Scott spends far too long choosing an outfit. He’s not vain, not usually, but...Jimmy will be there. You’re not supposed to want to impress him , Scott scolds himself, but that doesn’t stop him from wearing his nicest golden jewelry. The rest of his outfit is far more strategically planned- long skirts to hide how terrible his balance is when he’s near-constantly struggling to get a full breath into his lungs, gloves to keep his dance partners from questioning his cold hands.

The ball is already in full swing by the time he arrives, the trip from Rivendell taking longer than he thought it would. He’s still greeted by the Ocean Queen herself, though, gliding over in her stunning ballgown of blue and green.

“Welcome!” Her smile is bright, warm in a way he almost envies.

Scott dips his head just enough to be respectful but not so much as to truly defer to her. He thinks that’s right, anyways; he hasn’t had to think about that particular part of etiquette lessons in some twenty years. “Thank you, Queen Lizzie. I apologize for my lateness, the trip was a bit harrowing.”

“No problem at all, I just hope you enjoy the ball!” Lizzie’s smile gains a sharper edge. “I appreciated your letter, by the way. Thank you for your promise to keep it civil, King Smajor. Now we just all have to follow through on our words!” She accompanies that bit with a little laugh, but Scott’s not a fool enough to take it as anything but a warning. She doesn’t want trouble at her ball, and who would, really?

“Hopefully we can manage at least that,” he offers wryly, earning another laugh and a bright “Hopefully!”

Scott doesn’t mean to cause trouble at the ball, he really doesn’t. But before he has a chance to even get a look around, Jimmy’s standing in front of him. And oh, this really isn’t how he hoped it’d go.

“Lord Codfather,” Scott greets, swallowing the lump in his throat. Jimmy cleans up nicely- really nicely- but Scott’s eyes keep going to the scar on his throat, the permanent reminder of how fragile and mortal Jimmy really is.

“Elvenking,” Jimmy says. The formality sounds awkward in his bright voice, and Scott wants to kiss the uncertainty right off his face. “Care for a dance?”

He can’t- he should, Scott knows. There would be value to an alliance with Jimmy, and he has no good reason to turn him down. That’s not why he says yes, though. It’s that look in Jimmy’s eyes, the hope poorly disguised by indifference. He’s so optimistic. Scott shouldn't encourage it, but he can’t find it in himself to break that fragile hope just yet.

“I suppose I wouldn’t mind,” Scott says finally. He takes Jimmy’s outstretched hand in his own gloved one; Vilya rests on Jimmy’s finger, still, and it’s a battle to keep the memories of giving Jimmy that ring at bay. He wins that battle, though, letting Jimmy put a hand on his waist as they start into a simple waltz.

Jimmy is a terrible dancer, and Scott knows it. He steps on Scott’s feet, he gets off-rhythm- he’s frankly not made for dancing, much as the way he hums along to the tune is adorable. His hair, which was probably once nicely styled, has already fallen out of place, and his tunic is a little wrinkled. His hands are rough, tough from all the work he does with them, and his face has a tiny bit of mud on it that he must have missed when getting ready. He looks very much like a sweet little swamp boy, out of place in the midst of all the more elegant and powerful rulers.

He’s the most beautiful thing Scott’s ever seen.

Unlike the last time they danced, back in 3rd life where Jimmy leaned on Scott for balance as he tried to learn the complicated steps, this time it’s Scott clinging to Jimmy for stability. He feels bad about how harsh his grip gets, but he can’t afford to show weakness. He has to stay on his feet.

Scott’s silently thankful when the dance ends and he can lead them off the dance floor. He’s exhausted and shaky, and he’s not sure how much longer he can be around Jimmy without breaking down or doing something very stupid.

“Thank you for the dance, Codfather,” Scott says. He takes a step back, banishing the lingering emotion of their dance.

A beat of silence, and then.

“Can we please stop acting like we don’t know each other?” Jimmy demands, earning a ripple of gasps from nearby guests.

“What else do you want from me?” Scott snaps back, anger rising to fill the gap in his chest.

“I- something! Anything! Just acknowledge that I exist, won’t you?”

Scott swallows down the lump in his throat. “Acknowledging you exist doesn’t mean I can still be in love with you, you know.”

“I know,” Jimmy says. He sounds so bitter, so tired. “I know , trust me. I just want you to stop- to stop hurting yourself to try and avoid pain!”

“That’s not what I’m do-”

Jimmy cuts him off, a rare occurrence. “Then what are you doing? Enlighten me, o wise elf! You told me it would destroy you to lose me, but you’re losing me now by pushing me away!”

His chest tightens, and he can barely force the words out. “I’m trying to do what’s best for the both of us, Jimmy.”

“No you’re-”

It’s Scott’s turn to cut him off. “I am an elf, and I cannot love a mortal. Humans are quick flames, burning and changing quickly. You’ll fall in love again, and you’ll forget me.” It hurts, but it’s true. There will be a mortal who loves you- I’m sure there are many already.” Jimmy’s so wonderful, there are bound to be others who see it.

“But I don’t want a mortal,” Jimmy says. It’s almost childish, but his next words still break Scott’s heart. “I want you. ”

“You can’t have me.” Scott is vividly aware of the fact that there are eyes on him, that their little spat has attracted the attention of the rest of the ballroom.

“But why? Why, Scott?” Jimmy’s voice breaks, and the crack in it is damn near enough to make Scott lose his tiny bit of remaining self-control. “You said you loved me, you promised me all the time we’d be able to- to carve out, to steal from the universe.” It sounds like an accusation, and maybe it is. Scott did promise him that, after all, and then he went back on it.

It wasn’t for no reason, though. He needs Jimmy to understand that it was for a reason. “I can’t give you that!” He snaps back, and his hands tremble when they try to form fists by his side. “You’ll live sixty more years, maybe, a fraction of my life, a blink of an eye to an elf, and I can’t even give you that long! Not when I have to be the elvenking before anything else. Nothing I can do will ever be enough for you.” It’s bitter, but it’s true. Scott can’t be enough for anyone, in the end.

“Enough for me? For ME?”Jimmy’s voice rises in outrage. “All I want is for you not to die to your own dumb plan and acknowledge my existence once in a while!”

Scott’s voice rises in response. “And all I want is for you to realize I can’t love you again!”

“Why can’t you care about me?”

“Why can’t you move on?”

“You’re not moving on, you’re just trying to forget!” Jimmy shouts.

Scott falls silent, breathing hard as the ballroom goes quiet around them. He spots Lizzie sweeping through the crowd, coming to a stop next to Jimmy.

“Is everything alright, boys?” She’s smiling, but it’s strained, and her eyes promise death if this quarrel was Scott’s fault.

“My apologies, Ocean Queen,” he says, and he tries to gather his composure as he dips his head to her. “Everything is alright, but I am afraid I will have to leave early.” He doesn’t look at Jimmy.

She smiles again, dangerous this time. “No need to worry, Lord Smajor. Do try to avoid picking fights with my allies, next time, though.”

“It won’t happen again,” he promises, and he only nearly stumbles when he turns to leave.

Distantly, he can hear Jimmy shout after him. “Coward!” The word is harsh, but there’s hurt beneath it. “You’re a coward, Scott!”

Scott stumbles away all the quicker.

He keeps composed all the way out the doors and most of the way down the stairs until he’s sure no one can see him from the ballroom. It’s only then that he breaks into a run, lifting up his stupid skirts so he doesn’t fall. One shoe falls off, a twisted parody of a children’s fairy tale, and he doesn’t bother to retrieve it. The prismarine stabs at his exposed foot, but Scott doesn’t have the energy to care. Instead, he beats his wings, trying to get enough momentum for a good takeoff.

For a few precious moments, he gets off the ground, and then he remembers Jimmy’s face as he left, wingbeats stuttering with the sudden emotion, and tumbles back to the rough prismarine path. It hurts , it does, but it’s nothing on the pain in his chest. Nothing on the words still echoing in his head. Coward! You’re a coward, Scott!

Scott lays there for a moment, half-wondering if anyone’s coming after him. It’s unlikely, he knows, given how badly he messed things up. He tells himself that that’s a good thing, that he doesn’t want anyone to come looking. He doesn’t need them. He should be strong.

Before anyone has time to notice or be concerned, he’s forced himself back to his feet, starting the takeoff sequence all over again.

This time, he gets in the air with little difficulty, though he lists to the side as he favors his right wing, which took the brunt of the fall. It’s fine. He’s fine, he doesn’t need help.

If Scott believed in the elven gods anymore, he would thank them for the fact that he gets back to Rivendell at all. There are tears blurring his vision, and every part of his body aches, his chest most of all. His flight is shaky at best, outright dangerous at worst, crashing into trees and rocks and the ground multiple times. Each time, he barely picks himself back up before mobs arrive. Sometimes, he questions if he should at all. He’s as good as dead anyways. And yet, the tiny stubborn part of him that got him through 3rd life won’t let him just lay down and die. For some reason, even though he’s slept enough recently (he thinks, anyways), there are phantoms on him. They sense when their prey is sleep-deprived, Scott knows, and wonders if he’s just weak enough to seem that way to them.

By the time he crash-lands on the mountainside, it’s pushing two in the morning, and Scott is more dead than alive. Not that he hasn’t been for a while now, he thinks, and laughs aloud to himself, bitter.

The night watch give him strange looks, but both elves on guard duty obligingly dip their heads when he stumbles by. He barely musters the energy to nod back.

Finally he makes it back to his house, slamming his door behind him and burying his face in his hands. This is the right thing to do, why does it hurt so much? He already lost Jimmy once, why does it feel like he’s losing him all over again when he never really got him back in the first place?

Someone coughs lightly, breaking through his thoughts. The voice is familiar when they speak- one of his advisors. “Lord Smajor? Any major events we should know of at the ball?”

Cold. Calm. Scott knows this is the way of the elves- their royalty cannot dare be human. “The Codfather’s our enemy and the Ocean Queen probably hates us too.” He doesn’t bother trying to make himself sound calm and collected, pushing off the wall and stalking towards the stairs.

“What?” The advisor’s voice pitches up in shock. “What did you do?”

“None of your business.”

“You cannot have embarrassed the elven realm at the largest event of the year-”

“It wasn’t like I was fucking trying to,” He snaps.

A gasp. “Language.”

“Fuck off.”

They hurry after him, making to follow him up the stairs. “Lord Smajor-”

Scott turns to face them, taking in the shock and rage painted across their ancient face. “Leave me be.”

“Do not disrespect your elders,” the advisor scolds. “I remember when you were a child, you always were reckless, but this is a new level of disrespect! Why, Xornoth would never-”

“ Enough ,” he hisses. “Do not talk about my sibling.”

They freeze, a bit of genuine fear creeping onto their face. “My lord-”

“Get out of my house,” Scott snarls.

They wisely obey. Scott slumps against the banister as the surge of adrenaline abates, suddenly exhausted. He’s freezing, he realizes, a bone-deep chill that he doesn’t bother to pretend is from his trip home. Scott’s done lying to himself- he’s in pain, and he’s in love, but then again, those equate to roughly the same thing when all’s said and done. You can’t have heartbreak without love or love without heartbreak. (But oh how he wishes he could.)

Scott doesn’t get out of bed the next day, and no one dares try to force him. Varying members of Rivendell’s Council of Elders make a decent shot at trying to convince him, but all it takes is him fixing them with his dead-eyed stare to make them leave. The people of Rivendell are used to their ruler’s odd sleep schedule by now, brushing it off easily, and the empire itself is mostly functional without him. So instead of getting up and dealing with the corruption or making sure Rivendell’s stores are prepared for winter or any of the things he should be doing, Scott lays there in his own misery and thinks about Jimmy screaming that he’s a coward.

He’s right, that’s the worst part. Scott is a coward. He’s scared of Xornoth and the corruption and never, ever being enough, he’s scared of responsibility and his own mind, he’s scared of fading and dying alone, and- most of all- he’s absolutely terrified of how much he loves Jimmy.

His father warned him about fading, once, back before Scott was expected to carry a crown on his brow and the weight of a nation on his shoulders. He bounced Scott on his knee and told him that elven hearts are fragile, too fragile for how strongly they love. “Don’t fall too deep in love, son,” he said, and the words carried the weight of years of grief. “Don’t care too much about any one person, not if you want to live to be a legend of the ages. Doesn’t matter what kind of love it is, love can be lethal.”

Scott didn’t listen, of course- reckless, rebellious Scott, who never once listened to his elders, went and did the most dangerous thing an elf could do. He fell in love with a human.

And now he’s dying. Surely that gives him a pass to wallow in his own misery for a day or two. He’s been brave for so long, can’t he just rest a few moments? Just...just a few. He’ll just lay here a bit longer.

At that moment, the front door creaks open somewhere below him.

“My lord? Can I come up?” Someone calls from below. Their voice is also familiar- Gilnar. Gilnar’s a good captain of the guard. Dutiful, clever, and far more willing to respect him than most of Rivendell’s high ranking elves.

“If you’ve come to convince me to get up, it won’t work,” Scott calls back.

Gilnar’s head peeks over the railing a moment later. “Nope, not here for that. Just thought I’d check in, y’know?” The Sindarin words sound almost musical in their accent, rolling up and down with a unique sort of rhythm.

“Alright.”

“Are you okay, my lord?”

“No.” He’s done lying. “Leave me be.”

Gilnar shakes their head. “Sorry, my lord, can’t do that.”

“If you’re going to tell me my people need me, don’t waste your breath. I know .” Scott’s voice cracks on the last word, just a little.

“Not that either. But with all due respect, seems a little like you’re givin’ up on yourself just a bit, my lord.” They lean against the railing.

“What do you mean by that?”

They cough, a little awkwardly. “The soul-sickness. The fading.”

Scott’s mouth opens and closes, and he sputters. “How-”

“Trainin’ with the royal guard a few weeks back, your hands were freezin’ and your balance was off. You haven’t gotten up at a reasonable hour in weeks, and, well, with all due respect- I know what heartbreak looks like.”

He’s silent for a moment, utterly floored. “What do you mean by giving up?”

“Well, Lauriel and I were talkin’, and….your love’s still alive, isn’t he? The Codfather?”

“How did you-”

Gilnar flashes him a tiny grin. “He’s not subtle, and neither are you. Plus, he has Vilya.”

Deciding to shove that to the back of his mind for now, Scott sighs. “He’s a mortal, Gilnar. I’m not giving up anything that I won’t already lose in sixty years or so.”

“Luthien loved Beren, didn’t she?”

“I am not Luthien. I cannot sing so well that the gods grant me pardon.”

“And Idril loved Tuor.”

“I am not Idril. I cannot bring Jimmy to the Undying Lands.”

“Arwen still loved Aragorn.”

“I am not Arwen. I do not have the choice to give up my immortal life.”

Gilnar’s smile turns sad. “Caranthir still loved Haleth. And Celebrimbor loved Narvi just the same, didn’t he? The doomed love all the more fiercely, my lord.”

“The rest of the elves won’t be happy with me,” Scott points out.

“You think Thingol and Turgon and Elrond were happy when their daughters loved mortals? You think Luthien’s people didn’t scorn Beren at first?”

Scott doesn’t have any retort to that, and Gilnar hops up from their seat on the banister. “Well, I need to get back to my duties, my lord. Good luck with your swamp boy!”

They’re gone as soon as they arrive, and Scott stares up at the ceiling, his thoughts dragging him along a spiral of emotion.

“Coward! You’re a coward, Scott!”

Scott is a coward. He’s a liar and a coward. Nothing he does will ever be right.

“Don’t fall too deep in love, son.”

Scott did, though. Like the idiot he is, he fell in love with someone the universe didn’t want him to have.

“Caranthir still loved Haleth.”

He did. And he paid for it. Does it matter? Scott thinks that losing Jimmy might be a price worth paying for the joy of loving him.

“You cannot have embarrassed the elven realm at the largest event of the year-”

Scott didn’t mean to, but he still messed up and shouted at Jimmy. He’s a failure. Jimmy could do better. He deserves better.

“I don’t want a mortal. I want you .”

Jimmy’s so stupid. Stupid Codfather with his stupid bright eyes and stupid, stupid insistence on not giving up on someone he should never have loved to begin with. Scott loves him so much more than he could ever put into words.

“With all due respect, seems a little like you’re givin’ up on yourself just a bit, my lord.”

Jimmy deserves an apology. Scott won’t give up.

(Not on Jimmy, anyways.)

It takes him nearly a month of furious work to make the precious mithril bracelet, refining it over and over again. He picks the flowers and their meanings carefully- love, hope, protection- and the crystals too. Amethysts for protection, carefully traded for filled with any bit of magic he can spare for them. The lettering carved into the underside is yet another layer of blessings and meaning; he does it in Quenya, the Tengwar script, which Scott knows Jimmy can’t read. He has to look up how to write in it after so many years of never so much as looking at elven script, pouring over old books by candlelight. By day, he rules an empire, relying on the rush of adrenaline and motivation to carry him through even on the days when he’s swaying on his feet by the end. By night, he works on a courtship project like none he’s made before until at last, at nearly three in the morning one night, it’s finished.

It’s not the most beautiful it could have been. Scott isn’t one of the great Noldor smiths of old, he’s just an elf in love. His hands are perpetually shaky nowadays, and he has limited time to work on it between every other responsibility in his life. But every centimeter of it is handmade with all the care he could muster, and that has to count for something.

Scott hardly wants to wait to give it to Jimmy, but he forces himself to try and wait for morning. His anxiety doesn’t let him sleep much, exhausted as he is, but he curls up under the covers and stares at the bracelet on his nightstand. He doesn’t want to take his eyes off it, half-convinced it will vanish if he does. Eventually, his eyes slide shut of their own will, carrying him into an uneasy sleep.

He wakes up long after the sun's risen, staggering out of bed and throwing on a cloak for the journey to Jimmy’s. The cold that he’s been banishing with the warmth of a forge has returned tenfold, and he’s shivering despite elves normally being resistant to chills. When he takes a glance at himself in the mirror, he finds that his hair is out of place, there’s a streak of ink across his cheek, and the dark circles under his eyes look like bruises. He looks a mess, and he doesn’t care. Jimmy is all that matters now.

The journey’s both long and rough, and his landing in the swamp is more like a frantic swan dive out of the sky. Luckily, though, the ground is soft here, and Scott’s able to pick himself up and hurry for Jimmy’s house, ignoring the stares of a few Codland citizens. He knocks, heart in his throat as he waits for the door to open.

