#very strange adjusting to all of this after just trying to survive my whole life

[silentstar]

I just realised that I made a bunch of sad personal posts ages back lamenting about how I had a really hard time in education and felt left behind - but I don't think I posted that I actually made it into uni and I'm studying illustration right now!

[kasagia]

His mortal saviour

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling x otkazat’sya!fem! reader Summary: You saved him. You took him from under the fold and healed him when he was in his most vulnerable state. He doesn't know you; he's hostile and distrustful of you, so he naturally runs away at the first possible opportunity. But somehow, he can't just walk away from you. Word Count: around 6k Anonymous requested this a looong time ago (in January). So sorry honey!!!! Hope you will enjoy! 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤 Taglist: @aoi-targaryen @il0vebeingdelulu @chelseyyouraverageluigi @watersquirtpewpewboomm @summersummoner-pat Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist

He woke up feeling numb.

He had never felt so... paralysed in his entire life. It was as if the use of all his limbs had been taken away from him. And he didn't like that at all.

He expected him to be in the centre of the fold, with the volcra circling around him. However, as consciousness returned to him, he became more aware of his surroundings.

The first thing he felt was warmth. The warmth, which wasn't at all in the fold. He shuddered and remembered how the cold had penetrated his body even more the moment the volcra's claws had dug into his face.

Then he felt the softness of the mattress beneath his back instead of the hardness of the sandy, packed soil. Further evidence proving that he was entirely somewhere else was the sound of soft footsteps and humming a few feet away from him.

He opened his eyes hesitantly and hissed, unaccustomed to the light after being unconscious for so long.

He freezes as he feels a hand on his eyes, keeping the sunlight from reaching them. Little. Soft. Alina... a thought comes to him, and he quickly laughs it off. His little sun summoner would probably rather blind him completely with her sun than protect him from more pain.

"Take it easy. You've been badly harmed." A soft female voice breaks the silence and pulls him from his thoughts about the woman who betrayed him and their kind.

He feels a strange rush of fear as he hears a female voice. Aleksander unwillingly recalls the memory of the time when he and his mother were captured by the Drüskelle. He felt like he did now. Helpless.

He was unable to move even a small distance on his own. The only difference was that no one was hanging over him with scalpels and other blades or hurling insults. But he suspected that could change very quickly...

He had to do something. He needed to get out of here somehow, but every slight movement of his muscles was accompanied by a huge wave of searing pain throughout his whole body. And for a brief moment, it occurred to him that maybe destroying the fold wasn't such a bad idea.

"Don't worry. I am not a psychopath, mad, serial killer, or anything. I'm a nurse. I saw you near the fold and took you to my house to heal you. It's a miracle you survived your encounter with the volcra. Usually, no one gets out of the fold. Certainly not on their own." The woman says, slowly removing her hand from his eyes.

He's too dazed by the light, busy taking in his surroundings and seeing her face for the first time, to notice that she's adjusting the bandages on his face and checking his wounds.

But he hisses, feeling the burning pain on his forehead as she rubs some thick, gooey liquid onto him.

"I'm sorry, but I have to. It's an ointment against infection. This should also numb you enough so that you don't feel any pain in your face. How's your back?"

He is too shocked to respond. As he takes a breath, he has a sudden coughing fit. She moves away from him. He hears her quick footsteps as she returns a moment later with a cup of water and a tissue. He spits something black out of his mouth, desperately trying to get some air. She strokes his back gently and leans him more forward, making him spit out all the black goo mixed with his saliva from his throat.

He frowns, staring at the tissue soaked in black liquid.

"Don't worry, it's absolutely normal. Every time they bring a survivor from the fold to the infirmary, something like this happens. The air is different there, and volcra tend to infect their victims. Let's just say it's some kind of poison that comes out of you. That's a good sign. As well as the fact that you woke up. Here." The woman says, taking the tissue from him and throwing it into a nearby trash can. He glances there, seeing that it is half full of black dressings and bandages. He looks back at her as she hands him a glass of water.

"What do you want?" He asks, his voice hoarse from disuse (or screaming in the fold), not taking a sip from the cup you gave him. It could be poisoned or worse.

"I... I don't understand." You say, confused by his hostile attitude.

"What do you want from me?" He repeats it again, and the commanding, demanding tone of his voice sends shivers down your spine.

"Nothing. I'm just helping." You reply with a shrug, which annoys him even more. He laughs mockingly, making you frown.

"Selflessly? To a stranger? Don't make me look like a naive idiot. Tell me right now who you are, what you want, and where we are, and you won't get hurt."

"With all due respect, I doubt you'd be able to raise your hand right now, let alone hold a gun or sword, or hit me, even if you were a soldier of the First Army." He stares at you in surprise, realising that you have no idea who he is, and maybe you really just helped him.

Could a normal person dare to speak back to the Darkling with such courage and anger in her eyes? He didn't think so. But one name comes to his mind... even though he's too hurt to think about her.

"What?" You ask him as he stares at you for a little too long.

"Nothing." He clears his throat and stares warily at the offered water. "Not many people surprise me." He explains, still not believing in your good intentions. You couldn't be so altruistic as to help a strange man who got spat out by the fold. People weren't kind or helpful to the weak, at least never towards him. That's why he always had to be stronger than others. To never become prey again.

"I see that you don't trust many either. If I pour for myself and you water from one jug and drink it first, will you consider doing the same? You need to rehydrate." You say it calmly, completely unfazed by his distrust.

For some reason, this makes him more surly towards you. Maybe this whole act on your part was just to keep his guard down until someone came for him, for example, Shu, Drüskelle, or even Alina's group of heroes. He had to get away from here. As soon as he regained full control over his aching body.

“Try to deceive me, and I will make sure to wipe out your family lineage to the last living generation.” He growls hoarsely, trying to regain at least some semblance of control in this situation.

"It's good that I'm an orphan then." You say, pouring him and yourself a glass of water and showing him that both are empty.

Another orphan... he thinks as you reach both glasses so he can choose which one he wants.

"Who are you? Where are we?" He asks as he holds a glass in his hand.

You drink your water and set the glass on the nightstand near the bed. Aleksander decides to wait a while before taking a sip himself, to see if the water won't have a strange effect on you and if you haven't poisoned it after all. Although you could have practiced mithradism and been immune to whatever poison you wanted to give him. His head began to hurt more as he considered all the possibilities.

"Y/N Y/L/N. A nurse, as I mentioned earlier. We are in Eastern Ravka, on the border with the fold. More south of Tsemna and closer to the border with Shu Han. And you?"

He hesitates for a moment and doesn't know why, whether it's the headache or the fact that he doesn't want you to catch him in a lie, but he tells you his real name.

"Aleksander." He says, finally deciding to take a sip from his cup. He would always be able to use the cut if there was something wrong with the drink you gave him. You try your best not to smile at that.

"And what are you doing for life, if that's not a secret?" You ask jokingly, but he doesn't seem too eager to lighten his attitude.

He is still tense and looks around carefully, as if waiting for someone to attack him. Your heart hurts at the sight. Something must have happened in his past for him to be on guard all the time. And those scars from the fold... you suspect it wasn't just the volcra that were responsible for them.

"I... create things." He tells half the truth. After all, the fold, the volcra, and his shadows are some kind of... things he created.

"Are you a carpenter? Do you have your own workshop?"

Little Palace. He thinks, but he knows that after what happened in the fold, the tsar probably took this away from him as well.

He shudders to think about how he could have hurt his people. He had to get out of here. And fast. Before more, Grisha got hurt. Because if he knows something, he knows that Alina won't be able to protect them. He tried to walk the path of peace with Lantsov's dynasty, but it never ended well.

All he provided for Grisha—a safe place at the Little Palace, home, food, illusions of freedom thanks to the cessation of Grisha hunting, and much more—was bought with the blood of others. And if he had to be a monster to make sure his people wouldn't suffer like he did and many others have in the past, then so be it.

He would be the worst of them all.

"I have people who create for me and follow my orders and requests." He replies brusquely when you look at him carefully. You sigh, seeing that you won't be able to get through to him until he's sure you really don't have any bad intentions towards him.

"Okay… do you have any family I should write to? Or someone else?" You ask instead, apparently hitting another sore spot as his injured hand grips the cup so hard that the bandages you wrapped around it dig into his skin.

"No... there is no need for that." He says it coldly.

An image of his mother quickly comes to mind, as does the image of Alina, at which he shakes his head. The only two women with whom he allowed himself to be vulnerable and who could hurt him actually did. Without blinking an eye or a moment of hesitation. You probably were the same, and despite your quite tender care, he still wasn't sure if it was true or just an action.

Although if you were meant to capture him, you would at least tie him up so he couldn't summon his shadows. Maybe you really had no idea about his identity...

"I shall leave you to rest then. I have to go to my work." You say as you start to put on your coat.

"You will leave me alone?" He ask. He can't believe that you would really leave him—a strange man you didn't know at all—in your house all alone.

"Do you need a company?" You ask mockingly, using the exact same cold tone of voice he used before. Aleksander decides he liked you much more when you were soft towards him.

"Aren't you afraid I'll rob you and run away?"

"There are only herbs, medicines, and a few books here. I have nothing so valuable that I couldn't get it on the market if you decided to take it. You can look around if you want. Although I wouldn't advise you to get up, your wounds are still fresh and barely sealed, so they don't bleed."

"Are you insane?" He can't help but ask, as you really are going out. His words and utter shock make you giggle, which doesn't make his opinion of you any better.

"All the best people are. Try not to die. It would be a waste of medicines and bandages." You say this and smile amusedly as you close the door behind you.

Aleksander blinks, surprised, as he lays in your bed. He tries to understand what has happened here, but he still has a headache and needs to get out of here.

He didn't trust you at all.

So before anyone could come and get him from you, he stood up. His legs are shaky at the beginning, but as he walks around your (tiny) cottage, he regains the ability to walk… maybe not as well as he did, but enough to move.

He looks around, just as you suggested, but he didn't find any proff that would confirm his suspicion about your bad intentions towards him.. But it doesn't stop him from taking some pills and herbs before he leaves your house. He makes sure to take only a little—enough to get to the village or somewhere where he could find his people.

He decided that you were too kind to be robbed.

The healer who was trying to heal his wounds was surprised at how good their condition was. Virtually cured. However, black scars remained on him, marring his face. Just like the piece of amplifier in his hand.

But Aleksander didn't care at all. His scars were a good reminder that anyone can be made a fool of. And he didn't want to be fooled by the woman's beautiful eyes once again—even ones as beautiful as yours.

David offered to take it out for him, but he wasn't ready for it yet. The amplifier was his only connection to Alina, and he needed every means to locate her. At least, that's how he explained to himself his reluctance to remove the festering amplifier from his hand.

He did the same with you. He also told himself that the creation of a secret shelter for his Grishas in an abandoned manor in the forest a few miles from your little cabin was pure coincidence. Just like the way he had a habit of wandering around your neighbourhood and watching you from afar when he needed to think alone about his further plans.

The problem was that he couldn't plan anything. Nothing significant. Of course, he still freed his Grisha and kept them safe, but when it came to Ravka's fate... he was in a bind. He didn't know what to do.

And so one day, when he went for a walk away from Ivan, Fruzsi, and the rest who were bothering him, he 'accidentally' came across you.

It's happened quite often. At first, he sent Ivan to look at you; sometimes he followed you around himself, waiting in suspense to find out that you weren't an innocent nurse after all. That it was not by accident that you took him from under the fold and cured him. But he found nothing. You have no conspiracy against him, no cult that was killing Grisha, or even any connection to Alina's group. Nothing.

He didn't know what to think about that either. He would rather discover that you weren't so selfless and sensitive to others' harm. This way, you would save him some sleepless nights when he thought about you and the way you took care of him. No one has done this for a long time... or ever. To be honest, Aleksander didn't remember the last time that someone just... he looked after him out of pure kindness and concern FOR HIM.

Neither his mother nor Alina. One was too cold to even think about caring for the other, and the second was too afraid of him to even consider him as something more than just a monster craving power and the throne. He didn't think he'd had anyone since Luda who would simply take care of him out of the goodness of their hearts.

That's why he started to be fascinated and curious about you. A mere mortal. Otkazat’sya. You tended to avoid people despite your willingness to help (at which he was very surprised). In the village where you worked in the infirmary, everyone treated you warmly and kindly, just as you treated them. Even your worst patients. To which Aleksander would lose his tamper more than once.

Over time, he realised that what drew him to you was your warmth. He was starting to get jealous of the attention you gave others, even if you then went back to your cabin alone. He didn't know what caused this need to be near you. Maybe it was because he was tired of being alone in his icy darkness. Alina once was his sunlight. For a brief moment, he felt... normal. In peace. After everything went to hell. And then, he felt like this for a while under your tender touch.

He should have learned from his mistakes and forgotten about you, but... something wouldn't let him.

He was beginning to suspect that maybe he was just getting too old for all this.

"All alone in the forest? Do you know what monsters might be lurking here?" He asks, encountering you on one of his excursions to help him think. It was a pure impulse. He snuck up on you on the spur of the moment (or maybe because Alina tried to snatch the amplifier out of his hand a few hours ago and he needed someone to talk to as... just Aleksander. Not the Darkling.)

"For example?" You ask, turning to him and stopping picking herbs. You look pretty. Strands of hair fall into your eyes, and he almost reaches out to brush them off himself, but you do it before he can raise his hand.

He takes a look at you. Your coat is too thin for his taste. The snow had barely melted, and what you were wearing certainly didn't adequately protect you from the cold wind that was still blowing. He had to ask David to make you something similar to a kefta when he would be back.

"The Darkling." He says, feeling your burning, careful gaze on his face. You don't look at him with disgust or fear. No. He sees in your eyes a professional assessment of his health and a slight hint of curiosity... he wonders if maybe he's not the only one here who feels drawn to the other.

"I doubt he has enough free time to wander around the forest." He smiles at your words, amused that you have no idea that you are now talking with him.

He had never been happier that the news in these parts of Ravka... usually didn't reach here. People here identified more with Shu since they started mixing with each other a long time ago. Of course not Grisha. They could only count on themselves. Mostly...

"Oh, you'd be surprised what can happen, little saviour."

"Saviour?" You ask, raising your eyebrows at him. He sees the spark of amusement shining in your eyes, and he just can't help himself. He steps closer to you and reaches for the basket of herbs. He follows you as you select herbs and plants that you apparently find useful. Aleksander feels... normal and ordinary. And for a moment, he begins to understand why Alina would choose a simple life with her tracker rather than a privileged one as a Sun Summoner.

"I believe I owe a part of my life to you."

"Almost no one gets out of the fold. Thank the saints for your life, not me." You shrug off his feeble attempt at thanking you and turn to him. You study his face carefully, assessing the appearance of his scars. He feels himself starting to blush under your gaze.

"I don't believe in saints." He finally says, glad that he managed to drag your gaze away from his face as you look into his eyes this time, frowning in surprise.

"Why?"

"They were ordinary people. Most of them had no idea what they were doing. People hailed them as saints mainly because of rumours—stories whose confirmation could only be sought from the insane."

"So not only a carpenter, but also an expert in saints. You are a true mystery, Aleksander." You laugh at him and he smiles, thinking that you don't even know what an enigma he is.

"I'm just saying that most of them didn't do anything significant. Not for Grisha. And they were killed because they tried to show people that they shouldn't hunt us and that we are useful in some way. If anything, they tightened the chains of slavery on us."

"So you are a Grisha." He blushes slightly, embarrassed at how easily he let his secret be revealed. Yes. He was definitely too old for all this. "What kind of are you? Inferni? Durast?"

"Heartrender." He answers quickly and without thinking. "But it doesn't matter. Forgive me. I should go." He says, almost panicking as he turns away from you and rushes in the opposite direction. He wants to get away from you as quickly as possible before he unknowingly reveals his true identity to you.

"Wait a second. Aleksander!" However, you don't give up and chase after him, grabbing his hand—exactly the one that is rotting from the remains of the amplifier left in it. Aleksander hisses, wincing in pain. He pulls his hand out of your grip and tries to look anywhere but at you. "Your hand." You whisper hurriedly as you walk towards him. He takes a step back, trying as always to keep some distance from you when you made him feel... vulnerable.

"Not your concern." He growls at you, hoping you'll drop the idea of ​​examining his wound. Because how was he supposed to explain to you the stag bone stuck in his hand?

"Volcra poison can infect your blood. You should get it cured by your healers. And do it as quickly as possible; otherwise, it will lead you to a slow death; you will lose your senses; you will start hearing whispers, calls from the fold, and volcra."

"I'll be fine."

"Don't make me laugh; even the Darkling wouldn't be able to deal with that all alone. The Volcra may be the product of his ancestors, but this... this is a wild kind of little science. Unpredictable. I have seen hundreds who may have managed to get out of the crease but have gone mad because of their venom. These are not ordinary shadows. They are living creatures that attack just like any other animal. So please, if you don't trust me with this, go and show it to some talented healer, because you can't leave it like that."

"How do you know so much about this?" He asks curiously, putting his injured hand into the pocket of his kefta.

"Anyone who lives near the fold and is involved in healing knows this." You answer evasively, trying to avoid his further questions. This time you turn your back to him, pretending that you are interested in some plant.

"No, they not." He continues insistently, wanting at all costs to know the real reason you were here, why you had so much knowledge about the fold. He grabs your arm and turns you around so he can look at your face, as he is waiting for your answer.

"My sister was a healer. A Grisha." You blurt out in one breath and look away from him as painful memories come flooding back to you. Aleksander feels a pang in his heart when he sees the obvious pain in your eyes. A pain he himself had carried with him for centuries.

"Was?" He notes, swallowing.

"She is dead."

"The fold?" You nod at his question. He feels his throat dry, and he lets go of your arm as his hands tremble slightly. And Aleksander thinks that of all the lives that the fold has taken, your sister's life will be the one that will remain permanently in his memory. Especially that look filled with pain, bitterness, and grieving. "Then why did you stay here?"

"I moved here... to help to this who could somehow managed to get out of it." You reply as you calm down. Your tone of voice and posture may confuse Aleksander at first glance, but your eyes, your eyes tell him everything that you try to hide.

"It's... very nobel."

"Just please, don't leave it like that. You will certainly die if you will."

"You care about the stranger?" He asks in surprise, raising an eyebrow at you. You reach for your basket and take it from him before giving him your answer and looking him in the eyes again.

"I've already told you. It would be a waste of medicines and bandages if you die." You reply mischievously with a smile, and he chuckles. He can't help but reach up to your cheek and caress your cheek with his thumb as he gets lost in your eyes. No one had ever cared for him, so... simply. Without any major reasons. It was... extraordinary. You were extraordinary.

"It's... more complcated... but I shall listen to you." He assures you, noticing the way you nuzzle your cheek into his hand, not pulling away from him at all, not flinching at his sudden touch. His gaze involuntarily flits from your eyes to your mouth for a brief moment, and he imagines what it would be like to kiss you—to feel the softness of your lips against his. And Aleksander really wants to do it.

"I hope so... and that you won't get in trouble because of that grumpy old general of yours for being here." Alexander chuckles at your joke, amused by the absurdity of the situation. If you only knew...would you still let him stand so close to you? His mood suddenly worsens as he thinks about it. What would you do if you found out he was the Darkling? That he created the fold?

"Believe me, little savior, he can't do anything to me for coming to you." He replies and lowers his hand, breaking any contact with your soft, silky skin. Oh, how he wanted to know more of you—to touch more than your hands, cheeks, hair, or neck. But he couldn't. Not after so much disappointment, not after Alina, not after Luda. He should have known better.

So he freezes, completely shocked, when you grab his wrist and cup his cheek in your hand. Your basket of herbs is abandoned on the forest path as you brush your nose against his. Alexander holds his breath, waiting to see what you will do.

"May I?" You ask, whispering, trembling as you're unsure of his reaction to what you want to do.

All Aleksander can do is cross the last inches between you and capture your lips in a kiss. You sigh, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling him closer. Aleksander wraps his arms around you tightly and takes two steps back, pressing you against the tree. You moan into his mouth as his beard tickles you into the kiss, which he uses to his advantage and slides his tongue into your mouth.

Aleksander allows himself to lose himself in the feeling of you, your taste, your smell, and the way your body feels under his wandering hands. And if he had previously suspected that he might be obsessed with you, now he has proved to himself how deep you have gotten under his skin. He was a fool for allowing you to have such power over him. But how sweet it was to be a fool, with your lips and hands pressed against him.

And the next day, when he comes to visit you, his hand is completely healed, without any amplifier. And his mind is completely free of Alina Starkov.

"That's nice." You whisper in the crook of his neck as you lie cuddled in the meadow under the full moon.

“Mhm…” Aleksander mumbles, burying his nose in your hair. He hugs you tighter, as if afraid that you might escape from his arms at any moment. "Although I'm beginning to wonder if you've brought me here to perform some witchy tricks. Maybe some sacrifice?"

"Your ass is too beautiful to sacrifice it." You reply teasingly, biting his neck. He gasps and digs his fingers harder into your hips. He leans down, moving your head away from his neck by pulling your hair so he can steal a kiss from your lips.

"Is it?" He whispers against your lips as he pulls away to let you catch your breath.

"Apparently." You reply, reaching up to caress the scars on his face with your fingertip. Aleksander closes his eyes and sighs, surrendering to your gentle touch. "I like your face too. The way you frown when you're irritated by something. The way you twist your ridiculously tempting lips into a smirk when you're right, even though it irritates me sometimes. The way your eyes sparkle when you talk about how you help Grisha. The way you look at me, as if I were your whole world. The way you wrap your hands around me or take my hand in yours to make sure I'm close to you, that I'm under your protection, and that I'm not going anywhere. The way you are grumpy when you are sleepy and how you don't want to admit that you are tired. I... I think I fell in love with you, Aleksander."

Aleksander smiles, caressing your cheek tenderly. He leans down and captures your lips in a tender kiss, trying to shake away the guilt that has been haunting him for several months now.

Ever since your relationship... became more serious, Aleksander has been trying to find the perfect way to tell you about his true identity. But every time he thought the moment was good, he lost his courage. He didn't even want to think about what your reaction might be to him being the Darkling who created the fold. He was absolutely convinced that you would hate him as soon as the truth came to light and that you would blame him for your sister's death. And honestly? Aleksander would not even try to defend himself. He knew damn well that he didn't deserve your affection and love. However, he couldn't help but come back to you, basking in the feeling that he had been denied for a very long time.

You end the kiss and bury your face in the crook of his neck. Aleksander shivers as he feels you exhale warm air onto his cold skin. He tightens his grip on you and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"I love you too, milaya." He mumbles, running a hand through your hair. He plays with the strands of your hair, twirling them around his finger.

He feels unexpectedly pleasant around you. Homely. Ordinary. These were feelings that Aleksander had rarely, if ever, experienced over the course of hundreds of years. He found himself longing for moments where he could slip away to your little cottage and sink into the warmth of your arms, listen to your gentle heartbeat, and bask in your scent. This was a huge hindrance to his plans to get another amplifier and guarantee a better future for his Grisha.

"They say they've seen a Darkling in these parts. That he's gathering an army to start a civil war." Aleksander frowns, feeling his heart speed up slightly in panic.

"That's what they say?"

"Yhm... What do you think about it? Will you join him? Or will you try to escape and join Sankta Alina?" He unconsciously tightens his grip on you as you ask him this question and mention Alina. He buries his nose in your hair, inhaling your scent and trying to calm himself down before answering your question.

"I will stay. I think he wants a better future for us than Alina plans to guarantee."

"Maybe for Grisha. But still, I don't like wars."

"Me too, lapushka. But sometimes there is no other solution to change something than to start a war and take the power." He admits with a sigh and traces patterns on your arm, calming down as he feels the softness of your skin under the pads of his hard fingers.

Aleksander suddenly becomes more alert, subconsciously sensing the approaching threat. He doesn't want to outgrow you, thinking that maybe it's his paranoia kicking in, so he sits down, still holding you in his arms, as he looks around at his surroundings. He holds his breath as he sees movement in the bushes across from you.

Before he can do anything, a group of Shu surrounds you. One of them has a shotgun aimed at you. Aleksander acts instinctively. He wraps one arm around you, summoning his shadows. Before anyone can hurt you, he uses a cut and sends his shadows to remove the threat. The metallic smell of blood fills the clearing. Aleksander breathes quickly, his veins pumping with adrenaline as he looks around carefully. He feels blood seeping from where the bullet hit him, piercing his plain coat. He hisses, turning his attention to you. He breathes a sigh of relief when he sees no signs of hurt on you, but freezes in fear as soon as he sees your terrified look.

"Y/N... I can explain."

"You are hurt. Let's go back to my cottage, I'll stitch you up." You interrupt him, examining his wound.

You take his hand and lead him through the forest towards your house. Aleksander stares at the back of your head in shock, tightening his grip on your hand, wanting to make sure you don't suddenly run away from him and that you don't decide to abandon him in the middle of the forest to save yourself from him.

You open the door and wordlessly point to the bed. He takes your hint and sits down, taking off his coat and shirt. Involuntarily, he remembers the first time he came here and woke up in your bed. He swallows hard, hoping this won't be the last time you treat his wounds. Or when you're close to him.

"This may sting." You tell him, sitting down next to him. You squirt a cotton ball with antiseptic into his wound. He hissed, biting his lip, completely unprepared for this as he was still lost in his thoughts.

"Y/N… I… I wanted to tell you. I swear. I just… I didn't want to ruin… you know what I mean, right?" He asks, staring intently at you. You make no move to look him in the eyes, pretending to devote all your attention to his wound. Aleksander cups both of your cheeks in his hands and forces you to look at him as he gives you a pleading look. "Please. Say something. Anything."

"I… I didn't expect this. Because why would the Darkling be hurt by something he created and why would he return to my cottage?"

"Because you fascinated me. Deeply. You... you were the first person to see me as something other than a Darkling. Alexander. The real me, not the version of myself I had to create for my Grishas. I... besides, I didn't hide my thought from you. You... you were one of the truly few people I let under my mask who could see my heart. And I swear I was going to tell you, I... I was just afraid that I would lose you the moment you found out who I really was. What can I do."

"Oh, Aleksander. You stupid man. Am I running away screaming? Am I calling you a monster? Am I treating you differently?" You ask, placing your hand on his bearded cheek and using your thumb to stroke it tenderly, making sure you give his scars the tender care they deserve.

"No." He responds, carefully analyzing and comparing your behavior before today's fatal accident.

"Because I don't see you any other way. Yes, at first I was shocked and a little scared, but that was because I didn't expect it at all. You… volcra it's not your fault. Even if you created it. You didn't know what would happen." Aleksander feels a lump in his throat.

How can he tell you that he planned to make it bigger? That before he met you he would have done it without blinking an eye, but now he has such serious doubts that he is actually considering deviating from his original plan for you?

"I'm not as good a person as you think."

"Then show me." You answer casually, as if it were that simple. You finish patching up his wound and press a kiss on it.

Aleksander smiles at you tenderly and pulls you in for a passionate kiss. His heart is racing as he realises that he hasn't actually lost you, that you're still here and want to be here, judging by the way you moan into his mouth.

He holds you tightly and lays down on your bed with you straddling him as you place small kisses along his neck and across the width of his muscled chest. He smiles, realising how far he's come with you. He never would have guessed when he woke up in this bed that he would let you get this close to him. But with each little kiss you gave, the gentle, tender way your hands moved over his body, and the way you caressed each of his wounds and scars, Aleksander thanked the saints for putting you in his path. And unknowingly to him, you truly were his little saviour, saving him from a much worse fate than he could ever imagine.

[pistatsia]

Don Lorenzo: We all come from childhood (Part 1)

In fact, I have so many questions about Lorenzo that I'm just- I'm not ready to let him go. I love him so much. I really hope that someday we'll get a novel/chapter with him and Snuffy, because otherwise, the world would be too unfair.

He's good, caring, funny, the best, and generally-

Okay, this is where I'll stop and get to the point haha

(Here somewhere I'm looking too deep, somewhere I'm ignoring the farcical setting of Blue Lock. A lot here is based on my own experience (I also was thrown out of home by my parents when I was 13). Some things of course will be misinterpreted since the whole truth is known only by Kaneshiro-sensei. Also, consider the fact that most of the things described here are unconscious)  

1. Relationships/Attachment

Lorenzo is a very loving and grateful person. 

It is evident to anyone that his relationship with Snuffy is imbued with warmth and trust. Lorenzo genuinely loves him, he is willing to do anything for him.

Even his conversation with Barou is initiated in order to get him on Snuffy's side, going through all of his traumas and 'exposing himself' to Barou. Making himself vulnerable, because telling someone that you were once abandoned by your parents is like showing them that you have a flaw that made the most important people in your life disgusted with you. That you're wrong. It's like pointing at your chest and saying 'here's the heart, if you want to hurt me, hit me here'. 

And he's doing all this to help Snuffy.

And it's obvious that Snuffy wouldn't have asked him to do that - it was Lorenzo's initiative. He loves him very much - even though Snuffy isn't perfect, and of course has made his mistakes (which you can't avoid when you're in your late twenties picking up a teenager off the street after a friend's suicide and career collapse). But that's something we'll get back to a little later. 

Lorenzo doesn't pay attention to any of this - he doesn't care what else Snuffy could have given him. He's grateful for what Snuffy has already given him. 

Speaking of his relationship with Barou, it's obvious that they both care for each other equally. Barou isn't rude to him (well, 'not rude' like classic Barou), he accepts him despite all the quirks (I'll come back to that too a bit later), and Lorenzo feels it. For him, Barou is a 'Snuffy' type of person, perfectly accepting and gentle, without the endless pull-push in affection. They're like a reference point that helps ground and gain confidence in the relationship with both of them.

Lorenzo is also quite open in his affections. He has a certain authority within the Ubers, giving them the command to "get to work". He doesn't avoid people or push them away in the fear of intimacy and the pain that follows, but reaches out to them himself. In doing so, he shows no visible fear of being rejected - on the contrary, he behaves as freely and even strangely as possible, without trying to adjust his behaviour to society's standards; behaviour that would make him 'his own'. Remember this moment, because it will be important a bit later.

He adores both Barou and Snuffy so much because they accept him without question. Like, you're like this, so what? 

They accept him absolutely.

But why is that acceptance so important to Lorenzo?

2. Fear of abandonment.

I think it's redundant to say that having experienced this as a child, it's impossible to become a person with a completely healthy type of attachment. His parents, the people who brought him into this world, who were supposed to teach him how to live, feel and love, abandoned him in the street alone, leaving him to survive and starve. In doing so, apparently keeping his other two brothers for themselves. Lorenzo was the only one left behind. Can you imagine how a child feels after something like that? If they were kept and I was abandoned, I'm definitely broken, I'm disfigured on some primal level, I'm always worse.

I was already born wrong.

The fear of rejection is something that is 99% likely for Lorenzo to have. 

Remember his motto: "Give me a job. Give me money. Give me love." What can a man whose most basic desire is love be afraid of? That he'll lose it.

Can you imagine what that does to the psyche? After such events, one can't help but question oneself. What did I do wrong? Why did things happen the way they did? If I had behaved differently, if I had stayed away from my parents, if I had been more obedient, would I have been kept?

Was it all my fault?

And he lived alone with these thoughts not for a day or two - but probably for years. He says that he lived this life already when he 'was little'. These thoughts may have been reinforced afterwards because he began to realize the moral wrongness of what he was doing to survive (stealing). The psyche can be very persistent in convincing us of bad things: you should have found another way, you let everyone down, Snuffy picked up someone who wasn't worth it. 

Beyond that, as much as I like to portray Lorenzo and Snuffy as parent and child in my writing, it's likely that their relationship is more of a friendship. Even the graffiti caption in the moment where Snuffy picks him up says "who finds a friend finds a treasure".

Snuffy probably didn't live with Lorenzo for a long time - I think he picked him up, fulfilled his wishes, and then sent him to treatment and helped him with his football career. That's already a huge gift, and even more so for Lorenzo. They kept in contact, they saw each other often, they probably called each other.

But at the same time Snuffy was playing at a football club and winning trophies, which you can't do if you're not 100% invested. He was on constant travelling between countries and games. He just didn't have time to always be with Lorenzo - and it's likely that Snuffy (who wasn't given the "How to deal with a teenager abandoned by his parents and saved from starvation" manual) might not have thought about it. It would have been fine on his end. Why? Because Lorenzo, especially as a child, would not have shown him that anything was wrong - remembering the way his parents had thrown him out, he wouldn't have let it happen again. He wouldn't talk about his problems, he wouldn't impose, he'd do anything just to please. Just to be comfortable. Maybe even blaming himself for having those needs, because Snuffy already seemed to have done a hundred times more for him than he should have (from his point of view, of course).

He'd do anything to avoid causing trouble - only for not being left behind.

Imagine - getting someone's love, and not being able to feel it all the time? Constantly losing the only person who ever genuinely loved and cared for you and gave you a chance to start a new life, seeing him off on flights and likely for seasons to other clubs (it's not known how long Snuffy played for the Ubers, but it's likely he was under contract with them and then the club loaned him out to leagues in the countries where he wanted those trophies for Mick. Otherwise the chronology between Mick's death, Lorenzo's find and Blue Lock seems too compressed). It's in some ways even scarier than not feeling love at all ever. Because it's far worse to get love and then lose it again and again.

Even so, Snuffy showed him what it feels like to be loved. He gave him purpose and a new life. He gave him an understanding of that healthy basic need that Lorenzo is so eager to fill - the need for love.

But then we look at his behaviour and we have... questions. Why is Lorenzo so embarrassing? Why does he act so defiant? Why doesn't he adjust to others like, for example, Isagi and Hiori, who were also afraid of being alone? It would seem that if you're weird, you'll never be accepted. If you don't fit in, you won't be loved. Yes, we can say that he just still doesn't fit into social norms because he missed the moment of childhood adaptation to this world, and just doesn't know how to do it. But as the conversation with Barou shows, he is capable of being completely serious in the right moments. He consciously behaves the way he is, without holding back.

We can say that Snuffy showed him that he could be loved for nothing, for himself, whatever he was. But still, after experiencing so many rejections Lorenzo would either fixate on Snuffy alone (only he cares about me, and no one else) or still subconsciously withdraw into a passive role in human relationships. Again, making himself comfortable.

But why does he behave like this in spite of this - making jokes about money, meowing and barking (I'm sorry), not shying away from making jokes about rivals and acquaintances? Why is he so uncomfortable for them?

Because the best defence is offence.

Most likely, when he was a kid, Lorenzo did tried to adjust to his parents. And obviously, even if he succeeded, they still ended up abandoning him. His strategy didn't work, and then it probably didn't work while living on the streets either. He tried to secure his safety, to make sure of it, but then he was tossed out of it.

And that's been imprinted on his memory.

It's both a defence mechanism on his part and an unconscious demonstration of "here I am, this is how bad I am". He was already rejected when he tried to fit in - so why try now, especially when he has Snuffy? 

Think of how pejoratively he talks about himself. How he smiles broadly when he talks about his tragic past. He's being deliberately defiant - yes, I believe only money has power in this world, yes, I was a street rat. Why does he say this, if in order to be accepted he has to hide his flaws? Yes, the past may be impossible to hide, but other things?

Because if he says it himself, and if he laughs about it himself, showing that he doesn't care, it won't hurt him so much when others will talk about it. 

He literally shouts with his appearance - that's how I am! I'm ugly inside and out, I'm a mess, I'm wrong! I'm impossible to love!  

Because if he shows it first, he can endure it when someone else says it. 

Are you saying I only care about money, Mihya? Ha, and I already know, I've already said it myself!

In a relationship, Lorenzo is prepared in advance for the fact that sooner or later this, in his opinion, ugly and vile essence in him, because of which his parents abandoned him, will be recognised, and he will be rejected again. And sets himself up a safe base so that this time it won't be as painful for him as it once was with his parents.

He adores Barou and Snuffy so much precisely because they accept this ugly shell without question. Like, here you are, so what? Sure, he probably doubts them on bad days too, but they're still like stable lighthouses for him. 

So we've covered why Lorenzo acts so openly and perhaps even defiantly. It's a perpetual test of boundaries and a way to protect himself from rejection - how much of this will you take from me? Are you sure you're okay with this? Think again. I'm uncomfortable for you. I will always be.

But there's one thing that doesn't fit with his behaviour, even with that said. 

His "There's nothing in this world money can't buy."

He is obsessed with money, explicitly saying that everything in life can be bought with it (of course, this is not necessarily true - sometimes people lie about themselves as well). He judges players by their stakes, and even calls Raichi worthless. But it seems that the love he longs for this much cannot be bought. And Lorenzo is well aware of this - 'money' and 'love' go separately in his motto.

Dissonance, isn't it? Seems strange for a man like him.

So we move on to the next part of the analysis.

3. A price of the man.

I'm actually very interested in Lorenzo's real relationship with money. I'm sure that because of this terrible background he is quite impulsive (I'll tell you more about this in the second part of the analysis), and more specifically impulsive in his purchases. Even if we're talking about ordinary ones - buying a more expensive juice in a shop, choosing an ice cream not on sale, accidentally buying an adult public transport ticket instead of a youth one. Any expense perceived by the psyche as 'unnecessary' must be met with guilt - either suppressed and ignored, or vivid. Because the psyche has no switch between 'here' and 'then'. It's used to reacting to trigger events according to a certain script that once perhaps helped Lorenzo to survive by avoiding unnecessary expenses. Except now everything seems to be fine, right? Money's there.

But you can't explain it to yourself so easily.

Let's go back to Lorenzo's statements about money and his attitude to it. He quite logically, after such a life, believes that money solves many problems, if not all of them. 

But this stance of his goes a little further than the prices of things and services. 

Remember how he was introduced to us as a character? He remembers the price of every player, he mocks Raichi, he's sarcastic in response to Kaiser's claim.

He asks - Michel, if I defeat you, will I be worth more than you?

Lorenzo still believes that people have some mythical 'value' that he alone cannot grasp. His brothers were more valuable than he was. His parents' lives without him were more valuable than he was. Every person who passed him in the street was more valuable than him.

He believes that on his own he was worth nothing - and that's why he was abandoned.

Remember what he says about his little self? Good-for-nothing. But it's not true. Lorenzo was a kid who just couldn't do anything under those circumstances. He didn't need to be good for anything - he needed to grow up and be a happy little kid. And he was robbed of that.

But he still doesn't accept it, mocking it.

The whole Mr Worthless thing with Raichi is an obvious reference to himself. Because he too, from his point of view, was once worthless. I'm worthless, so I don't matter and I'm nothing.

But why is this 'worth' of his so important to Lorenzo, especially now, apart from those people?

Because little children have nothing but themselves, and can give nothing but themselves and their love. But Lorenzo knows that he-child was not enough. He was worthless. He was not loved for who he was. But his brothers were loved. They were 'valuable'.

And this belief remained sitting inside him at a very deep level.

And, believing that on his own he is not worth love and never will be, what can he do but think of a way to still get it?

The way out for him is to 'earn' that love.

In fact, though certainly not intentionally, Snuffy's words probably played a role here as well. A deal, salvation in exchange for a football playing.

This only strengthened these beliefs Lorenzo had about himself and about living with a system of people's 'value'.

Snuffy didn't just give him 'money, work and love'. He gave him a way to earn it all. He gave him a way to gain this mythical 'value' that would guarantee his safety - that he would not be abandoned. 

On his own, he didn't deserve to be saved. 

But what did deserve saving was his talent.

The only thing that Lorenzo thought was valuable about him.

Snuffy's whole philosophy with football - a job that you earn your value with and see it in the form of rates and rental prices - actually suits Lorenzo very well. Because he doesn't feel valuable on his own - only in relation to achievements. And so this semi-comedic treatment of others as money is actually a terrible reflection of his same treatment of himself.

The more he's worth (again, the scene with Kaiser and "will I be worth more than you") the safer he feels.

Lorenzo is sure that he will be abandoned as soon as he makes a mistake and loses his 'value'. And the only way to avoid that is to stay 'valuable'.

Yes, rationally he probably knows that Snuffy won't abandon him. That Ubers care about him. That he's no longer the helpless child he once was. That he can defend himself now.

But we have not just rational intelligence, we also have an emotional one. And the latter continues to throw out familiar beliefs about ourselves, formed from childhood and youth, to any trigger, and influence all our thoughts and actions.

And sometimes it is simply not possible to fight it alone.

[umemiyan]

And if I said I wanted to hear about Jedi Megumi??? What then???

Lay it on me I’ve got all day!!!

SCREAMMMMMMM 😭 you are unlocking the beast rn ilysm and i am SO sorry in advance for this. my meds kicked in and i have SO MANY THOUGHTS

basically he’s very much giving order 66 survivor in my mind!!!! like he wasn’t even a padawan yet when it all happened, just a small youngling being raised at the temple after what i imagine to be a rather rough start to life

i’m thinking about toji actually selling him off to the order instead of letting him go so easily, because why not??? if they want a force-sensitive kid so bad then surely they’ll be willing to pay a pretty penny for one. his wife is dead and he’s a bounty hunter or w/e with no means to raise a kid… it’d be better to let him go, but he’s still going to try and get money out of it. because, well… maybe he thinks his kid is worth something after all. he might even bluff and threaten to kill megumi unless the jedi fork over some credits, but he’d never actually go through with it despite the convincing show (good luck getting him to admit that tho)

the jedi typically identify and obtain force-sensitive children really early on in life because it makes it easier to integrate them into the lifestyle, but i’m wondering…. what if megumi was just a liiiiitle bit older than usual?? to the point where he has some more solid memories of his father and tsumiki and whatnot. so it’s kind of a strange adjustment to start being raised by monks all of a sudden

he’s a little quieter and more gloomy than some of the other younglings, and sometimes struggles with being in the right headspace. he’s not really on anakin skywalker level of traumatized and turbulent, and he really tries his best, but sometimes it’s difficult for him y’know!!! he’s still trying to figure out his moral code and inner strength, but he’s just a baby!!! he doesn’t get a chance to hone his skills before the purge happens.

and when it does, he’s not really sure what to do. he’s doing his best to fall back on some basic survival skills, but i’m imagining him being found by gojo or something during all this—maybe even thanks to toji somehow!!!! god there could really be some amazing plot points to develop here but anyways!!!

i imagine satoru to be some sort of ex-jedi or something because he really does not play by the rules. whatever he is, he’s still insanely force-sensitive and is now intrigued by the opportunity to train this little runaway jedi survivior!!!

honestly idek the specifics of my own place in all this LOL tho i would very much love to also be jedi-adjacent where i teach megumi a little bit but have many things to learn myself. and we eventually become involved with the rebellion!!!! but tbh i wouldn’t be mad about just being some random chick too who has connections to gojo or something lmao

oh oh and i feel like megumi reunites with tsumiki at some point as well and she’s also potentially a big reason we’re roped into the rebellion. but something happens to her and it really motivates megumi to do better 🥲 she doesn’t have to die LOL but i’m envisioning something along the lines of being gravely injured to where her ass has to be kept in a bacta tank or smth long-term. similar to her canon comatose state pre-culling games arc y’know

TOJI NEEDS TO BE INVOLVED IN THIS TOO SOMEHOW i mean he could easily be dead like in canon but i think it would be cool if he was still out there slingin’ blasters and vibroblades and collecting credits thinking that his jedi kid got killed in the big purge. BUT HE DIDN’T 👀 and tsumiki could’ve still been in contact with him at some point so there’s like a ~connection~ idk the possibilities are endless!!!!

anyways i think megumi’s story as a little jedi survivor would be amazing ❤�� it’s giving a bit of kanan jarrus tbh ❤️ if i had the brain juice i would make this a whole Thing. but for now here are my crazy thoughts!!!!!

[retrowaving1]

There's a very similar experience from the other point of view for the Polish people who used to live in the Western part of the modern Ukraine. As a Pole who was born there, having lived as a minority amongst people who knew very little about your culture (despite the fact that there were signs of this culture everywhere in the architecture, the food, the borrowed words in the local dialect of ukrainian) was really strange.

When I was in middle school one guy told me, just out of spite, to go back to "my Poland", and being still a young kid I was really confused. My family has lived here for centuries and now I have to go back? Back where??? I felt like I didn't belong in my own hometown.

And I know that it was generational, as my grandfather hid his actual roots and came out with a more Ukrainian-sounding surname to survive during the soviet times, my grandmother spent all her life thinking that she was worse than her peers because her father was Polish and was made to leave his home, and, as many others, was not allowed to take my pregnant great-grandmother with him. My grandmother from my mom's side, Polish to the bone, almost forgot how to speak her own language and only remembered it thanks to the prayers and the local Polish priests, who made a great deal of supporting the local Polish community after the declaration of independence in Ukraine.

But the Soviet times were the toughest. My great-grandmother lost her husband, who was repressed, her name, most of her Polish documents and books. God, communists took even her cookbooks in Polish, because they wanted her to abandon her culture completely and adjust to the new regime. Imagine you have two kids and one on the way, and one day your husband never comes back home and you learn that he was taken by communists, but you have no idea where and whether he would ever return. Then they come for you, and to protect your kids, you give away your whole identity, you suddenly are not Helena anymore, you are Olena, and you are a citizen of the Soviet Union, whether you like it or not.

And your grandkid (my mom) would no longer learn the language your family had been speaking for centuries, and she would only learn scraps and pieces of your tradition which you remembered from your own youth, but were not allowed to truly follow, and she would have no community to feel comfortable within, and as a child she would be blamed by the old Ukrainian neighbours for the so-called "sins of her Polish people" - people, she never knew until she grew up herself and started seeking for connection with them.

To this day, my parents feel like they are "worse" than the Polish people who were born in Poland, just because they aren't "Polish enough". I mean - how could they be, if most of their people were forcefully removed from the region which once was filled with a variety of languages and cultures. Poles, Ukrainians, Jews, Armenians and many other ethnicities literally lived as neighbours. And the War changed everything for all of them, making that part of the world exclusively Ukrainian - and even Ukrainian culture for the first 50 years was suppressed, as the country was treated as an inseparable part of the cancerous monster created by moscovites, the Soviet Union.

I apologise for such a big wall of text, but this topic is still truly painful for me. I've been trying to regain what's mine since the very childhood, learning the language and the culture previous generations were forcefully deprived of. I moved to "my Poland" a long time ago, where I feel accepted, but still treated as an immigrant, as a Ukrainian whom I never was, at best - only administratively, in the documents. And it's all because of this huge and painful past everyone in this part of the world shares. I truly believe there's nothing more degrading and immoral than striping a person of their identity and a forceful removal of them out of their own homes. It's a generational trauma that even my kids, hopefully born in Poland, will carry in them, knowing from childhood that their grandparents on their mom's side are Polish, but "different". I guess the worst thing is that we all speak of such things in the past tense, while it is still something that is happening - to Ukrainian people in the east of their country, on the territories occupied by russians. Many people from Donbas were forced to move - either to Ukraine or to Russia - in 2014, but many of the people remained and are forced to assimilate to russian culture, whether they like it or not.

Going back to my family's history, I feel like it's my duty to speak up on every opportunity to bring attention to the Polish minority of Ukraine, because it still exists. It's suppressed, it's misunderstood and it gets smaller and smaller with each year because many youngsters either move to Poland or reject their Polish identity completely to embrace the Ukrainian one, but it exists. Older people remember the pain in the eyes of their parents, who survived the war and whose close people were either forcefully relocated or repressed and sent to Syberia. I'm not saying that part of the world is utterly Polish (not anymore at least), but it used to have Polish culture and the Polish people of that region deserve to be remembered and mentioned at least once in a while. So that my mom wouldn't break into tears, moved, every time she's being treated as equal by other Polish people, so that my grandmother wouldn't be scared to speak polish, haunted by the painful memories of the past, so that the many kids born to people of Polish descent would be proud of their ancestry and wouldn't completely reject it because of the peer pressure. I think it is necessary to carry on the memory of the people who used to live there, but mostly no longer do.

i don't think it is a uniquely polish experience, but surely universal for every pole

when you go somewhere and you think about the people, who were there before, but they are not anymore and in a way you took their place, but you know, that you cannot t r u l y replace them and quite frankly, you dont even want to

visiting regions around muszyna and seeing all greek-catholic churches turned into roman-catholic ones, because lemka people are not here anymore, as they were deported. you see their road side chapels and graves 100 years old and you know they lived there for so long, but they don't anymore

almost every single polish city has at least a memorial tablet dedicated to jews, who lived there before the war and whose fate you don't want to think about, really, having been learning about it since you were like 10. watchful eyes can still see balconies, that look out of place, but which once were most probably sukkas, or sometimes even a hole in a doorframe, where a mezuzah used to be. and abandoned cemeteries. so so many of them

there is a karaite cementery in warsaw, but when you think about it, can you name one karaite person? or someone masurian, so to speak? boykos?

to, in a span of ~10 years, go from a country with almost 40% of ethnic minorities among its citizens to a country that is pretty much homogenous is so outlandish

everywhere you go, something, s o m e o n e is missing. and will never come back

[ourceliumnetwork]

as usual, interactions with my family (benign and in fact only the bare minimum of an interaction) have caused me to have Complex Feelings.

my grandpa's got cancer. this isn't news, it's just a fact and has been a fact since 2016. Pancreatic cancer that has metastasized outside of his pancreas (specifically in his lungs - it's damn lucky it's slow growing and he's a contrarian by nature). He is no longer doing chemotherapy about it, but he's part of a very small percentage of people who survive more than 6 years with it. so. You know. there's that.