The hinges squeak, and suddenly Jimmy’s standing there, a mix of emotions that Scott doesn’t even want to try and comprehend scattered across his face. He looks a little sleepy despite the fact that it must be near noon, and so very sweet with his hair falling in his face. The sight of him knocks the air right out of Scott’s lungs, and he has to struggle to remember why he’s here again for a long moment as they stare at each other.

“Hi,” Scott says weakly.

“Scott? What- why are you here?” Jimmy sounds outraged, and Scott can’t blame him.

Scott swallows hard. “I came to apologize.” His tired brain scrambles for words, something, anything to convey how truly sorry he is. “I was scared- I am scared. I’m terrified to lose you again. But I shouldn’t have pushed you away and hurt you.”

“No, you shouldn’t have!” Jimmy snaps.

“I know.” God, he didn’t expect it to hurt this much to hear the rage in Jimmy’s voice. “I- uh- fuck.” Scott fumbles to get the box he put the bracelet in, holding it out. “I brought a gift as an apology.”

Jimmy’s silent for a long moment, examining the bracelet. Scott barely dares breathe as he turns it over and over in his hands, tracing the flower designs with his fingertips. “Did you make this yourself?”

“Mhm. I did my best, but it’s not as nice as I’d like.” And, well, isn’t that just the story of his life?

“It’s pretty,” Jimmy says. He sounds genuine.

Scott lets out a breath, letting some of the tension go. “It’s spelled, too. Protection, good fortune, that sort of thing.”

“Do the flowers mean something?”

“They do.”

Jimmy doesn’t press for details.

“I-” Scott starts, and then pauses. What does he say? An apology would be a start, maybe. “I’m sorry, Jimmy, I really am. I won’t ask you to forgive me, but I needed to apologize before my time ran out.” It’s the truth, as wholly as he can bear to give it.

“Is it that- that dire?” Jimmy’s voice shakes a little, and Scott gives a tiny nod.

“This is what I chose to do with it. Making that, coming here. You deserved an apology.”

Jimmy goes quiet again. His eyes are still on the bracelet, and Scott can hardly breathe again.

Finally, he can’t take the tension. “It wouldn’t be fair of me to ask you to love me. I can’t promise you eternity. I can’t promise you happiness. I can’t promise you that I won’t have to be the elvenking first and a husband second. But I am still yours-” he’s always been, really- “if you’ll have me.”

The silence that falls after that is even more stifling than the previous two. Scott doesn’t expect Jimmy to want him back- far from it. He’s putting his heart in Jimmy’s hands, but he doesn’t expect anything other than it shattering on the floor. Maybe Jimmy will be kind enough to let him down gently, but Scott’s fragile enough that it would only take a tiny nudge to break him. And yet he can’t stop the tiny bit of hope that blooms, though it dwindles minute by minute as Jimmy stares and stares. Finally, he opens his mouth to make his apologies again and leave to his frozen, icy empire-

And then there are hands in his hair and lips on his, warm and sudden and bold. Scott gives a little startled gasp, which is swallowed up by Jimmy’s kiss. Their noses knock together and Jimmy’s teeth click against his just a little in their haste, but Scott’s far too overwhelmed by the sudden rush of warmth to care.

When Jimmy finally pulls away, Scott’s left breathless, cheeks warm in a way no part of him has been since Jimmy died in 3rd life.

He barely pulls himself together enough to manage a wry little “So, I’ll take that as you want to stay married?”

“Of course I do! You absolute idiot!”

Jimmy sounds so startled and offended at the idea that he wouldn’t , Scott’s not sure whether to laugh or cry. “Just checking.”

Jimmy kisses him again in response, and who’s Scott to protest? No, he’s more than happy to let Jimmy pull him close and kiss away the lingering sorrow. When Jimmy pulls away this time, he’s left dizzy, half caught up in the euphoria of being loved, half terrified that this is only a cruel dream.

By the time Scott collects himself again, Jimmy’s holding out the bracelet to him. “Can you help me put this on?”

Scott can only nod, fumbling with the clasp a little. It’s not complicated, but his hands aren’t steady, and it takes him a moment to get it. Jimmy grabs his hands when he lets go, and he’s so warm that Scott can’t muster the energy to even question why.

“Come in and catch up with me?” Jimmy offers.

Scott nods again, and he can’t bear to let go of Jimmy’s hand when Jimmy turns to go inside.

They talk a lot, Jimmy more than Scott. Scott learns that Jimmy’s been picked on by other rulers (no surprise, but his blood still boils at the thought), and he shares minimal details about what he’s been up to. Jimmy doesn’t need to hear about Scott’s issues, he’s already dealing with enough.

Eventually, though, the sun is starting to set.

“I need to get home,” Scott says, though he has to force himself to. “You need sleep, not to stay up all night talking.” He goes to get up, and Jimmy immediately lunges, catching his sleeve.

“Don’t go! Please.” Jimmy sounds almost afraid, which instantly sets off alarm bells.

“Jimmy, darling, we both need to sleep,” Scott tells him, very patiently.

“We can sleep! I just….nevermind.”

Now the alarm bells are really going off in Scott’s head. He knows when his husband is hiding something serious, and Jimmy’s frantic tone isn’t helping his worry. “No, no. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Jimmy claims.

Scott frowns at him lightly. “ Jimmy .”

That’s all it takes. “I don’t want to be alone!” Jimmy blurts. He’s blushing a little. “It’s just, I’ve been alone for a long time, and there’s this demon thing that keeps showing up, and I’ve only just got you back, I’m not ready to let you go, and-”

Oh, Jimmy . Scott holds up a hand in a ‘stop’ gesture. “Hold on. What was that about a demon?”

“There’s this demon creature that I keep seeing, and it’s really messing with me. It sounds like you, sometimes, but all distorted, and I can’t handle it! You know me, I’m not brave or smart or anything, I’m just Jimmy!” Jimmy’s voice pitches up with distress, and Scott’s heart aches for him.

“Alright,” he says, as gently as he can manage. “How about you come to Rivendell for the night, then? I can protect us both easier there.” More like, Aeor can protect them. Scott’s useless, even with Vilya.

Jimmy nods and takes Scott’s hand with a tiny little “Thank you.”

“Always,” Scott murmurs. It comes out softer than he means it to, though it’s the truth. He’ll always do whatever he can to protect Jimmy, which is why he asks “Do you still have the ring I gave you?”

“I do, I just… give me a moment to remember where I put it.”

“Good. It’s important.” Vilya is one of the most important parts of his heritage, actually, and his advisors would pitch a fit if they knew he had given it to a mortal. For once, he can’t bring himself to care what his advisors would think, though. Jimmy is important, more important than any piece of jewelry.

Jimmy follows Scott to Rivendell, and Scott can’t resist a proud smile when Jimmy praises the buildings. He takes Jimmy inside, lets him curl up under the warm covers, his head tucked against Scott’s chest, and it’s only once Jimmy’s asleep that Scott lets himself break. He’s so tired , so utterly exhausted from being brave for so long. Even now that his husband is curled up next to him, warm and solid and real, he can hardly believe that Jimmy actually wanted him back- wanted him at all, really. Scott doesn’t want to move for fear of waking up Jimmy, but luckily for him, he’s good at crying silently. That’s what he does, tears slipping down his face to wet the pillow below. Only the faintest whimper escapes his lips, a tiny broken noise that he’s embarrassed of even in this emotional state. And when another slips out, he buries his face in Jimmy’s hair and forces himself back into silence. He’s not going to cry over the best thing that’s ever happened to him, he isn’t , but he’s just so tired of being alone that being with someone else is almost painful in contrast; he’s so cold that the slightest touch of warmth feels burning.

Jimmy shifts in his sleep, mumbling something that sounds vaguely affectionate and pulling Scott closer, and Scott nearly chokes from the effort of restraining a sob. Gods, Jimmy . He could die like this, tucked in his husband’s arms, and he doesn’t think he’d regret it.

“I love you,” he whispers into the night. It comes out choked. “I love you so much. I’m so sorry, Jimmy, I’m so sorry.”

Jimmy mumbles something that sounds a lot like “I love you too”, and that’s what really breaks Scott. It’s a miracle Jimmy doesn’t wake up, really, with Scott’s quiet sobs shaking the mattress. He cries until he’s all out of tears, as silently as he can manage, and only then does he slip into a sound sleep.

[peninkwrites]

The First Night - Ch 7 of 9

Tubbo made this choice a long time ago. He didn't know Quackity would be there to help him pick up the pieces.

(CW: gun violence, character death, referenced abuse, alcoholism, and blood)

crossposted to ao3

Ch 1

Ch 6

Ch 8

Mafia AU masterpost

~ Tubbo ~

Tubbo can’t think of the last time he’d stepped foot into his father’s bedroom.  It’d been years, now, surely.  The air within is almost muggy, the stench of old alcohol and filth like a film across the space, thick animal furs covering the floors and heavy maroon curtains around a massive four poster bed in the middle.  The room is dark as Tubbo enters, slowly, carefully, the dim light from the hallway glistens against the crystal lining the far wall.  Most of those bottles are empty, left above the bar as new shipments remained beside Schlatt’s bed and within his reach.  Tubbo can feel his heart pounding in his throat.

“Schlatt?” Tubbo speaks, barely above a whisper.  Schlatt.  Not dad or even the mere formality of father.  Tubbo can’t quite remember the last time he’d spoken with him directly, but it had been Boss or Sir or Schlatt if he was feeling bold, had been for years now.

No reply.  The room isn’t silent, though.  Schlatt’s breathing is labored and almost wheezing, clearly audible from across the room.  Tubbo steps forward.  He doesn’t know why he’s afraid.  This man is fucking weak.  On death’s doorstep, as it were.

Tubbo is beside the bed.  He pulls back the curtain surrounding it and stares down at the gaunt, miserable face of the man who had threatened everything he cared for.

Actually, Tubbo can remember the last time he had spoken to his father, he just hadn’t done much of the talking.  Days ago, maybe longer.  Tubbo remembers.  He can’t even remember the cause of the threat, but that part doesn’t really matter.  It was his hand on his shoulder, way too tight, tight enough to bruise, leaning in to whisper from a mouth which reeked of booze:

“You know I’d do it, so don’t be scared of them, be fucking scared of me.  You’re such a fucking baby thinking that someone’s gonna hurt us, you better grow up or I’m gonna hurt you.  If you fucking annoy me, I could put a bullet in your head.  If not yours, I’d track down those stupid little friends of yours.  Maybe I’d break some bones first, if I felt like it.  Or burn ‘em all up in that stupid bitch’s little bakery, huh?  Easy to make that an accident.  It’d burn real quick with all the shit she’s got in her basement.  Come on, don’t look at me like that.  Does that make you nervous, huh?  You got a problem with me putting a gun to your head?  What the fuck are you gonna do about it, huh?  You gonna cry?  My finger isn’t even on the trigger, for fucks sake, come on. Please, if I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done it by now.  Am I killing you right now?  Come on, shake your head, no I am not killing you right now, so there’s nothin’ to cry about!  Attaboy.  But you know me, I’m fickle.  Gotta keep you on your toes.  Not like it’d be much of a loss to the family, y’know?”

That stupid fucking laugh, harsh and sharp and splintered by that awful wet cough.  It’s blurrier now in his memory, Tubbo can’t remember if anyone else had been there, either way, no one tried to stop him.  When Schlatt did stop, Tubbo had had to stay there, while whatever fucking meeting was meant to happen took place.  He hadn’t felt like he was in his own body.  The moment he could leave he had gone back to his own room, and almost procedurally, had wedged a chair under the door, gone into the bathroom, vomited until there was nothing left, and had spent the rest of the day tucked between the sink and the tub, trying to make himself smaller.  Tubbo’s shoulder where Schlatt had held him had ached for days.

Schlatt had turned the safety off.  He’d never done that before.  Tubbo hadn’t cried in a long time, but that time Schlatt turned the safety off and Tubbo had thought maybe it was for real this time.  So yeah, he’d fucking cried the last time he’d spoken to his father and the last time his father had put a gun to his head.  Tubbo doesn't want to be afraid anymore.

Schlatt looks no less vile in sleep.  A diseased wetness remaining in his beard from his lips, his hair thinner now, greasy.  Tubbo could smell the alcohol from the hallway, but this close it’s pungent enough to make him want to gag.  Tubbo keeps his eyes locked on that man’s miserable face in the darkness as he reaches over him and takes a pillow from the other side of the bed.  Tubbo almost drops it, as Schlatt, perfectly timed to terrify, lets out one horrible, choked cough like for a moment he’d stopped breathing.  Good.

Tubbo gives himself no more time to think.  He presses the pillow down over Schlatt’s face with all of his weight.

At first it’s easy.  Schlatt doesn’t even react, and Tubbo almost wonders if he’s so far gone he won’t even struggle against his own suffocation.  Then Schlatt wakes up.

He is a dying, miserable drunk, but somehow he still packs a punch.  Schlatt thrashes underneath him, clawing at his face, grabbing onto his arms, his fist swinging wildly and managing to catch Tubbo in the jaw, Tubbo’s teeth clattering together painfully, Schlatt’s filthy nails catch his other cheek and it stings as he breaks the skin and Tubbo can only press down harder, but he’s starting to stumble back and Schlatt is starting to sit up and oh fuck he can’t do this he can’t do it he’s not strong enough and Schlatt is going to fucking kill him–

Tubbo does not need to think it through.  He only needs to act.  He lets go of the pillow, reaches into his holster, presses the barrel against cloth, and for the first time since having a gun, Tubbo pulls the trigger.

The struggling ceases and the sudden loss of resistance sends Tubbo stumbling forward, pressing down on the pillow as blood soaks into it.  Tubbo jolts back.  Schlatt’s hand hangs off the bed, the pillow obscures his face so he might as well be headless as blood pours down the blankets, running down his arm, and hitting the wooden floors, a dark pool spreading, the blood flow slowed by the lack of a beating heart to pump it.  Tubbo remains on the floor, staring at him.  Waiting for Schlatt to move.  He doesn’t.

Quackity had remained on the steps, waiting, until he heard a gunshot.  Quackity jumps to his feet, the sluggish guard does too, his gun at the ready.  Tubbo could need his help, but Quackity knows this will need to be handled too.

“Hey, you wanna keep your life? Keep your job? Go home right now.  Tell no one you heard or saw shit, do you understand me?” Quackity snaps.

The man hesitates for a moment, but it’s not like he cares if Schlatt lives or dies.  No one does.  Not anymore.  He leaves.

Quackity runs upstairs, reaching for his own gun, just in case.

He sees Tubbo on the ground.  He sees Schlatt’s body.  He sees blood look almost black in the darkness.

“Tubbo?”

Tubbo doesn’t react.  He’s still holding the gun.

Quackity had known where this was headed, he had pieced it together easily enough, all of Tubbo’s anger boiling over at some point Quackity had realized what Tubbo’s plans were for the night of his eighteenth birthday.  First he had been annoyed.  Tubbo could’ve at least consulted him; about when was the right time and if this was more trouble than it was worth, if this goes wrong they’re all fucking dead, and Quackity had at one point cared for Schlatt but not anymore, so the ache in his chest is not and cannot be grief.  It’s just concern for Tubbo.  So he will not argue or scold him for doing this without him, instead he will kneel beside him and take his hand.

“You hurt?” Quackity asks softly.  He doesn’t know why he’s whispering.  He and Tubbo are now the only living people left in the house.

Tubbo shakes his head.

Quackity sighs, gently taking the gun from Tubbo’s hand, almost having to pry it from his fingers.  Not that Tubbo is trying to keep ahold of it, it’s more like he cannot relax his hand enough to let go.  “Come on.”  Tubbo doesn’t move.  His hands feel sticky with blood.  He doesn’t know if he can move.  Quackity takes his hand, unflinching at the blood it passes along, and pulls Tubbo to his feet.  Tubbo stands, but he’s still just staring at the body across from him.  “Come on, Tubbo.  He’s not going anywhere,” Quackity keeps a gentle hand on his shoulder and steers him out into the hall.

Tubbo doesn’t resist as Quackity heads down the hallway to his room.  Quackity pulls him into the bathroom, turning on the light.  Tubbo still doesn’t respond.  Quackity pushes him gently so he’ll sit on the edge of the tub.  Quackity takes the hand towel by the sink, the only sound is the water running in a silent house.  Quackity kneels down in front of him and takes his right hand first.

“Quackity…” Tubbo begins hoarsely.

“It’s okay, man.  You’re good,” Quackity cleans the blood from his right hand and moves on to the left.

“Quackity, what papers?”

“What?” Quackity pauses, puzzled.

“What– What were you getting from his– from the office?”

Quackity smiles, maybe too sharply.  “I wasn’t getting anything, Tubbo.”

“Oh.”

Quackity finishes washing the blood from his hands, he stands, wringing out the towel, before returning, taking a clean corner and wiping the blood from Tubbo’s face.  Tubbo didn’t realize he’d gotten blood on his face.  It stings.  It’s his blood, not Schlatt’s.  From where the man had scratched him across the cheek.

“He hit you anywhere else?” Quackity asks.  “Didn’t get ahold of his knife, did he?”

“His..?” Tubbo is struggling to stay focused.  His voice is so small.  Tubbo hasn’t seemed this young in a long time.

“The knife.  He keeps it under his pillow,” Quackity scowls, familiar with the notion.

Tubbo feels a flicker of horror that’s quickly buried in the haze.  “No.”

“Well, that’s something, I guess,” Quackity sighs, wringing out the towel over the sink again.  He doesn’t look at his reflection.  “I gotta… I gotta make some calls.  Take care of the body and shit.  The pillow was a good idea, Tubbo.  He definitely could’ve died in his sleep.  Gunshots… that complicates it a bit.”  Tubbo is a smart kid.  Quackity knows this choice was well calculated and well measured, even if he’s annoyed that Tubbo didn’t check with him first.  No matter how careful Tubbo had been, in the moment, calculations don’t mean anything.  Better to have Tubbo shoot him and make things messier than fail to finish the job.

“Please don’t leave.”

Quackity stops, holding onto the edge of the sink, trying to ground himself.  He still doesn’t look at his reflection.  He doesn’t know what he’s doing here.  Quackity is not a fucking babysitter, his job was not to clean up after a scared little boy who thinks he’s ready to be a mob boss.  He was Schlatt’s lawyer.  That was his job in all of this.  Nothing more, nothing less.  He has every fucking right to walk out of here, knowing there’s no one left alive to stop him.  He and Karl have been waiting for this, Quackity saving up for that building on the West side, Karl ready to follow him anywhere.  He should be making plans for a casino, not wiping the tears of some snot nosed brat who could’ve just gotten them all killed.