He's doing well, all things considered. Again, it's slow growing cancer, he's somehow lucked out with it. I'll know we're close to the end when he stops wanting to get out in his boat and go fishing. Or stops working on the boat in general. I'm very fortunate to have known all of my grandparents for my whole life so far - even if some of them ended up being major bigots apparently. oh well, when you've got 6 you're allowed a couple duds.

My grandpa and grandma are trying very hard to love me. They've adjusted to the name once i mentioned "hey, literally no one i am still talking to calls me my old name anymore, i know i said it was okay to use in the transition stage but i honestly forget to answer to it, would you mind?" and then they immediately went for the change. they still struggle with my pronouns but like. grandpa's got cancer, i'm not going to fuss at him for using she or her for me (especially during a season where like. i am more girl right now, whether i like it or not lol. it's...complicated). I'll correct grandma later down the line if I gotta but like.

they both just assume i'm one of those Strange Lesbians and like, i'm not not one of those, it's just not what i told them when i came out. so like. it's complicated.

I... cannot get over how much they were emphasizing how happy i sound now. Grandma even mentioned it in her note in the card i got sent for my birthday. I mean it's true, i am very happy up here. I'm happier than i ever have been, in fact. I have never been this well off mentally before.

it sucks a little that they like. didn't understand how very deeply unhappy i was before now. that they have to hear it now, how very different i am when i am excited and enthusiastic and looking forward to an actual future for once.

it sucks a lot that i don't feel comfortable sharing more with them, that i don't feel like i can reach out and request comfort or assurance from them. It sucks a lot that they're not the only ones that I feel like this about in my biofamily.

I didn't know I didn't trust any of them until i found people I do trust. until i found people i know i can rely on when things are bad even if only to be in the bad with me so i'm not alone.

the birthday call and card were both somewhat of a response to my update email - one so that grandma could double check to make sure the address would receive mail so i would get my card, and two so that we could catch up a little.

We didn't discuss my health issues at all. the questions i had about our family's medical history, I didn't get any of that information from them. I could have asked. Should have. Forgot. Could probably call them back and bring it up but...

well. Grandpa's got cancer. I don't want him worrying about my heart. or my bones. or my pain. he doesn't know me that well, after all. it would be an unnecessary burden to him. Especially since all of that information was in my email, and they never actually confirmed they got it, outside of me reminding them that the address was in the email - and then the card got to me.

so they got the email. they have it. they have chosen not to respond with any useful information. Just like my aunt on that side. just like my sister.

just like my mom would have, if i'd sent it to her.

at least i know she comes by it honest.

like. bright sides: money for my birthday hell yeah that's a lot of money to buy weed with (i will likely end up using it for bills mainly, but. still). grandpa's still doing okay (desperate to get back out on the water with his fishin pole) and like. i think we're all in a place mentally where we're just. accepting of the inevitable. which like, not fun, but of the pre-grief options, i'll take it. Grandma sounds like she's doing alright and it's getting warm out so she's going to be able to garden which will help her feel even better probably. i don't have to cut off yet another section of my biofamily at this point, which is always a nice thing to not have to do (i won't lie...they are on thin ice, i'm just... delaying things because, well. grandpa's got cancer. wouldn't you?)

i...am allowed to not deal with people who stress me out and make me anxious, even if their genetics did contribute to my existence (and especially if they didn't) but... well. grandpa's got cancer. and he's always been a bit of a dick. he's actually mellowed out a lot, and well. they stress me out but it's... very different from my mom (their daughter). so. they get to be on the same boat as my aunt (their other daughter) and my sister. i won't do it yet, but. well. i might do in the future. it depends on them.

i hope i don't gotta carve out more of my biofamily in order to have peace. i'd like to keep some blood connection to that side of the family in my circle. i just might need to cast a wider net and involve people i really don't know all that well into it. no time like the present to start building new relationshps with folks, right?

anyway i'll go back to trying hard not to focus on the background planning for what i'm going to have to be ready for when funerals start happening.

[qqueenofhades]

Since you mentioned that you may be taking requests and also that you did that Dreamling oneshot the other day, I would like very much to humbly request an “every one of my family members is an eldritch abomination myself included however I should very much like to just go to uni and hopefully not destroy the entire world thanks” girlfriends, Rose and Nile?

It goes without saying that there are many things about this whole situation -- uprooting her life, moving to a new country, becoming her brother's legal guardian, helping him adjust while still feeling horrendously guilty about not saving him from his previous abusive situation sooner, sorting through her wealthy and late great-grandmother's extensive estate, and trying to start a graduate degree, while the mellifluous tones of Yakety Sax echo constantly through said country's government and she's not sure if the whole place is about to explode in a puff of clown-car smoke -- which are very, very stressful. Rose has always been good at making up more things to worry about, but even she doesn't need to search for ways to whet her anxiety, because it's already there and then some. Not to mention the whole part where she nearly destroyed the universe, became a dream vortex and then un-became it, inadvertently helped her friend have a baby with her dead husband, and almost agreed to let her creepy immortal great-uncle murder her for the greater good, before calamity was averted at the last minute and she turned out to be something called a Child of the Endless. Surely that won't be a problem again. Right?

In any event, amid this whirlwind of chaos, change, anxiety, and effort, Rose is very grateful to have met Nile Freeman, and they've taken to spending more and more time together. They have instantly bonded as young black women from America (or rather, Rose thinks Nile is from America, but she hasn't actually said) who both live in London and have endured the headaches of obtaining graduate degrees in history. Nile finished her PhD at KCL a few years ago, and is now doing that oh-so-fun early-career-researcher shuffle as she decides what she wants to do next, though she's made several cryptic references to wealthy parents who live in Malta and send her enough money to make sure she doesn't sleep under a bridge. "I appreciate it," she says as they walk through Bloomsbury, en route to Senate House so Rose can use the University of London's main library. "And considering all the disasters happening back in 2018, I was lucky to survive, truly. But sometimes I still want to do it on my own, you know."

"Mmm-hmm." Rose looks at her curiously. "What exactly do your parents do, by the way?"

"They..." Nile pauses. They come to a halt at the crosswalk and wait for the light. "You know, this and that."

Rose finds this answer rather vague, but maybe it's a sensitive subject, or Nile just doesn't want to talk about it yet. After all, they've only known each other for a few months, and Rose can't deny that she's very keen to impress the older girl. Nile is so gorgeous, so self-assured, with a strange eerie sheen to her skin and eyes that sometimes looks almost unearthly, but she's definitely the most normal person that Rose has recently met, and their interactions are the most refreshing part of her life. She has a bit (or maybe more than a bit) of a crush on Nile, but is too shy to see if that is actively reciprocated. As the light turns green and they cross, Rose says, "Are you from Malta, then? I thought you were American."

"Ethiopia," Nile says. "I was born there, at least. My parents adopted me a... a long time ago."

There definitely seems to be something she isn't saying, but Rose decides to let it pass, and they spend an enjoyable afternoon working at Senate House. Afterward, they trek off into the Bloomsbury streets in search of dinner, select a charming underground restaurant, and sit down in a candlelit corner. Nile orders her steak rare -- rare enough, in fact, that it's still practically mooing on the plate -- and Rose says jokingly, "Don't tell me, let me guess. You're a vampire."

Nile, who has just taken a sip of some indeed rather blood-red wine, chokes, starts coughing, and takes several minutes to compose herself, as Rose apologizes profusely. But she isn't laughing or treating it like a joke; she looks deeply startled. "How did you -- "

"Wait." Rose frowns. Oh no. Not her nice, normal, lovely friend who-she-kind-of-wants-to-be-her-girlfriend. Not in the one relationship and/or person she foolishly thought was not at all magical, creepy, supernatural, insane, or otherwise weird. "Are you...? I was just joking. I didn't..."

There's a very, very long pause. Nile seems to be weighing something up. At last she says, "If, hypothetically, I was... well, something like that, would you be upset?"

"I, uh." Rose considers what to say. After all, her horizons of what is possible have been recently and drastically broadened, and she's certainly not about to claim out of hand that vampires don't exist. "I don't think so?"

"I'm..." Nile looks around shiftily to make sure that all the other diners are happily absorbed, then lowers her voice anyway. "Technically half-vampire, half-djinn. My dads are one each. Nicky's a vampire and Joe's a djinn, and they sired me together, so it's... a long story."

"Okay." Rose blinks several times. "So your parents are...."

"Magical creatures, yeah." Nile eyes her. "You're taking this very well. Wait, are your parents also some kind of...?"

"My biological parents are both dead, but it turns out that I'm descended from something called the Endless." Rose feels awkward saying it, but there it is. "Do you, er, know what those are?"

"I don't think so. I could ask?"

"My great-uncle is the King of Dreams," Rose confesses, in something of a rush. "Lord Morpheus. Do you know him?"

"Maybe. It's been a long time, I can't remember everyone we've crossed paths with over the centu -- years." Nile nods her thanks as the waiter sets down a fresh basket of bread. "But again, I could -- "

"Wait. Centuries? How old are you?"

There is another long and deeply awkward pause. Then Nile says, "Technically, nineteen. But I was sired in 1104, so that means..." She calculates, then ventures, "Nine hundred and eighteen?"

"I knew it," Rose mutters. She is apparently just a magnet for every ever-living (literally) eldritch weirdo in the Western Hemisphere, and this isn't even touching the fact that her likewise-seemingly-nice-and-normal history professor/thesis supervisor is evidently also an ageless immortal and her aforementioned creepy King of Dreams great-uncle is valiantly attempting to not only date him, but ask Rose for advice. Truly. Her life is ridiculous.

[eirikaanemo]

The Eastern Wind

Venti x GN!Wind Sprite!Reader

1.4k Words

Warnings: none

While you knew it was coming, the fight with Dvalin was terrifying for you. There was only so much you could do as a simple wind sprite. Diverting a gale just enough here, adding a little more force to an attack there, small things that you hoped would make a difference. All you could do was hope it would be enough.

The battle was long and hard. Dvalin, though corrupted, was still a dragon, and formerly one of the four winds. His attacks were powerful and you are very lucky that everyone survived. It was a miracle, though, well, everything Venti gets involved in technically counts as a miracle.

And isn’t that a strange thought? For all the time you’ve spent with him, and the two of you have been inseparable for years, he has never really acted like the anemo archon. But ever since Dvalin started attacking as Stormterror he’s been acting the part more and more. On the one hand, it’s good that he’s stepping up to help his people. On the other, it just reminds you how little you feel you really know him.

The day he asked you to wait outside a forest clearing while he tried to talk with Dvalin was the first time you saw this happen. And you’ll never tell him, but it crushed you that he left you behind to go do his ‘archon stuff’. A sense of doubt and worry hit you then that hasn’t left you since. Are you not good enough?

Eventually you decide that he must be trying to protect you because he knows how weak you are. There’s some truth to it. But it still hurts to be suddenly left out and left behind so often. So during the times he ditches you to run off, you start training and trying to build power. That’s how you were able to help with Dvalin at all.

Yet it wasn’t enough. You doubt anyone even noticed your efforts considering how little they probably did. And still, your friends prevailed. Dvalin was freed from the control of the Abyss Order and would no longer be attacking Mondstadt. Everyone is safe now.

Which leads you to now, where most everyone has headed back to town but you linger behind. You see, Venti asked everyone to go on ahead while he hangs back with Dvalin for a moment to talk to him about something. However, you stopped a good ways away instead. Far enough that you couldn’t eavesdrop, but close enough that you’d be able to make the journey back with him. After all, with all this insanity going on, he’d had less and less time with you and you wanted to make up for that as soon as possible.

By the time he finished with Dvalin you had fallen asleep on a low hanging tree branch. Despite your training, doing so much has drained your energy quite a bit. You had tried really hard to stay awake at first but the longer he took, the easier it was to justify just resting your eyes for a little longer.

You wake up to calloused hands picking you up and placing you somewhere warm. “You must have tired yourself out helping today,” someone commented. “I wonder where you learned to do something like that.” Letting out a sleepy hum, you curled up and fell back asleep.

Venti smiled softly as he made sure you were secure on his shoulder between his shirt collar and the collar of his cape. “It was quite impressive,” he mused to himself. “Not even I could have done something like that in your state. It took the belief of a good dozen people for me to be able to reach that level.” He hummed thoughtfully to himself, thinking back on his conversation with Dvalin.

While they had taken the time to catch up, he also had a specific reason for why he wanted to speak with Dvalin. It had been years since Dvalin withdrew from being the East Wind. And considering how things have gone recently, Venti came to the conclusion that his spot needs to be filled.

“I know you haven’t been the East Wind in a while, Dvalin. But before I appoint a new one, I want to make sure that you’re okay with it.” Venti said. Dvalin gave him a funny look. “Of course I’m okay with it. It’s not my position any more and from recent events it’s obvious that Mondstadt needs more active protectors.”

Venti let out a breath he hadn’t even known he was holding. “Alright, if you’re sure,” he replied. The conversation had ended soon after and he bid his friend goodbye. Finding you so nearby was not surprising to him, he knew you after all. And he knew you had missed him a lot with all the running off he’s been doing lately. He felt bad about it, but you being there could have messed things up and things were already so messy.

But there’s no time like the present to make up for lost time, and it’s not like he hadn’t missed you too. Not to mention how he has a surprise planned for you. That, however, would need to wait until you woke back up. So he headed up to windrise and amused himself by playing some songs until you woke up.

Once you did wake up, with a little yawn that he had always thought was just adorable, and lifted off from his shoulder, he gave you a smile. “Did you sleep well?” He asked. “I hope you did, you deserved every second of it. Thank you for your help today.” You let out an embarrassed chirp, followed by a grateful coo.

“Speaking of your help,” he continued. “You did very well today considering your circumstances! And so I’d like to make you an offer.” You tilt your head to the side curiously. “How would you like to be the new East Wind?”

He had to catch you before you fell to the ground, frozen in shock. “Is that a yes or a no,” he teases you. Shaking out of your surprise, you tilt your head in question. Are you sure? You seem to ask. “Absolutely certain,” he assures you. “I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else. We’ve been companions for a long time and I trust you with my life. Who better to entrust the people of Mondstadt too? And don’t worry, with the position I’ll give you a blessing that will help you increase your ability. You will be able to take a human form, too!”

It’s the last part that really sold it. You’d wanted a human form for a long time now, though you would have taken the position anyways. This was just a huge bonus. Looking him in the eyes, you nod your head determinedly. “Alright,” he says. “Let’s do this.”

He holds out his hands, prompting you to land on them. When you do he brings you in close to his heart and places a chaste kiss on the top of your little hood. Your whole self feels cool and silky soft. If your eyes were open you would see yourself glowing a brighter shade of turquoise.

Quickly, he sets you on the ground next to him as you start growing. When you open your eyes, you find yourself in a human form. You’re wearing the same hooded cloak as you do in your sprite form with a tunic and soft trousers beneath it. You can hardly believe it, it feels like a dream.

“What do you think?” Venti asks from beside you. Looking over at him, you smile. “This is amazing!” You tell him. At the sound of your own voice you are shocked again and Venti laughs at the look on your face. When you hear him laughing at you, you pout a bit. “This is all new to me,” you remind him. “Hopefully I won’t mess anything up. This is a huge responsibility, after all.”

Taking your hand in his, he squeezes it lightly. “I’m sure you’ll do great. I wouldn’t have picked you otherwise.” He assures you. It takes more than that for you to adjust to your new role, but he’s by your side the whole time. And though it gets difficult, neither of you would take back anything.

[i-need-entertainment]

Haikyuu!! Boys as stepdads PT.2

It’s likely i’ll do a part 2 for most of them (some I emotionally, mentally, and spiritually CANNOT), but this one was voted as the most wanted sequel in the poll I did.

**Funny story, this was actually the FIRST Haikyuu!! Boys headcanon I ever did :) So please keep in mind my format, and writing style have changed, so they’re gonna be a bit different🥰**

Warnings: Mentions of stepdad, stepdads, implied divorce, teenage angst, siblings mentioned (ignore if only child)

PT.1

Characters: Meian, Omimi, Kita, Suna, Ohira, Yamagata, Kunimi, Kindaichi, Yaku, Numai, Sakusa, and Komori

Meian Shugo: A little clumsy at first, but he gets the hang of it

Is better if you guys are little, cause he can work with little kids.

But if you guys are teenagers??

He’s completely lost.

Does his best, he really does! He tries to have normal conversations and ‘dad things’ but man...it’s rough for a good 6 months.

When he does adjust, he’s honestly not bad.

He’s pretty great actually. There’s a lot of perks to having a pro athlete as your stepdad cause *aHeM* money

Omimi Ren: You’re suspicious at first cause he just seems suspicious, but he’s really a pretty nice guy

When your mom first brings him home you’re on guard.

Not cause you necessarily think he’s a bad guy, he just seems intimidating? Quiet? Maybe it’s just cause he’s unknown to you.

But after a few months, you realize he’s a pretty solid guy.

Very responsible, he’ll never be late to pick you up from school or parties, and you’ll always be on time to school.

But he’s also not against spoiling you and your siblings every now and then.

You guys actually have a really good relationship.

He deals with your teenage angst really well, he doesn’t take anything personally and does his best to be understanding.

Kita Shinsuke: s t r i c t. But a good stepdad

Doesn’t care he’s not your biological dad, you are his responsibility and it’s his job to help make you into a functional human.

Isn’t like the military strict, just on certain things like grades and chores. He’s not pretentious about it either, he just expects all of you to do your parts.

He’s honestly a strange mix of strict and laid-back.

Strict when it comes to responsibilities but chill most everywhere else.

Puts a lot of trust in you, he doesn’t question your choices because he trusts you to make good ones. But if you ever breech that trust he’d have no problem going into lock down mode for a bit.

Isn’t very controlling, especially when it comes to boys or friends.

Lets you enjoy your teen years while making sure you’re becoming a functioning adult.

Suna Rintaro: Would let you get away with murder if he could

Very chill, doesn’t yell or argue, just kinda coexists with you/your siblings.

But he’s not a push over, if you do something wrong wrong, yeah he’ll say something or tell your mom but he’s not super strict..

Tells you to just call him by his first name, last name, he doesn’t care.

I can see him being a little caught off guard at first cause...how do you UwU interact with them.

Not too pushy or anything he just kinda...lets you do your own thing.

Ohira Leon: Another one you might as well adopt as your real dad

You could be nothing but sinister to this man and he’d never despise you for it.

He genuinely loves your mom, and by circumstance, he comes to love you and your siblings as his own.

Treats you all really well, but respects any boundaries you guys put up.

Doesn’t pull the ‘listen to your mother’ thing stepdads do, cause he knows he only has so much power y’know?

But he honestly doesn’t need to, you and your siblings are pretty darn happy he’s your stepdad, heck he might as well just be your real dad.

Yamagata Hayato: Pretty solid honestly, you wonder where he’s been your whole life

You weren’t crazy at the idea of having a stepdad, but when you got to know him, you were pretty cool with it.

He’s the perfect mix of responsible with fun, and also parent and friend.

He’s a good hype man, and he encourages you guys to do a lot, like sports and clubs.

He encourages you guys to be active!

Doesn’t force you though, he’s good about trying to understand and appreciate all of your different interest and hobbies!

Doesn’t care about grades as long as you do your best, if you give it your all, he’ll be happy.

Will get you a tutor or help if he sees you struggling, but he’d never stress you out about it.

Kunimi Akira:...wait, he’s a father now?

He wasn’t too concerned when your mom said she had kids.

I mean, they can’t be that difficult right? Just feed them, give them things and a little pat on the head right?

w r o n g

He’s not bad, he does care about you guys but man...the teen years are going to be rough.

Definitely was better when you guys were younger, it’s the teen years he struggles with.

Man was not prepared for the sweet little girls to turn into moody monsters out for blood at the drop of a hat.

He’s doing his best alright..

Kindaichi Yuutarou: He’s more scared of you than you are of him

Had no clue what he was doing.

You were quite amused when you first met him though, he looked like he was a teenage boy meeting his girlfriends parents.

Nonetheless, you found he’s very nice and he treats your mom, and you and your siblings well.

He’s actually a really good stepdad!!

Very supportive, but very good with boundaries. He made sure to have a good relationship with you and your siblings, he’s more like a friend than a father, but that’s perfectly fine with all of you~

If you have an argument with your mom, he’s playing mediator instead of taking sides.

Yaku Morisuke: Is fine...until your teen years

lol it’s not you and your mom arguing, it’s you and HIM.

Pretty strict, and definitely takes on a more parental role in your life.

Which he is good at, you guys are still alive after all.

But especially when you become teens you guys go at each others throats almost every other day.

Never even thinks about making any ‘it’s my house get out’ threats because he genuinely cares about you, but it’s a bad matchup of temper vs hormones.

Things mellow down when you grow up, you guys get along much better when you’re an adult.

Numai Kazuma: Little lost at first, but once he warms up to it he’s a pro

When you guys first meet he’s a little lost cause...he kinda has kids now.

But once it really sinks in and he comes to terms with it, he’s honestly kinda pumped.

Wants to have a good relationship with you and your siblings, and you guys find out he’s a really cool guy!

Tells you stories from his high school days, and will teach you guys to play volleyball.

Treats you as he would his own kids cause he lowkey does love you guys<3

Sakusa Kiyoomi: mutual despising from both parties

Neither one of you are thrilled about having (a) stepdad/stepkids.

It’s not personal so to say but...

it is awkward. The first time you guys had to be in a room alone together was the worst 5 minutes of your life, it was so painfully quiet.

He does...try...he gets you guys Christmas presents, and birthday presents, and he does what you need to survive but...

Good about letting things be, and not fueling the fire when you’re moody or upset.

But he is going to side with your mom, every.single.time.

Komori Motoya: ‘fun’ parent, he’ll turn a blind eye to a n y t h i n g

Sees you doing something irresponsible and he’s like ‘ooh, looks fun’

Would never let you put yourself in danger, just let you do stupid things because he’s genuinely interested to know what happens.

Helps you avoid punishment and makes sure your mom won’t catch you.

It physically hurts him to see you guys upset, so he’s a really good comforter and supporter!

He comes too all of your games, recitals, whatever it is you’re into!

He really just wants you guys to be happy and to like him.

[theloneliestshipper]

Book of Boba, Episode 1 Review

Below is my review of The Book of Boba Fett, Episode 1: Stranger in a Strange Land. IT CONTAINS SPOILERS.

It’s hard to believe that it’s been a whole year since Boba Fett made his triumphant live-action return in The Mandalorian, mostly because you know, time has no meaning anymore.

I wrote in February about how meaningful Boba’s return was to me personally after surviving 2020 and now as I’m writing this I’m waiting for an email from my employer confirming that all meetings will be returning to the virtual due to the rise in COVID cases and my kids’ school district has just announced that it will be resuming virtual learning after the winter break.

The predominant theme of 2021 seems to be taking two weary steps forward and one hurried step back. We’ve been “staying safe” and “hoping this email finds you well” for so long that life before 2020 sometimes feels like a strange dream.

So to have The Book of Boba Fett open on Boba laying in the bacta pod, dreaming fitfully about the past almost feels almost too on the nose. We're all trying to adjust to a new reality while still dealing with the trauma of the past. We might look okay in our masks, but the truth is we’re a long way from recovered.

The first episode was split into two timelines. The first is in the Post-Mando-s2 present where Boba is trying his hand at making crime pay with “Master Assassin Fennec Shand” (which is how he introduces her and how I will be referring to her from now on). The second is Boba’s escape from the sarlacc, after which he is promptly stripped by Jawas and then saved/captured by Tusken Raiders.

I imagine these duel timelines will continue in the episodes that follow, with the first timeline focusing on the conflict with the Mayor of Mos Espa and the inevitable betrayal of Madam Garsa while the second timeline tries to answer the questions that have been burning a hole in the minds of Fett fans since Legends canon got the boot.

Things I Loved

The scene inside the sarlacc was genuinely horrifying and looked amazing. Fanservice fantastically well done.

I might have a new interior obsession with Jabba’s palace. More. MORRRRE.

The AOTC flashbacks of Kamino and Geonosis. My heart.

Master Assassin Fennec Shand’s advice to stick to what people expect and Boba’s nonchalant “nah I’ll do it my way” is a very interesting dynamic between the two of them. I look forward to seeing where it goes.

Was not expecting Boba to be tied up or in chains for half the episode. In the concept art he’s half-naked AND in chains and for everyone’s safety I’m preemptively putting myself in horny jail.

On a related note, The Concept Art. Holy moly. I want ALL of it framed and hanging on my wall.

Things I Didn’t Love

The portrayal of the Tuskens. Fans were quick to note that The Mandalorian took a huge step forward in treating the Tuskens like a culture and not a stereotype of savages. It’s not clear what purpose Tusken captives serve (are they hostages? Melon harvesting slaves?) and watching the kids beat up on Boba gave me bad Western vibes. If Boba ends up sleeping with the Tusken priestess we’ll have a real Dances with Wolves situation on our hands.

The sarlacc escape was a bit of a let down. After that amazingly claustrophobic shot of Boba struggling in the sarlacc’s guts he zombie-arms his way out of the sand and that’s it. I actually laughed. Patton Oswalt made it sound way cooler.

There were a few OOC moments that seemed to be mainly for story convenience. Boba handing over his helmet to strangers, for example, or he and Fennec both conveniently forgetting their guns on their little stroll. I'm a real wet blanket when it comes to characterization! Sorry!

Why no ROTJ flashbacks in the dream sequence? Not enough time to tie the title character into multiple movies but plenty of time for sand and bantha butts?

Monster of the Week:

To save a Tusken youngling, Boba pulls a Leia and strangles the super-swole version of Randall Boggs from Monsters Inc. with a chain. 100% behind the decision to have Boba bond with a surly child who is also his jailor.

Final Thoughts

Bringing a background character into the forefront is no small task. The Mandalorian gave him a role where his main job was to stand around in the background and look cool, which is arguably his wheelhouse. It’s a much different thing to see a character struggle through a narrative arc, but rest assured that even when I nitpick I’m enjoying the ride. Much like the year 2022, it’s going to be an interesting journey and I hope to see good things come from it.

[spvce-cowboy]

gentle things

ch. 2 of i’ll be here in the morning (the mandalorian x fem!reader)

previous- ch.1: “a strange beauty”

next- ch.3: “reunion”

rating: mature

8.5k words

warnings: mutual pining, masturbation (f), alcohol, descriptions of gore

summary: after a few months on the Crest, you find yourself growing closer to your new companions.

a/n: the gay agenda is finding a way to slip a dolly parton song into a star wars fanfic, i rest my case.

**

Most mornings you wake to the child’s soft cooing. Occasionally, the sound is met with a low, modulated voice, that murmurs incoherent phrases in response. It somehow puts your heart to rest before you even remember where you are. 

It’s strange, you’ve been a resident of the Crest for a handful of months now and it sometimes still takes you a few moments each morning to reorient yourself. You blame it on the strange limbo of hyperspace—it always throws you off for at least a day or two, and you swear your dreams are more vivid after. Sometimes you wake up panting for no reason at all.

You’re adjusting pretty well. A bit strange having a roommate/boss who doesn’t acknowledge your presence beyond the occasional but respectful nod. But it’s way better than you could have possibly imagined when you first started turning the idea over in your head. Granted, that was when you were about elbow-deep in his chest cavity, trying to fish out pieces of the shoddily constructed weapon that broke off inside him. You needed the first way out that presented itself to you, something you and Am’ile both agreed with, and well, when opportunity strikes or whatever.

Your first evening on the Crest, you asked the Mandalorian where you should sleep and he just shrugged, handing you a single, scratchy blanket with a “this is all I have.” Later, when you pass his bunk as he’s taking a nap, he’s curled in on himself on a bare cot and you realize that threadbare piece of fabric was literally all he had. You don’t bring it up, but something in your chest softens towards him after that. There’s a new quilt folded neatly on his bunk by the time he returns from his first mission.

Your second day onboard, you found a metal table in a junk heap and pushed it against one of the walls in the engineering bay. You spent the better part of an afternoon figuring out how to weld it to the floor. The medical supplies went on top, then you pushed your pillow and your rolled-up mattress underneath. Sure, there was technically a second cot in the Crew’s quarters, but you wanted to give the Mandalorian his privacy whenever possible. Besides, as long as there wasn’t too much turbulence, your set-up was pretty great.

After a few missions, you’ve visited enough markets to buy an ample supply of blankets, sweaters, and pillows to keep you comfortable on the floor of the ship. It’s freezing most nights, especially in hyperspace, and cocooning yourself in as many warm things as you could manage helps stave off both the chill as well as the occasional home sickness. The collection you’ve amassed thus far is in a various mis-match of pale jewel tones that remind you of Am’ile’s house. You didn’t realize that until you’d piled them all together on your bed and you couldn’t help but laugh at yourself a bit.

The child loves your soft things, happily snuggling up with you for naps while waiting for the Mandalorian’s return—though you suspect he’s just grateful for the new company. A consistent presence while dad’s away. You’re happy to give that to him.

The new routine is comfortable, the company is nice, the work is relatively easy. And, stars, the things you get to see. It’s honestly more than you could have ever asked for.

When your eyes blink open it’s already around eight in the morning. You’ve landed on Nevarro where the Mandalorian has already been gone for a day, attending some kind of “extended business meeting,” as he put it. Yawning, you eventually roll out of bed and stumble into the fresher, blearily rubbing the sleep out of your eyes with the spray’s cold water. Stepping out, you wrap your towel around yourself. In the tiny metal mirror suspended over the sink you pat on some lotion onto your face, eyes still heavy.

Reaching for your toothbrush, your knuckle grazes one of the Mandalorian’s facial razors. You wince, flicking your hand before examining it. A tiny nick. Sucking on it for a second to stop the blood flow, you glance at the Mandalorian’s side of the cabinet.

It’s strange to see the most banal traces evidence of what he is, who he is, behind the all that beskar. Like the facial razors—to think he’s in here, maskless, shaving his face, while you’re playing with his kid or whatever just a few steps away. To think he takes a shower every day—er, well, you’re not sure about that one, but at least when he’s on the Crest—stepping out and wrapping a towel around his waist in order goes about his little tasks.

You swallow, removing your hand from your mouth and grabbing your toothbrush before your mind can wander anywhere else. You brush your teeth particularly well that morning.

The day is pretty typical from there. After feeding both yourself and the child breakfast, you settle on the floor of the hull with the small metal ball he’s obsessed with. You place him a few feet in front of you, he sways slightly on both feet before plopping down to mirror you, hands stretched forward in an demand to be put in your lap.

“Let’s do some of the exercises, yeah?” You know you’re essentially just talking to yourself as you hold the ball in the air, but you might as well make the effort anyway. Am’ile was no stranger to kids like him, or at least that’s how she put it—something about her people and some other group, the specifics completely slipped your mind. She didn’t really elaborate and you knew not to press.

Even though you don’t know much, you do try to mimic Am’ile’s drills-disguised-as-play at least a few times a day. He only seemed to do what you asked during those sessions when you weren’t looking, distracted by cleaning or studying whatever book you’d picked up hours later. You would always find the little ball in strange places, definitely not where you’d last placed it, and certainly out of the child’s reach.

At least it was good to know he was partially pretending to not listen to you. You could work with partially.

The kid has been fussy since waking, refusing to focus on any of the things you were trying to prompt him to do. Yesterday, you spent a bit too much time at the markets with him—growing sick of protein bars, you initially set out trying to find something closer to tasting like home. Really, you just liked getting out of the Crest so you could see all those people.

You’ve amassed a collection of language dictionaries, trying to do some fast learning and even faster practicing to get your way around. Sometimes the vendors are kind and help you stutter your way through disjointed sentences in their native tongue, others just huff and immediately switch to Basic as soon as you start talking. You don’t mind either way.

The marketplace as a whole is new and exciting, the clatter and clamor of movement, laughing and snarling, voices raised in argument and lowered in the smallest exchange of intimacy. So far removed from the quiet slopes of Am’ile’s home and—

You don’t let the rest of that thought happen, quickly scooping the kid up and wrapping him to your chest with a long swath of fabric.

“I’m goin’ a little crazy in here too, little guy,” you mumble, pulling your satchel over your shoulder. “Your dad should be back in a while—let’s try to find a contact for supplies until then, yeah? Shouldn’t be too hard.” A total lie, it was way more difficult to find what you are looking for than you initially thought. You were particularly looking for a cauterizing instrument that was a bit more sturdy than the glorified cigar lighter the Mandalorian was currently using. Besides basic med-kit stock, it was nearly impossible to find anything more advance under the radar.

Yesterday was half-heartedly spent searching the markets in search of someone who might be tapped into Republic supply runs, which rendered you, predictably, empty-handed. Now you were on to your second best option, asking around the closest cantina where you could find the instruments you were looking for for without raising too much attention.

Okay, so maybe the Mandalorian specifically told you to keep out of the bars when you’re traveling without him. But you managed just fine on your own yesterday in an arguably more crowded environment. You’ve also dealt with… far worse than that hunk of metal could ever possibly imagine. You’re more than capable on your own. Still, you make sure to strap a dagger and a blaster to your belt before heading out.

You make quick work hurrying to the cantina, making sure to cover your head with the hood of your tunic and conceal the little one as much as possible. Basic survival instincts usually warrant drawing as little attention to yourself as possible, being a young human woman traveling alongside a small green wizard creature is pretty much the opposite of that.

He, predictably, doesn’t take very well to the concealed swaddle you’ve confined him to, and the two of you are in a constant back-and-forth of you attempting to wrap him up and him making quick work of wriggling out of any cover tactic you try. If it weren’t for those damn ears your life would be so much easier.

The bar has the quiet hum of activity, occasionally interspersed with a loud chatter of conversations rising to some kind of boiling point. You maneuver yourself to the counter and try to get the attention of the bartender, holding the kid to your chest until he squirms his way upwards and settles with his chin on your shoulder, one of his ears slipping out of the head covering you’d fashioned and thwapping you in the neck. You’ll deal with that in a second.

You’ve only just caught the bartender’s attention when the doors slam open. The clamor of the cantina quiets momentarily, and you see everyone shift slightly to eye whoever just entered. The two new patrons seem to be in the middle of an argument, voices low in secrecy but tense with frustration.

“I’d know that green mug anywhere.” With that you finally turn, heart dropping with anxiety. It’s the Mandalorian and a companion, a human man. The man’s voice, a deep bellow, is warm and inviting in a way that shouldn’t make you freeze completely as he addresses the kid. He then looks you up and down, pausing as the Mandalorian continues stomping forwards. You freeze anyway. “Ah—this is that girl you mentioned? Your caretaker?”

“She’s a medic,” the Mandalorian sharply corrects the man without moving to look at you. He quickly returns back to whatever conversation was initially at hand as the man continues his brisk stride towards a table at the back. There are three people already seated there, but by the time the Mandalorian arrives they have all left in a scuffling hurry. Neither of the men acknowledge it, just immediately slide into opposing sides of the booth. “Karga, this is ridiculous--I’m not a Republic spy, why would there be this many hoops on a bounty you’re just handing out?”

“I’m not just ‘handing it out,’ Mando, I’m giving it to you because I know you’re the most capable,” the man, Karga, addresses the Mandalorian then directs his attention towards you. “Come here, girl. Let me get a good look at you, I’m curious.” Turning to the bartender, he barks out an order for spotchka. You walk towards the table. There’s too much attention on the three of you to resist, you wouldn’t want to make things more complicated for the Mandalorian anyway. The bounty hunter’s voice almost immediately overrides his, low but gritty with anger as you slide into the booth beside him.

“I can’t—Karga you know I’ve never done something like this. This high-profile. Going deep-cover for a job isn’t something I can do.”

You feel Karga’s eyes on you, it’s brief but piercing. You busy yourself by looking up at the woman who serves you a small glass of the bright blue liquid, quietly thanking her.

“It’s all the fobs or nothing. The signal will be broadcast in a few hours’ time—they won’t expect something like this to be conducted semi-publicly. Keep monitoring the broadcast, but save that fob for last,” Karga places three fobs in the center of the table, then slides a forth a few inches removed from the rest. He can tell the Mandalorian isn’t convinced—stars, even you can tell he isn’t convinced. Karga heaves a sigh and makes a stab at reassurance. “You can figure it out. You’re the only one I can trust to get this done. The most capable.”

The Mandalorian’s hand slams down on the table, you jump, quickly looking between the intense but even staring contest going on between Karga and the infuriated bounty hunter. Slowly, and with more than a bit of melodrama, the Mandalorian drags the fobs under his hand towards him, slipping it into his pocket without breaking eyes from Karga’s.

He turns heel so quickly his cape whips behind him. You scurry after him as fast as you can manage.

You can still feel the frustration steaming off of the Mandalorian the whole walk back to the Crest. You keep quiet, trailing behind him by a few steps—you desperately want to ask what was wrong. Your mouth stays firmly shut.

Boarding the Crest, the Mandalorian immediately scales the ladder into the cockpit. After a few minutes you feel the Crest shutter into the air, quickly shooting into the empty sky and then hyperspace. You sigh and grab a book, turning the kettle on to make some caf and settling in your bed to an eye on the kid as he toddles around the expanse of the hull.

Hours later, when the child has exhausted all possible forms of entertainment, usually consisting of live wires and exposed paneling that you tug him away from, he begins to get fussy in a way that means he’s tired but refuses to sleep. It starts with the occasional whimper that quickly crescendos into a full-blown fit. You know all the warning signs at this point.

The little terror had a bit of a habit of doing this—once the Mandalorian and you are in the ship he refuses to fall asleep unless you two are in the same room. A part of you knows this is a symptom of separation anxiety—which you in no way can blame him for, given the circumstances of their bond—but the cockpit is just about the last place you want to be.

It’s not that you’re scared of the Mandalorian, or anything. It would just be… incredibly awkward with the mood he’s in right now to attempt to lull his kid to sleep in his presence.

“Listen, buddy, your dad is super grumpy right now so—" The child just starts crying even louder, little fists balled up to pound futilely against your chest, trying to push you away. “Okay okay okay! I get it. I get it.” You sigh, biting your lip and looking down at the kid, then up at the ladder. The kid starts screaming. “Yeah, yeah. Alright.” You begin the climb up.

“Hey, sorry he’s being a little sensitive again,” you say as your head pops up onto the pilot’s deck, miraculously managing to pull yourself into the room with one arm holding the squirming kid against you. The floor seals shut behind you once you haul yourself over the edge.

The Mandalorian just grunts in response and continues flipping through radio channels, seemingly growing more frustrated with himself the longer it takes for him to find the frequency Karga directed him to. He’s in the pilot’s chair, back turned to you, shoulders hunched in concentration.

You settle into the copilot’s seat, resting the kid on his back on top of your legs. He settles almost instantly, big eyes no longer filled with tears.

Rolling your eyes with a small smile, you tickle him lightly until he starts giggling, then scoop him back up into your arms, allowing yourself to slide back in the chair a bit. You stare out into the bright darkness of space, blinking back at the stars as the child coos gently in your lap.

“A coded civilian station, is he fucking crazy?” The Mandalorian mumbles to himself in his continued litany of abuses he’s slung Karga and the greater universe’s way since returning to the Crest.

The longer you’ve been here the more he’s started to do things like that, just talking into the air without the expectation of a response. You begin to think that that’s just the way he acts when it was just him and the kid. Though you’ve noticed that he has been cursing way more than he did when you first met. That might be a little bit your fault. Oops.

You look down at the child and rub one of his ears, leaning down to press a kiss at the crown of his head. His little three-fingered hand catches your hair and pulls. Wincing, you resist the urge to jerk your head back. Instead, you extend the pad of your index finger and lightly wiggle it against his button nose. He sneezes and lets go almost immediately.  

You let out a triumphant “ha!” then shake your head slightly and twist your face in a playful scowl. The kid resumes his giggling, batting at your hands when you try to tickle his tummy.

Glancing over at the angry hunk of beskar seated beside you, you notice he’s paused with his hand hovering over the radio’s controls, his head turned slightly towards his right shoulder to silently regard you and the child.

You quickly divert your gaze back down to the kid, resuming rubbing his ears as his eyes slowly, devastatingly slowly, ease shut. Only to snap open again with a playful babble, hands reaching up again for the free entertainment of the hair still attached to your head. Shit. You sigh. The Mandalorian goes back to flipping through the channels.

More static and garbled languages you’ve never encountered before. You try to ignore the pounding of your heart—that was probably the longest you’d ever seen him grant you any kind of attention—and keep trying to lull the child to sleep. As quietly as possible you try to stand, scooting around the copilot’s seat to gently bounce the kid in the limited space to the back of the cockpit. He’s quieted significantly, just enough that you could probably get him to sleep on your own, as long as you don’t jostle him too much on the descent back into the hull. You’re about to head down the ladder when—

The Mandalorian pauses momentarily on a channel that’s playing music. The opening swell of the first verse is unmistakable. Your chest fills with a certain warm feeling, pounding with memories you had long since tucked away.

“Wait,” you say it without thinking. Without even processing that the words left your mouth. “Wait, could you go back? That… that song…”

Wordlessly, he clicks back to the previous station. The cabin is filled with the music, a warm and bright voiced female vocalist smoothly intertwined with her male partner. The melody is plucky, something you could dance to—and have, more than once—and it’s overly saccharine in its pure, absolute joy in itself. But you suppose the cheesiness is part of the charm. You relish in it regardless.

You do something to me that I can’t explain. There is a memory that surfaces just as quickly as it disappears. You couldn’t have been more than four. Your father, spinning you around by your pudgy forearm. It’s his laugh you remember most of all, something boisterous and full-bodied. You are dancing around the kitchen of a home you can’t remember, the floor dappled with light from the pieces of stained glass your mother had dangling from the windows. Hold me closer and I feel no pain. You smile to yourself, bowing your head down at the little one, quietly murmuring what lyrics you remember, rocking your hips in a gentle little dance. It works, the kid is fast asleep by the last chord.

The song ends, the disc jockey begins speaking in yet another language you don’t recognize. The Mandalorian quickly turns the volume down, lest it wake the child. He has reflexes fast enough to startle you, luckily your jolt does nothing to bother the baby in your arms. You gently place him in the pram, hovering beside the pilot’s seat. You slide the shield doors shut to keep out the noise and step back.

“Thank you, Mandalorian,” you say it softly, but you can see his helm bob slightly in a nod of acknowledgement. You take a deep breath and begin to head towards the ladder as he resumes flicking through the stations.

“Hey,” the Mandalorian says your name. You pause for a moment, then turn. He clears his throat—the sound comes out as a rough crackle over the modulator. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he sounds a bit nervous. “You can uh… you can just call me Mando, you know. The full thing is a bit of a mouthful.”

You blink once, then nod. Turning heel you, mercifully, scale back down the ladder with as much grace as could be mustered, despite your shaking hands.

That night, when you touch yourself, you shove the blanket he gave you against your nose and mouth. To keep quiet, you tell yourself. It smells like his soap.

**

Days after the radio incident, you can’t help but occasionally find that you’re singing the song to yourself as you go about your chores. It just seems to pop in your head as soon as you open your eyes, and it’s just stuck there, but you’re not very mad about that.

Mando has landed on some bitterly cold planet that was made up of little more than ash and a thick red fog. He had left late last night/early this morning to start his hunt, telling you in a little scribbled note to expect him back in two days’ time. He has really bad handwriting, it’s strangely amusing.

You decide to deep clean the hull: washing the floors, doing laundry, organizing what meager new supplies you were able to gather from Nevarro. As you did, you sang to yourself. Out loud. Just for the pleasure of it.

Your mother taught you kulning, as was tradition for the young girls on your home planet. Your father taught you the low-bellied croon of the casino singers. When things were still good, you would sing for your parents friends at the parties they would throw and your father would play the piano. You wish you had more memories like that. It’s hard to recall anything through the foggy barriers of the past fifteen years, it makes something in your chest ache to even try.

Am’ile’s radio was for emergencies only, not wanting to draw unwanted attention with the signal. It has been ages since you’ve had access to one, ages since you’ve heard music that didn’t come from your own mouth. That was why you’d started the nightly calls at Am’ile’s because before that grassy little planet… well, speaking was barely an option. You’d seen too many girls hurt for things far less than murmuring a tune.

To sing in the way your mother taught you, with the whole of your body. To make yourself so boldly known. It was all you had ever wanted.

You start putting together dinner for you and the kid as the day winds down. Mando had a barely functioning hotplate that you were able to make the best of, having bought some fresh produce at the far more hospitable planet the three of you were stationed at the previous day.

The stew cooks while you finish up the rest of your work, slicing bread and setting up a little dining area for your and the kid because, frankly, why not go all-out? It’s good to treat yourself to the small, gentle things. Even when on an unforgiving rock hurtling through space. Especially then.

You hop in the fresher while you wait for the meat to get to the proper temperature, twisting your body to keep your hair out of the water’s blast. In the enclosed space, you feel a less self-conscious and allow yourself sing a little louder than the under-the-breath, partial-hum you’d managed throughout the rest of the day.

You don’t hear the hull opening between that and the fresher’s spray.

When you turn the water off, you recognize the sound of the last few mechanisms of the hull door stealing itself back in place. Anxiety settles in quickly as you dry off. God, please let it just be Mando please. There’s the sound of something heavy being thrown against a wall. You wince.

A low voice. “Pretty little bird you’ve got singing in here, just for me?” Then a wet crack. “Mother fuck—"

Your heart lurches in your chest as you quickly pull your clothes on, cracking open the fresher door to peer out into the hull. Mando is standing over the body of a target, now crumpled to the ground, holding a bleeding headwound with two long, thin hands. He nudges the bounty with the butt of the weapon he had presumably just used against the man’s skull. The man gives a choked moan, completely incapacitated.

“Do you…” your voice sounds far too small. You blink, inhaling and starting over. “Do you need to bring him in alive or do you need my—"

“The carbonite will stop the bleeding,” Mando’s voice is gruff. You nod, even though his back is turned to you, watching from the safety of the doorway as he leans down and lugs the whining body into the chamber. Once the bounty is sealed away, you step back out into the open.

Mando pushes past you almost without recognition, limping heavily.

“Hey—hey!” You trail behind him, reaching out to touch his arm. He flinches. “Could you at least let me do my job?”

He regards you for an extended beat, then readily sits. It’s more of a controlled collapse.

“Is it your leg?” You ask, kneeling beside him and helping him peel off what armor you can. He shakes his head.

“It’s just more of a bruise I—my side, my hip. Onto the top of my leg.”

You nod slowly. “Okay, can you get to the fresher yourself or do you think you’ll need help? You have to rinse off before I treat you.” There’s an almost clay-like layer of red dust on his clothes and armor. It would be impossible to treat him properly without getting most of it off.

He wordlessly extends a gloved hand for you to help him up, you oblige—albeit struggling a bit with his weight. Once standing, you hover beside him on his limping walk to the fresher until he gives you a short: “I’ve got it.” You back off, returning to tend to your dinner while you wait.

When he emerges again he’s only wearing a sleep shirt, his mask, and a towel, the fabric held at the hip by his clenched fist to expose an already bruising thigh. He sits on a crate with an audible wince, easing himself back to lean against the wall slightly.