“I won’t, Tubbo.”

[the-silentium]

Murphy day Pt. 4

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 -  Epilogue

Pairing: Bad Batch x Reader

Words: 3480 words.

Warnings: Medical stuff without much detail. 

A/N: YAY last chapter of this series! This was a lot of fun! Hope you guys stay tuned for more Bad Batch fics! Don’t forget to leave comments, always much appreciated!

Fors is an Original planet. I do not give permission to people to use it for their own fics, the planet, the animals, the Nightmares, the lore or anything related to Fors. Thank you.

At first, you felt numb. It felt like your mind was wandering around, completely separated from your body. Where you should be feeling your hands and feet, there was only nothingness, a way too cold nothingness. 

Then the soreness poked at the corner of your brain, slowly assaulting your nerves, crawling up your body until all you could feel was a mass of terribly aching limbs. A constant discomfort deep within your throat prompted you to cough it out to relieve yourself of the nagging feeling, the weak attempts miserably failing to alleviate the sensation of something invading your throat. 

As you tried to raise a hand to rub at your neck, you realized that something was keeping it down. Something warm. And tight. 

Like Tech's hand when he was pulling you away from the predator on your tail. Or when he was dangling in the air on the verge of death, the only thing keeping him from disappearing into the abyss being your fingers clutching his hand. 

Fear flooded your system, fighting the exhaustion paralyzing your limbs. Your hand closed around the warm soft object in your grip, your hold tightening despite the pain radiating from your fingers. You couldn't let go. He would die. Your friend would die. 

You didn't hear the yelp over the frenetic heartbeat booming in your ears, your closed eyes projecting you directly to that day when the dark sky offered the perfect camouflage to the draconic reptile. He was concealed in the dark, waiting for you to drop your guard. No. He was waiting for you to drop Tech so he could feast on his flesh. 

Your eyes flew open in terror as the hand in yours slipped slightly, your fist crushing it with all your might to keep it secure. 

The unexpected brightness brings tears to your eyes, the first droplets falling down your cheeks before a familiar figure invaded your personal space, his other hand flying to your shoulder in a comforting grip. 

His lips were moving, trying to tell you something that you couldn't hear over the hammering of your heart or your quick breathing or the hectic beeping sound on your left. 

Lifting your head a little, pain exploded behind your eyes, forcing your head back down immediately. Your eyes moved to your hand, still imprisoning another's in its vice grip. The sight made you relax slightly. You'd not dropped him. 

Before your attention could return to the person hovering above you, his hand on your shoulder retreated as someone else took his place from your other side, a total stranger that looked oddly familiar in some way. He moved quickly around you, talking to you while putting something terribly cold onto your chest multiple times before removing something taped to your face and removing the thing down your throat. 

You coughed as you felt the thing move out, more tears leaking down your face at the effort. 

"You're okay Y/N." You finally heard, your mind concentrating on what was around instead of yourself. "You're okay." He repeated in case you still didn't hear him, his other hand returning to your shoulder. 

His dark locks seemed even wilder than they were in the jungle, although they weren't slick with sweat and rain anymore. His armor was off, leaving him in a black skin fitted suit that allowed you to appreciate just perfectly fit he was beneath all that composite. His tattoo was still intriguing, but his eyes reminded you too much of someone else to let yourself wander about how soft the ink would feel beneath your fingertips. 

"T-" You coughed at the roughness of your throat, increasing the pulsing feeling into your skull. 

"Don't talk yet." Hunter chided, getting closer as the other man moved around, checking machines and bags disposed all around you. Where was water when you needed it?

"Tech's fine. All he got was a bruised hand." His gaze moved to your joined hands on the bed. "No wonder. You've got a hell of a grip." 

Your eyes widen in realization that you were still clutching him in a terribly tight grasp, pain erupting from your white fingers as soon as you relaxed the tension. 

He shook his hand once before massaging his digits to resume the blood flow. He turned to you, all traces of pain washed off his face, relief, and exhaustion taking its place. 

"You scared us all to death, you know that?" 

You frowned, unsure as to why. 

"Tech said that the fall should have been fatal." It clicked in your head, your fall replaying back in your head, the air hitting you full force, your stomach on the verge of your lips, the screams resonating in your ears. 

"Somehow, you survived the fall and we took you to the closest GAR medical outpost." 

You frowned, looking around to the room but were interrupted by a light flashing directly into your eyes. You blinked, surprised but tried to maintain them open for the apparent exam. 

"Follow the light." The doctor softly instructed, obliging as he moved the light from right to left. He nodded in approval. "Does it hurt somewhere?"

You nodded slowly, a finger pointing at your head the best you could with your stiff joints. 

"Your head?" You nodded in confirmation. 

"Your pilot will be monitored closely for a while. As of now, her vitals are good and I'll give her something for the pain." He addressed Hunter, the latter nodding in understanding. Your head tilted to the side, your eyebrows dipped in a frown. Pilot? "Keep her rested, no moving around like the other one." He finished on a disapproving tone and pointed look, pressed some buttons on a machine right beside you, and left the room when Hunter promised to keep you in bed. 

"We had to pass you as our pilot so you could be treated here, so play the game." He whispered when the doctor exited the room and turned to meet your confused face.

Your eyes widened, quickly shaking your head because you don't know shit about ships! What if someone asked you about stuff GAR related? Hissing, you abruptly stopped, your head spinning and hurting. 

"Stop that. You may have survived but you had a severe concussion, some internal injuries, broke an arm, a few ribs, and have lots and lots of bruises." His eyes roamed your face, analyzing the different colors painting your skin, although you couldn't care less because your eyes caught the cast enveloping your right arm. 

You were fucked. You'd never be able to go home and act like you didn't go out on Murphy day. You'll get punished, your life will become more miserable, people will avoid you even more than they already did. Maybe they'll quick you out of the village! 

Your face must have shown your panic or maybe it was the fact that the beeping sound accelerated along with your heartbeat, but Hunter got closer, his hand reaching for your shoulder once more. 

"What's wrong?" 

"T-" You coughed before clearing your throat. Your mouth felt like it was full of sand, but you had to get it out. "They'll know-" You winced. "-I was out." 

"Well. I'm sure they know by now." He looked sheepish, scratching the back of his head like that, almost uncomfortable to tell you some precious information. "You've been out for a bit less than a month." 

"A month?!" You choked, eyes widening in shock. This couldn't be possible. He must have hit his head too.

"You're awake!" The door to your room opened swiftly, letting inside the rest of the batch, all without armor. Tech hurried to your side first, taking your bruised hand in his and staring at you like he couldn't believe it. 

"I am." You answered in a daze, still distracted by the fact that you missed a month. 

"You should be dead." He whispered in awe. 

"Jeez, thanks for the vote of confidence." You coughed as Hunter called his brother, horrified. 

"No, I mean… I'm happy that you're alive! All I'm saying is that you had a 50% chance to die from a 48 feet high fall. But headfirst?! Your chances were close to none!"

You gulped. "Cool?" 

"He should be thanking you instead of telling you all that." Hunter pointed out, a hard look on his face directly focussed on his little brother. 

"Thanks," Said brother whispered, his free hand scratching his neck in shame. "for saving my life. Twice." 

"No thanks needed. You'd have done the same." You moved your hand so you could give him a comforting squeeze. 

"Sarge told you you'd survive the day Y/N!" Wrecker approached from Hunter's side, happiness lacing his voice. 

"And I told you guys would give me your bad lu-" Your smile disappeared as soon as you took in the bandages covering his naked chest. Some patches of exposed skin were tainted from a sick yellow to some dark green, worrying you to no end. 

"What happened to you?" You croaked, coughing when your voice raised in pitch. 

"There." You heard Crosshair’s low voice before a cup appeared in front of you. 

"I don't think she shoul-" 

"I want it!" You hurried out of breath, cutting Tech before anyone could think about following his instructions. 

Taking the cup from Crosshair's hand, Hunter approached it to your hand not attached to a cast. 

"Good to do it yourself?" 

"I'll try." You shrugged, fighting past the exhaustion in your bone to lift your hand to the white carton cup, only for it to burn up all your energy. "Shit."

The good point was that whatever the doctor gave you was working perfectly, the throbbing in your head was gone and the pulsing in your hand as well. 

"Here." The cup reached your lips and very slowly, Hunter tilted it to appease your thirst without drowning you in the process. You would have been mortified at the idea of being helped like this, but in this very precise situation, all you could think of was drink. 

Lie. This is not sweet! Bacterias! You almost spit it out by reflex but remembered at the last second that they surely wouldn't give you undrinkable water. It was difficult, but you forced yourself to swallow. 

Once satisfied, you lifted your head to signal to Hunter to back off. You hummed your thanks, smiling gratefully and totally ignoring the smirk Crosshair send his tattooed brother, focussing your attention on Wrecker instead. 

"What happened?" You repeated yourself. 

"The giant snake hit me with its tail." He shrugged like it was nothing. "I'm fine, don't worry. I've survived worse!" 

You stared him up and down, wondering how in the universe he could have survived that. Its tail was rock hard to allow it to move underground. There was no way- 

"What could be worse than a Basilisk wanting you for dinner?!" 

"That'll be a story for another time." A woman said from the door. "Now that you are awake we need to run some more exams." She smiled warmly at you, and you immediately knew that you liked her. "You can all come back later."

"Aw already?" You chuckled slightly at Wrecker's disappointment. 

"Unfortunately. But I promise to take good care of her for you all." She replied, entering the room to get to the machines at your side. 

"We'll be back." Hunter promised before bending to your ear, whispering cheekily, "You're a hell of a catch. Never think otherwise." Leaving you agape to follow the others out without a glance back. He didn't need to, the heart monitor told him all he needed to know. You were mortified. He had heard you by the river.

Crosshair saluted you in the doorway, Tech patted your hand, Wrecker waved and Hunter smirked before closing the door. 

"I've never seen them so worried about someone else other than the four of them. It's nice to see them opening to someone else." She smiled, noting information on her datapad. 

If only you knew… I know them for only 2 hours top.

________________________

You gulped down the last bit of your small breakfast, the tasteless bread leaving a soggy feeling in your mouth. 

You'd slept like a baby after Mylana finished to examine your cast, reflexes, and more. Your strength returned during the night, allowing you to lift your cast-free left arm to feed yourself. 

Patch, the clone doctor assigned to your case passed to assess your improvement and informed you that he'd remove the nasogastric tube so you could eat by yourself. Removing the thing was nasty, definitely something you didn't want to live again but it was worth it. Or so you thought. Because the food here was depressing compared to Fors’ vast variety of fresh fruits, meat, and vegetables. 

It was only when Patch presented himself that you realized how different the Bad Batch was from the rest of the clones. He was the very first 'normal' clone you encountered. It pushed you to think about how the batchers must have had it hard, to live in a world where everything must be identical and you're not. They had no chance to conceal it, to be themselves like all the others because they were physically different. They had no chance to try and save themselves. It was infuriating and unfair. 

"How's breakfast?" Tech asked from the door, moving uncomfortably from a foot to the other. 

"Not what I'm used to but it’s edible." You shrugged, waving him in. "Don't be a stranger, I'm your pilot after all."

Tech chuckled at that, closed the door to sit at the foot of the bed. For a while he sat there, watching his fingers, sometimes pressing them together but never facing you. 

"You don't have to apologize for anything Tech. I don't know what's bugging you, but it's fine. I'm alive." You told him honestly, surprising him. 

"I-What I said yesterday was inappropriate and I'm very sorry. It's just- I watched the recording times and times again and- Why did you let go of my hand?" He finally met your eyes offering you disbelief, confusion, sadness, and betrayal on a golden plate.

"I told you there was nothing to apologize for. I let go of your hand because I didn't want to drag you down with me." You lifted your hand when he opened his mouth to interrupt you, effectively shutting him up. "I'd do it again. Don't beat yourself over it, because it's not your fault Tech." You ended firmly, no trace of your previous amusement on your face. 

He analyzed your face for a second before averting his eyes. 

"How's your hand?" You asked, eager to fill the silence. 

"Still bruised." The corner of his lips lifted slightly as he showed you his colorful hand. "I couldn't close it at first, but it passed." He chuckled. "Oh, and I had to wash my armor at least 3 times to get rid of the phosphorescence." 

You laughed full-on before pain shot through your chest at the movement. 

"Don't make me laugh!" 

"Slept well then." Hunter entered followed by Crosshair and Wrecker with a black shirt on this time. 

"Best night of sleep I had in a while Sarge." You beamed. It was true, the life in the village was hard enough. Not because of your work, but because the incessant persecution was heavy to bear. 

"Good to hear. We came back after the exam but you were asleep." He positioned himself at the foot of the bed, letting Wrecker all the place to sit in the chair at your side. 

"Thanks for letting me sleep then!" 

"Even if we wanted to wake you, Patch would've had our asses before we even opened the door!" Wrecker laughed, stopping his poking of the fluid bag hanging near his shoulder to smile at you. 

"He just wants me to be discharged sooner than later." You batted his hand away as he resumed his movement. 

"Speaking of discharge, we'll take you back to Fors as soon as you're cleared." The playful smile fell of your face in a heartbeat. 

"Oh. Ok. Thanks." 

"What's the matter?" Crosshair approached at Hunter's question, clearly wanting to know the answer. 

"Nothing. Can't wait to go back." You faked a smile that didn’t reach your eyes, not fooling a single clone in the room.

"What is it?" The sniper inquired, surprising you that he'd care about your feelings and well, you. 

"It's just… I'm done. People know that I went out on Murphy day and they certainly think me dead right now." You explained.

"Well, they'll be happy to see that you're not." Tech tilted his head, not understanding where the problem was. 

"No one misses the village's freak. Ever. They won't throw a celebration because I'm alive, they'll kick me out for breaking the law, and because I'll attract them bad luck." 

Silence fell over the room and suddenly you felt an urge to pull on the needles in your arms and hand and run out the door to avoid the conversation and all the shame accompanying it. 

"You're not a freak." You scoffed at Wrecker, all the insults thrown at you during your life echoing in your head like a curse. 

"Wanting more than just living the life that was imposed on me at birth doesn't fit under the norms on Fors. A female having weapons is not acceptable, even less a female hunting. Working a physical job instead of stayin' at home is not exemplary. Plus, I'm still single! I told off the guy who asked for my hand after my dad died and went as far as menacing him with a knife. After that, I was pretty much a goner." You recalled painfully, hands clenching around the sheets, eyes closing in shame.

"I'm always being stared at like a freak show, pushed around by my supposed peers, thrown in the mud when possible, or let behind in a storm. Oh let's not forget that I went out on Murphy day. Now, that's the dumbest shit I've ever done but damn did it felt good to break their stupid law! I'm sure I'll be exiled at best or executed at worse." 

You finally took a deep breath in, canalizing your frustration to not take it out on the medical equipment helping you get better. The silence was heavier than before and you thought that maybe the drip Patch showed you for the episodes of pain could help you relieve some of the pressure crushing you. 

"Your planet is hell." Was all Crosshair had to say for you to smile again. 

"It is." You confirmed, eyes still closed. 

"We need a pilot." That got you to open your eyes, confused at Hunter. 

"So? I'm not a pilot. My planet doesn't even have datapads." 

"We'll train you." Tech and Wrecker were as surprised as you were, although your big friend was the most enthusiast out of the group. 

"Really Sarge?" He asked, hopeful. 

"Wo there, calm down. We've known each other for 2 hours!" You reasoned in disbelief. He couldn't possibly offer you a job, an escape route out of your misery, after walking alongside you for 2 hours more or less. "You don't know me!" 

"On the contrary, I've learned plenty in 2 hours." He countered, his serious eyes telling you that he passed his time analyzing your actions, your motives, who you were. 

It was really tempting, but you couldn't help to feel that this was rushed. It was, right?

"Freaks help each other." Crosshair added putting a stop to your doubt. They were the same as you. 

"I told you already Cross." You smirked at him. "You're not defects. Simply the improved versions of your species." You nudged his arm pressed at the foot of the bed that he was leaning on next to Hunter with your sheet covered toes. 

"You seen Patch?" He lifted an eyebrow at you, not believing that after seeing the real deal you still talked highly of them. 

"I did. Really handsome." You paused, to bit your bottom lip. "But that just means that you guys are even more handsome." He scoffed and you laughed, happy to get a smirk out of him. 

"So, wanna become a pilot?" Hunter reiterated, waiting. He seemed so patient, unbothered, but you could see it beneath the surface. He was anxious to know the answer. 

"On one condition." Held your chin high, ignoring how Wrecker's face split into a wide grin and how Tech straightened at your side. 

"Name it."

"I wanna touch that tattoo of yours." You smirked. 

Wrecker exploded in laughter, Tech blinked in incredulity until it dawned on him and his cheeks became pink from the blood rush and Crosshair simply rolled his eyes, pushing himself off the bed. 

"Deal." He smirked in turn, not once moving his eyes from your lips. 

Finally.

[yetanotherhoeforpedro]

Sinfully Armored

Chapter 4 - The spirits that haunt us 

Chapter 3

TW: SMUT, canon-typical violence

Your eyes adjusted to the bright lights so slowly that you had to rely on your other senses. Apparently, you were lying on an even metal surface, judging from the cold hard material you felt underneath your – exposed back? Yes, you seemed to be naked from the waist up. As you focused on the rest of your body, you noted with surprise that the pain in your ribs had subsided. The air smelled slightly of ethanol; you definitely weren’t on Kashyyyk anymore. Shit, had you been abducted by the Empire?

Finally, your eyesight returned to you and you looked around, careful not to move your head too conspicuously, lest whoever had brought you here would notice you. You relaxed immediately as you took in the familiar view of your ship, though it didn’t lessen your irritation. How did you get back here?

You propped yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at your ribs. The sudden movement made you feel a little dizzy, so you carefully laid back down again and peeked at your ribcage. Someone seemed to have tended to your wounds as a beige bandage was wrapped around them, still leaving your breasts exposed, and they really didn’t hurt anymore. You slowly stretched your hand out to your ribs and dug your fingers in to test your pain tolerance. Nothing. There had to be some sort of painkiller involved…How long had you been out? What about Grogu? The Wookie youngling?

You sat back up in a quick movement that your head didn’t appreciate in the least. “Careful,” a modulated voice said and your head snapped to the direction of it, resulting in another sharp headache.