Your throat constricts as you move to his exposed side, but you try to breathe evenly enough to maintain an air of professionalism. Which gets increasingly difficult when he, with another sound of sharp pain, pulls up his shirt to reveal a series of small, shallow punctures traveling up his flank and over his hip that slightly weep with a mixture of blood and the cold water on his skin. He holds the shirt, just below his pectorals with his opposing hand, allowing the towel to drape over his lap while still revealing the side you need to work on. You can see the faint cut of his abdominal muscles, tracing south alongside a thin trail of dark hair leading--

“Shotgun pellets,” his voice stops your thoughts before they can get any worse. You’re partially thankful. Glancing up, you furrow your brow in confusion. He clarifies, “they’re a uh… a projectile type weapon. He was fighting dirty and desperate.” You nod, looking back down. The worst of the spray was able to score the skin right above his hip, but most of it had just bounced off his quad, leaving a series of raised, purpling welts. It was superficial at worst, but still not the best to look at. He seemed to read your mind. “Beskar was able to deflect them for the most part. I’ll be fine, just cauterize the worst of it.”

“The more you use the cauterizer the more of a chance you have of the scar tissue getting infected, you know. That’s some business you want no part of,” you say, digging through your kit for a pain ointment and the bacta you were able to refill on Nevarro. The more you looked at it, the more foolish of a blow for him to have taken it becomes. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re doing this on purpose,” you’re muttering it to yourself before you can fulling think through the implications. When he doesn’t say anything, you glance up at him. “That was a joke.”

“You need to work on your material, then.”

You laugh, shaking your head to yourself as you get to work. It’s easier to feel more confident around him the longer you’ve acclimated on the Crest. You have a bad habit of using snark as a defense mechanism. The more you work with Mando, the less you’re able to keep that up. It feels nice, you can relax slightly when you’re given the reassurance of him reciprocating the conversation.

You finish pressing the last of the bandages against his side. “The pain stuff I used should start sinking in soon, it might burn for a bit beforehand but it’ll get better after a few minutes.” He nods, pulling the towel tightly around his waist before standing and limping back into his quarters. He returns, fully dressed, putting a little more pressure on his leg than he did before he left. You quickly, desperately, find a way to conceal your staring.

“Hey—I have a surprise for you,” you turn to the kitchenette, busying yourself by testing the stock with a messy sip. It’s not… the best thing you’ve ever made in your whole life, but it’s the closest thing to the meals you made with Am’ile that you’ve had since you left your old home. It smells lovely, enough to have filled the hull with the smell of the herbs you used. “I thought it was just gonna be me and the womp rat so I made dinner, if you wanna eat with us that is.” You pull out the bottle of wine you bought from one of the storage drawers, a slight heat rising to your cheeks. You hold it up triumphantly anyway. “I really just needed an excuse to buy this for myself. But I totally understand if you’d rather eat upstairs by yourself.”

“Thank you,” he says hesitantly. “I’ll… I’ll stay while you eat. I can take mine to the cockpit once you’ve finished.”

“Would you want to have a glass with me, at least?” You hold the wine bottle by the neck at your side. He’s grumpy. Part of you wants to find some way to fix that, knowing it would be hard for you to let yourself enjoy the rest of the night with him fuming over something just upstairs. “I’ll cover my eyes. It’ll be like when I brought you your meals, while you were fixing the ship. No peaking. I promise.”

He takes a moment, before nodding slowly, for some reason you’re kind of surprised he agrees. Maybe that’s why your smile is so big. Maybe it was the fact you’d already cracked the bottle open for a few sips before taking your shower, the warmth of it at the bottom of your stomach making it much easier to playfully prod at the bounty hunter. Probably a mix of both.

You kneel beside your bed to gather another pillow, placing it across the makeshift table you’ve fashioned out of two crate and one of your blankets. You turn to bring the rest of the food to the table, three wooden bowls and a plate for the kid. You’re in the middle of separating the meat from the broth for him when you glance up at Mando, who is still standing exactly where you last saw him. He points to the tuft of fabric you had placed on the floor for him.

“What’s that for?”

You’re not sure if he’s serious or not. “Um, comfort?”

He doesn’t say anything, just cocks his helmet slightly to the left.

“Alright, old man,” you roll your eyes, refilling your cup . “Suit yourself.”

Mando pauses for a second longer before easing himself onto the pillow. He says your name softly, almost to himself. “This looks… really great. Thank you.”

“Well I wouldn’t take it to heart too much, chrome bucket. I was planning on hoarding all this for me and the kid. You just came back at quite the opportune moment,” you grin cheekily up at him before tearing your piece of bread and dipping it into the broth.

He reaches across the makeshift table and picks up his cup. You’ve repurposed the tops of two of his thermoses to make them. He examines it in his hand for a moment before speaking.

“Were you singing that song that was on the radio, yesterday? When I came in?”

“Yeah,” you laugh, shaking your head to yourself as you reach over the table and grab the cup in his hand to fill it with the wine. “I haven’t heard it in ages, you know? Any music at all, honestly, but especially that song. It was one of my dad’s favorites,” you detract before either of you could linger on that last statement. “It’s been in my head all day. I was meaning to ask you, when it comes to the radio—it probably wouldn’t be a good idea for me to listen while you’re on the job, yeah? Tracing signals and all that?”

Mando mulls it over for a second, accepting his cup from you and staring down at it. “I’m not sure. Better safe than sorry, but I could ask around about getting a uh… one of those new portable ones.” You don’t want to tell him that those newfangled portable radios have been a thing since you were in the cradle—something about his technological obliviousness was oddly endearing. “I’ll ask around and see if there’s some kind of blocking signal we could install. If you’d like one, that is. I’d like to take a sip, now, if that’s okay?”

You nod, immediately putting your hands over your face. You know you could just squeeze your eyes shut like oh, maybe a normal person might? But to be honest, it was a little funny to do. To act this silly in front of one of the most effective killing machines in the galaxy, who you have somehow convinced to attend a quaint family dinner. Might as well mess around a bit with it, yeah?

You hear the hiss of the mask resealing but you don’t remove your hands from your eyes. “It’s good wine,” he remarks. “You can look now.”

Removing your palms from your face, you blink your vision back to clarity, reaching for your cup again. Your mouth is already growing warm in the way that let you know that when Mando meant good he also meant strong. You have to agree.

“The people on Am’ile’s planet would make this crazy strong liquor out of these peaches that only grew in the valley where we lived. The village that was closest to us got super wealthy off of the stuff--honestly I can’t stomach anything too sweet anymore after it, spent an equal amount of time coming up as it did going down, if you get what I’m saying.” You screw up your face at even the thought of the syrup-like drink. “The orchards were super beautiful, though. The tallest foliage in the valley and they were maybe only a few heads taller than you. All types of critters living in the roots—that little one loved it.” You gesture to the child, who was grabbing as much of the dish’s meat as he could in his stubby three-fingered hands. The rest of his plate remained untouched. “Am’ile and I used to take walks through it all the time, especially when I first got there. It was too dangerous to go into the forests by yourself so I would spend ages in the orchards if she wasn’t putting me to work, just for a change of scenery.” Your mouth kind of just keeps running. It just feels so… nice, to talk to someone without having to try and stutter your way through a new language. That and the liquid courage in your cup made you unapologetically chatty. “She had so many little trinkets and things from her travels as a Republic medic, but only like ten books tops, all on medicine. I literally have the things memorized at this point, they were the only things to read.”

“You could go back at some point, if you want. When there’s a lull in jobs I could probably drop you and the kid off, spend a few weeks with her while I keep hunting,” Mando casually picks up his glass again, and you automatically cover your eyes with your hands. You’re still smiling, just with a little weight behind it.

“No, no that’s okay. Am’ile would get in too much trouble with the locals, for good reason. It isn’t safe for them and—to be honest, Mando, I don’t think the kid could take being separated from you for that long,” you pause for a moment. “But that’s incredibly kind of you to offer, thank you. I mean that.”

His mask hisses back in place. You ease the index and middle finger of your right hand to peer at him playfully before lowering your hands again. It’s a gentle spar between the two of you, an easy rhythm to settle into.

“Your med-station,” he nods towards your table/bed set up, looking particularly messy in comparison to the hull you’d spent the day cleaning. “It’s…”

Your heart drops, ready for the scolding. “Ah—uh, I’m sorry.” You look down at your plate—even if he couldn’t see the heat rising to your face, you try to hide your embarrassment by stabbing at another bite of food. You glance up at him sheepishly. “It’s the only place on the Crest that’s tucked away enough, I didn’t want to get underfoot.”

“No, no.” He shakes his head. You swallow. “I like it. A good idea. It’s like a reminder whenever I leave, not to do anything too stupid.”

“Oh, well,” you’re not sure why that catches you off guard so much. You honestly had no idea he even processed your presence since you’d first moved in besides the occasional medical assistance you provided. “I’ll make sure to put the more intimidating syringes front-and-center the next time I organize it.”

And he laughs.

Well—so, okay. It’s not a full laugh, more like a few low releases of air, but there’s a clear smile behind it that you can definitely hear. It’s enough to have you slightly grinning to yourself the rest of the meal.

By the time you’re finished, you’re a bit hazy off the wine and incredibly sleepy. You lean back slightly and yawn, looking at where Mando has settled the kid on his lap. “Sometimes I wish I could just snap my fingers and he’d just go to sleep. There’s too much energy in that little guy.”

“I can take him for the night,” Mando is currently engaged in a gentle dance of keeping the little one’s hands away from the food you’ve portioned for the bounty hunter. It’s more amusing than it should be. “If you could just help me take this upstairs I’d be more than happy to.”

You nod, clamoring to your feet and grabbing his bowl as he climbs up into the cockpit with the kid. You follow and place his dinner on a clear spot on the console.

“Where are we going next?” You ask, glancing over the control panel as if you had any idea what all those flashing lights and strange looking scanners meant. You should really pick up a flight manual at some point, just for the basics.

“The last fob,” Mando sighs. “Canto Bight. This—this is going to take a while, just warning you now. I still have no idea how I’m going to pull this off.”

You nod, yawning. You’re still a bit tipsy. “Okay, well, I think I’m gonna go to bed. Good luck brainstorming.” The food sits warm and heavy in your stomach. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt this full. It’s nice.

He gives a small nod acknowledging what you said, then goes back to grumbling down at the control panel, pushing buttons and examining scanners. You lean down to kiss the kid goodnight from where he’s babbling in the co-pilot’s seat, then climb down the ladder and change into your night clothes, setting the lights in the hull to night-mode as the Crest rumbles into the sky. Climbing into bed, you wrap your biggest blanket around yourself, the chill of hyperspace already settling in the air.

**

You have a dream. A bad one. One you’ve never had before and don’t know if you’d survive again if you did. It starts with you already crying. It’s one of those full-body, hiccuping sobs that usually rouses you from your sleep before things gets too bad.

Mando is gone, so far gone not even the comlink your finger is hovering over would be an option. You know this because the dream starts with him calling you. When you answer, there is only the sound of a hard, driving rain.

You’re holding the child against your chest and he’s screaming into your ear but you know if you actually lift him away to look at him he’ll disappear into the rain, too, so you drop the communicator and turn and there’s blood all over the floor and you have to clean it, you do. You have to so maybe he’ll come back and so you’re here, mopping up the blood on the hull’s floor as the child wails the loudest you’ve ever heard him cry and you try to choke out reassurances through your own crying because.

Because the gore is on your hands and your elbows and on you and on the floor once its gone it’ll be okay it’s so dark but it’ll be okay and streaking across the front of you and your face where you’ve tried to wipe it away please go away because it looks just like when.

Looks just like when.

You wake up in the middle of screaming, gasping for breath, one hand pressed against the top of the table above you and the other curled into the mattress. It’s the first time that’s happened, waking up like that at least. The dreams are different each time and occur at different frequencies, but they always crescendo at the same point. Usually you just wake up, eyes slowly sliding open and fixing to whatever is directly in front of you as your vision slightly blurs. How banal it usually is, how banal it feels, adds to the cruelty. You’re mostly still able to go to sleep after, at least there was that.

Not this, though. This is that hand-scratching-at-your-own-throat kind of terror, the kind you’ve usually only seen in the holo-dramas. You haven’t had a nightmare like that for so long, so maybe the surprise of it is what made it so much worse—that it wasn’t just you. Maker, you can still hear the child’s squalling in your ears. That sound of raw, primal terror that—

You feel your stomach lurch. You scramble to the fresher, emptying the contents of your stomach into the toilet.

Half anxiety, half afraid to close your own eyes, the dull thrum of raw energy does little to calm itself once you manage to shove the door of the fresher close. You let the metal rim of the toilet cool your face as you sniff, scooting back to lean your back against the wall, pulling the sleeve of the sleepshirt you’re wearing up your palm to wipe your eyes.

A low voice says your name urgently. You look up, dazed for a moment, before the door is cracked open by four broad-knuckled fingers. Your hand flies out, catching the handle before Mando is able to pull it the rest of the way open. He barely has time to get his hand out of the way before you slam it shut again.

“I--sorry,” you croak. “Please um… please don’t come in here.”

“Are you okay?” His voice is rough with sleep. You cup your hands over your knees and lean your forehead down to rest against them. When you don’t answer, he speaks again. “Was it, was it about before? Before Am’ile?”

“I—I haven’t, for so—I haven’t… Before… It was…”

“I know. She told me, it’s alright, I wouldn’t have asked I just… I thought it was something you didn’t want to talk about but I--”

“I’m not a charity case,” it sounds snappier than you intended it to and has absolutely nothing to do with anything he’d just said. At this point you’re just talking to yourself, it seems like he knows that. “That’s not why Am’ile pawned me off on you. I’m okay, I didn’t need her supervision anymore. I’m, I’m okay. It’s taken a long time but I am now so I don’t know why--”

“No,” and he says your name forcefully, cutting you off before you can continue. He repeats himself, this time softly, before: “It’s alright.” Does his voice sound… warmer? Even through a layer of reinforced steel? “I want you to feel safe, here. Comfortable. I don’t care, it’s okay. I just thought you were hurt.” He clears his throat. “I have them too, the dreams. So you, you don’t have to worry about hiding it. Them.” You don’t know what to say, so you say nothing at all. Closing your eyes, you lean the side of your face into the door separating the two of you. It’s so silent on the other side you think he’s left, so when he speaks again it’s all the more surprising. “And she didn’t pawn you off. I need you. Here.”

Something in your chest does a complete backflip. Your stomach is fluttering so ferociously you have to clear your throat before continuing. “Okay. Yeah, um. Thank you,” you wince. “I’m gonna freshen up and then get the little one out of your hair—er, beskar.” Idiot idiot idiot.

“It’s alright, you didn’t wake him. If you want I can… I can sit with you, until you fall asleep.”

“Okay.” You say it softly. “That would be really nice, actually. Thank you.”

You quickly brush your teeth, then open the door the door slowly. Stepping into the hull and closing it behind you, you pad back to your mattress. He follows a few feet behind you quietly—it’s moments like these you’re grateful for his reserved nature. You don’t have the energy to try and brush things off by filling the silence with mindless chatter.

Kneeling beside your mattress, you wordlessly offering him an armful of your pillows. In the low light of the Crest’s night mode, the beskar helmet looks nearly featureless, save for the gleam of light that arcs up its surface as he looks down at what you’ve offered him.

“Could you—” your voice breaks. Heat rises to your face as you clear your throat again. “Is it okay if the kid um… slept with me? It was… some of it was about—”

“Yeah, of course,” Mando takes one of the pillows from the top of what you’ve offered him, tossing it at the ground of the opposing wall and then slipping out of sight as he goes into his bunk. He returns with a the child, standing above you as you crawl into bed, wrapping you blanket around yourself, setting up the pillows as you normally do for the naps you take together, preventing any accidental rolling-over. Mando crouches to place the kid beside you, then stands and settles where he’d dropped the pillow previously. You take a moment to look down at the child, running a thumb over the edge of his ear, before kissing his soft forehead where you normally do. He wrinkles his nose in his sleep, making a soft sound and twitching his ears before wiggling slightly to resettle. You rest your head back on your pillow. The specifics of the dream are already starting to drift away. It’s a small mercy, but it’s enough.

“Hey, Mando?” You lift your head, the low light reducing the man to a dark, featureless outline.

“Hm?”

“Would you mind if… um… would you mind if I just touched your hand? Just so uh… if I wake up I can know you’re there?” As the words spill out of your mouth, an unbearable heat rises to your face.

There’s the sound of him shifting, getting to his feet with a grunt. Then he’s right there, sitting with his back to the wall, just a few inches from the top of your head. Tentatively, you reach out your hand, resting your index and middle fingers against his palm. And it’s his palm, His palm, warm but rough with callouses, resting on the floor beside his extended leg just for you to be able to close your eyes, even for a little bit.

It takes a while but it works. Right as you drift back to sleep you think you feel his hand gently wrap around the fingers you’ve offered him. You really think you do.

**

a/n: thank you all for the engagement thus far !! it really means so much to me. 

that said i am .,..... beyond excited about the next chapter for two reasons of equal importance: fancy parties and Very Jealous Mando. my favorite things 😌 

[bbangsoonie]

creker academy

member: eric genre: fluff (ft some angst), fantasy au word count: 6,182 synopsis: after finally triggering your hidden powers, fate lands you at creker academy, a special boarding school meant for shapeshifters. there, you learn how to control your abilities and that opposites do indeed attract.

The day you found out that you were adopted was the day your life fell apart. The secret was hidden from you until your uncle coldly drew the line at your parents’ funeral. He told you that he had no intention of taking responsibility for his brother’s actions and that you were no longer a part of the family.

That was how you ended up living alone in a tiny half-basement studio. You barely managed to afford the deposit and rent with the consolation money you received from the funeral.

Every day, Hyunjoon would come knocking at your door and every day, you would turn him away. It had only been a month since you became independent and the scar of losing your parents was still fresh. You were also too ashamed to face your friends. You didn’t want their pity and so you hid away in isolation.

On the night of your birthday, the pain became too unbearable. Although you aged another year, you were still only a teenager. Granted, you were in your last year of high school but you were still a minor. Having to fend for yourself in this harsh world was too much for you to handle.

As you cried yourself to sleep, you could feel a cold coming. The heat from your headache spread to the rest of your body and you felt yourself burning up.

After you bought some medicine from the pharmacy, you slipped into a deep slumber. Your dreams were wildly vivid. You dreamt of an enchanted forest that enticed you to take refuge in its comfort. There, animals of all species ran free and in harmony. It promised you acceptance and a home.

“It’s time you learn of your identity,” a soft voice spoke.

As soon as the whisper tickled your ears, the entire forest was up in flames. Strangely, you weren’t struck with fear. Rather, you felt empowered.

“Y/n, you need to learn how to control yourself,” the voice warned.

It was only then that you started to panic. The flames were engulfing everything in sight and all the animals were running for their lives.

“Y/n, you have to wake up. Now,” the voice commanded.

With that, your eyes shot open. To your horror, the scene in your dreams reflected the view in front of you. Your house was on fire and you were slowly getting cornered by the heat. Frightened, you look to the door only to see it consumed by the blaze.

“Trust your instincts, Y/n,” the voice in your head cooed. “Let your body take control.”

Bewildered, you had no idea what that meant. All you knew was that you had to get out of there. You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping to think of a solution. When you reopened them, the room seemed to be a lot bigger than normal. At that moment, you saw the window cracked open. It was your only hope.

Your body felt different when you stood up.

“Why am I so short all of a sudden?” you wondered.

You looked down and almost screamed when you saw paws instead of your feet. Except a meow came out of your throat instead.

You didn’t have time to freak out about it. Feeling something hot graze your tail, you jumped up and landed on the window sill. Your innate desire for survival kicked in and you squeezed through the opening to escape.

Once you felt fresh air in your lungs again, you ran. And ran. And ran. You didn’t know why or where you were going, but something in you told you to run. Your legs kept sprinting until they reached the forest that appeared in your dream. They came to a slow stop when you realized where you were.

“What is this place?” you pondered.

“This is the border between our world and the human world,” a woman in white suddenly emerged from the trees. “You are now about to cross into our territory.”

It was the same voice from your dream. Trying to grasp the situation, you opened your mouth to ask a million questions. But again, a meow replaced your voice.

“It’ll be easier for you to transition back once you're on our grounds,” she assured. She bent down and gestured for you to jump into her arms.

Not seeing any other option, you hesitantly took her offer. With you safely in her embrace, she passed through a translucent wall that revealed what looked like a huge campus. Your jaw dropped as you observed your surroundings. There were students walking around the magical place. You saw a girl tending the garden and gasped when her hands hovered above the flowers to revive them.

The woman brought you to an office you presumed to be hers and placed you in front of a mirror. Your shriek came out as a cute yelp and she chuckled.

“I-I’m a cat!” you thought.

“There’s an outfit you can change into once you return to your human form,” she pointed at the black dress neatly prepared on the table.

The second she finished her sentence, you felt a bare sensation. Looking down, you screeched at your naked body. Embarrassed and horrified, you quickly clothed yourself with the dress.

“W-What’s going on?” you asked, relieved to finally hear your own voice again.

“I’m sure you felt different from others your whole life?” she asked. It sounded more like a statement rather than a question.

She wasn’t wrong. All your life, you never felt like you fitted in anywhere. Maybe your body knew you were adopted before your mind did and ostracized itself. Or maybe you truly were different. You had weird talents that other kids thought were freaky, making you hide them and become introverted. For instance, you were suspiciously good at starting fires from scratch at summer camp and didn’t feel any pain when your shirt accidentally caught on fire.

“I know this must be shocking to you but you’re special, Y/n. We’ve been waiting for you. Waiting for you to trigger your powers to bring you here,” she smiled.

“My what?” you gaped.

“Your powers. What you just did back at your old house and right now. You’re a shapeshifter, Y/n. A shapeshifter with the element of fire,” she explained.

“I’m a what now?” you scoffed in disbelief.

“Creker Academy is a school and home for students just like you. It’s a place meant to train you how to control your powers. Without our guidance, you’ll lead down a path of self-destruction.”

Baffled by her words, you stared in silence. There was no way any of this was true. Surely this had to be a dream.

“This isn’t a prank or a dream, Y/n. You’ve finally found where you belong,” she clarified.

Belong. You had never felt like you really belonged anywhere. But now, someone was telling you that you belonged with them. That they wanted you there. That they had been waiting for you.

“I understand you must feel overwhelmed. But there are procedures to follow so I’m afraid you will have to begin your tour first. A fellow student will be arriving soon to show you around.”

As if on cue, a boy around your age knocked on the door and came in after receiving the woman’s permission to enter.

“Hello, Headmaster,” he bowed.

“Eric, this is Y/n. Y/n, this is Eric. He will be helping you adjust here,” she introduced.

Eric was bright eyed and eager to meet a new friend. You, on the other hand, were quite reserved and uncomfortable in your new environment.

He was excitedly pointing out the purpose of each room you passed by and rambled on about the social norms of the boarding school. You learned that on top of academics, there were classes on virtues and physical training. And of course, classes that taught you how to properly use and contain your powers.

The use of magic was strictly prohibited inside any and all buildings. Students could practice their skills outside but were forbidden from any acts that could potentially put someone or something at risk. That was the one rule that was rigidly enforced and obeyed.

“So what animal and element are you?” he curiously pried. “I’m a dog with the element of water.”

“I’m… apparently a cat,” you felt ridiculous saying it aloud. “And control fire.”

“Ah, you’re a member of the fire element,” he nodded. “What that means is that your element rivals with mine. Some people see fire elements as hotheaded, impulsive, and extreme. Water elements are sometimes emotional, sensitive, and antisocial. But those are all just stereotypes, of course. Not everyone fits into the standard. I, for one, am very outgoing. And your animal obviously plays a role in your personality. I guess the dog in me overpowers the water.”

You had moved on from the indoor portion of the tour to the outside part. He was showing you the garden you had passed by earlier. It was full of flowers that wouldn’t be in bloom this season in the normal world.

“I’m a strong believer in that there are good traits about each element. For example, fire elements are passionate, inspirational, and expressive. They’re arguably the most fun people you’ll ever meet. Water elements are empathetic, imaginative, and loving. But again, all this is relative and doesn’t accurately describe each person,” he reminded. “The only reason there’s still a stupid feud is because some people love sticking to the status quo and labeling others.”

“What are the other elements? Air and earth?”

“Yup! Air elements are independent, talkative, fickle, and nonconformists. Most likely social butterflies. Earth elements are disciplined, loyal, organized, and judgemental. Oftentimes the leader.”

Eric greeted a male student who was passing by with two other boys. He exchanged smiles with the three of them who offered you a kind nod of acknowledgement.