But there was the Mandalorian, standing at the other end of the space. You were too stunned to react to his presence in any way. Why was he here? He should have hated you, what did he care if you were being careful or not? Fuck, how you despised yourself. You averted his glance out of pure guilt. You broke his trust, you let them take his child. You were too weak to save him, why did Luke ever send you on this mission?

“What…what happened?” you asked finally and noticed how raw your throat felt. “You passed out on the beach, so I took you back here and…,” he paused and his visor dipped down a bit, allowing him a better look at your rib. You were suddenly all too aware of your exposed breasts, but didn’t want to show your discomfort by moving to cover them up. He shook his head quickly. “So, I– I– fixed your…ribs.” You heard him swallow loudly as he brought his helmet back up to your face. “For a moment I thought– I thought I had los…”, he added, but stopped himself from saying whatever he was going to. You looked at him curiously. “I’m sorry,” he said instead.

You grew even more irritated at that. “You are sorry? I am the one who fucked up, Mando,” you replied faintly, breaking the possible eye contact with him again. “I am so sorry, it’s all my fault. If I had been quicker…,” you went on and let your voice trail off.

“None of this is your fault,” he responded firmly and took a few steps towards you. “I was…being a dick, and I am sorry for it. I– I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I know you would never have let them get him if you had had another choice, I was just – he – he’s all I have left.” Some small part of your heart broke at that confession.

“You had every right to snap at me,” you answered with conviction. “Please, don’t be so kind to me…I don’t deserve that.” You heard him tread even closer to you and this time, he didn’t stop until he was right next to you. He uttered your name softly and at that, your head turned back to him. Two leather gloves cupped your cheeks gently, forcing you to hold his stare.

“You – you deserve nothing but kindness from me,” he whispered and let one of his hands trail across your cheekbones in a featherlight touch. The simple touch sent goosebumps across your entire body. “I – I have been…awfully unkind to you,” he admitted quietly.

“What’s with the change of heart now?” you attempted to lighten the situation and relieve yourself of some of the electric current humming through you, but failed miserably. “I…when you were…on that…beach…completely motionless…” The movements of his hand stilled for a second. You knew this was as vulnerable as he would make himself, so you simply placed your hand on top of his in silent affirmation.

“Mando…I…,” you began, but he silenced you by putting his index finger on your mouth. “Stop guilting yourself,” he said intently and his other hand began to softly move across your cheek again. “We will get him back.”

“How?” you asked, your voice breaking. You could not bear his kindness anymore; it was just too much. Mando’s fingers started to gingerly run across your neck and all of your thoughts and worries left your mind for a second as you registered the movement. “After you…um...I installed a tracking fob on the imperial ship”, he explained absentmindedly. His focus seemed to be entirely on his fingers, which began to explore your collar bone. You shivered at the intimacy of the touch. His hand began to dip even lower, hovering at the swell of your heaving breasts.

“Do you want me to stop?” His words were merely a breath and you could only shake your head, as you were at a complete loss for words. He let out a relieved sigh at you giving him your consent and his hand moved a little lower until he was softly cupping your breast. You lost yourself completely in his touch and let out a soft moan. “Fuck,” he exclaimed. “Do you realize how…agonizing it has been for me to see you with your tits out all this time while I couldn’t…couldn’t touch you?” He gave your boob a little squeeze to support his words and at that, you let out a louder moan. “You can always touch me,” you admitted breathlessly and he groaned in response. He removed his other hand from yours and moved it down to cup your other breast.

Taking all the time in the world, he tested out the weight of your breasts in his hands and began to slowly knead them while the aching between your legs grew worse. “Mando…please,” you begged him.

“Now, now. I expected you Jedi to have a little more patience,” he responded while continuing to caress your tits. Fuck, he knew he was taunting you and he was enjoying it. There would be time for some payback later.

One of his leathered gloves left your breast and started to draw lazy circles across your back. As his hand moved down further only to brush across the sensitive curve of your spine, you arched into the touch of his other hand even more. He groaned softly.

Without a warning, he removed his hands from you entirely, but he held a hand up before you could bark out in protest. He deliberately removed his gloves, exposing his bare skin for the first time. His hands were beautiful, the veins standing out a bit against his skin, which was tan – despite not having seen sunlight in the Maker knows how long – and calloused. With one quick movement, Mando span you around on the makeshift bed so that your legs were dangling over the edge and you were fully facing him. You let out a surprised gasp.

His next advances seemed almost hesitant after this impulsive action. He slowly spread your legs apart with his hands and positioned himself between them. The proximity of him made your heart accelerate to an unprecedented speed. Your head dipped down almost instinctively and your throat went dry as you took in the bulge in his pants. His bare hand cupped your chin and made you look up at him again. “Let me touch you first,” he said hoarsely and you nodded, not able to deny him anything.

His fingers were unexpectedly smooth and warm as they began to explore your body again. Each of his touches made you soak your pants more and more, but he wasn’t ready to give you what you desired just yet. He reveled in every skin-to-skin touch as if he’d never get to experience it again. The gentleness of his touch when he brushed your bandages made your heart swell with affection that you quickly repressed. This was purely sexual, wasn’t it?

The Mandalorian pushed a strand of your hair back from your face, halting his worshipping of your body. “You are…absolutely gorgeous,” he said while looking you up and down, his voice betraying his vulnerability. You swallowed. Apparently, this was not merely physical. Mando made a move to touch you again, but you grabbed his arm before he could. “Look,” you inducted, “I – I can’t do this. Not – not if it’s…more than sex.”

He didn’t respond for a while, the two of you frozen in this awkward position. “Who said it was more?” he retorted finally, with such nonchalance that you thought you had imagined the gentle affection in his voice earlier. “Okay, great,” you lied. You didn’t want this to be more than a physical thing, did you? So, why were you so disappointed that he felt the same way? Didn’t that make you a hypocrite?

“Do – do you want to continue?” he broke the awkward silence that had formed between you. Yes, more than anything. But could you risk it? What if you got too attached? Never in your life had you damned your Jedi existence and your past more than in this very moment. But even if you wanted to, you couldn’t turn away from it. Being a Jedi was your life and you wouldn’t give it up for something as trivial as sex…Or would you?    

“I…I’ll take that as a ‘no’,” Mando said, no hint of any emotion in his voice and ended your brooding silence. When you didn’t reply, he simply picked up his gloves and left without another word.

“Fuck,” you whispered with exasperation. He would never be vulnerable with you again after you pushed him away like this. But maybe that was for the better. As your breathing returned to its normal rhythm, you started to focus on reality again. You were on a mission, Mando had mentioned a tracking fob or something? What about the Wookie? Mando hadn’t mentioned him, so you guessed he was safe? It was not like you could go to him for information now. Maker, what have you done? What had you been about to do?

Maybe it was the painkillers, you thought to yourself, though you knew it was no valid excuse.

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

Hours later you mustered up the courage to go to the cockpit. As you expected, Mando was sitting in the pilot’s seat, his helmet facing the broad windshield. He didn’t react to your appearance. “I am sorry,” you told him as you sunk down into the seat next to him. “There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he replied mechanically, still not looking at you. “I was simply looking for a little distraction.” His words stung more than you cared to admit.  “Right,” you retorted, a little too sharply to appear casual. He turned his helmet to you. “Just sex, remember?” You gritted your teeth as he used your words against you.

“Where are we heading?” you switched the topic. “I don’t know yet, they are still on the move.” The Mandalorian was pointing at the tracking fob in front of him. A small blue dot was moving across the map of the galaxy, not far from the position of your ship. “I got to hand it to the droid, he is a good pilot,” he added, pointing to Artoo, who beeped excitedly at the approval. “The best,” you corrected him, looking fondly at Luke’s R2-unit.

“What – what happened to the Wookie youngling?” you asked cautiously. “She’s safe. Her mother decided she was ready to begin her training, so I contacted Luke. He’ll send someone to pick her up and she’ll be protected by the other Jedi in the temple.” You cocked an eyebrow in surprise. “You contacted Luke?” – “Yes. We are…good friends.” There was something in his voice that you couldn’t quite place. “I immediately called the droid to pick us up when…they left with him,” he went on. You only nodded as the guilt began to nag at you again. As if he could sense your thoughts, he said: “Stop blaming yourself, it wasn’t your fault.” You shot him a surprised glance, but only shrugged. No matter how often he’d reassure you, you were the only person who could relieve you of your tormenting thoughts and you were not ready to let yourself of the hook – definitely not before Grogu was safely back in your ship.

You spent a few minutes in silence, watching as the blue dot moved across the holographic map. “What do you think they are doing to him right now?” Mando asked into the silence of the cockpit, his voice sounding strained. “I – I don’t think they would…hurt him. They need him,” you tried to reassure him and yourself.

“If only – if only I’d gone after him myself. If I had been more…vigilant…I would have seen that you had not gotten to him. I could have saved him,” he muttered, completely ignoring your attempt to comfort him.

“Mando, no,” you breathed out as you got up and moved towards him. Carefully, not wanting to overstep his boundaries, you placed your hand on top of his. “I told…I scolded you for not trusting me. And then I failed you, you did nothing wrong. If it weren’t for you, they would probably have gotten the Wookie as well and disappeared without a trace.” He let you touch his hand, which was once again shielded by a layer of leather, and you softly started to draw soothing circles across it with your thumb. Mando didn’t reply, only tilted his helmet down to where your hands were entwined. “This is…not the first time I let the Empire take him,” he confessed in a shaky tone. “I should have let him go. He’d be better off without me.”

The audible pain in his voice was too much to bear, you were willing to do anything to make it go away. So, you damned your previous worries, let go of his hand and took a few more steps around him. As you stood directly in front of him, you got on your knees and heard the Mandalorian take in a sharp breath. “And you got him back last time, didn’t you?” you said while looking up at him. “He is damn lucky to have you in his life and I know that you – and me too for that matter – would do anything to get him back.” Your hands slid over his beskared thighs and he spread them apart out of what felt like a reflex.

“W–what are you doing?”, Mando inquired warily. “You said you wanted a distraction,” you replied innocently and dragged your hands up and down his thighs to support your words. He swallowed audibly. “But– but you –,“ he protested without any conviction. “You told me to s–stop.” His breathing turned ragged as your hands neared the now evident bulge in his pants. “Changed my mind,” you responded and licked your lips in a suggestive manner. His strong reactions to you made you quite bold. “D–don’t do t–this out of pi–pity,” he warned you. “You think I’d blow you out of pity?” you asked him incredulously. “Yes, I want to help you to get the edge off a bit – but don’t think it’s fucking charity. I want to feel you down my throat,” you admitted and saw his cock jump at the vivid image. “So, will you let me?” You leaned forward a little and brought your hands teasingly close to his manhood. “Y–yes,” was all he managed to get out while he reached for his pants.

His member sprung free and you hummed in approval at the considerable length of it. You spread Mando’s thighs further and wedged yourself between them to get a better access. He went rigid at the first contact your hand made with his shaft and you couldn’t hold back a little smug smile. He was utterly at your mercy. Your hand wrapped around his base and you gave him a few testing pulls, to which he reacted with a groan of pleasure. As you brushed your thumb over his tip, you felt the wetness of his precum and his hips thrust up into your hand. “A little more patience, Mando,” you chided him playfully, high on your sudden power trip. “You–you will regret t–this,” he promised in a husky voice which made the space between your legs pulse. “We’ll see,” you hummed and gave his length another teasing stroke. “F–fuck,” he cursed under his breath.

You decided to have some mercy on him and took a small part of him into your mouth. When you let your tongue run over his tip, his hand came down on the back of your head and tightly gripped your hair. In response, you eased him into your mouth further and he groaned raggedly. As you sucked on him, he came completely undone and thrust his hips up, forcing himself down your throat unexpectedly and making you gag. “I–I’m sorry, Jedi. Are you alright?” Mando asked you with a level of concern in his voice that almost made you regret your change of heart. You couldn’t reply verbally because he was still filling your mouth, so you simply took him in an inch deeper in response. Mando’s breathing hitched. You sucked on him again before you pulled back. Needing to recover from his sudden intrusion, you took a few breaths and continued pumping him with your hand. Mando thrust into your hand greedily.

You decided to torture him a little more and swirled your tongue across his tip again, but didn’t take him in further. He groaned in exasperation. “D–don’t b–be like t–that, Jedi.” He ran his gloved fingers through your hair while tugging your head closer again. “Y–you         s–said you–you wanted me to c–cum down your–your throat,” he reminded you in uneven breaths. “Will you let me?” He untangled his hand from your hair and let his fingers trail over the sensitive skin on your throat in emphasis. “Fuck–fuck Mando…anything– anything for you,” you gasped out, completely losing your focus and surge of dominance as you felt his hand on your neck. “Good girl,” he growled out, making you moan.

You brought your lips back to his cock and let him fuck your mouth at his pace, the sound of him leaving and reentering your mouth the only sound in the otherwise quiet cockpit. You felt your own wetness increase as you sensed him growing harder and harder. “F–fuck, I’m c–close,” he exhaled and placed his hand on the back of your head again to secure you in your position as release barreled through him. You swallowed the rows upon rows of cum he spilled down your throat greedily, savoring his musky taste.

When he was spent to the last drop, he slowly pulled his cock out of your mouth and leaned back in his seat. He pulled his pants back up and you took that as your signal to leave, so you slowly got up and reactivated your sore leg muscles. You were about to go and let him be since your mission to distract him seemed to have been a success. Swiftly, his hand snapped out and grabbed your wrist. “Where do you think you’re going?” he challenged you in a dark voice that made your pussy throb. “Um…I–I thought you might want–um–I don’t know–privacy?” Your voice hitched embarrassingly at the last syllables. Mando let out a huff of what you could only interpret as amusement. “Privacy,” he tested the word out on his tongue. “What I want is some privacy with your cunt.” Your head snapped up to his in surprise at the sheer dominance he emitted. You swallowed, unsure how to react. “Will you not let me repay the favor?” he went on and patted his thigh in a silent invitation.  

Without thinking about it, you climbed onto his lap. Your usual swagger had abandoned you completely exactly when you needed it most and Mando – that bastard – seemed to know it. He took the lead and placed your hands on his shoulders. Then he let his hands roam over your body ravenously. First, he lifted your shirt up a little and put one hand on your back to steady you while his right hand palmed one of your tits.

He let out a soft moan at the sensation. “Fuck–you f–feel so–so warm and s–soft,” he praised you under his breath. His other hand gradually dragged down your spine until he stopped at the hem of your pants. You nodded in silent encouragement and with your consent, he let it slip through the waistband. How convenient that there was no underwear in space. As he cupped your ass cheek, both of you let out a pleasured moan in unison.

He released his other hand from your breast after giving it another firm squeeze and moved it to your second butt cheek. You ground into him with a small whimper in a desperate attempt to relieve the upbuilding heat in your core and he gripped your ass harder, pushing you back a little. Mando leaned forward slightly so that his helmet rested right beside your head. “You are greedy, huh?” he whispered into your ear with a soft chuckle. “You will cum when and where I want you to, understood?” His words sent a shiver down your spine. Rapidly, one of his hands snapped up from your ass and he gripped you by the throat. “Understood?” he repeated. You nodded as much as his grip allowed you to. “Good,” he snarled.

He leaned back again and released your neck. Then he let his hand dangle in front of your mouth expectantly. Following his train of thought, you lightly bit down on the fabric of his glove, allowing him to free his hand. The other hand was still rested on your ass and pushed you up so that you were basically kneeling as his ungloved fingers traced the hem of your pants. Without any more preambles, he guided his bare fingers to your heated core. The first contact of his fingers with your wet folds made you shudder. Mando groaned in approval at your dripping wetness. “F-fuck,” he muttered as he began to draw small circles on your clit, coaxing a wanton moan from you. For a while, he continued to tease you and let his fingers roam around your pussy, his fleeting touches painfully delicate.

“M-Mando,” you huffed, “P-please.” – “I love it when you beg for me,” he all but growled in response and dipped one of his fingers into your core. You arched your back while taking in the sensation and his other hand snaked its way up its curve. His finger curled inside of you in a delicious angle and your palms dug into his armor at the marvelous feeling. You felt his eyes monitor each of your reactions to his movements as he slowly drove his finger in and out of your wetness. It was tantalizing and you tried to force him to move faster and harder by rolling your hips down. “Tsk tsk tsk,” he chided you and forcefully pushed another finger in. “Are you satisfied now, Jedi?” You simply nodded, overwhelmed by the feeling of him pumping his fingers in and out of you. His pace quickened and your eyelids fluttered shut. In this moment, the only things that existed in the entire galaxy were his fingers and the growing heat of your core. The rhythm and the technique of his movements was devastating, each thrust felt more mind-blowing than the last. His pace didn’t falter once, not even as his other hand maneuvered down your spine before greedily grabbing at your ass. You felt your walls clench down on his fingers and they curled into you again, making you moan obscenely loud.

As you reached your climax shortly after, he made you see stars and you heard Mando mumble indistinct praises under his breath. He kept his movements up until you were spent to the last drop. Only then did he slowly pull his fingers out of your dripping cunt.

You slumped down onto his lap in exhaustion and buried your head in his armored chest while trying to calm your hammering heart.

A metallic sound made your head snap up, but Mando pushed it back down quickly before you could see anything. A little confused but too exhausted to fight him, you let your head fall back into its previous position. Only when you heard soft slurping sounds did you comprehend what was going on. He must have removed his helmet to taste you. The realization turned you on more than you cared to admit and you felt the wetness in your pants increase.  

“You – you taste so g-good, Jedi,” Mando groaned. “I can’t wait to feast on you properly.” The statement made you swallow audibly, but you were too stunned to reply verbally. You heard him pull his helmet back on and let out a small relieved sigh, your current position was quite compromising. You pushed yourself up on your knees and pulled your pants up. After patting your ass one last time, Mando released his hold on you and you carefully climbed out of his lap.

Your legs still felt a little wobbly as you left the cockpit without another word.

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

You avoided Mando for the rest of the day, not sure how to feel about what you had done. Instead, you used the time to tend to your wounds and obsessively reorganize your supplies multiple times. After that failed to keep your mind from wandering down certain paths, you gave up. You couldn’t evade this forever, you eventually had to liberate your thoughts.

Why did you change your mind? Why were you so desperate to relieve Mando of his worries? Did you actually do it out of selflessness or did you have ulterior motives you were not willing to face? What if you wouldn’t be able to rescue Grogu from the claws of the Empire?