“That was Sangyeon. He’s a bear. On his left is Jacob, a rabbit. The one on the right is Younghoon, who’s also a dog like me. They’re all earth elements,” he disclosed. “Sangyeon is the class representative of our grade. Definitely fits the leader stereotype.”

You couldn’t get over how thrilled he was to be your tour guide. He was filling you in on even the little details of the social life at the academy. He told you about how transfer students were rare and that it was his first time seeing a new student.

His vibrancy contrasted your somber aura. If he noticed, he didn’t comment on it. He was having too much fun getting to know you.

“Oh! That’s Hyunjae and Juyeon,” Eric suddenly pointed at a pair of boys on a morning run. He waved at the two who waved back before speeding up.

“The one with brown hair is Hyunjae, a wolf and fire element. His real name is Jaehyun but he changed it to Hyunjae once he got to Creker Academy. Juyeon’s the one with black hair and is a cat like you. Except he’s a water element like me,” he grinned. “They’re my best friends. Oh, and this guy named Sunwoo who’s a raccoon with the element of fire. As you can see, water and fire elements can get along fine and well. So don’t listen to anyone who says otherwise.”

By the time he was done showing you around, a bell rang and students began to convene inside. Eric explained that the bell was signaling the beginning of classes and brought you to his homeroom.

“Breakfast is buffet style and self served. It’s up to you to wake up and come down to eat. The cafeteria remains open for an hour until that bell rings and we have to get to class,” he said you entered.

Looking around for an empty seat, his face lit up when he spotted one. He sat at his desk and tapped on the one behind him to let you know that it was yours to take.

You still hadn’t processed all that’s happened since dawn. Everything felt like a haze. Nevertheless, you found yourself paying attention when the teacher walked in. He scanned the room to find a new face and smiled when he made eye contact with you.

“Alright, guys. I’m happy to announce that we have a new student that will be joining us starting today,” he beckoned for you to come up to the front of the classroom.

You wanted to shrivel up and crawl into a hole. Feeling your classmates gazes on you, you gulped and began to sweat. You were never a fan of attention. You quickly introduced yourself before rushing back to your seat, eliciting giggles from a few students. Your cheeks heated up and you felt that burning tingle again.

The awkwardness made you transform back into a cat, making your classmates gasp. Their intensified stares made the tips of your fur ignite, alarming the teacher who tried to calm you down.

“Well I guess she’s a fire cat,” a girl snickered.

Eric shot her a glare before leaning in to ask if you wanted him to put the fire out with his water. Not knowing what else to do, you nodded and the next thing you knew, you were drenched.

So much for your first day.

You ran out of the room before you could change back into a human. You fled but didn’t know where to go. You grew anxious, desperately hoping you wouldn’t end up flashing anyone.

“Hey!” someone called out. You turned around to see a male approaching you. Panicking, you dove into a bush.

“You’re the newbie, right?” he asked, taking something out of his bag. He dug out a large t-shirt and a pair of shorts and placed them in front of you. “I usually carry around a spare outfit in case of emergencies. I hope you don’t mind the fit.”

You were still in your animal form so you peaked your head out to look at him.

“My name’s Chanhee. Air element penguin,” he squatted down to meet your eyes. “Everyone’s first day is rough. You’re not the only one who’s had incidents like this so try not to feel so bad about it.”

He stood to go back to class, leaving you to change in privacy once you returned to your normal body. Your hair was still wet as you dragged yourself back to the headmaster’s office.

The headmaster looked at you with pity when you walked in looking worn out. You didn’t have to tell her for her to know what happened.

“How about I show you to your dorm?” she warmly suggested. Anything was better than returning to the classroom.

Due to your late enrollment, you were assigned a single room as opposed to the traditional double rooms. You were glad you didn’t have to go through the process of meeting and getting used to a roommate. It was a small but cozy space and the closet was filled with clothes.

You realized all of your belongings were probably burned down in your old home. Now you really didn’t have anything to go back to.

Before the headmaster left to allow you to settle in, she insisted that you join your classmates for lunch later. You wanted to say that you just wanted to stay in your room but her stern look had you close your mouth.

So you begrudgingly made your way to the cafeteria and gawked at the amount of students packed inside. Feeling them stare at you, you tried to ignore their whispers as you grabbed a tray of food. To your relief, you saw Eric motioning you over and went to go sit down next to him.

His group of friends was fairly large. You saw the boys he had named earlier that day and were surprised to see Chanhee again.

“Hi! I’m Changmin,” one enthusiastically waved. “I’m an air squirrel.”

“Haknyeon, air pig,” another raised his hand.

“My animal is a hamster and my element is water. You can call me Kevin,” the last one smiled.

After shyly exchanging greetings with everyone, you poked at the rice on your plate. The food was undeniably better than the food served at your old school. However, thinking about your old school made your stomach drop as you thought of the friends you left behind. You were sure Hyunjoon was worried sick about you.

“Do you hate water? And have you always hated water? I would assume you don’t like it very much as a cat and fire element,” Changmin looked at you with sparkling eyes that displayed his curiosity.

“Yeah I actually never learned how to swim. I guess that explains why. I never had a reason when my friends asked me about it,” you mused. In hindsight, your unreasonable hatred and fear of water made sense.

“Interesting, interesting,” he nodded.

Like that, the next couple of months flew by. You were put on an intensive program to catch up with your peers and received one-on-one tutoring to help you learn how to shapeshift at will. You could now easily turn into a cat but still had trouble returning to your human form.

To your dismay, you were denied communication with the outside world. The headmaster was very much against risking having the academy and everyone’s identities exposed. Which meant that you weren’t allowed to contact anyone from your previous life.

One good thing was that you were no longer the hot topic of the school. People’s interest in you died down when you didn’t reciprocate theirs.

You grew close to Eric and his group of friends. They were an interesting bunch. Each of them were uniquely chaotic.

Eric was the exact opposite of you. Literally. As a water element dog, his personality contrasted your fiery cat. Everything from your food tastes to fashion style were different. Yet, you felt the most comfortable with him. He brought light into your life and made adjusting to your new school easier.

You were also always at odds with Juyeon. Although you were both cats, he was everything you weren’t. He was sweet but you just didn’t match on so many things. This meant for a very awkward but pleasant friendship.

You got along best with Chanhee. His air side complemented your fire and he quickly became your closest friend. He was both sassy and caring and you appreciated his endless concern and support for you.

Changmin was a wild card. He and Sunwoo wrecked havoc everywhere they went as Younghoon and Haknyeon incited them while Kevin and Jacob were trying their best to prevent them from destroying the campus. Sangyeon and Hyunjae, who were usually busy with student council matters, were the only ones who could calm everyone down but sometimes chose to enjoy the mayhem.

“Did you guys hear the rumors?” Sunwoo bursted through the classroom door panting. “The headmaster is considering an overnight field trip for the seniors!”

Jaws dropped and gasps spread throughout the students. The room was immediately in a buzz as everyone was shocked and excited at the possibility of leaving the sealed territory. It had been 5 years since students were allowed a trip in the outside world.

The homeroom teacher came in and hushed everyone to quiet down. He couldn’t hide the smile that forced its way onto his face after seeing how happy his students looked.

“Is it true we might get a senior trip?” Haknyeon impatiently asked.

“I cannot comment on that. An official announcement will be made later today,” the teacher said.

“That’s not a no!” Younghoon squealed.

True to his words, the headmaster’s voice was heard over the PA system before the dismissal bell. She congratulated the seniors on their hard work and announced that they would be given the opportunity to sign up to spend 3 days and 2 nights on a cruise.

The entire floor of students erupted into cheers and you heard footsteps run across as they barged into classrooms to find their friends and rejoice together. Changmin came into your classroom dragging Kevin and Juyeon behind him.

“Guys, I can’t believe it! It’s been forever since I last saw humans,” Changmin gushed.

“The whole point of us going on a private boat is to ensure that we don’t have any run-ins with humans,” Kevin reminded.

“Yeah but I’m sure we’d pass by them on our way there,” Changmin rolled his eyes.

Sangyeon, Hyunjae, and Jacob strolled in, greeting your group of friends with a nod of acknowledgment. They waited as the rest of you gathered your stuff to leave together.

“Everyone’s going, right? Y/n, you too?” Eric asked.

“Umm,” you hesitated as you looked at their expectant eyes. “I honestly don’t know if it’d be a good idea… I’m still not in complete control over my powers.”

“Aw but Y/n! You can’t miss out on this once in a lifetime trip with all of us!” Sunwoo whined.

“Yeah, it’ll be your last time leaving campus before graduating! Plus, it’ll be your first and last major bonding experience with our class,” Younghoon pouted.

“I know how hard fire can be to control. If you want, I can stay with you and try to help you detect signs of distress before it manifests itself,” Hyunjae offered.

“And I‘ll be next to you to put out any accidents!” Eric beamed.

“You know I always have extra clothes in my bag,” Chanhee added.

You couldn’t say no to the 11 pairs of pleading eyes. They all so desperately wanted you to go with them that it warmed your heart. It hadn’t even been long since you first met them but they always treated you like you were with them from the start.

So you added your name to the list of students and that was how you ended up dragging your suitcase to the giant cruise ship. Haknyeon was bouncing in excitement next to you as the throng of high schoolers slowly made their way inside.

Room assignments were the same as back at the academy, which meant that you were in a single by yourself again. Changmin expressed his envy as Chanhee happily pulled him into their shared room.

Once you were unpacked, you headed to the deck and admired the seascape. The ship was already sailing into the vast ocean and the endless horizon felt so freeing. Leaning on the handrails, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. The salty smell brought back memories of visiting the beach with your parents.

You felt someone join you but didn’t open your eyes. You could tell by their footsteps that it was Eric.

“Enjoying the change in environment?” he asked.

“Makes me a bit nostalgic,” you said as you opened your eyes.

The wind was strong and the waves were violently crashing into the sides of the boat. With the sun glistening in the water’s reflection, you squinted a bit to appreciate the scenery in front of you.

“Isn’t the view so pretty?” you sighed in content. You didn’t notice that he wasn’t looking at the sea. Instead, he was staring at you.

“Yeah. Extremely pretty,” he found himself saying with a soft smile.

To Eric’s slight annoyance, Sunwoo came and tactlessly interrupted the moment to tell you two to meet everyone else at the pool. He was raving about the jacuzzi next to it and eagerly tugged at Eric’s sleeve to hurry him up.

Younghoon was already shoving Hyunjae’s head underwater when you arrived. Jacob waved at you from the chaise lounge and you sat down next to him. Giggling, you watched Sangyeon climb on top of both of them as Juyeon egged him on. Changmin and Chanhee were relaxing in the jacuzzi while Kevin and Haknyeon were piling food on their plates at the snack bar.

Eric was thrown into the pool thanks to Sunwoo’s push and he emerged to the surface screaming and laughing. Using his powers to add more pressure, he splashed Sunwoo with water, who ran off shrieking.

“Do you not like the water as well?” you turned around to face Jacob.

“I don’t necessarily dislike it but I don’t really like it either,” he shrugged. “I don’t mind jumping in if the guys tell me to join.”

“Do you hate the water or are you afraid of it?” Haknyeon asked as he and Kevin took a seat next to you.

“I guess both?” you answered.

“You know, contrary to popular belief, I’m actually not that fond of large bodies of water either,” Kevin said as he offered Jacob a bite of his pizza. “Pretty weird for a water element, huh?”

“Hey, hey, we don’t stick to stereotypes. We are all individuals with personalities and preferences unique to our own character,” Jacob chided.

“Oh how I love confirmation biases,” Haknyeon joked.

You had to admit it was pretty interesting to see how each person matched and defied their element and animal characteristics. It was like taking a personality test and fervently agreeing with the parts that were true and blatantly ignoring the parts that weren’t.

The rest of the day was spent fooling around and playing games. There was never a dull moment with the boys. They were always in high spirits and full of energy.

Even at dinner, your table was the loudest one. Juyeon had been sneakily stealing a few bites of fish off of Haknyeon’s plate, who took great offense when he finally noticed. Meanwhile, Eric was bargaining with Younghoon for his chicken. At the mention of chicken, Hyunjae joined in on the negotiation of the last piece of meat.

So far, you haven't had a risky moment with either your element or animal. You were in complete control and didn’t need guidance—although Chanhee remained by your side just in case. When you made it back to your room to call it a night, you were relieved and proud that the trip was going smoothly without any hiccups.

Perhaps you spoke too early.

In one of the rooms down the hall, a girls’ night had turned awry. One of the girls, a water element, began crying and started a waterflow that got out of hand. The more she panicked and tried to stop it, the higher the water rose. It quickly seeped into the hallway and into other rooms.

With her friends screaming at her to make it stop, it only escalated with a loud whoosh as the door broke open from the pressure. Now in full panic mode, the girls shrieked and realized that the place was flooding from the inside out.

They trudged through the rising water to flee, banging on doors on their way out. Doors swung open as students woke up from the commotion.

By the time Juyeon finally managed to wake Eric up from his deep sleep, the water was nearly up to the bed. The roommates freaked out, wondering what the heck was going on. Juyeon quickly grabbed his bag and hurried Eric to leave.

On their way out, however, they saw that your door was still closed.

“Shit, Y/n can’t swim,” Eric gasped.

“The water’s not that deep yet. Let’s get her out while it’s still walkable,” Juyeon said as he threw his bag down and started walking towards your room.

Meanwhile, you were still sound asleep. You were startled awake by the pounding. When you registered the situation, the fear made you shift into a cat before you could get up and unlock the door. You anxiously glanced at the closed door as the water began to climb up your body.

Outside, Eric felt a pit form in his stomach. Getting worried, he decided to break your door open. With the help of Juyeon, he barely slammed the heavy wood down by mustering up all the strength he had.

“Y/n!” he yelled when he finally saw you.

You were struggling to keep your head above the water and it was getting harder by the second to not breathe in the liquid. He rushed to pick you up and kept you afloat even when he stumbled. The waves were now reaching his chest.

Juyeon transformed into his cat form to swim as Eric trekked through the hall. You were clinging onto him and Eric was holding onto you tightly as well. You could feel him pant and his heart beat fast. Tucked under his arm, you looked up to see beads of sweat falling from his forehead.

Your own heart skipped a beat at the sight. You could tell how much he cared for you. He made you feel wanted. Needed. Important.

You two were polar opposites but still complemented each other so well. He was the optimism you lacked and you were his rock. You kept him grounded and he made you laugh.

When you finally escaped to the deck, Juyeon stepped away to change back into a human and put on clothes. Your friends crowded around you, Younghoon drying you off with a towel and Chanhee placing a clean outfit next to you.

“Alright, everyone, settle down,” the headmaster called out, turning heads. “I’m glad you’re all safely out but it’ll take some time to drain the water. Please calmly stay in groups until we sort everything out.”

Thanks to your months of training, you were now able to sense when your transformation was about to occur. You grabbed the clothes with your mouth and ran off before you could flash anyone. You sheepishly returned wearing one of Chanhee’s pajama shirts and with water still dripping from your hair.

“Y/n!” Sunwoo dramatically whined, jumping you for a hug. Displeased, Eric peeled him off of you and handed you another towel.

“Thanks, Eric,” you smiled. “For… everything.”

“No problem,” he grinned as he ruffled your head.

“Thank God these two got you out safe and sound,” Sangyeon sighed in relief. You apologized for worrying everyone, to which Hyunjae insisted that you had no reason to feel sorry.

Luckily, the next day was not as eventful. A dinner party was prepared for the last night on the cruise and you got to dress up and have fun. You enjoyed a relaxing time in the ballroom with music playing from the speakers and the boys embarrassing themselves on the dance floor.

You giggled as you watched Changmin ask his crush for a dance after Chanhee quite literally pushed his friend to approach her. It was sweet to see both of them all shy in each other’s arms.

Juyeon nudged Eric and nodded in your direction to ask if he was going to ask you to dance as well. When Eric pretended not to know what he was talking about, Sunwoo joined in to tease him.

“Come on, bro. We all know you like her. Just hurry up and make a move already,” Sunwoo snickered.

“Ooh are we talking about Y/n?” Hyunjae came after eavesdropping.

“I hate you guys,” Eric rolled his eyes as he tried to hide his blush.

Learning from Chanhee, Sunwoo shoved his best friend towards you and fled after he bumped into you. Shooting him a glare, Eric silently swore at him with his eyes. He cringed before turning around to face you.

He felt his breath being stolen away when his eyes met yours. You were absolutely stunning. The glimmer of the chandelier shining on your enhanced your features and he found himself lost in your orbs.

From a few tables away, Kevin and Jacob had joined the other three guys to fanboy over the interaction. Juyeon whispered “he’s totally whipped” to Sunwoo who failed to hold back his laughter. Eric, however, didn’t even notice. He was too busy gaping at you.

“Uhh is there something on my face?” you asked, bringing your palm to your cheek. You were slightly self conscious at his intense staring.

“Beauty,” he blurted. Trying to play it cool, he acted confident and ignored the burst of laughter from his friends. You felt your face heat up at his comment and awkwardly coughed as you looked away.

“Y-You look great too,” you stuttered.

On his way to pour himself some more punch, Chanhee loudly told you to just dance with Eric. He passed by and continued to walk towards the drinks without a care as to how flustered he left you two. Your friends were practically doubling over in laughter at this point.

So Eric boldly held your hand and gently guided you to the dance floor. Feeling your body heat up, he applied his cooling powers on you to prevent you from igniting flames.

“I guess we could say there’s a spark between us,” he joked.

The rest of the night flew by in a blur. You hadn’t felt so carefree in so long. For the first time in a while, you weren’t hung up on the past or worried about the future. You simply appreciated the moment as you were living it.

You never expected things to turn out the way it did. With the death of your parents, you lost a lot of things. But your new friends made you feel complete again. They healed you in ways you couldn’t have imagined.

The revelation of your true identity also brought you peace. You no longer felt like the odd one out. Your own powers didn’t scare you and you felt safe learning about them at the boarding school.

However, you began to doubt all of that the second you docked back on land. You were chatting with Eric about his favorite ramen brand when an all-too-familiar voice made you freeze.

“Y/n..?” he carefully called out. He slowly came up to see if it really was you and gasped when he saw that it was.

Eric didn’t know why he suddenly felt uneasy. Maybe it was because an unknown male had made a reappearance in your life or maybe it was because he recognized the way he was looking at you. It was the same way he looked at you as well.

Chanhee, now protective and defensive, slightly pushed you to the back to ask who he was.

“It’s okay, Chanhee. He’s my friend,” you assured, stepping forward.

Juyeon scowled, not liking that you were interacting with people from the human world. It was borderline going against the rules.

“Hey, Hyunjoon. Long time no see,” you timidly greeted.

“Are you kidding me? You disappeared after a fire burned down your house and that’s all you have to say to me?” Hyunjoon fumed.

You winced at the pain evident in his voice. It had hurt you to ignore your best friend and there hadn’t been a day where you didn’t miss him. Guilt-ridden, you were unable to meet his eyes. He took you by surprise by pulling you in for a hug.

“We thought of the worst, Y/n,” he murmured. “I forgive you for going M.I.A. on me. It’s okay. Everything’s fine as long as you’re here.”

You choked back tears but couldn’t stop one from falling down your cheek. You heard the headmaster gathering the students to get on the bus back home and knew that you didn’t have much time before you had to leave him again. Sangyeon patted you on the shoulder and ran ahead to ask the headmaster for leniency.

“I-I have to go soon,” you stammered as you broke away from his embrace.

“Go where? You’re not coming back home?” Hyunjoon asked.

“I… have a new home now,” you gulped. “I can’t tell you where and I can’t promise that I’ll be able to see you again. But I’ve missed you. I still do.”

“Are you safe?” he whispered after staying silent for a bit. “Are you happy?”

You took a glimpse of your group of friends that was unconvincingly pretending to not listen to the conversation. It almost made you chuckle despite the situation.

“Yeah,” you trailed off. “I’m doing well, Hyunjoon. And I hope the same for you. I’m sorry.”

“Then that’s all that matters,” he forced a smile as he hugged you one last time. “Bye, Y/n.”

“Bye, Hyunjoon.”

It pained you to see him watch you walk away. Your heart broke with each step you took. On the ride back to the forest, you stared out the window. Eric, sitting next to you, softly squeezed your hand to offer you some comfort.

“I made the right choice, right?” you asked, leaning on his shoulder.

“Do you regret it?” he cautiously asked.

You thought about it. You definitely missed Hyunjoon and all of your other old friends. You also definitely felt bad that you left them behind without a word and still couldn’t provide an explanation. But at the same time, you’ve grown to love your new school and new friends. You no longer had to be on edge without even knowing the reason why. Creker Academy made you feel confident. The boys made you feel accepted. Eric made you feel loved.

“No,” you answered with certainty. “Not at all.”

a/n: for the eric to my sunwoo, @sohnhorizon​

[liptonsbabe]

Havoc [Thomas]

A Maze Runner fanfiction

//

Summary: When the reader, the second-in-command of the village goes out into the maze looking for a way out, the last thing she hopes to find is a whole new community on the other side of the walls. Much less, when it seems to be inhabited only by boys her age.

Warnings: none

A/N: Hey! This is my very first fanfic here and i decided to start with some tmr stuff ;) English not my mother language so please let me know if something is wrong. Anyways, enjoy!

Chapter one: Leaving home

YOU WAKE UP THAT DAY WITH AN INCREDIBLE MOOD, although things in the village were not encouraging at all.

The dew hadn't fallen yet when you were already in front of the maze, impatiently waiting for the doors to open. You were carrying a backpack with the breakfast on your back, the belt resting on your hips, and an awl strategically hidden in your back pocket.

You didn't understand why your heart was beating so fast even if the night before had been the worst of all. The disease was progressing, it was devastating the village and the parents were leaving their children alone. You trembled in your place. You've never seen anything like that before. The illness, the confusion, the tiredness, the agony. The desease was ending with all of you. If you and the trackers didn’t find a way out as you had promised, then the village would be devastated.

You couldn't allow it. You weren't going to give up. Maybe the answer was out there, waiting for you and you weren't going to keep it waiting.

Maybe the feeling of your restless heart was a good sign. Maybe your heart was sensing things that you could not know and, with a little bit of luck, get it right as he almost always did.

The village had exits from its four points, so, as the sun was in the west that day, you decided to start with the east gate, considering it a good sign. You pulled your hair up in a high ponytail, ate an apple as fast as you could, and waited for the doors to move.

A curtain of dust and pebbles rose in front of your face as you listened the doors opening. That day the main corridor to the maze had a strange smell, but you thought that your nose was already damaged by the medicines and infusions that you had been smelling in the nursery, so you ignored it. You adjusted your boots waiting for the stench to disperse when a strong pull carried you backwards, scaring you.

“What the hell...? Asenat! "You muttered releasing the grip on your shirt. The girl smiled haughtily, crossing her arms over her chest “How many times do I have to tell you to not pull me like that? I hate being pulled!

“You can do it as many times as you want, I honestly don't care, I'll keep doing it anyways”

“You're an idiot”

“Where do you think you are going?” Cassidy asked, standing next to Asenat, both of them staring at you with their arms crossed over their chests and frowning. You rolled your eyes

“To do my job, the same as you should be doing right now”

"You are no longer a tracker”

“I am the leader, I can give myself that position”

"Second leader," Asenat corrected you, "After Richard, and he was the one who gave you the order to stay in the village, remember?"

You clicked your tongue as the trackers were already leaving to the maze. Asenat caught your shirt between her fingers again preventing you from running. Cassidy sighed, shaking her head. If something was clear to them about you, it was how stubborn you could be.

“Yes, I remember”

"Do you still have those headaches?"

"No," you lied. You'd been feeling terrible headaches for a couple of weeks now, before Richard fell sick from what the villagers called the glow. The man, who was also a tracker, had found you in the middle of your section with a terrible bruise on the back of your head and a pool of blood surrounding you. He carried you to the village, and when you were sufficiently recovered, you mentioned having a terrible pain and falling unconscious hitting the stone. Richard didn't need to know more to remove you from your job, forbidding you to return to the maze until your headaches were better. Until the night before you hadn't felt any pain, so you assumed you were fine “I'm great, don't worry about me. It was an accident”

"Yeah, are you sure?"

“Completely”

"Even if it were so, you are not allowed to go out," Cassidy said, determined. "We need you here, my friend."

"I'll be back before dark”

"Things don't work that way anymore," Cassidy replied, looking at you with a frown. "Richard hasn't died yet." His rules are still ours and since when we can do whatever we want?

“Don’t say it like that”

"You know Richard is not going to survive" Asenat lowered her voice preventing any other villagers from hearing her "he will die like the rest of the infected and when that happens all this will be over. We can continue with the rules that he made, but that will not be enough. There are families dying every day, our duty is to take care of them. We have a pact, okay? Treat the disease first, look for a way out later”

"How long are we going to keep waiting?" You asked, taking a step forward. Asenat sighed, "Three? Four? Another five years? This place is falling apart. If we really want to help the remaining villagers we need to find a way out, take them home, give them a better life, heal them "

"Nobody assures us that we will be better out there than here"

"Let's take the risk, we won't lose anything just by trying"

"We have kids in here, even babies. Their parents have died and they depend on us.

"This time it will be different" you said looking at them pleadingly "It's crazy, but something tells me that today we will find the answers we have been looking for. I could assure you that. Do you believe me? Do you trust me enough to believe in what my heart feels?”

Cassidy and Asenat looked at each other. Richard was still sick, confined to his cabin with the doctors trying to keep him alive. The night before he had lost part of the skin on his arms and his uncontrollable anger had made them tie him to the bed, however, that didn’t mean that in his small lapses of serenity he did not realize what was happening in the village.

Asenat shrugged her arms, leaving the decision to Cassidy. In her role as a teacher, she had no say in that situation and she didn't really care too much. You were reckless and almost always clumsy, but you had good ideas and that had helped you become te mainstay of the village. However Cassidy as the third in charge represented the third head of the monster. She would be the leader at Richard's death and if you didn't get back from the maze in time and that terrified her. She was not afraid of responsibility, nor making important decisions, but that represented visualizing a future where the three of you were not together and she preferred not to think about it.

"You know we do," she replied. "There hasn't been a single day when we doubted in your good judgment, but ..."

"It's different," Asenat said rubbing her chin. "The village doesn't feel like it used to. We are used to death, we can handle it, but the feeling of having it lurking over our heads is unbearable. The maze is not better. It is changing. I listen to it every night. The steel lobsters clattering through the halls. The giant woke up and will not go back to sleep”

"Cassidy," you called her, squeezing her hands. The girl sighed, thinking of the possibilities you guys had. Staying with your arms crossed was not an option, but neither was breaking the trust Richard had placed in all of you. Asenat watched you. The three of you shared the same fear, the same confusion and the same dread of losing the entire village. There were children who required the presence of someone capable to guide them, men and women waiting in fear to be infected with the glow and babies crying to feel the arms of their dead parents. You clenched her hands tighter. You needed to be covered for a few hours only and, in return, you would find the way out. You could do it, you trusted your instincts “Please...”

Cassidy sighed.

"We'll cover you until lunchtime, that's all."

"I only need that”

"Come back in one piece, will you?" She begged, looking at a small boy approaching. You leaned down, taking him in your arms letting out a groan as you picked him up. George was eight years old, he didn't weigh the same as five years ago. You kissed his cheek, returning him to the ground “The boy would go nuts if something happened to you”

"Are you going back to the maze?" George asked looking at you with his huge brown eyes. You nodded. Then you were hit by the little boy's suffocating embrace “the lobsters will hurt you!

"They are asleep now”

"They can wake up!"

"I doubt it little one. Don’t worry, I'll be fine. I'll be back at noon and we'll have a snack together, what ya think?”

“You promise?

“I promise”

"Okay, you can go," he said. You laughed, ruffling his hair

"Thanks, puppy. Stay with Asenat, okay? She can scold you while I'm gone”

"Ya’ heard it, boy," Asenat said, rubbing her knuckles at the top of his head. George complained, "You will stay with me the rest of the day and help me teach the little ones how to count to ten.

“That's not fair!”

"Life isn't fair, brat." Come on, maybe we can grab some chocolate from the kitchen later, huh?”

Asenat held out her hand and George took it enthusiastically as they walked together towards the largest cabin that you used as a classroom. George spun on his feet saying goodbye with a bright smile on his face. You blew him a kiss and Asenat turned to show you her middle finger. You smiled

"Take care of him, will you?" I highly doubt that Asenat will do it properly”

"I'm going to watch her. Now go before I regret it. And (Y/N)” She said, stopping you as you walked towards the main corridor of the maze. You turned around, waiting for his words “Don't die out there. The maze stinks enough to add the stench of a corpse” You nodded. It was a fair deal

“No prob”

You finished your run in your section faster than you expected. The meal would not be until three hours later so you decided to make a stop to rest. You sat on the floor against a wall. Hot sweat was running down your neck and the fucking headache was back. You closed your eyes, tired. It was terribly hot, and the stench of rotting meat numbed your nose.

You drank water, the little sip you had left, and put it back in your backpack. You were going to eat some of the apple slices you took with you, but the pain in the back of your head kept you from even chewing. You stood up wanting to continue your hike when the headache went down your neck and then numbed your spine. You leaned against the wall. It was covered in vines, moss, and fungus. You wiped your palms on your pants and started walking again.

The migraine erased your sight. For a second the world around you seemed to move in luminous spirals forcing you to close your eyes. The sound lightened and you swore you heard a static signal on your eardrums.

The floor spined over and over again. You dug your nails into the palms of your hands feeling the blood pour out from the sides, staining the stone. You heard the drops hiting the floor and suddenly everything stopped.

You were sweating. Your soaked shirt stuck to your body, your hair matted on your forehead and you opened your eyes. Pushing back the hair you noticed that this was not your section, that in some inexplicable way the maze had changed drastically and there was no way to return home.

Your heart beat madly. You fell to the ground on your knees, your head aching every second screaming in agony. You crawled down the corridor without understanding its course, but recognizing small fragments of leaves pointing a path to the north.

was that the way out? You, without being aware of the pain, could you have operated some kind of lever, changing the composition of the maze, leaving it unrecognizable? You weren't sure.

You kept crawling. The leaves spreading across the path, turning into a corridor covered in dust and dirt. You complained in pain and in the confusion, you managed to hear voices from the other side.

You buried your nails in the stone rising up. You pulled forward slowly approaching until you reached the exit (or the entrance?) of the maze. The wind ruffled your hair. Then your hands touched the green grass and the pain stopped.

You stayed alert. Your senses fading little by little from fatigue. Your head ached, your hands ached, your back ached. You heard the clear voice of a boy and, unaware of it, you got up as best as you could.

You got up with the help of the leaves on the wall. You narrowed your eyes focusing on the meadow stretching out in front of you. It was not the village, it was not the exit. The walls of the maze were surrounding the meadow and you could only think that the pain had caused you allusions.

Then the torture returned. You clenched your teeth. Your vision became blurry, however you could distinguish completely unknown figures in the mist. Your ears recognized voices, men's voices, and, unable to bear another second, you fainted.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “Abort?”

Happy Tuesday guys, I hope you are all enjoying your week. Forgive me any mistakes I make here as I only have a few hours to write before work, and I am usually in a rush.

“Both of you get your suits back on.”

“What the hell is going on!” Richards demanded 

Adam took a deep breath, “Captain Richards that was not an opening for a discussion, that was an order. Now put the damn suit on, or I swear I will knock you out and do it myself. The three of them were floating in the module staring at each other, hands resting against what must have been no more than a few millimeters of aluminum. 

He stared at them, and they stared back.

Adam did not break eye contact willing the two willing them to do as they were told. Chavez was the first to move, hurrying over to her space suit and struggling to pull it on in a near panic as bright lights flashed from outside. Inside his heart was pounding but he tried to remain calm for the two standing before him.

He hurried over to help Chavez pull on her gear, finally sealing the helmet in place as Richards finally moved to do the same.

Adam helped pull the hard torso over the man’s head and link it to the waist before helping him pull on his gloves and, eventually the helmet. Before he let go, he kept hold of Richards by either side of the helmet staring at him through the glass, “I promise, if you listen to me, I will keep you safe.”

He kept eye contact with the other man until Richards finally nodded, and Adam let him go to float over and put on his own suit. His hands were steady, for now, but he knew as soon as the crisis was over he'd be shaking like a leaf.

If he survived.

He gritted his teeth, cursing himself for thinking like that. He was Admiral VIr for crying out loud. He had survived far too much to go and die now. He returned to the helm of the command module as he looked out the thick window at the lights flashing on either side of them. Despite the war that was raging around them, everything seemed so strangely quiet. There was no sound no rumbling, not even a vibration as one of the jets flew past.

Despite being at the controls of the vehicle, there was nothing he could do. They only had a certain amount of fuel to get them to the lunar surface, and if he wasted any of it at all, they would be either caught in orbit, or miss the moon entirely.

He had to keep his cool.

Another bright burst of light lit the window to his right. This one was closer this time.

His heart leaped up into his throat.

Richards and Chaves joined him buckling into their seats.

“What is going on.” Richards demanded again, his mike distant and tinny with the sound of very old technology.

“I believe anti alliance forces are attempting to assassinate me. They have been trying for months now, and I think they are being encouraged by very powerful members of  the government.”

They watched as another set of ships zoomed past.

He saw a flash of a silhouette, just enough to know that one of them was a thunderhawk and the other was a silver Rundi drone.

It confirmed his worst fears. The Chairwoman had been behind this the whole time.

***

Red nearly collided with the rocket. The Thunderhawk had pulled up the last minute, but he had almost been too late. He jerked the stick to the side, throwing up his wing ust in time to avoid hitting the rocket as it made it’s slow way through space. He dove down on the other side forced to break off pursuit and cut in front of another thunderhawk coming in from above. He made to look like he was going to ram them, playing a dangerous game of chicken which he won at the last second as the other pilot panicked and cut to the left.

There were too many of them. Only five out of the original twenty had been destroyed, and he and the rest of their pilots were busy just keeping  the thunderhawks away from the rocket, much less to have any time of firing at them.He had sent one of his people down to earth and one of them off towards the moon for backup. The moon was still hours away yet, so the hope that some help would be sent from them was unlikely, and even the man he had sent down to earth’s surface was cutting it close.

He didn’t have much hopes that they would be able to hold out that long.

Inside the cockpit his  warning lights began to blink and blair as one of the other jets got a lock on hi. He rolled right to avoid them and dove down, cutting off the lock but still being pursued by those behind him. Up ahead he saw one of the silver balls erupt into flames as it was targeted by an expert hit from one of the thunderhawk pilots.

He rolled right.

Someone else rolled left. He cut up just in time to avoid being hit and raced forward to cut off another bird that was heading directly towards the rocket.

***

Eris hurried down the hallway, her knees screaming as she did her very best to sprint, but despite her human anatomy, she was a little too much like a starborn.  With a cry of frustration she reached up and tore off her hoodie, throwing it to the ground and engaging her anti gravity belt. The ribbons on her back billowed out behind her.

Light spilled in from the windows on either side of the catwalk she was now on, filling her with a buzzing energy that she could feel radiating through the ribbons like electricity. She knew from her study of starborn that they could travel at thousands of miles an hour in the vacuum of  space, especially when under the power of a star. She didn’t think she needed to go THAT fast, but anything would be better  than what she was doing now.

As if in response to her will, she suddenly began to glide forward, picking up speed as she swooped towards the end of the hall, wind catching her in the face and roaring along her cheeks. WIth her starborn skin, she barely felt a thing as she raced around the corner and out of the waiting door. Two men dressed in military ACUs dived to the side as she blew past them crying out in alarm and confusion as the “Alien” floated by.

Somewhere distantly, she could sense Conn racing in the opposite direction towards the  base.

Sunny and captain kelly had Admiral Massie in their custody and were dragging him out into the hallway.

She blew across the open ground her ribbons snapping and billowing behind her as she did. She didn’t even have time to imagine what she looked like as she roared over the open field and towards  the waiting news vans which were just beginning to pack up their things. They were close to leaving, but she set out a sharp hard telepathic pulse ordering them to stop.

Compelling them to stop.

They froze in their tracks and looked up to see her coming.

Someone scrambled to turn on their camera, not sure what was going on but sure it had to be something good.

She tried not to think about what they would see as the camera flared to life following her approach.

“Make us live.” She ordered 

The news people glanced between each other in confusion, “But no, we aren;t”

“What are-”

She came to a sudden jolting stop before them, her billowing black hair fanning out behind her like a curling halo.

“I said, put us on air.”

This time the telepathic pulse was too strong to resist. Mostly that pair with the fact that none of them were sure they wanted to resist. She was too interesting to pass up. They hurried to do what they were doing, and Eris was given just enough time to feel nervous before the camera was turned to her.

They were live.

She read it in the minds of those behind camera who she cut off as she began to speak, “Citizens of Earth, there has been a horrible conspiracy against you. The UN president has ordered the assasination of Admiral Adam Vir  and has continually attempted to sabotage the mission. Just now General massie was taken into custody after ordering the deployment of twenty thunderhawks to harass the rocket and make its destruction look like some sort of collision with space debris.”

The group gawked at her as she raised her hand with the small silver device and began playing the recording. She knew something like this would never be admissible in court. She was pretty sure it would be considered entrapment of some kind, which is why it must be heard now, before everyone, so that the actions of the president could be judged by a jury of the world where it could not be hidden by political machinations.

“Communications have been lost with Apollo 11. And it is….. Well…. It is likely that he is already dead…..” Her voice broke, “No matter what happens, I need you, and this nation to understand what is happening before it gets swept under the rug. I saw it with my own eyes, heard it with my own ears and experienced their meeting in the thoughts of a man who is both xenophobic and hateful to his own humankind.”

She kept talking trying to give them all the information she could, spilling thoughts she had heard in the head of the UN president. Every meeting, every liaison, every name until her voice was beginning to crack.

***

The UN president was just standing to enter her vehicle when a slow muttering began in the crowd behind her. SHe turned as the ground before her went silent. She watched as a wave ran through the people. A wave of nudging and whispering and showing off news feeds they had pulled up on their wrist implants. It wasn’t long before the entire crowd was either staring down at their arms or clustered around someone else for viewing.

“What is going on.” She wondered turning to one of her men who was staring down at her own wrist.

“Madame president?” He said with a look of confusion.

She could hear it now.

“Her and general massie have ordered members of the UNSC to adjust funds in order to hide the twenty thunderhawks they were squirting away for just such an event.” She hurried forward grabbing the secret serviceman by the arm staring at it as she watched the streaming newsfeed and the freaky white alien with the large dark eyes and flowing black hair.

“She is afraid of aliens, she wishes to isolate and eventually use humanity’s superior forces to overtake trade in the galaxy-”

The muttering behind her had turned into an angry grumbling, and she turned to see the eyes of hundreds hat turned towards her. 

“Get me out of here.” She hissed 

The Secret Serviceman took a step back with a look of confusion and indecision on his face.

“It’s your job.” he snarled 

He just stared at her. 

She hurriedly ran over to her car as the crowd began to filter in around them pressing close. A few of the secret service men pulled guns but a large majority of them were frozen with indecision and were taken over by the crowd. She scrambled into the back seat of her vehicle and slammed the door shut screaming at the driver to get moving.

The crowd was surrounding them now pounding at the glass.

She could hear their angry voices raised for her to be heard behind bullet proof glass.

Outside, she watched a lone figure step onto the platform where the lectern was and stare at her with it’s beady black eyes. The Chairwoman of the GA stood over the crowd like it’s filthy alien lord.

And even though Rundi could not smile, she could swear it was smiling.

***

Baby K hit a rough patch of turbulence coming down from the atmosphere. She struggled with the controls as she was thrown left and right inside the cockpit of her rickety shuttle. Donovan red had ordered her down here to grab the UNSC, but she was so scared and full of adrenaline that she had dropped it at too steep an angle. The ride was much bumpier than it was supposed to be, and her teeth were rattling inside her head.

“Unidentified vessel, you have crossed into UNSC airspace, identify yourself or be destroyed.”

She scrambled for her communications, but her fingers felt as stiff as wood as she scrambled for the button.

“I repeat, unidentified vessel, you have entered UNSC airspace, you are ordered to identify yourself or be destroyed.”

She slammed her first into the comms button nearly panicking, “UNSC.” Her voice was rattling, “This is B-baby K, and I….. The Apollo 11 is under attack!” she was breathless as she forced the words out.

There was silence over the coombs, “Say again.”

“Apollo 11 is under attack!”

More silence, “Roger that.”

Two jets pulled up to the side of her, those she recognized as two F-90 Darkfires.

One of them adjusted its angle and cut engines before switching to the fusion engine that rocketed it up and out of site.

The other stayed for a moment, “Unidentified vessel, please land on UNSC base airstrip one.” Before turning and following it’s comrade.

***

Conn raced towards the airstrip feeling the wind in the ribbons at his back. He couldn’t go nearly as fast as he wanted too with air resistance . Wythe hell did Adam always have to get into so much trouble, why did he always have to be the center of attention.

Everyone either hated him or loved him, but the problem was people who hated him also wanted to kill him.

Why did he have to be so controversial?

Why did he have to be hated for something that was such a big deal. Why couldn't he be hated for having controversial political opinions . Conn paused.

On second thought, controversial political opinions were kind of what had gotten them here in the first place, so he guessed that was kind of a useless comparison. How about being the kind of guy who liked to talk too much about fishing. That was a great way to make people hate you for being boring, but it didn’t usually mean that people wanted to kill you.

Maybe they could get the man a hobby doing something that wasn’t  so controversial. 

Like 

Kicking small Animals or.

Cannibalism.

He came roaring to the stop at the edge of the airfield ust in time to watch an entire platoon of pilots racing towards jets. He could hear their minds and looked up to see a rather dinky shuttle descending from the sky. He floated forward towards one of the jets as a pilot leaped inside.

He was going to need a ride.

The pilot turned to look at him but Conn just shook his head.

The pilot decided to ignore him in the confusion and Conn Grabbed on tight.

Starborn he had come to learn were a very interesting species in comparison to others. Vertically as from the top down he was very fragile and likely to break his neck or collapse his spine if there was any undue pressure, but with horizontal forces, he was practically indestructible. Below him the ship roared to life and soon they were gathering speed along the runway.

His grip was tight, and he used the extra energy from his ribbons to sped himself up along with the jet to reduce the pull on his arms.

His brip wasn’t that strong.

They went vertical almost immediately, and he made sure to orient his body in the correct direction as they went hurtling into the sky.

***

Red’s right wing had been hit. If there had been atmosphere around him he would have been a goner, but there was no air resistance here, so once he regained control of his roll, he pulled back into position  and fired one last shot as the opportunity arose. The sixth thunderhawk was destroyed in an eruption of debris, which he dodged only with difficulty limping without the aid of the maneuvering jet on the end of his one wing. Things were only speeding up now, the Runid were almost gone and the pressure was being laid thick on his people. They were hard to hit but the pursuit made it almost impossible for them to do any real maneuvering of their own. He was almost hit again as another darkfire sped underneath him. They rolled this way and that rocking from one side to the other. Flying through debris and over strips of silver metal.

Below them the earth hung as a clowning orb.

Red cut in a wide circle coming in with the sun at his back using it to blind one of the enemy darkfires as he came in. he watched the group of them form up suddenly as a ring around the slow moving rocket intending quite certainly to rush it all at once. He screamed into the comm trying to order his men around, but it was going to be too late, he could already see it coming.

The jets rushed forward, and he did too screaming inside his helmet as they went to broadside Apollo 11.

And then with all the silence of space, sixteen F-90 Dark Fires came spitting overhead all at once raining down a line of ordinance that cut through the group of unsuspecting thunderhawks. Space around them was filled with a silent explosion as each and every one of them was ripped to shreds.

All except one.

He saw it at the last moment.

It had been hit in the tail and had gone wildly off course.

It turned sideways, but had just enough force….. For its wing to tear straight through the aluminum siding of the rocket.

Chavez and Richards had been ordered to strap into their seats. Adam had taken it upon himself to lock down the rest of the main cabin. Outside the flashing lights were like a fireworks display without sound. He grabbed onto one of the rails, forcing equipment back into the palace so that if anything happened it wouldn’t fly out.

His legs were kicked up behind him as he floated forward reaching for some of the controls as a sudden bright wash of light filtered in through the windows. He heard a scream over his com, and then the air around him was rent with a horrific tearing noise, which suddenly went silent. There was a rush, and he jerked forward as he was sucked back….. And out of the ship entirely.

His hands and legs kicked and flailed  as he tried to right himself, hearing his own breathing as the only sound as he watched the rocket begin to spin debris erupting around him as air, and whatever wasn’t strapped down was sucked through the small opening.

The rocket was spinning wildly, he was spinning wildly in a silent abyss. Grunting against the force of his spin, he reached down for the controls to the CO2 canister built into the pack of his spacesuit.

He groaned not sure which way was up or down or back. He tried to right himself against the spin by firing in the opposite direction to slow his spin.he could see the rocket now spinning in the opposite direction with the sudden loss of oxygen. He hoped the other astronauts were ok. He saw the silhouette of a jet fly past in the distance making its way towards the spinning rocket.

At least there was someone here to help.

Maybe the others would survive-

And then he stopped, coming to a confusing halt in the middle of space.

That shouldn’t have been right. He should have kept going forever. He tried turning his head, but he felt like the pillsbury doughboy in this two thousand year old suit. 

What was happening 

“Did you miss me.”

Well shit, now he sort of wished he could keep spinning.

There was a tugging on the outside of his suit, and Conn floated into view in front of his helmet.

“Hey sweetheart.”

“You are probably the last person I wanted to see.” he said though he didn’t entirely mean it, and unfortunately Conn knew that too the mindreading asshole that he was.

I could hardly let the father of my child go spinning off into space without taking accountability for his family.”

“Shove it up your ass Conn.”

“No really, not even the vacuum of space is going to save you from your responsibilities. Now, about custody, I was thinking you could have every other weekend  and a couple of major holidays”

He gave a ruful sort of smile as Conn grabbed him by the life support pack and started floating them towards the rocket, which the F-90s had somehow managed to slow the spin of the rocket, and pull it back on course with grappling magnets.

All around them space was filled with debris. No more darkfires were present and those that were were quickly being grappled. One sleek racing jet slowly cruises past them. One of its wings was damaged, but whoever was inside waved with one hand  as he rolled past.

Adam lifted a hand as Conn brought him the last few hundred feet to the torn opening in the side of the ship, allowing him to step through.

Conn patted him on the side of the helmet, “make sure to be home by dinnertime sweetie.” Before blowing him a kiss and vanishing back out the hole.

Adam floated there a bit nonplussed for a moment before turning back to the front of the ship where Chaves and Richards were still strapped into their seats. He floated over to strap himself in.

“Admiral! You’re ok.”

“Yes, it seems that I am, thanks to a….. Friend of mine.”

Just then Conn appeared again just before their right side window, and like the classy gentlemen that he was began rubbing his butt up against the glass.

He sighed, “Friend is kind of stretching it.”

“Apollo 11 this is Houston, do you copy!”

The man on the other end of the line sounded close to tears, and Adam hurried to respond, “Houston this is Apollo 11.”

On the other side he thought he heard the sound of voices cheering in relief.

“What is your status, over.”

“We are a bit beat up Houston, we have a tear in our hull, but our suits are ok, and we have help.”

“Prepare to abort mission.”

Adam frowned, “Now wait a second there Houston, I didn’t get sucked out the side of my own rocket to just quit now. Tell the boys to come up here and patch us up and we can finish the mission. All systems are still functioning, and we are back on course.” he glanced over at the others, “That is, if the crew wants to continue.”

There was a pause and then Chavez timidly piped in, “I’d be ok with that.”

Richards sighed, “Roger Houston, patch us up.”

Granted it may have been cheating. Apollo 11 hadn’t had support with special tools that cold just patch a space ship within ten minutes, but then again the original Apollo 11 hadn’t been in the middle of a firefight while on their journey to the moon. So it was with some trepidation that Houston allowed it, and before long they had air back inside the cabin back up to pressure, but they also had a sixteen man rotating escort for the rest of the way.

The group of them were even shocked to see Rundi drones join the formation only to learn that it had been the UN president who had allegedly called the hit on him. It was hard to believe, but they were only getting snippets here and then from over radio and from Conn, who floated around occasionally to rub another part of his anatomy against the window and give them teasing updates

The moon was growing slowly in their vision.