You quickly forgot about your stolen moments with the warrior as you considered that grim vision of the future. It was your fault that Grogu was not with you right now, of that you were absolutely certain. It didn’t matter how hard Mando had tried to ease your guilty conscience, you didn’t deserve his sympathy. You had promised to retrieve him and failed miserably. How could you have been so blind? You should have seen the detonation coming, you should have sensed it through the Force. If only you hadn’t been too fucking weak and pathetic to get up that damn tree…

You sighed deeply. If you wouldn’t get your apprentice back, you would not be able to call yourself a Jedi any longer. How would you ever face Luke again? Or Mando? Or even yourself? No, you would not be able to live with yourself if you failed again. And a part of you, a part you desperately tried to ignore, also knew that you could not live with disappointing Mando.  

Fuck, when had you grown so fond of the silent warrior? You did not let your guard down this easily often, what was so different about him? You could not afford to…feel something for him, especially right now.

You had bigger issues in front of you than your past and your love life – if one could even title it as such. Still, your mind kept circling back to it and how could you tackle these new demons if you hadn’t even bested your old ones yet?

You took a deep breath and let your mind guide you to a place you had locked away for years.

The world was a cacophony of screams and blastershots. Despite your best efforts you couldn’t get yourself to tune the sounds out and concentrate. Your gaze shifted to your left where your father was crouching defensively over your sisters and then back to your mother. She looked absolutely devastating, a force to be reckoned with, her yellow lightsaber illuminating the focused lines of her sharp face. She was standing between your family and whatever was awaiting beyond the door of your home, ready to take it on without any fear for her own life. You took a deep breath and let her presence calm you. You were a warrior, just like her, and you would not be afraid. You would fight till your last breath to defend your family.

Your father called out to you again: “Get back here, now!” But you would not hide. You were no coward; you would fight alongside your mother. She turned around to you that second, the hard lines of her face softening. She uttered your name in a tender voice. “Go to your dad. Everything will be alright.” But you sensed the lie and you would not let her face the threat alone. You would not let her die to protect you. She seemed to see the resolve in your face and sighed heavily. You had always been extremely stubborn. So, she turned to your father instead. “Get them out of here.” The look they exchanged was heartbreakingly tender and hopeless, both of them knew it would be the last one they’d ever share. Your father swallowed, but nodded. There was nothing he could do to help her in battle, all he could offer was to protect their children.

He pushed your siblings into the backroom before he went to retrieve you. You struggled against his firm grip, but he didn’t let go. Wide eyed, kicking and screaming at your father to let you go and let you fight, you were pulled out of the room. You’d never forget the way your mother looked at you then. The soft curve of her lips as she tenderly smiled – smiled – at you, fully aware that she was about to die.

Your screaming turned into uncontrolled sobs as your father closed the door behind you and pulled you into a tight embrace. “Hush, hush,” he tried to calm you, his own voice trembling. You stopped resisting and buried your head into the crook of his neck, your streaming tears wetting the fabric of his shirt. You remained like this for a moment before your father detangled you from him carefully. “Listen to me,” he addressed you and your sisters. “I need you to be brave now.” He wiped a tear away from your cheek. “You need to be really really quiet. Do not make a sound.” His voice became barely a whisper. “You need to hide.”

“How is hiding a brave action?” you demanded. Your father smiled at you sadly, as if he expected no other response from you. “Bravery is not always the most reckless course of action. Your courage will do you no good if you’re dead.” You forced your tears back and nodded.

“You need to hide and do not come out, no matter what you hear,” your father went on. He gave all three of you a kiss on the head before urging you towards the hidden trap door that led to your emergency room. Your sisters climbed down first and your dad gave you one last reassuring glance before you followed them. But before he could follow you down, loud noises began to erupt from the other side of the door. You gazed up at him in horror as he shut the trap door without another word.

The lump in your throat grew worse as you climbed down the last few steps of the ladder and faced your sisters. Their faces mirrored the dread on yours and you simply hugged them. You held on to each other until the noises above you subsided, forcing your breathing to calm.

“D-do you t-think it’s o-over?” your little sister asked in a small voice. You were about to reply when you heard steps directly above you. Something knocked against the ceiling of your room.

“Sir, I think there’s a secret room underneath this one,” a muffled male voice proclaimed. Shit, you had to act quickly. You had to protect your sisters or your parents’ sacrifices would have been in vain. You knew there were weapons hidden somewhere in this room, you had to locate them quickly. Silently stepping across the room, you searched for any kind of indents in the wall. Your fingers spotted a small notch and you pressed your trembling index finger into it.

Surely enough, the wall opened and a couple of blasters and your grandfather’s lightsaber was revealed. You passed two smaller blasters to your sisters – your parents had taught all of you the basics – and grabbed the lightsaber. While it was far too big for your children’s-sized hand, it felt oddly fitting. You took a deep breath and braced yourself for the attack as the trap door slowly slid open. A man poked his head into the basement and it was the last he saw as your sister’s blaster went off and hit its target. The man’s corpse tumbled down the ladder and landed in front of you in a loud crash. You winced slightly at the sight; you had never been confronted with death like this.

However, now was not the time to consider the significance of this death, you needed to focus. You knew your sisters had your back with the blasters, so you activated your lightsaber. For just a second, you let yourself stare in awe at the marvelous green blade, but you snapped out of it quickly.

You were by far not experienced with a lightsaber; you had only practiced with your mom’s a few times. The logical course of action would have been to take a blaster as well, but somehow the weapon had called to you. Out of pure instinct, you managed to deflect the first couple of blastershots your enemies fired from above. But as the rapid fire continued, your senses began to fail you. As much as you wished otherwise, you were not one of the legendary Jedi knights, the truth was that you weren’t. And considering your current situation, you probably never would become one.

It started with you accidentally leaving an open space when a blaster hit your upper arm. You yelled out in agony and your blade dipped for a moment as you tried to regain your composure. But one moment was enough for them.

It was one of those situations that seemed to pass in slow-motion when you look back at it. You noticed the blastershot sail past you and as you whipped your head around, you saw it strike your big sister directly in her abdominal. Her eyes widened in shock as she looked down at the clean whole in her stomach and back at you before she collapsed. She would never get up again. Your younger sister’s wail pierced the terrible silence and as she looked at you, you saw nothing but burning hate in her eyes.

Another blastershot brushed your thigh, forcing you to face your attackers again. You tried to keep your posture upright but your faith left you. You were certain you would die in this room. Not that you deserved anything else, you had let your sister die. If only you had received proper training. If you had been a full Jedi, you could have saved them. Your mother, your father, your sister…all of them. And because of your incompetence, your younger sister would perish with you.

She didn’t deserve to die. You had to protect her. If it hadn’t been for her, you might have let them finish you, but you owed more to her. You let your love for her guide you and mustered up the strength and focus to deflect shot after shot again.

You had found a rhythm in meeting the blasts with your weapon when suddenly, a figure jumped down and landed directly in front of you, next to the corpse. You staggered back in surprise. Whatever was before you was definitely not human. And while that was not unusual in the galaxy, the thing before you seemed disturbingly mechanic and menacing. All you saw in the dim light were its glowing red eyes. You took another step back, trying to move yourself between it and your sister. In a desperate attempt to scare the thing off, you swung your lightsaber out. In its glow, you saw your attacker more clearly.

It was a droid, but not the sort that usually helped out at your farm. This one looked too human to be fully machine, yet not alive enough to pass as human. You shuddered. The thing didn’t cease its movements, seemingly unbothered by your weapon. You swung out at it helplessly. The blaster of your sister was useless as it would probably have hit you instead of the aggressor. Faster than your eyes could detect, the droid attacked and disarmed you. You were too stunned to react in any way, the creature kept advancing as you simply stood there and stared at it. Somewhere distant, you could hear your sister scream your name over and over again, but your mind was elsewhere. You were one with the Force and braced yourself for the fatal blow. At least you’d be reunited with your family soon.

“Bring them up here,” a dark voice commanded from above and the droid jerked to a stop. A second one jumped down as the first one grabbed your wrist. Its metal fingers dug into the sensitive skin and you bit back the sharp pain. As you were being pulled back towards the trap door, too disheartened to resist, you heard a few blastershots go off as your sister tried to ward the droid off. The shots went silent quickly though.

It was pure muscle memory that made you climb up the ladder the thing pushed you on and soon enough, you were exposed to the bright sunlight flooding the room again. The droid grabbed your wrists from behind and forced you to stand still. You took in your surroundings with a concerning apathy. You had no idea why they let you live or how much time you had left. There were two men standing in the room, one in clone armor and the other one in black fighting gear. Your eyes roamed on, but you averted your glance from the motionless figure on the ground quickly.

“You fought bravely,” the man in black started. “So did your sisters.” You flinched at that and stared back at the trap door. Neither your sister not the droid had emerged again. “But you don’t have to die today,” he went on, his eyes narrowing as he focused them on you. There was something immensely unnerving in them, but you would not give him the satisfaction of breaking the eye contact.

“While my order was to kill all of the Jedi, I don’t think you’d count as one.” You could feel the rage burning up inside of you. “If you only had to kill Jedi, why did you murder my father and sisters?” you spat. He had the audacity to smile at you. “Now, now. Let bygones be bygones. Your father and sisters were of no use to me.” His grin widened. “One of you is more than enough. The Grand Admiral will be pleased with me.” You didn’t react to his words. What did you care what they did to you? They already killed those most dear to you, they could not hurt you anymore.

“You will be of great value to the Empire,” his monologue continued. “Thrawn has enormous plans for you. You will ensure our ultimate victory.” You had no idea what he was talking about, neither did you care. The man sank down on one knee in front of you and grabbed your chin. “Do you realize what an honor is bestowed upon you?” You spat in his face and he let you go, wiping it off his face with a disgusted expression. “I’m looking forward to teaching you obedience.”

But he never did get to give you his lesson. A shot went off and hit him directly in the chest. He was dead before he could draw another breath and the clone fell shortly after. You were still fixated by the droid, so you could not turn around to the source of the blastershots until he fell victim to them as well.

You spun around in astonishment to see your little sister with her blaster in hand, her chest heaving from the agitation. You exclaimed her name in wonder. How had she managed to fight off the droid? Once again, you were frozen in place. Your sister’s stare bore something venomous.

“You – you let them kill her!” she yelled at you furiously. “How could you?” It was all you could do to hold her glare. She was right, your sister’s death was your fault. “I…I,” you stammered. “I tried…but I couldn’t…I couldn’t…” You swallowed heavily. “You were willing to let me die as well. You didn’t even fight the droid,” she went on, tears welling in her eyes. “Alya,” you pleaded with her. “I…I tried…I did…but I…” Her stare remained relentless. “You are a disgrace,” she spat at you. “You always pretend like you’re brave and want to be a Jedi but…you will never be like mom. Never.” She picked the words she knew would sting the most.

“Alya…,” you began anew. “I…I’m sorry. You shouldn’t…you shouldn’t have saved me. I deserved death.” Her eyes widened ever so slightly at your admission. “We need to get out of here,” was all she said. You nodded slowly and helped her pack some supplies, any food reserves, clothes and medical kits you could find. You covered your parents with cloths. It was all you could do, there was no time for proper funeral rites, but it felt wrong to leave them like this.    

When you climbed back down into the basement to honor the sister you had failed, your gaze fell on the lightsaber. You would need weapons and while the lightsaber had kind of turned into a symbol of your incompetence, you could not stomach to leave it behind.

“I am so sorry.” You sank down next to your older sister and tentatively ran your fingers through her dark hair. You knew you could not linger, so you softly closed her unseeing eyes, said a quick prayer and left the room behind after packing a few more blasters.

Shortly after, you and your sister left your farm and small hometown behind with few credits and no idea where to go next.  

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

You opened your eyes, shocked to find yourself back in your ship. Your connection to the Force allowed you to relive memories in far more detail than those with fewer mediclorians in their bloodstream. Though you doubted you could have forgotten anything about that fateful day either way.

You had thought you were ready to finally face it, but obviously weren’t. With a deep sigh, you stood up. You doubted you’d ever be ready; it’s been over 20 years since your family had been butchered and their dead faces still haunted your nightmares. But there was a lot of unresolved trauma in your past and you had to start somewhere.

“Do you – are you hungry?” Mando appeared in the doorframe, putting an end to your flashbacks. You could only stare at him for a moment. The lights of the hallway illuminated his broad figure brilliantly. He was so beautiful in his armor; you could only imagine what a sight he must be without it. You forced these thoughts back, though you weren’t sure if suppressing them would be an effective technique for much longer. There was no going back anymore, not after what had conspired in the cockpit earlier. You swallowed nervously. Why were you nervous? What was wrong with you? Shit, he had asked you something, hadn’t he?

“Dinner?” he asked in a slightly confused tone. You cleared your throat. “Um…sure.”             “Are – are you alright?” he inquired. “Never been better,” you tried to feign nonchalance. For a long moment, neither of you said anything. “So, dinner?” you reminded him and he nodded before turning around. You followed him out of the room to your food stocks, grateful that he didn’t press on.

“Not to overstep the line, but how do you even eat?” you asked carefully while Mando was going through your supplies.

He barked out a quick laugh. “Do you think I eat with my mask on?” He turned around to you and cocked his head. “Um…I – I don’t know,” you stammered and felt your cheeks flush. Dammit, what was wrong with you?

“I can take it off as long as it’s not in front of another person,” Mando explained. “How long has it been since someone else…saw you?” You eyed him curiously. “I guess…it…it must have been well over two…decades.” You gaped at his admission. “Two decades?!” The Mandalorian shrugged and proceeded to pick out your dinner. Wordlessly, he handed you some bread and conserves.

“Two decades,” you repeated in astonishment. “What did you expect?” Mando snapped at you. “Did you think me to be without honor? Did you think I would have abandoned The Way?” You blinked twice, taken aback by his sudden outburst. “I…No, but…I can’t imagine what that must be like. How lone – “Not wanting to offend him, you cut yourself off. “It’s all I know,” he replied dryly, but the venom had left his voice.

“So, dinner…” You looked at the sparse food in your hands and placed it on a small counter top. “Dinner,” he echoed. “How do we…should I leave you alone?” – “You can stay,” he responded quickly to your astonishment. “H-how?” You were genuinely confused at this point. “You don’t rely on your eyesight too much with that power you use, do you?” he questioned. “N-not too much, no,” you answered cautiously, unsure if this was going where you thought it was.

Mando pulled a cloth band out of his belt. “Um…do you always keep that there?” You gulped as he took a step towards you. “Mando, what are you doing?” He came closer. “Mando…I – “ The words died on your tongue as he stepped around you.

“May I?” he inquired as his free hand brushed over your cheekbone. You nodded and his other hand came around to tie the band over your eyes. He gave the knot a testing pull. “Is it too tight?” His fingers trailed over your neck tentatively. “N-no,” you breathed out, still getting accustomed to the sudden deprivation of your sight.

Mando removed his hands from you and you heard him taking a couple of steps away before he lifted his helmet off of his head. While you were blindfolded, you were certain he was studying you shamelessly. Neither of you said anything and the longer the silence lasted, the more tangible the tension became. The quiet was interrupted by the loud grumbling of your stomach which mercifully snapped the growing electricity.

Not able to ignore your appetite anymore, you used the Force to locate your food and picked it up again. You took a greedy bite of the bread. The loaf was surprisingly soft and you devoured it ravenously. Once your immediate hunger was sated, you paused. “Aren’t you gonna eat something as well?” you addressed your fellow traveler. He didn’t respond, but instead you perceived a munching sound shortly after. The two of you finished the meal in companiable silence.

Once you felt utterly stuffed, you asked Mando whether you could take the blindfold off again. While he didn’t reply, you sensed him approaching you. “Do you really want to take it off?” he breathed into your ear. “W-what?” you stammered, dumbfounded by the warmth of his breath and his unexpected proximity.

“Just consider the…advantages…of keeping it on.” Maker, his voice was beautiful, especially without getting warped by the helmet. “Um…” You had absolutely no idea what to say to that. “I guess I’ll have to demonstrate it to you.” Sans warning, his lips were on your neck, causing you to let out a surprised gasp. He trailed small kisses across the side of it before reaching your throat. He placed a soft kiss on it as well before moving on and getting less tender. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin and you shuddered. Being robbed of your sight made the sensation even more powerful. He began to suck at the spot lightly and your mind went blank. The feeling was absolutely divine.

“Holy shit, Mando,” you murmured. You felt him smile against your skin before he sucked harder, earning a soft moan from you. He removed his lips from you for a moment. “You look good like this.” His lips were on yours a second later and you kissed him back out of pure instinct sooner than you realized what was happening. You were amazed by the softness of his lips and as your tongue explored them, you noticed how perfectly they were curved. Mando placed both hands on your waist and pulled you closer to him. One of his hands snaked up to your neck to secure you in place. Not that you could even think about breaking the kiss...    

The movements of Mando’s mouth grew ravenous as you opened your mouth, allowing his tongue to enter. You let yourself get lost in him completely, wrapping your arms around his neck and forcing your bodies even closer together, and once again damned the consequences. Sure, your past would eventually catch up with you, but those worries couldn’t be farther from you than they were in this moment. You never knew that kissing could be this mind-expanding, it was like you were getting high off of the taste of him.

After what seemed like an eternity or just a split-second, you weren’t entirely sure, Mando broke the kiss. You heard his heavy breathing as he let forehead lean against yours. Not that your own circulation was much better, only now did you notice the rapid hammering of your heart.

“That was…,” Mando huffed out. “Intense?” you suggested and he chuckled weakly. “I suppose you could say that.” His thumb caressed the back of your neck tenderly. “You – you were right…sometimes the helmet is quite restricting.” You couldn’t hold the grin that spread across your face back and imagined how breathtaking his smile must be. The thought turned bittersweet as you realized you’d probably never get to see his face. Maybe it was for the better…It was far easier to keep the proper emotional distance as long he stayed in his armor…

You lowkey knew you were fooling yourself, but you so desperately wanted to believe that this – whatever this was – was purely physical that you didn’t call yourself out.  

“I could show you the other advantages now,” Mando implied as he let his fingers run over the hem of your pants suggestively. You felt yourself getting wet at the mere insinuation. “If you want to, of course,” he added hastily, making your heart expand ever so slightly in your ribcage.

“You’re really horny, huh?” you retorted. “You’re one to talk.” His hand slapped your as teasingly. “I bet you’re already soaking down there just from the idea of it,” he whispered and you could hear the smug grin forming on his face. His hand slipped through the waistband of your pants and cupped your throbbing pussy from behind. “Fuck;” he groaned. “You are.” He pulled his hand out of your pants again and you felt the slick trail it left in its wake.