“I can see my house from here.” Adam remarked as they prepared to detach the lunar module from the rest of the ship.

They landed without incident observed by mobile camera crews  and news reporters as he made his own footprint on the never changing dust of the moon’s surface. He gave them a thumbs up to let them know he was fine and hesitated only once before setting up the UN flag in the dirt. He refused to let his enthusiasm be dampened by the day’s events and hopped around dancing and leaping for joy as another one of his childhood dreams was fulfilled. That was before he plowed face first into the moon’s surface and required help from Richards to stand back up again.

They left soon after taking another three days of escort back to earth before strapping themselves in for final entry. 

Conn left them just as they were entering orbit with a middle finger for all three of them.

“Your friend is super delightful isn’t it.’

“Try having a child with him.” Adam muttered refusing to elaborate even as they stared at him in confusion.

They fell from the sky and landed somewhere in the Pacific ocean, picked up by the waiting navy vessel who was within nine miles of their landing site. They were fished from the water and returned safe and sound to the ship to cheers and cameras. Adam’s legs felt a little like jelly after days of not using them, and he was finally able to relax lying on the deck of the ship under the sun as people ran around them on either side.

His hands shook slowly building up after the stress of the last week. He took long deep breaths and closed his eyes.

The next few days were going to be a real shit show.

[himitsu-luna]

Nct 127 - Creature series

File #6 - Jaehyun, the vampire

Genre: angst, supernatural, romance

Warnings: death of characters, mentions of killing methods, mentions of blood, pain, description of vampire bites and perfuration

Pairing: Jaehyun x reader

Featuring: Jeno

Word count: 2.7 k

Nct 127 creature series masterlist

The story

Jaehyun was born in 1797, as a normal human.

At that time, mankind and the vampire breed had a tense relationship. But, very strangely, everything seemed under control

When he was 24, because of a series of unfortunate events, involving conspirations and betrayals, a war broke out between the two races

Jaehyun, as a young soldier and leader of a troop, were sent to the battlefield.

Sad and bitter events happened, and he was turned into a vampire.

Since then, he lives for centuries and centuries, going from place to place, playing hundreds of roles, experiencing hundreds of lives, looking for one thing that keeps him going through his imortal existence

The powers

You either are born as a vampire or you become one.

You only become a vampire if you get bitten by one

However, when you get bitten by a vampire, it doesn't necessarily mean you will become one.

The cruel part of turning into a vampire is that it's not for free. In reality, it's an exchange of a life for another life.

The vampire transformation takes 2 hours to be completed, and it will only fully consolidate if the bitten person drinks a considerably large amount of human or vampire blood before the two hours end. Otherwise, when the time comes to an end, the person dies.

The person or vampire bitten by the incomplete transformed vampire inevitably succumbs.

In other words, the vampire transformation is always tragic, because someone always perishes in the end.

Vampires drink blood to survive, but it doesn't need to be human blood. They can survive with other animal's blood, but human blood is a completely different treat.

Jaehyun has an abnormal strenght, and over developed senses

He has basic telepathic and telekinetic abilities, which gives him great manipulation skills

He has the ability of quickly healing physical wounds

A few things are able to end his life though: fire, drowning, decapitation

– Report: Incident number 1

°°°

[year: 1821]

– "Jaehyun, do you really have to go?", you ask your husband for the 100th time at the doorstep of your house, firmly holding his hands, barely able to see him with your eyes blurred by tears.

– "Y/N, I do. I'm their leader. I need to fight. I need to protect everyone. And most importantly, I need to protect you. Don't worry, my love, I'll be back. I promise..." , Jaehyun responds you with a suplicant tone, his voice sounding deeper than usual, as he tries to hide the shakiness on it.

After a last passionate kiss, a last squeeze of hands, and a last long glance holding the desire of the two of you to freeze time, Jaehyun goes through the door without looking back. He has to admit he is afraid he may not live up to his promise. Vampires are scary beings. Powerful, almost untouchable. It's incredible how humans stand in this war against these creatures so far. Fortunately, some powerful vampires still side mankind, hoping the unlikely coexistence.

Taking a deep breath, Jaehyun jumps into the colourless truck that is going to take him and dozens of other soulless men to the battlefield.

...

[6 months later]

– "CHEERS TO JAEHYUN!!!!!!!"

– "CHEERS!!!!!!!"

– "Guys, guys!! Calm down!!! Hahahaha"

Jaehyun is being carried by dozens of euforic men, acclaimimg their leader for his bravery and determination to get every single one of his mates back to their families. The war is over. The last vampires retreated and, finally, peaceful days can be seen in the horizon. Tears are being shared, parties are being planned, but in the middle of all the deafening happiness, Jaehyun's only desire is to sink into your warm hugs again.

...

Turning around the last corner to reach his home, his heart racing madly, Jaehyun meets your comforting figure, that waited for him every single day at the door since he left, and that now is running to him with arms open. The vision of you completely blinds Jaehyun. He missed you so much. He can't wait to feel you again. But it blinds him so badly that he can't see the bloodthirst creature hidden in a dark alley, ready to jump on him. Still with his eyes glued on you, he watches your smiley face abruptly squirming into pure horror. He was given not even half of a second to process that scene, as he suddenly feels a piercing pain in his jugular, followed by his entire body landing on the ground, then a light breeze brushing his now even paler skin, as the treacherous vampire vanishes from the scene, releasing, with his gutural voice, an almost incomprehensible yet still powerful word: "Revenge".

Jaehyun’s senses are all messed up and his body convulses violently. But even imersed in chaos, his brain tries hard to not lose itself completely, as it percieves you getting closer and closer.

– "DON'T COME!!!" - he desperately yells, in his last effort to maintain his sanity.

But it's too late.

His concious falls apart completely. Everything gets red. Everything is too much, everything is overwhelming. He can clearly hear a rythmic heartbeat, that is not his own, resonating inside of his skull. He can clearly see the tempting purple path under a layer of skin, shining in high saturation in a waving hypnotizing motion. He can clearly feel his teeth landing on a soft surface and sinking deep into it. He can clearly taste the metalic flavor of blood spreading through his tongue. And after all of that, he can clearly smell your floral perfume, he can clearly feel hot heavy tears running down his cheeks, as he realizes what he has done.

Slowly getting his mind back as the sharp fangs retracts to the normal sized canines he is used to, Jaehyun is left in agony, all his face muscles contracted into profound sadness, looking at your fragile figure in his arms.

–"No no no no NOOO!!!! PLEASE NO!! Y/N, TALK TO ME!! Talk to me...please.....", he implores you, swinging his body back and forth, trying to keep you awake.

–"Jae.... It's ok.... It's o..k.... You... Are back... I'm so happy..." - you murmur, lifting your hand to wipe the cheeks of your beloved one.

You know how this works. You know that Jaehyun has become a vampire, and you know he won't die. You know he is safe. With that thought in mind, you smile relieved. You let your eyelids fall along with your hand, and, spending all of your remaining energy, you force your lips to move one last time : – "I love you...".

....

Standing in front of your grave, depositing your favorite flowers on the shining black marble, Jaehyun mentalizes his sorrowfull wishes over and over again, hoping they reach you:

– "I promise, Y/N, I promise you... I'll find you in whenever life you live, I promise I'll go back to you. I promise."

...

[Year: 2021]

–"OmG, I'll be late!! No no noo!!!! Stupid alarm!!" - you yell at the air, tripping on your cozy blankets, from your bed to your way to the ground.

A job like that would never fall on your lap again, for sure. You were a just graduated college student, visibly lost in the adult world, looking for a job so you can survive. You still can't believe that such a big company sent you this unexpected invite, willing to hire you. "I'm not mad, though.", you cheerfully think, while quickly spraying some perfum on the birthmark you have on your neck.

Shoving a piece of dry toast into your mouth while putting on your shoes, you rush to your first day at your new job.

....

You made it in time. Waiting for having a word with your new boss, you briefly look at yourself on the hand mirror you always take with you, fixing your messy hair and straightening your black blazer. Distracted in your own little world, you jump in surprise when an elegant man silently steps in the room, stands by your side without you noticing, and announces, with a resonant voice right into your ear:

– "Boss is ready to see you"

Having a look at the name tag hanging over the man's chest, you thank him:

–"Ohh, thank you.. hmm.. mr. Jeno! And I'm pleased to meet you!"

Jeno gives you a discreet smile, guiding you to a enormous poor iluminated room, in which a gorgeous and imponent figure stands behind an impressive desk. Your pupils take a few seconds to adjust to the weak lighting, but as soon as you exchange stares with that mysterious man, a weird wave of excitement runs throughout your whole body, like your blood is bubbling inside of your veins. You've never felt like this before, and it intensifies when you finally hear a deep, smooth, and weirdly familiar voice coming out of his mouth:

– Report: Incident number two

–"Hello, Y/N. Nice to meet you. You can call me Jaehyun".

–––

It has been five years you're working at Jaehyun's company. And it has been three years you stand beside him not only as his employee, but also as his lover.

Jaehyun is a fascinating man. But there's something very odd about him. You don't know if it's the way he seems to be able to go deep into your mind. If its the way he has the knowledge of an ancient person. If it's the way everything he does feels nostalgic. If it's the way he looks at you and you can see, along with a sincere love, deep sadness and sorrowfullness emanating from his eyes. If it's the way you are sure you knew him already even before your first encounter. If it's the way you feel like you've been waiting for him your whole life. –" Oh well, maybe there's something very odd about me as well." , you think in a dreamy state while watching Jaehyun sleeping peacefully beside you.

...

You are at Jaehyun's house, distractedly walking around and running your fingers through the fancy furniture, waiting for him so you can have the homemade dinner he's been promising you for weeks now. He finally found an empty spot in his busy schedule, and it has been good thirty minutes since Jeno let you know he and your boyfriend were at the supermarket, picking some ingredients. "Jaehyun must be so lost right now", you chuckle to yourself, wondering what weird things he would buy. But with the chuckle, you feel a light discomfort in your chest. You have a weak heart condititon since birth, so you're used to this sensation. "Ahh, not today! Today I have to be 100% good!" , you scold yourself, hoping the annoying feeling ceases soon.

But it's not. The light discomfort turns into a light pain. The light pain turns into a fierce pain. The fierce pain turns into and unbearable pain. Imersed in your suffering, you automatically massage your heart area and sustain your body stood by grabbing the nearest thing you can reach. And, before you lose your senses entirely, you can feel this thing moving, holding you tightly and carefully, and calling your name with that deep voice you loved so much : – " Y/N!!!!!!!!"

....

Staring at your motionless body on his arms, the dejavu Jeahyun is having is breaking him apart. After dozens of peaceful lives with you, he was not expecting losing you like this once more. Gradually and certainly, he is following your heartbeat on its crescent silence. He doesn't want to feel this pain again. If it's selfish, if it's benevolent, it's tricky – and even unfair – to judge the only thought that goes through Jaehyun's mind right now. With a decided and firm tone, he instructs Jeno:

– "Jeno, look after her, please. That's my last order to you."

With an almost imperceptible widening of eyes, seeing how his master determination even made his quivering less severe, Jeno answers him, trying to transmit in his voice the confidence and reliability he knows Jaehyun needs to feel.

– "Yes master, I understand. I will."

This phrase brings a peaceful expression to Jaehyun's face. Focusing completely on you, Jaehyun's fangs sharpen and he plants them into the flesh of your neck. You imediatelly wake up, as a wave of electricity runs through your body and excites every cell of it. You don't know what is happening, everything is so confusing with your blurred red vision. But you know you're thirsty. Your throat feels dry, and it claims something that is not water. You sense someone's body pressing itself on yours and, instinctively, you deep your teeth into the warmness, finding yourself satiating your needs with some unknown viscous liquid.

And a movie starts to play before your eyes. A movie staring you and Jaehyun. A movie showing all of your lives together. A wedding at a beach you've never been before. Jaehyun holding an unfamiliar happy dog you didn't know you missed so badly. You and him wearing antique clothes you've never owned, discussing about what to cook for dinner while watching the sunset. His crying face painted with red blots, his body swinging back and forth holding you in his arms, trying to keep you awake.

Drowning in an ocean of memories, you frantically attempt to resurface back to your present reality. Slowly pulling your teeth out of Jaehyun's neck, you gently wrap your arms around his cold body and sink your forehead onto his shoulders.

– "Jae... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry...."

– "It's.... ok, Y/N, it's ok.... I'm the one who is sorry"

– "No! It must have been so difficult for you... All these years, all this waiting... I'm so sorry... And... thank you so much."

– "I know... You... Would do the same... For me."

At this point, you are not trying to hold your tears anymore. At this point, Jaehyun's life is already hanging by a thin thread. Showing his dimples to you, his last words come faint, but still carry heavily the pure meaning of them:

– "I love you."

[Year: 2058]

– "Master, the apartment was rented successfully.", the serious and steady man says coming out of nowhere, getting by surprise your anxious and wondering mind.

– "OMG, Jeno! Are you a vampire or a ghost, please!! But ok, thank you a lot. Let's prepare everything then." , you respond, barely hiding your excitement.

Packing your things in an untidy chaotic way, you suddenly stop your actions. Hesitantly and avoiding eye contact, you ask Jeno something that has been bothering you for years now:

–" ....Hmm...Jeno.... Do you.... Do you think he will still like me?"

Even though he was caught off guard by your question, Jeno promptly replies:

– "I have no doubt about it, master. Thousand of years could pass, his love for you would remain the very same. I've witnessed it, trust me."

You bite your bottom lip, trying to conceal the wide smile forming on your red crying face.

....

*Knock Knock*

Lying on the couch of his living room, Jaehyun lazily raises only his head, wondering who could be knocking on his door. He definetely is not willing to stop watching his drama to answer the unknown visitor.

*Knock knock*

Finally accepting that staring at the door would not make something magically happen, he decides to get up and open it. However, he was not expecting that such a trivial thing would be so life changing.

– " Hi, I'm your new neighbor! My name is Y/N, nice to meet you!", you nervously say, extending your already sweat hand to the admired boy in front of you.

Jaehyun is astonished. He thought he had his whole life figured out. But, all of sudden, only now he can say that everything makes sense, that everything is where they should be. Only now he truly feels alive. Like a breath of fresh air, like he is living in a completely new world, he grabs your hand firmly, afraid you could vanish, and asks you in disbelief:

–" Do I know you from somewhere?"

–" Maybe...", you answer, with a mischievous yet tender expression painted on your face.

Jaehyun smiles at you softly, feeling the comfort and the sense of familiarity that only centuries of linked lives could bring him.

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[harryissuchalittleshit]

Connecting Flights

For @trainingprompttuesday and @petalstosarah happy Tuesday, I loved this prompt (obviously I wrote so much), I feel like this just made the best meet cute for Hermione and Ron!

Can also read on Ao3

Hermione cursed as she tried to fit her suitcase into the overhead bin of the airplane. She had just ran all the way across the airport in twenty minutes to get to her next flight, it would the last time she ever got on back to back flights like this.

Part of her was excited, she had been ready to come home a few weeks after leaving cold and dreary London for her abroad course in Australia. A whole year away from everything she had known, studying law and researching their political landscape. It had been interesting to say the least, but she missed her family and her friends, she missed her favorite coffee shop and flirting with the cute barista. Hell, she even missed her roommates coming home drunk in the middle of the night and playing their music as loud as they thought they could get away with.

She missed her own little part of London that was her home.

Hermione walked down the length of the plane, looking for her seat while also trying not to hit anyone with her laptop bag and purse. She wished that she had gone home for Christmas, she’d had the two weeks off while the government was closed, but had decided to stay away because part of her knew that she wouldn’t go back if she came home early.

She fell down into her seat with a small sigh, she had known that wearing flip-flops was a bad idea, but it had helped her get through TSA so quickly and all her other shoes were heels. Her flip-flops had seen better days, she had only packed them on a whim as she never had much used for them in England, but she had worn them every day in Australia, even if it was just so she didn’t have to wear her heels around the office.

Her officemates had joked about knowing wherever she was by the slip-slap of her shoes, much better than the click-clack of everyone else. It was a story that Hermione knew for a fact that her friend Harry would think was hilarious. He and his fiancée, Ginny, were picking Hermione up from the airport when she finally landed, apparently Ginny’s brother was flying in from a connection in Athens’s too.

Hermione listened carefully to the safety briefing by the flight attendants before they took off. She was exhausted, she had barely slept on her first plane ride that morning, and being up in the air again just made her feel even more exhausted.

She had just taken out her laptop and put in her earphones when the man in the seat next to her stood up.

“’cuse me.”

Hermione sighed and let him pass through, briefly taking note of him. He was incredibly tall, with short red hair, pale and freckly skin, and Hermione couldn’t help but peak over her shoulder to stare at his arse as he walked down the plane to the bathrooms.

In the dark reflection of her laptop screen, Hermione quickly took in the bags under her eyes and the lack of makeup on her dark skin. Her skin was clear for once, and she found some lipstick in her purse along with an old eyeliner pencil. Her hair was nearly unmanageable on a good day, but Hermione found a hairband and quickly put it on as the seatbelt sign came on again.

“Everyone please return to your seat, we are experiencing some turbulence as we move through a storm system.”

“Oof, I’m so sorry.”

Hermione stared at the man, all six foot something of him that fell into her lap as the plane suddenly shook. Hermione felt her face grow warm, as he quickly scrambled to his feet and got into his own seat.

“I’m Hermione, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Ron Weasley, I’m sorry I fell on top of you.”

~Two Hours Later~

Hermione smiled to herself as she picked up her second suitcase from baggage claim, she had three missed calls from Harry, but it was worth it as she got to flirt a little bit more with Ron. He was coming home as his little sister and childhood best friend were getting married and he was to be part of the wedding party. He had also been abroad for university, but the details had been hard to get out of him. Ron had been so much more interested in Hermione’s work, only giving a few small details to his own life and family.

On several different parts of their journey they had accidentally held hands, and on the last bit of turbulence Hermione hadn’t let go until they had finally landed. Ron, being the gentleman that he was, had even helped her get her suitcase down from the overhead bin and walked her to baggage claim.

“I just got my bags Harry,” Hermione hissed into her phone as she walked out to the pickup area. “Oh I see you!”

Hermione felt herself smile as she ran over to the small dark car and her best friend from uni. She had met Harry at Freshman orientation, they had several classes together and just clicked. They had survived parties, midterms, football tryouts (for Harry), trivia team tryouts (for Hermione), horrible first dates, and even embarrassing family visits (the most memorable one being Harry’s uncles caught together in one of the bathrooms). They had been there for each other through all of the good and the bad, and Hermione had been proud of Harry when they graduated, even as he went on to work in sports marketing and Hermione went on to law school.

Six years later, they were still best friends, they still talked everyday even if it was just through text messages and emails, and Hermione was to be in the wedding party when he got married to Ginny. Hermione was excited to say the least, and coming back to London now couldn’t have been better timing.

“Hey there Granger,” said Harry as he held his arms out to her, Hermione rolled her eyes and hugged him tightly. She couldn’t believe that she was home, that she was finally home with the people that she loved. “Missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” whispered Hermione, wiping at her eyes as Harry let go of her and picked up her suitcases.

“You’re going to love Ginny, and her brother Ron, they’re great,” said Harry as Hermione watched him carefully put her things in the boot of his car. “They’re already in the car.”

Hermione nodded, faintly aware that she was going to need to perform for the next few hours until she could finally go to sleep. She had to stay awake until at least eight, so she could adjust back into the time zone. But part of her had hoped that she could fall asleep in the back of the car, like the time Harry had taken her home to Godric’s Hallow for Easter holidays their second year of uni.

“Oh,” said Ron from the plane, as Hermione climbed into the back seat beside him. He looked a bit cramped in the tiny car, his long legs almost pressed to his chest. “It’s you again.”

Hermione felt herself blush, taking in the whole situation. Harry’s childhood best friend was Ron, and his little sister Ginny was Harry’s fiancée, and Hermione was Harry’s best friend from uni.

It felt almost like a set up.

“You two have met?” asked Ginny as she pulled out into traffic, Hermione just barely clipping herself into her seat belt.

“He fell on my lap on the plane ride here,” said Hermione, taking in the little she could see of Ginny, despite knowing what she looked like from the photos Harry had sent her. Hermione knew that they met because Ginny was one the players on one of the teams Harry worked for. They’re courtship had been renewed, they had dated for a very brief period in secondary, before breaking up when Harry moved to London for uni.

“Well it seemed to work as you asked me for my number,” said Ron, and Hermione felt herself smile as Harry turned around in his seat to stare at Hermione. She wasn’t known for being bold when it came to asking others out, the few relationships and dates that she had in uni had all been initiated by the person asking her out. She just never thought that far in the future, she wasn’t much of a romantic, at least not like Harry was.

“Wait,” said Ginny, looking at them in the rearview mirror, “you sat next to each other on the plane and you didn’t tell me Ron? We sat here and you didn’t even mention it?”

“I didn’t know that she was Granger,” said Ron, and Hermione felt him grab her hand as Ginny slammed on the breaks the light in front of them turned yellow. “Maybe if someone told me that her name was Hermione it would be different.”

Ginny let out a loud sigh and Hermione smiled to herself. Strangely enough, this felt like the time Harry had tried to set Hermione up with his roommate Neville. It hadn’t worked out, though Hermione and Neville were still great friends even now, he was even going to be part of the wedding party.

“Alright sure, my bad,” said Harry, but Hermione could hear the familiar cocky tone in his voice he got when he was too happy about something working out the way wanted it to. “Sorry Ron.”

“Thanks,” said Ron, squeezing Hermione’s hand softly and meeting her eyes in the backseat.

For some reason, Hermione couldn’t make herself feel upset at all. In fact, her return to London seemed like the absolute best thing in the world.

She didn’t even feel tired anymore.

~Two Years Later~

Hermione smiled in the mirror over her bathroom sink.

She looked the same as she had two years ago, at least for the most part. Her long curly dark hair was still as unmanageable as always, her dark brown eyes still had bags under them, her skin was surprisingly clear for once, and she wasn’t wearing much makeup. She was wearing her trusted flip-flops and a sundress, her engagement ring and wedding band glittered on her left hand, she was going to a baby shower today.

She was seven months along, her daughter was due in a little less than eight weeks, and she was excited to take this next step. Everything had been easy in the last two years, she and Ron had just clicked.

There was no awkward phase after he had fallen into her lap on the plane ride that took them home. Dating had come easy, especially as they both were staying with Harry and Ginny until they got on their feet again. Moving in together had just happened, both of them deciding that they mind as well because they were dating and getting two flats just seemed stupid when they only wanted to spend time together.

Ron had proposed six months after they had met, and even though Hermione knew it was insane, she said yes.

It was so strange and out of character for her, she wasn’t one who didn’t think things through. But Ron made it easy, he was funny and smart and charming, he looked at her as if she was both the sun and the moon, he never tried to sell himself to Hermione, he was just himself and that was enough. He was caring and kind and made her smile on bad days and made her giggle until she was peeing herself on good days, he brought her lunch almost every day and made them dinner most nights. And he never got upset when she had to stay late in the office for work.

He loved her and that was enough, it would always be enough.

He got along with her parents, and Hermione felt like a Weasley after meeting the whole family at Harry and Ginny’s rehearsal dinner. She didn’t have any siblings, Harry being the closest thing to a sibling to her, but now she had five older brothers and one little sister in Ron’s siblings, not including their spouses.

Getting married to Ron had been easy, they got married in her family’s church and had the reception at Ron’s parent’s house. It had been everything she could’ve ever wanted, and in just eight weeks she would have her and Ron’s first baby.

“’Mione,” said Ron, appearing in the bathroom doorway, his red hair longer than she had ever seen it, but his warm smile the same as the day they had met. “We have to go before we miss the whole thing.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and rubbed her stomach as their daughter kicked her. They had decided on the name Roslyn Eleanora, or Rose for short after Hermione’s grandmother on her mother’s side. They were going to name their baby Hugo Charles after Ron’s favorite brother if they were having a boy, but Hermione reminded Ron that this wouldn’t be their last baby.

“We’ve been late to more important things than a baby shower Ron.”

“And Harry and Ginny still hold their wedding and James’ christening over our heads, Hermione.”

Hermione smiled and reached for Ron’s hand, placing it on her stomach before leaning forward and kissing him softly. She had never been happier to have a stranger fall into lap.

Though, of course, she never imagined that she would’ve married him fifteen months later.