“What do you want, Cyar’ika?” he inquired huskily. “My hand, my head or my cock?” You swallowed loudly at his proposal. “Fuck, Mando,” you breathed out. “Your cock.” At this point, you were beyond banter and all you wanted was for him to help the growing ache between your thighs. He moaned at your response.

Without another word, he pulled your pants down before you perceived him taking – or rather ripping – his own pants off. Once more, his mouth found yours and greedily tasted you. You grabbed for him and pulled yourself closer by his arms. Through the proximity, you could feel his hardness press up against your stomach. He ground out a soft curse before removing his lips from yours.

“You’re sure you want this?” His voice sounded breathless, yet incredibly soft. “Yes,” you assured him and he put his hands on your hips to steady you. Your blood began to pulse through your veins as you anticipated his next move.  

You felt him shifting a little so that his cock was placed at your slick entrance. The first contact with him made you throb more violently. You needed him inside you more than you had ever needed anything, but fortunately, you didn’t have to beg for him.

He thrust his hips up slowly, letting get accustomed to the sensation. A wanton moan escaped your throat at how deliciously he filled you and he remained inside for a moment before pulling his length back out. After a few more agonizingly slow thrusts, you cried out: “Faster.” Mando gladly obliged and his pace quickened. With each intrusion, he somehow got a little deeper and hit a different sensitive spot which drove you absolutely crazy. In an attempt to keep in touch with reality, you grabbed his shoulders and hung onto them for dear life as he pounded into you relentlessly.

 Involuntarily, you shifted a little, but that was enough. The small change of position and angle made his thrusts all the more devastating. Suddenly, he was hammering straight into your G-spot and you knew you wouldn’t last much longer if he kept going like this. “Mando,” you moaned. “I’m – fuck – so close.” You threw your head back as his grip on your waist tightened. “Good,” he exhaled and increased his velocity. You heard yourself cry out his name in response. He captured your mouth with his and you felt your release building up further. As if all of that wasn’t enough, one of his hands slipped between your conjoined bodies and started to stimulate your clit. An obscenely loud moan escaped your throat.

Your body couldn’t handle this anymore and you came so hard that you saw stars. His pace didn’t falter as he rode you through it and had you sobbing his name. Even once you were spent to the last drop, he didn’t slow down. If anything, he pounded into your hole with a new energy. You felt yourself tightening around him again as he stimulated the area that was still sensitive from your previous orgasm.

“Fuck, you look so good like this.” His praise was almost lost in a wail of you. “Your pussy is – so – so – tight. Fits me so well.” He accentuated his words with his shoves. One of your hands gripped his hair and pulled him in for a desperate kiss. Even in your delirious state, you appreciated the silky texture of his hair as you let your fingers run through it. His hand left your clit and moved to your butt cheek to give it a firm squeeze. Your kisses grew feverously while he continued to utterly wreck you with his dick. Gasping for air, you pulled back for a second. Your companion, on the other hand, didn’t seem to need oxygen as badly as you did though since he immediately began to nibble on your jaw. His tongue flicked against the skin and he proceeded to voraciously kiss his way down your neck.

When his mouth reached the lowest part of it, he started to suck on it hardly, coaxing a gasp from you. You felt yourself getting closer to the edge for the second time at the combination of him pounding into you and bruising your sensitive skin. Your grip on his hair tightened as your walls constricted around his cock. Mando groaned loudly as his mouth left your neck before moving on to the next patch of skin.

Your orgasm washed through you with even more force than the first one and you were in pieces by the end of it. Sweat tickled down your forehead and seeped through the blindfold, wetting your brows. Mando removed his mouth from your neck and to your lips again as you were trying to regain your composure. You barely even registered the abrupt hitch of his hips as he himself was driven over the edge. His kissed turned wild and he bit down on your lip as release barreled through him. The coppery taste of your blood mixed in your mouths as he thrust into you a few more times until he was completely spent.

“Fuuuck,” he moaned out as he detached his mouth from yours. Neither of you moved for a while, both of you still recovering. Finally, he pulled his cock out of your leaking pussy and gave your ass one last soft slap before letting go of you completely. Your hands remained tangled in his hair and on his shoulders.

To be quite honest, you weren’t sure what would happen if you let go of him. You didn’t trust your legs to support you enough in your current state. Mando seemed to realize it because suddenly, you weren’t on the ground anymore as he picked you up and softly put you down on the floor. You felt him removing your hands from him before he took a few steps back. Too exhausted to really question what was happening, you just slumped down further.

You heard him move towards you again and before you knew it, tender hands removed the blindfold from your eyes. You blinked rapidly at the sudden overstimulation of your nerves and once you could kind of see clearly, you noticed the Mandalorian kneeling next to you.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his raspy voice modulated again. You cleared your throat before answering. “For what?” – “For the distraction.” Without another word, he stood up and left.

His words took a few seconds to register in your brain, but once they did, you felt wrecked for entirely less pleasant reasons than a moment prior. Distraction? Was that what that had been? Why were you feeling…disappointed? Sad? Hurt? About it...? You wanted nothing more than a physical conjoining and that was what he delivered. Still…Something about it stung deeply. You tried to shake the odd feeling off, but to no avail. Somehow, it lingered and only secured its spot in your heart the more time passed.

Chapter 5

Masterlist

[embyrinitalics]

Calamiversary: Link’s POV II

Here’s some more scenes from Link’s POV—about 2.4k worth! (I rly hope this makes up a little bit for the fact that I haven’t updated in two months omg)

But you know how I said that reading through my old stuff makes me cringe? Yeah this is like, way worse. It’s all unedited, and I wrote these in December 2018, so it’s all old. It’s all embarrassing. 😬 But with that disclaimer, I’m going to put my personal feelings aside and let you guys read it if you want 😂

Also now that I’m looking at this I feel like they’re not in chronological order, like that scene with Revali stabbing him should have come after these ones with Mipha, but   o h   w e l l

Here u go!

  Drowning

At first, all that registers is the pain, white and hot across my throat, and the numb realization that I’m going to die.

Of course, it’s not that simple for me.

The half of me that I’m always suppressing senses my weakness, slamming frantically against my defenses in the span of a heartbeat. I have to choose between saving myself and containing it. So I pour everything I am into holding him in, dragging him down with me in a white-knuckled grip. But he fights back.

The pain is agony, a thousand heated needles covering my entire body and then being driven down to the bone in nauseating synchrony. He thrashes in my hold, tendrils of his hate whipping out in places, and my vision blotches white. I feel the deathstroke across my throat heal; the earth quaking beneath my feet; the malice seeping out of me like blood oozing out of a wound.

I can hear myself screaming beyond the war, part agony and part fury. Part man and part beast. It’s slowly tearing me in two, ripping ligaments and shredding flesh as it claws deliriously towards escape. I grapple with him, desperately trying to hold on even as he starts pulling my limbs apart. But I know it’s only a matter of time.

Then I see her. Her light cuts through the pain, through the fear and the hate, brilliant and pure as the sun. I can’t speak; I can only stare, imploring her with my eyes to end me quickly.

She takes my face in her hands and I suck a sudden breath. Her glowing touch is warm and soft, comforting, and not the violent end I had been expecting—the touch of a goddess, and for a moment I can breathe.

Then her light engulfs everything—the woods, my body, and soon my mind. The relief from the pain and the peace of it is so indescribably jarring that I don’t resist, falling headlong into it.

And then I’m drowning. Drowning in the sensation of her between my hands, of the softness of her lips under mine, of the closeness of her. Drowning in sensations that are brand new and millennia old at once. I’m drowning, burning from the inside out, and even though it aches I don’t want it to end.

I remember myself, haltingly, and muster the will to let her go. I drop my forehead against hers, grappling with how much I want her—and with how far I’ve let myself fall. There’s no amount of leniency on her part that could possibly excuse this. But I’m not concerned with the consequences for myself; only with how my lack of self-control must have affected her.

“Forgive me,” I breathe. “That was—”

But she silences me, her soft, delicate fingers brushing my mouth with a feather-light touch that sends another pang of want rippling through my middle. Her eyes pierce into me, unendingly blue and so powerful I can’t help but wonder if it’s her magic. Then she exhales, drifting closer, her eyes falling heavy-lidded to my mouth just before they close completely. And the feeling of her lips meeting mine, electric, breathless, so warm, sends me diving under the surge of sensation again.

I draw her close, losing myself in her. There’s nothing even close to this—her touch, her taste, the sound she makes when I angle her head to deepen the kiss.

And I don’t know why I’ve denied myself for so long. I’ve always wanted her. And now that I’ve tasted this, tasted her—even all the armies in Hyrule couldn’t keep me from her now.

I smile against her mouth. Slaughtering them would be easy.

Through the intoxicated cloud swirling in my brain, the thought snags unpleasantly, like a potent flicker of light in a comfortable darkness. It’s enough to slow me down, enough to make me think.

Enough to make me realize this can’t possibly be real.

I stop, pulling away slowly to search her eyes. So familiar. So beautiful it makes my heart ache.

But she’s been dead for 10,000 years.

I want to ignore it, dive headlong into the illusion of her. But I can’t unsee it. I murmur, breaking the spell, “This isn’t real.”

She blinks, and suddenly she’s different. Still familiar. Still beautiful. Still alive. And then the pieces are snapping into place, and the woman in my hands isn’t the one I loved so many millennia ago. It’s the Zelda of this era, the one who only knows me as I am—as the Calamity. And we’re reliving one of her memories—one of my memories—

And it’s agony. All at once the peace is gone, the gentle, tremulous bit of happiness the memory had lent me and I had been nursing in my heart like a single spark in an endless night, and the hatred is flooding in. The anger. Everything the illusion had been strong enough to veil.

And I remember what I am. I feel the evil pouring through my veins like a poison. I feel it making my heart pound stronger. I feel it coloring my vision and filling me with desires I must never obey.

And it’s agony.

I’m quaking on the inside, partly from fury and partly from shock. And then I erupt.

“What are you doing here?”

She looks as lost as I feel, green eyes glittering with shock and fright. “I—I don’t know—”

“Is this some kind of a joke to you? You think that just because you have her memories that they’re yours to do with as you please?”

“No! I didn’t mean to do this—”

Oh, I want to break her. I want to hold her down and force her to taste some of the pain I have. I want to hear her scream. But I push her away instead, unwilling to give the monster the edge.

“Well undo it!”

She stumbles into the mantel, turning back with that pretty face covered in tears. And the satisfaction and the guilt churning together in my stomach makes me feel sick.

“I don’t know how!” she tries to reason. “It was an accident!”

I turn away and try to breathe. That glimmer of humanity, after 10,000 years without—and then to have it just wrested away—

“This how you operate when you don’t get your way, then?” I bite out before I can rein it in. “Prick the Calamity, see if he bleeds?”

“I told you it was an accident,” she says again, more quietly.

She sounds so miserable. A very small part of me wants to comfort her. But I’m so furious I can hardly see straight. Forcing me to relive this moment—with her—

What was she thinking? What in the name of the gods made her think she had the right? Hadn’t I been through enough? Hadn’t I endured enough torture over the last eon? Did she really have to reach down into my most private, most intimate moments and drag them into the daylight, too? The last, precious fragments of who I was, that I hold onto so fiercely, lest I lose myself completely—

Why?

“Magic doesn’t just materialize out of nothing,” I growl, closing the distance again, propelled by a fresh wave of anger. “What did you want to know? If it would hurt me to relive this? If I could even tell the difference between you?”

She winces like my words had been a slap. “No!”

“Then what?” I grab ahold of her, desperate for this to be over. Desperate to just—just feel nothing. “Do you want me to admit that you remind me of her? That I’m in agony every time I look at you? Is that it?”

“I don’t want anything! Let me go!”

“Would it please you to know that I am?” I murmur, my voice dangerously quiet, and she goes still. “Every time.”

And now, I realize numbly, it will be worse.

Because now she doesn’t just remind me of what I had with my Zelda.

Now I’ve tasted her, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to again.

  Frightening

“I’m sorry about what happened with the Champions,” she says quietly, catching me off guard. “I imagine it was… frightening, losing control like that.”

Yes. Yes, it was. I don’t think I’ve ever been so afraid of anything in my life as I was in that moment, so close to rupturing, so close to tearing her apart with a thought, so close to losing myself completely and destroying everything I love in the aftermath. I want so badly to tell her, to unburden myself. I know she’s hoping I will. And that just… makes the temptation worse. She’s staring through me with unseeing eyes, full of the desire to understand, to heal even a little bit of the damage. I want to pull her closer, taste her again, thread my fingers in her hair and indulge in the warmth of her. I want to lose myself in her touch, in her lips, lose myself to her instead of to the monster working to claw its way out of me. I want to—

Gods!

“You were right,” I manage, finally. “They weren’t to know.”

“How have you been since?” she asks. So eager. So earnest. So gentle. It’s infuriating. “Any lingering effects? Urges to explode?”

“I always feel the urge to explode,” I scoff, grateful for the levity. “But no. The seal is as strong as it ever was.”

  The Zora Princess

We stop to rest and I quietly remove myself. So I can breathe. So they can breathe.

The air tastes clearer once I put some distance between us, like grass and wind and the malice in my mouth instead of the honeyed flavor of their adrenaline. The pressure in the back of my mind eases somewhat without the constant temptation, but the hollow gnaw of the hunger is just as strong as it ever was. I lower myself into the prairie grass, beating back a groan.

The Gerudo and that bird creature are arguing about something. It makes Zelda laugh.

That’s good.

Then the wind shifts and the air tastes of sugar and salt, and I turn towards it slowly. It’s the Zora girl. She’s so short the grass is up to her knees, and her trident has become more of a walking stick than a weapon. She’s so quiet it’s easy to forget she’s there—but she’s one of the Champions, and royalty, if the headdress is any indication. I’m sure she’s stronger than she looks. The fact that she’s confronting me on her own is evidence enough.

I tilt my head at her as she draws close, feeling after that gentle spike in her heart rate as I fix her in my stare. It makes my spine burn.

“Princess,” I greet her quietly. “To what do I owe this honor?”

She leans on her staff, remarkably calm, and I can feel the tendrils of power wafting off her.

“You’re in a great deal of pain,” she says.

My lips move towards a frown as I draw the inevitable conclusion. Just my luck. “You’re a healer.”

“Yes.”

And her magic is a peculiar brand. Very strong, almost magnetized in the way it drifts towards injury. It’s what brought her to me. I wouldn’t be surprised if she could bring someone back from the brink of death.

I contemplate her usefulness for a moment; but I need to go much further than the brink, and that’s well beyond even her abilities.

  Dreamcraft

I carry her up to the campsite, lay her near the fire and rouse it a bit so she isn’t freezing, and then grudgingly lift the sleepweb from the Zora girl. Her eyes open and then drift upwards, like she’s watching the spell float away.

Her eyes settle on me, finally, all golden and rippling, and she says, “You seem better.”

She’s a strange one. No demanding what I’d done, or where I’d gone, or what had happened. But she’s also sharp. Sharp enough that her bold-faced concern makes me feel manipulated. But she’s not wrong. I had been caught up in feeling terrified to notice, but the hunger had faded into background noise. Throbbing, like something swollen. I frown, trying to puzzle out how that had happened.

I finally admit, because it’s too easy to admit things when I’m with her, “We shared a dream.”

“And that helps?”

I can’t be sure if it’s the emotional implosion that follows one of her illusions merely drowning the hunger out, or an actual, measurable, residual effect of her dreamcraft. Either way, it’s worth studying. Which is horrifying.

“Maybe.”

We sit by the fire in silence for a while. That’s easy, too. Almost like we had been friends once, in another life. I’m watching the flames, and she’s watching Zelda, and then so am I.

“Could you enter her dreams now? While she sleeps?”

The idea of sauntering into her mind uninvited worms unpleasantly in whatever scrap of my conscience is left, vaguely reminiscent of guilt. But she’s plowed headlong into mine more than once, so it seems only fair. For some reason that reasoning doesn’t make the worming stop. I still haven’t answered, and her eyes glide to the side of my head. I call up the fire more, loosing a taut, tired sigh at her persistence.

“Possibly.”

It’s noncommittal and non-revealing, which I assume will grind her advance to a halt. But she slips around it like water in that infuriating way she does.

“You should try it sometime,” she says.

I tilt my head at her. “You don’t find the idea of trespassing on her mind morally objectionable?”

She shrugs. “Not as objectionable as you tearing a swathe of Hyrule up by the roots.”

And that’s logic I can hardly argue with. Her eyes say she knows. And suddenly I find the image of her pretty crimson skull smashed against the stone and its contents spattered everywhere very appealing.

“You need her,” she adds, too simply, too condemningly, and I have to swallow down fury and terror.

Because she’s right.

The night drags and drags and drags, dread and disgust whipping me into a tumble of disquiet and every quiet tremble of fear or pleasure from her tempting me into her head.

[calmlftv]

safe. - a.i.

description: covid-19, also known as “the zombie virus,” claimed hundreds of thousands of victims in 2018, and while it all seemed to be going great, something much darker was hiding within research facilities across the nation. 

word count: exactly 4,001

warnings: descriptions of graphic imagery, blood, injuries, feelings of hopelessness. 

w/n: this is my first fic for the 5sos writers collab! i’m so excited to participate in this, i always love reading the fics that come out from this and im so happy i get to be part of it! my prompt for this was zombie apocalypse au so i hope i did it justice! 

taglist: @spicycal @n-ctarinenga @irwinkitten @castaway-cashton @blackbutterfliescal @ashtonsos @loveroflrh @bestyearssos​ @treatallwithkindness @bestyearslftv​ @another-lonely-heart-blog​

****

It’s been 730 days. 

That’s 24 months since the world went to shit. 

Two years since the haunting screams have driven you to nightmares and panic attacks, something you had never had to deal with in the Before. 

That’s all it was now. The Before. The time before the virus contaminated the body, before the monsters smashed into your home and tore your family apart. 

Before all of that. Before, you were a nice person. In the Before, you were having the time of your life. But now? 

Now you’re miserable. 

With a gasp you awoke again, chest heaving as your mind raced. Your palms were pressed against the cold wooden floor of the house you had cleared, eyes quickly darting between all means of entry as you assessed your surroundings. Only when you saw the makeshift barricades you had created did you begin to calm down, your eyes squeezing shut as you pulled your knees against your chest. 

I fucking hate it here. 

Moments passed until you were able to open your eyes again, your vision blurry as you scrambled up to your feet. The old and ragged coat you had been using as a blanket was bunched up in your hand, the old and rotting pillow you had used being kicked to the side as you quickly found the mass that is your backpack. You stumbled through the house, making all kinds of noise as you made it to the closest counter, a shaking hand already reaching up to open the two cabinets above. 

Empty. 

Just like the other ones. 

The dust on the shelves made your stomach hurt, determination already slumping your body as you pushed off the counter and headed towards the door. You knew it was no use to search the rest of the house for food; you had been hiding in this shithole for 14 hours, and if your searches yielded no results by now, you might as well move on.

Carefully you pried pieces of dusty and damp furniture away from the back door of the home, your foot landing on a shattered picture frame on the floor just as you cleared the doorway. You yelped, leaping away from the frame as your eyes landed on it. Captured within the frame was a beautiful blonde woman, curly hair down to her waist and a jungle green dress hugging her body as her hands rested on her rather large belly. In front of her knelt a man with shaggy brown hair, his lips pressed against her belly as she beamed with joy, the two of them so obviously in love with their bundle of joy that it could have made you sick. 

Feeling empty you tore your eyes away, the lack of blood on your foot propelling you forward and out the old, creaky door. You started off slow, like always, watching your footsteps and listening intently as you ignored everything your body was telling you; the aches in your knees and tightness in your jaw could wait; your life depended on it, after all. 

After a few miles you picked up the pace, your vision blurring slightly as you moved faster. Despite the pain that was now in your stomach you pushed on, determined to find some sort of shelter before you passed out, your weak muscles and body screaming at you with every step and breath. 

You’re not entirely certain how far you made it before you heard the near-silent steps nearby, just out of sight on your left. You sluggishly turned around, quickly trying to wipe the fog from your eyes as you tried to find the creature that stalked behind you. 

Much to your surprise a figure appeared, a gentleman peeking around a tree with dark hair. Fear struck you quickly as you backed away, almost immediately tripping over a large branch and landing on your ass as the figure stepped closer, now coming out from his hiding spot as you tried so hard to scramble away. 

“Hey, hey, wait,” he said gently, the voice jarring to you. 

Another human? You thought, shock freezing you in place. But how-

A grunt followed by a bone chilling moan came from the right, your head snapping in that direction. To your surprise, the man quickly got closer and extended his hand, carefully taking you by the arm and hoisting you up easily just as another man appeared from the direction of the sound. 

Another normal, human man, brown hair pulled back into a bun.

“There’s a horde on the way,” he stated, jerking a thumb behind him as his eyes took you in. “We’ve gotta go, Ash.” 

“Alright, Logan, but we’re taking in a stray.” 

The man stared at you and nodded, a silent agreement you had no idea of happening as the first man - Ash - carefully spun you around and guided you forward, footsteps falling in sync between the three of you as the strangers guided you onwards. 

The trees were closing in on you as you gripped Ash’s arm, knees trying to buckle underneath you from pure exhaustion and pain. The man chuckled and soon another hand was on you, the two men hoisting you up and quickly carrying you away. 

***

“Whoa-!” A woman said, strong hands immediately trying to push you down as you struggled against them. 

“Who the fuck-” you started, panic filling you now as you bit down on the side of a hand. A yelp came from the stranger and the hands were gone, your mind racing as a woman knelt beside you. 

“-shh, little love, it’s okay. You’re safe now,” she soothed, hand running in circles along your back as you focused on her voice. It was soft and gentle, the voice a stark difference to the harsh grinding in your mind. 

Safe?

Your eyes landing on her, finally taking her in as she gave you a soft smile. “Hey there,” she said kindly, tone gentle and soothing. “Sorry to have given you a fright, Devyn’s just so used to dealing with...rougher patients.” 

Her eyes guided you to the other side of the room where a young man stood at the sink, glaring at you while he seemed to nurse his bitten hand. 

The woman chuckled, gaining your attention once again. “My name’s Tabitha, but most people ‘round here call me Tabby,” she said, gently taking your hand and turning it over. Her fingers carefully pressed against the inside of your wrist, your pulse pounding against her skin. “And you, little stray, are very much alive.” 

You blinked, Tabby’s eyes taking in your face. 

“Where am I?” 

Your voice was hoarse and broken, vocal chords seeming to ache as they were used again. 

Tabby smiled. “You’re in our Community,” she said sweetly, gesturing vaguely to the room around you. “It’s a bit shabby, but not the worst place to be. It’s a safe place for people to be, little stray, I promise.” 

“M’not a stray,” you mumbled, your voice slightly stronger but not by much.

Your exam went by fairly quickly, Tabby settling you back into your bed as soon as possible before she excused herself. Once you were laying back against the pillow Devyn popped back over, quietly and carefully adjusting some things as you watched. He glanced at you and nodded, seeming to have gotten over your first impression, before he turned around and left the room. 

Once you were alone you finally, truly relaxed, sighing as you carefully sat yourself up. You were able to take in the room, looking around at the chipping paint on the walls and the bits of dust floating in the air around the only window to your left, the light reflecting gracefully as the particles moved within it. Desperate for some light you started to stand, legs shaking as you tried to make your way to the window. 

“Hey hey, what are you doing?”

The new voice startled you, adrenaline flooding your veins as you spun around. You grabbed the nearest object that could be used as a weapon and held it in front of you, ready to fight for your life if need be. 

The man who found you in the woods stood in the doorway with his hands up, a single dark curl falling over his forehead as he stood perfectly still. 

“Hey,” he said calmly, voice soft and warm. “It’s alright, I’m not here to hurt you. We’ve already sort of met, remember? In the woods?” 

As he spoke the memory came flooding back to you and you dropped the weapon, a blush settling on your cheeks as you tried to find the right words to apologize. 

He chuckled, dropping his hands and stepping in. “Someone’s a bit jumpy, hm?” He teased, obviously trying to calm you down. He glanced at your empty bed before looking back at you. “And a bit eager to explore.” 

You cleared your thoughts and nodded a bit, still hesitant to trust him too much. “Just wanted to see outside, sir,” you admitted. “Maybe feel some sun if I’m lucky.” 

The man watched you and nodded, his hands going into the pockets of his jeans. He had on a simple black t-shirt that seemed clean, something that was a foreign concept to you these days. “Well I’d definitely say you’re lucky. You barely made it to the gates of the community before you passed out, I had to have Logan carry you in.” 

The blush returned, causing him to laugh. “It’s okay, you’re in good hands here. Tabby was a doctor before all this happened, and she’s taught Devyn everything she knows.” 

You nodded. “Tabby seems nice,” you said, feeling a bit safer again. “I, uh, kinda bit Devyn on accident, so I don’t know if he likes me.” 

When you met his eyes he was containing a laugh, ultimately failing as you moved back towards your bed. “You bit him!” He chuckled, calming down a bit. “Well, once you’ve got your strength back, I’m sure we’ll have a hell of a fighter on our hands.” 

You smiled, chuckling a bit. “Not sure how much help I’ll be until then,” you said, sighing again. 

The man moved closer, sitting on the edge of your bed. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” he said softly, flashing a reassuring smile. “Start out with the easy tasks, and work your way up when you’re feeling better.” He ducked his head down, catching your eyes and smiling again. “Sound like a plan?” 

You met his eyes and nodded, the hazel color full of so much warmth that you couldn’t help but believe him. Somehow, despite being on your own for two years, it was easy to trust him; it was easy to let the fear melt away. 

He grinned, reaching to squeeze your shoulder until you jerked away. Maybe you weren’t ready to trust him too much. “We’ll work on that,” he said kindly, nodding and standing up. “I’ll check in this evening around dinner, okay? Maybe bring by a surprise, for our Lucky Stray.” 

You both nodded to each other before he headed towards the door. You quickly remembered something and stood again. 

“Wait,” you said, the man turning around in the doorway. “What’s your name?” 

He smiled. “Ashton,” he said simply. “M’name’s Ashton.” 

You nodded, the man repeating the action before he grabbed the doorknob and stepped out.The door closed softly behind him, the silence making your ears ring as you stared at the window again. 

This is a hell of a place, you thought, settling back against the bed once again. A blanket was draped at the end of the mattress but you curled up without it, the previous rush of adrenaline in your system keeping you warm as you closed your eyes. 

Maybe I’ll stick around for a while, you accepted, your exhausted mind already starting to settle into sleep. Where it’s safe. 

For now. 

****

Over time you were able to recover, your days filled with visits from Ashton and other members of the community. The visits you were always most excited for were Ashton’s, the length of them going from a couple minutes every couple of days to a few hours every single day. Sometimes he’d bring in whatever work had to do and set up a table next to you, teaching you the different jobs within the community from cleaning weapons to childcare to anything else that may need to be done. While you absolutely adored being able to learn about the community more and more, you enjoyed your time with Ash a bit more, the two of you building a strong bond that made recovery easier. It certainly helped that your heart would skip a few beats every time you saw him, his winning smile and wonderful laughter having their calming effect on you. 

Before you knew it you were moved to your own room, a window looking east over the woods bringing you peace on the mornings you awoke in a panic. Though the things that lurk in the darkness between the trees terrified you, the peace that the air carried would blanket around you enough to calm your racing heart. 

The community had slowly become your home, the sights and sounds of the people and the work to be done settling you into a new, welcoming routine that felt like fresh air after the suffocating two years you had been through. All was well and perfect in the months that passed, and as you and Ashton continued to steal glances and flirty smiles, you finally felt normal again. 

Until the day that it changed. 

Day 1,095. Three years since history was changed forever. 

Your normal nightmare was terrorizing your mind again, your body tossing and turning in the restless sleep you had to endure before the dawn of a new day could wake you. This time, however, it felt urgent, more panicked than it had before; the screaming was closer, somehow, the footsteps of your loved ones echoing desperately around you as your mind spun it’s twisted tale. You did everything you could to escape it all but felt the cold hand wrap around your mouth, covering your screams as you tried to launch yourself away. 

“Wake up!” 

You jumped at the sudden voice, the sound shattering the terrifying images that flashed within your mind. You tried to lurch out of bed but a heavy weight stopped you, the hand from your nightmare becoming real as you fought to get up. 

“Stop-” the voice said, the word turning into a grunt as a blow landed against a solid chest. Your eyes began to focus as the voice came again, messy dark hair and hazel eyes finally coming into view.

“Stop fighting,” Ashton asked, voice barely above a whisper as he kept you quiet. You met his eyes and he held a finger to his lips, his other hand still covering your mouth as he paused. 

After a moment he nodded and moved, taking your hand to help you up from the bed. “We have to go,” he said softly, with urgency in his voice. “Do you need to grab anything?”

You stopped, your brain stuck on his first request. “Go?” You asked, voice louder than you anticipated as Ashton quickly covered your mouth again. 

After another moment he pulled away, hands resting on your shoulders. “We don’t have a lot of time,” he started, “but I’ll make it quick. We’re being raided, and we have to go. Right now.” 

Your mind started spinning again, the new information feeling impossible to process as Ashton took your hand again, obviously taking your silence as his cue to start leaving. He led you to the closed door of your room, pressing against the wall as he slowly opened it enough to peek outside. 

Your mind snapped to attention at the sound of a distant shout. “Tabby-” 

“-is already gone with Logan,” he assured you, looking back at you. “They’re getting everybody else out. I wanted to come for you.” 

The gesture was sweet, and while it wasn’t lost on you, your mind now focused solely on getting the hell out of there as more yelling started on the other side of the community, followed by harsh crashing. 

“Okay, let’s go,” Ashton said suddenly, hand tightening around yours as he dashed out of your space and dragged you along. Your steps eventually synchronized, the two of you quietly avoiding detection as you tried to loop around to where everybody else was supposed to be. 

As soon as you got close enough a loud bang echoed through you, chilling you to the bone as a warm liquid started to trickle down your neck. Within seconds you were being dragged along again, adrenaline giving you strength as Ashton started running. Your mind became cloudy as your body fell into autopilot, the distant sounds of your own footsteps not even feeling real as you carefully made your way through the forest. 

Ashton kept the pace, only slowing down as the trees got more and more dense, the path he was taking you down becoming harder to safely navigate as you escaped the home you thought was safe. The questions started racing through your head, each one leaving you more and more confused and frustrated than the last. 

While lost in your thoughts your feet collided with a fallen branch, seemingly taking you by surprise as you tripped over it. You tried to catch yourself but failed miserably, your legs giving out from pure exhaustion as your ribs and jaw met the dirt and debris you had previously been running through. 

Ashton stopped the second your hand left his, spinning around just in time to watch you land on the ground. He quickly came to your side, kneeling beside you and helping you slowly sit up.

“Alright?” He asked softly, eyes meeting yours as you nodded. He looked around, pausing as he heard the unmistakable shuffling of a zombie. He quickly quieted you and helped you stand, leading you in the opposite direction of the sound as the smell invaded your nostrils, turning your stomach over in protest as you forced yourself to move. 

The new path was a large loop, the sound and smell making your heart race. At one point you caught a glimpse of it, the flesh blackened and decaying, exposed bits of muscle staring at you as you held in the contents of your stomach. 

Ashton tugged you further, slowly and carefully until you finally broke through into a clearing. He helped you sit and started to walk the edges of the small space you now inhabited, checking the trees until circling back to kneel in front of you. 

“Alright, we’re about a half mile away from the meeting point,” he said, meeting your eyes. “The others will be taking a longer route in case the raiders followed them, so it’ll just be us for a day or two.” 

You nodded to his words, wincing at the sudden pain in your right ear. His brow furrowed as you reached up, fingertips barely touching it before you hissed. 

He was suddenly very close to you, turning your head and carefully inspecting the injury. He chuckled. “They nicked you real good back there,” he stated, your head jerking away as his fingers got too close. “Sorry. We need to get you to the point, get you bandaged up.” 

All you could do was nod, your mind still racing from everything that had happened. It was all too fast, too overwhelming and hard to process; you had just been sleeping in the safest place you knew of, finally finding somewhere that feels like home, just to have it all ripped away from you just as suddenly. It gave you whiplash, and quite frankly, it was enough to drive you to the edge of your sanity. 

You just wanted one good thing to stay good. Was that really too much to ask?

The two of you were quiet during the rest of your break, the silence only breaking when Ash said it was time to move. Despite the two of you being out of immediate danger he still took your hand, the two of you making your way to this meeting point he had mentioned. 

When you arrived you didn’t even see anything at first; the entrance was in the ground and heavily guarded by plants and fallen logs, Ashton brushing it all away before tugging open the heavy metal door. Inside was a ladder, Ash gesturing for you to go down first. Despite everything aching and screaming for you to stop, you obeyed, climbing down the ladder first as Ashton followed you and sealed the two of you in. 

According to Ashton a member of the community had found this old bunker while hunting one day, the man literally stumbling upon it and finding his way inside. When Ash and the others caught up to him they decided to keep it hidden, only telling a few others about its existence for situations just like this. 

“So what happens with it when we don’t need to hide in it?” You asked, venturing to what seemed like a bedroom with a single bed in the middle of it.

Ashton chuckled. “Nothing,” he answered, following you and leaning against the doorway. “It just sits here, really, until we have a use for it.” 

You sat on the edge of the bed, eyes taking in the concrete around you as Ashton moved towards you, his eyes locked on you. 

“You should get some sleep,” he stated, holding up a hand before you could protest. “It’s obvious you’re exhausted, love, and I know you’ve got to be in pain.” 

You dropped your eyes. “I’m fine, Ashton.”

“Don’t lie to me.” 

The tone in his voice made you look up, meeting his eyes again. “M’not lying. I’m fine.” 

He sighed, moving back towards the door. “Fine. But I’m cleaning up your ear.” 

Before you could protest he was gone, only coming back once he had found a first aid kit. You huffed but let him take care of you, hissing as he cleaned your wound and wrapped it with a bandage and gauze.

“There,” he said, sitting back and cleaning up the mess. “Once Tabby gets here she’ll really get that fixed up for ya.” 

You nodded, his voice sounding far away as the bandage muffled him. He tossed the kit on the ground beside the bed, the two of you sitting in silence. 

“What are we going to do now?” You asked softly, your mind still thinking of the home you had lost. 

He shrugged. “We’ll start over,” he answered, his voice just as soft. “Find a new place for everybody. Build new defenses. Maybe start planting our own crops, even.” 

You looked over at him, chuckling a bit. “Alright, Farmer Ash,” you teased, the man laughing lightly. You both fell silent until you found the courage to speak again. “Maybe I am tired.” 

He chuckled and looked at you, gesturing for you to lay down against the pillows. “Get some rest, then,” he said, standing and moving towards the door. 

“Wait,” you said, the man pausing and turning towards you. “Stay with me? Just until I fall asleep.” 

He smiled and nodded, coming back and sitting on the opposite side of the bed as you got settled. You gave him a look and he rolled his eyes, laying back himself and settling in. 

You faced each other, eyes locking as he smiled. “You can’t sleep with your eyes open,” he teased, earning a light laugh from you. 

“Fine, fine,” you said, letting your eyes fall shut as you slightly adjusted your sleeping position. After a second you opened your eyes again, seeing Ashton with his closed. 

“Ash?” 

He cracked one eye open. “Yeah?”

“You promise this new place will be safe?” 

“Darling, you’ll always be safe with me. I promise.” 

[pinkmistle06]

pink.chr_beginning

intro loaded.

intiating startup sequence.

load timeline?

received input.

"Yes."

loading timeline...

new timeline created.

please input sprite for foreign chr.

base=fallen_human/frisk

editing base...

chr appearance created.

soul=dt_hope

text_font=regular

text_color=pink/red

Name the Fallen Human.

"Chara"

The true name.

loading frisk.chr...

loading chara.chr...

loading pink.chr...

Darkness. All she could see was darkness. The girl's thoughts were fuzzy and muddled, all a blur in her head. Then, in an instant, the memories came flooding back. She remembered where she was, and what she was doing. Her eyes flew open in an instant. Her beautiful pink and red eyes. Her right eye was a beautiful sunset pink, and her left eye was a bright ruby red. She was generally short, at around five feet and three inches tall. She had lightly tanned skin and slight rosy cheeks, and semi long wavy dirty blonde hair. She wore a sleeveless light pink, almost peach turtleneck sweater, a hot pink fluffy jacket over the sweater, a short skirt that was a lighter pink than her jacket, but not her sweater, that sat on her hips with a white band to separate itself from her sweater, brown boots, and black tights, as well as white, slightly cartoonish gloves on her hands. She was lying on the ground, on top of a bed of golden flowers, likely buttercups. Her entire body ached, but luckily, no bones were broken. She looked around, and saw a child next to her, younger than her, but not by much. They had goldenrod skin, short, messily cut brown hair, narrowed eyes, a rather blank expression, and were a bit shorter than her. They were wearing a light blue sweater with two pink stripes in the middle, brown shorts, black leggings underneath, dark brown shoes, and lastly, a bandaid on their cheek. She slowly stood up, her joints letting out small pops as she did so, stretching a little to help the aches. She crouched down next to the child, prodding them on their shoulder.

"Hey, are you alright?" She asked, sounding genuinely worried. Then, the child moved, and they looked at her. Their narrowed eyes widened a touch, but not by much. They cocked their head in confusion, and sat up. They pointed at the large hole above them, where sunlight was shining through, and then pointed at her, cocking their head again. "Did I fall with you?" She asked. The child nodded. "Ah. Yeah, I'm pretty sure I did." She replied, reaching her hand forward. The child grabbed her hand, and the girl helped them up, now off of the flower bed. "What's your name?" She asked them. They took a small breath. "Frisk." They replied, their voice soft. Their voice could've been female or male, either way, she couldn't tell the difference. Frisk then pointed at the girl. "My name?" Frisk nodded. "My name is Pink." Pink replied, a smile on her face. Pink looked around, taking in the sights of the cave they were in. She looked at the flower bed to inspect it. "A flower bed of buttercups. Looks like it broke your fall." Pink did not flinch at the sudden voice in her head. She knew who it was, clear as day. Chara. She paid them no mind, but was sure that they knew she was aware of them. Then, Frisk pointed at a hallway in the cavern they were in. "You want to go over there?" Pink asked. Frisk shook their head, and pointed at themselves, then at Pink, then back at the hallway. "You want us both to move on?" Frisk nodded, putting their fists at their hips. "Alright then." Pink answered, smiling a bit.

She and Frisk walked forward, and into the hallway. They walked into another cave, of which had a patch of grass in the middle, along with a flower. The flower looked like a buttercup, with six large petals across the head, and a green stem. But one thing was different about the flower. It had a face. Frisk and Pink both walked a bit closer, when the flower began to speak.

"Howdy! I'm Flowey! Flowey the flower!" His voice was filled to the brim with sickening sweetness, feeling almost forced. "You two are new to the underground, aren't ya? Golly, the both of you must be so confused!" Flowey spoke, a friendly smile on his face. "Someone should really teach you how things work down here! I guess little ol' me will have to do!" Flowey remarked, smiling brightly, though not with his teeth. Pink could see tiny little fangs protruding from his mouth, and his eyes held a faint glimmer of red. "Ready? Here we go!" Then, with a flash of light, a red heart appeared on Frisk's chest. Pink felt a warmth on her own chest, and looked down to see a heart on her own, except it was different from Frisk's. Half of it was red, the other pink. "See those hearts? Those are your SOULS, the very culmination of your beings!" Flowey explained, looking intently at the two. "SOULS start out weak, but can grow stronger with LV!" Frisk cocked their head in confusion, while Pink continued to stare on. "What's LV stand for? Why, LOVE, of course! You both want some LOVE, don't you? Here, I'll share some with you!" Then, white, almost bullet-like seeds appeared around Flowey. "Down here, LOVE is shared through..." Flowey trailed off, thinking for a moment. "...little white...'friendliness pellets'." Pink didn't like the emphasis he put on them. She knew what would happen if she or Frisk touched them, they would be hurt. "I'll share some with you! Go on, catch as many as you can!" And with that, Flowey flung the pellets at Frisk and Pink. Pink quickly dodged, and pulled Frisk away from them. They let out a small yelp as Pink grabbed them and pulled them away. "...hey buddy, you missed them." Flowey said, his eyes narrowing a bit. "Let's try that again, shall we?" He again flung the pellets at the two, this time a bit faster. Pink dodged the bullets, extremely cautious. Frisk dodged as well, a bit unnerved. "Is this a joke? Are you both brain dead? Run. Into. The. BULLET-" Flowey cut himself off, his eyes going wide. "Err, friendliness pellets!" Knew it. Pink thought, smiling a touch. He sent the bullets at them again, and once more, both of them dodged.

Then, his facial expression quickly soured, his eyes turning pitch black, and his fangs coming extremely prominent. "You know what's going on here, don't you?" Flowey instantly abandoned all of his sickening sweetness, his voice now a growl. "You just wanted to see me suffer." He snarled, his voice growing more and more horrifying by the second. Frisk was standing beside Pink, shaking. Pink was standing strong, hostility burning in her eyes. Then, vines and bullets surrounded the two. "DIE." Flowey shrieked out the word, laughing hysterically as the bullets and vines came closer and closer. Frisk was shaking, and Pink was too. Pink knew what would come next, but she couldn't help be afraid for what was happening now. Then, in an instant, the attacks were gone. Flowey looked confused, when a ball of pure fire flew across the cavern, nailing Flowey in the face. He was knocked away with a cry of surprise and pain.

"What a miserable creature, torturing such poor, innocent youths..." A motherly voice rang out, and someone stepped forward. It was a woman, but something was different about her. She was a goat! An anthropomorphic goat woman. She had snow white fur, long floppy ears on the sides of her head that faded to gray on the ends, small horns on the top of her head, deep scarlet eyes with black eye lashes, fangs protruding on her mouth, large feet and paws, and she was wearing a robe, almost a dress of a sort. It was a bright purple with white sleeves, a white symbol on the chest area, and white lining around it. She was quite tall, looming over Frisk and Pink. She had a kind look in her eyes. "Oh dear, neither of you are hurt, are you?" She walked a bit closer. "I am Toriel, the caretaker of the Ruins."

...

I︎N︎T︎E︎R︎E︎S︎T︎I︎N︎G︎.︎.︎.︎

V︎E︎R︎Y︎ I︎N︎T︎E︎R︎E︎S︎T︎I︎N︎G︎.︎

A︎ N︎E︎W︎ P︎L︎A︎Y︎E︎R︎ H︎A︎S︎ N︎O︎T︎ E︎N︎T︎E︎R︎E︎D︎ F︎O︎R︎ S︎O︎M︎E︎ T︎I︎M︎E︎.︎

.︎.︎.︎

I︎ W︎I︎L︎L︎ W︎A︎T︎C︎H︎ T︎H︎I︎S︎ W︎I︎T︎H︎ G︎R︎E︎A︎T︎ I︎N︎T︎E︎R︎E︎S︎T︎.︎

P︎E︎R︎H︎A︎P︎S︎ T︎H︎I︎S︎ N︎E︎W︎ H︎U︎M︎A︎N︎ C︎A︎N︎ B︎E︎ O︎F︎ U︎S︎E︎.︎

M︎A︎Y︎B︎E︎.︎.︎.︎J︎U︎S︎T︎ M︎A︎Y︎B︎E︎.︎.︎.︎

@okida25 @appletamales @homosexual-ratt @underfell-crystal @rainy-dainy-club @morguenecrosis

E

[grace-lost-in-space]

Anorexia is Lonely

I have not written a proper update in a while. Lately, I feel as though my world is crashing down around me. Pieces of my once certain future, bumping me on the head and blacking my eyes before hitting the ground and burning in front of me. Pieces of my past flashing in the sky like lightning bolts during a thunderstorm, with rain soaking through every ounce of my being and weighing me down to the point of exhaustion.

There are also tears, but who can see those in the chaos of this massive thunderstorm?

How did it get this bad?

How am I THIS sick?

I once looked at bodies like mine with envy, praying at night to “look like that”. Little did I know what a gigantic and burdensome price tag “that” would come with. In case you are wondering—and in case you are one of many who, like I once did, wishes so much to “look like that”, let me talk a bit about exactly what it entails. I sure wish someone had told me before I was knee deep in this disorder...and then waist deep...and then neck deep...and, now, sinking.

1. Loneliness. Excruciating loneliness. Some people think weight will have an impact on social status or like-ability. It does—a little—at least here in America. Some of that is true. But what no one explains ahead of time is that this is beyond dieting. This is a disorder. Eventually, you keep going and going and going until you can barely lift your head off of the pillow. If you have the energy to turn over on to your side to get some relief from the pressure sores on your bottom and shoulder blades, it will hurt. Your bones will ache. You thought you would have more energy? More confidence? More dates? Eventually, if you keep going, your only date will be a tv marathon. Trust me. I spend a lot of my time stuck in one spot because I have no energy and my bones ache to their very core from the pressure of just sitting or lying down. There are no dates. There is no shopping. There are doctors appointments and therapy appointments and I have to be sure to take my time getting there, sitting and standing slowly, and not making sudden movements because I will pass out, my heart will skip beats, or I will fall—all from a weak heart brought on by anorexia.

2. Pure hatred. In the beginning, I spent a lot of time looking in the mirror, satisfied at my quickly changing body. Fascinated, really, at what I was “accomplishing.” Now? Now I avoid anything that might show even a glimpse of my reflection. I am, as they say, “a walking skeleton.” Anytime I am in public, everyone stares at me. The elderly woman in the corner of the doctor’s office waiting room, the 6 year old with her mom waiting for speech therapy, the off-duty doctor browsing the bookstore on a Saturday afternoon. They know. They never say anything but they know. And I hate it. I hate myself. My muscles are atrophied. I can hardly lift my favorite pair of platform Converse off of my shoe rack.

3. Sadness. My skin is pale and paper thin. Once I finally find the energy to change positions while watching my tv marathon, I scroll through instagram and see everyone’s lives moving forward except for my own. Pictures of class schedules, pictures of boyfriends and girlfriends, pictures of “daily run time!!!”, pictures of swimming in the ocean and rivers, pictures of birthday dinners. Those should be things that I am doing—or at least that I COULD be doing if I were not in the trenches of the misery that is anorexia. Most girls my age are trying to decide which bathing suit to wear on any particular day. Me? I have a permanent feeding tube in my stomach. I am scrolling online trying to decide which Tubie Pads I might want.

4. Medical complexities. My heart skips beats every day and sometimes it takes my breath away. Sometimes my heartbeat is so low (in the upper 30’s) that my body just gives out and I fall asleep unexpectedly, only to wake up later holding my breath. I am often so dehydrated that my heartbeat will skyrocket into the 120’s when I stand. As a result of anorexia, I have developed gastroparesis and, although I am tube fed, I still experience the effects. Constipation. You want to know the last time I did #2? 8 days ago. And getting used to telling my providers that never feels any less embarrassing, even though they ask me each week. Last time I was hospitalized, I had to have a “bowel clean out” and get nutrients through an IV.

Anorexia feels like being in between life and death. Alive, but not quite. Dead, but not quite. Somewhere in the middle of a truly miserable existence. I try and try and try to get into a facility but, apparently, you can be “too sick” to be admitted to a place. Yes, I swear. In fact, the very few places who will accept out of state insurance have turned me down because I am “too sick.” Truth. I am, according to these professionals, “a medical liability” so much so that I have been referred to hospice THREE times.

I want more than anything to live. And if you are reading this and you have an eating disorder, whether anorexia, bulimia, or ANY eating disorder, YOU deserve help. You deserve love. You deserve compassion. There were days when I felt like I was not “sick enough” for help. And now I am “too sick” as defined by so-called professionals.

Please. If you are struggling, reach out. Talk. Write. Ask questions. Ask for help. Know that you are so worthy of life and love and happiness. Because I would never wish any of this on my very worst enemy.

[hyungbean]

Hold On | Jasper Hale X Wolf!Reader

Summary: When the impossible becomes your reality. Imprinting on Jasper Hale was anything but rainbows and sunshines, because he already had someone else.

Genre: ANGST

Pairing: Jasper Hale x Reader, WolfPack!Family x Reader 

A/N: I recommend listening to ‘Good For You’ by Selena Gomez while reading this. Also, REQUESTS ARE OPEN !

Your bleary eyes could barely stay open as the dim room around you seemed to be closing in, the floating dust stinging your eyes and clogging you ears. Your abdomen curled with pangs of sadness and anger, anger at the world. It felt like you were burning from the inside out, like at any moment you would combust into smoke and fire. 

Tears kept streaming down your exhausted face as excruciating headaches kept your head pounding and made you dizzy constantly. You could faintly hear Emily and Sam quietly talking next to you, their voices causing a ringing in your ears, yet you had no idea what they were saying. 

Emily patted your sweating face with the wet cloth again, sighing sadly at you. The world loved to fuck with your emotions. Imprinting was supposed to be like a dream come true, soulmates, you loved the idea of them. Having someone that was tied to you, someone to protect and love for life.

No one knew it was even possible to have an imprintee reject their imprinter. But you were somewhat living proof that it could happen. Your imprintee Jasper, a fucking vampire nonetheless, had just crushed your soul. It felt like someone had tied you down and wouldn’t stop kicking you in the chest, no matter how much you begged slowly crushing your bones over and over again.

Sam was the only one who could understand slightly the pain you were in, but obviously not to this extent as Emily soon caved in. It had been a week since the eventful day when you were training with the Cullens when you accidentally imprinted on the blonde soldier. 

He was quick to coldly reject you and leave you alone in the cold woods, ears flat on head and heart pouring out all the warmth it had. Love fucking sucked. He didn’t even want to be your friend. 

Edward visited a couple of times with Bella, who you had grown close to. And according to them Jasper and Alice weren’t even mates. Edward said that Jasper didn’t want to reject you and treat you so coldly, but he was scared. He didn't even know what rejection could even spiral into for the imprinters, but Sam and the pack didn’t care. They wanted to rip the no good leech into a million pieces. 

Jasper is just scared of change. You should see how miserable he is.

You recalled Edward saying while patting your head gently. Well Jasper should see how fucking miserable I am. 

Letting out a whimper, you turn a little to look at Emily and your Alpha. 

“It hurts like a bitch.” You tried to laugh but it ended in a dry heave.

Emily was about to start crying seeing her best friend in pain, Sam could only cringe because he couldn’t do anything for the girl he grew to love like a little sister. 

“Guys... hear me out... you need to help them fight the newborns. They need the pack.” Sam growled, pacing, “absolutely not. I will not help those leeches, I was hesitant at first and now I know they are no good for us. Just look at that one bloodsucker did to you!”

“Me imprinting was not my choice or his, Sam. You should know that better than any of us. But that doesn’t stop how I feel for him. I can't protect him or his family, so please do it for me.”

Sam begrudgingly nods after a few minutes, kissing my forehead before he and Emily leave, leaving me in the darkness of the room and the darkness clouding my mind. The pain was bordering on unbearable. Something in you was tugging at you to just stop it.

You sobbed, tears burning your eyes as your chest ached with the burden of rejection.

Just end it. 

You have the power to stop the pain, why prolong the inevitable.

He doesn’t need you. The pack sure as hell doesn’t need to deal with your suffering.

You turn to face the wall, suppressing these thoughts. Soon you heard the boys starting to leave, they came in one by one to talk to you, not knowing what the fight would bring.

“Hey Y/N, don’t worry we can take these bloodsuckers. Say the word and we’ll take out the other ones too.” Paul said softly, gripping your hand. 

“You know you're not allowed to hurt my imprintee.”

He scoffed, “he’s a fucking lousy excuse for one to be quite honest.” you laugh gently, patting his hands, weakness coursing through your veins. 

As soon as all the boys had left Emily said she had to go get some things from the store quickly. 

“Love you darling. The boys will try to talk to some elders around to see if we can do anything.” She had said before heading out.

Moments after you were sure she was gone, it was as if you were being possessed, you sat up suddenly in a daze, suddenly overcome with unknown adrenaline. 

You wiped the sweat away, and walked to put your shoes on. 

“I need to go outside. Yes, some air would be nice.” You could hear yourself mumble, strolling out and breathing in the slightly salty air, the breeze flowing through your hair, kissing your face. The crunching of leaves and pine needles under your shoes was relaxing as your body seemed to move you in a familiar path but you were too blissed out to realize where you were going. 

Soon you found you were on the the cliff the pack used to cliff dive off of. The serene view calmed you as you sat down, taking in the earth around you.

The pain seemed dull as you looked up at the sky above you, it seemed to speak to you, reaching out for you. 

Why should I hold on to someone who wants nothing to do with me?

you could faintly see the day you joined the pack years ago, easily the best day of your life. 

‘ what is your name? ‘ the black wolf in front of you radiated power, as you bowed your head slightly. You had trespassed on their territory while running from a nomad blood sucker. 

‘Y/N L/N. Please I mean no harm, I was just running from a nomad. I will leave quickly.’ 

He seemed to consider this before turning to his pack, “how old are you kid?’

‘I’m almost 15.’ 

Another wolf stepped up, ‘Sam she’s just a kid.’ 

‘Obviously Paul. Do you need a pack Y/N?’ 

And then it slowly changed to a vision of the first time you went cliff diving on the cliff you were laying on now.

‘uh.. are you sure I’m not going to die? I mean do you see how high this cliff is?’ 

‘don’t worry Y/N, I’ll go first and wait down there if anything goes wrong.’ Paul said ruffling my hair before diving off with a hoot. 

‘don’t sweat it Y/N you don’t have to go if you don’t want to.’ Embry said, patting my back reassuringly. 

You shake your head suddenly rushing forward and diving off, hearing a hooting Paul below you. 

As you hit the water the vision changes to the one memory you dreaded the absolute most.

‘Y/N. We could never work out okay? We’re from two different worlds.’ You could see the slight regret in his eyes. 

‘Is she even your mate?’ 

‘Just drop it Y/N. After this fight, we won’t see each other again. It’s for the best. Please just.. drop it. I love Alice.’ You could see some doubt starting to pool in his eyes as tears pooled in yours. You could feel an ache developing in your chest, the need for his touch never stronger. 

‘ you don’t mean that.’ you try to walk towards him. 

He steps away, ‘goodbye Y/N.’ He speeds off and you lean on a tree for support, hyperventilating as your chest constricts violently. 

Your teeth are bared as you throw your head back letting a gut wrenching scream out. Birds flying out of the tree above you, as you helplessly fall to the dirt, letting grief consume you. And then pain started coming in waves of endless burning.

fuck you Jasper Hale.

The vision fades but nothing appears after, not another memory, not the sky. You hear the waves crashing and the birds chirping and you faintly hear a howl in the distance. And not much longer the world fades to nothing as the waves stop crashing with the broken heart that stopped beating.

Yes, I think I’ll let it all go now.