#vibrations cause me pain so like sure you numbed me i cannot move my face but i can still feel it!!!

[ineloquent-creature]

my teeth can literally rot that was the worst experience EVER

now onto the next worst experience ever. needles in my veins 👎👎👎👎👎

[javier-pena]

bloodstain

Chapter 2 of The Hunt

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Rating: Mature

Warnings: mentions of death and trauma | very brief mention of blood | brief description of a panic attack | still a lot of hurt and just a little bit of comfort | misunderstandings | mild to moderate language | but maybe there’s also a ..... soft scene ...... | Din’s hands

Notes: First, let me start with saying that at this point taking a bullet for Dani @javierpcna​ doesn’t feel like it would be enough. She literally drops everything whenever I send her a new or revised chapter to look over and i cannot thank her enough! I kinda surprised myself with how quickly I finished this chapter, but that’s also thanks to Dani because the highlight of my day is sending her small snippets of what I’ve written and having her reply with “?????”. I also want to thank all of you who read the first chapter and left comments and sent messages, it means the world to me! I was so nervous about sharing this with you all, but I’m so glad I did. And finally, let me end this with saying happy birthday, Chrisann @darksber​!!! I hope you have a fun birthday and I hope you enjoy the second chapter as much as you enjoyed the first one.

masterlist | join the tag list

The snow comes over night. The cold, clean smell is the first thing your mind registers, even before it has time to make you feel confused about the strange bedsheets wrapped around you. And then you remember.

The screams.

The blaster shots

The fire, the blazing heat engulfing you, burning your skin.

Those men on their speeder bikes, laughing, looting, taking whatever the fuck they want.

And you, unable to stop them.

The feeling of cold, all-consuming despair makes a shiver run down your spine, makes you curl up in a tight ball beneath your blanket and shake so violently it makes you feel sick. Then you cry, and with the tears comes the heat until you’re so hot you feel sweat collect at the nape of your neck and run down your back in icy beads. After yesterday, you hadn’t expected there to be any tears left, but there are, so many, and they don’t stop, they seem to be endless, like a river flowing, rushing, tumbling over rocks and down a precipice, drowning everything in its way.

You hate those men, you loathe them, you want them dead, torn apart by wild animals, you want them dead after they beg you for their miserable lives, you want them dead and forgotten. That anger and that lust for revenge that seem to take up every cell and atom in your body are what finally helps you to stop crying. They don’t help you to calm yourself – you are anything but calm – but they help you to focus your rage on one goal: kill them all.

Because with the memories of the pain and the despair and the utter helplessness you felt yesterday (and still feel today) comes the memory of him. The Mandalorian. And remembering him means remembering the hope you felt when he offered his services, when he pledged himself to your cause. Shit. You shake your head. He did no such thing. He accepted a job. He only cares about the money, he doesn’t care about the cause. Yes, he will help you achieve your goal, but he’s emotionally detached from it. And you need to remember that. You need to remember it for your own sake because as soon as you assume anything else, it’ll get messy.

And he terrifies you. He terrifies you so much, especially in the light of day. Because the morning sun makes him feel real, solid, and so much more dangerous. And you have a feeling you shouldn’t keep him waiting.

You finally sit up and roll your neck and shoulders to relieve the pain the previous day’s labors have left behind. You couldn’t defend yourself against the Mandalorian, even if the muscles in your body weren’t screaming with pain. You don’t know what’s wrong with you. You don’t know why you would trust a complete stranger like that after everything that has happened to you, why you would trust a complete stranger who could snap your neck like a dry twig. Being around him feels like being constantly held at gunpoint. One wrong move and you’re dead.

But you need him.

Maker, you need him.

You get out of bed and stretch, then run your hand over your face to dry it off. There is a bowl of water on a small table next to the bed. You have to break the thin layer of ice that has formed on the surface, and when you splash it on your face, it is freezing, but at least it makes your burning cheeks feel numb and it eases the stinging in your eyes. You know you look a mess, but you don’t care. You get dressed in your soot-blackened clothes and then leave the small room. You have no idea if you’ll ever sleep in a bed again.

***

The morning air is icy cold. Two suns have risen, but the third one still hides behind the trees. The air is foggy, misty, and clouds of smoke pass you by. The settlement is already busy. In a shop next to the inn, a man heckles with the vendor in a raised voice. Two farmers lead a small herd of tauntauns down the street, while everyone tries to get out of their way. In the distance, a child is crying. It smells like fire and snow and life. You hate it.

The everyday noises are overwhelming to you; the melody of a hammer hitting metal in a nearby forge makes your skull vibrate, the voices of people talking makes you want to cover your ears with your hands and yell at them to shut up, the reverberations of the tauntauns’ claws against the frozen ground makes you want to take cover somewhere and hide until nightfall.

But you don’t run or hide or even just turn around to take a breath. Instead, you focus your attention on the Mandalorian.

He is waiting for you outside the inn. A thin layer of snow has collected on his shoulders, a sign he’s been standing motionless for a while. Even though the morning sunlight is pale and makes everything look hazy, you see him clearly. So clearly that you have to squint your eyes when you look at him. His beskar armor glistens from the sunlight it reflects, so much that the people on the street turn their heads to look at him. The wisps of smoke rushing past shroud him, but it’s not enough to dim the dancing shimmers. He carries a long staff strapped to his back, a kind of spear you’re pretty sure he didn’t have with him the previous night at the inn. And his face is hidden behind the helmet again, which probably shouldn’t surprise you, but it does. All of this just makes him look wrong. He looks so out of place standing in the middle of this dirt-poor settlement it makes you want to pretend you don’t have anything to do with him.

So you focus on what’s behind him. In one hand, he holds the reins of three orbaks, in the other a small bundle. He presses it against his chest like he’s holding a small child, not a lifeless piece of cloth. The orbaks are big, wooly beasts, dark grey in color, with two long, dangerously pointy tusks hanging from their mouths. Two of them have saddles strapped to their backs, the third one is laden with crates, saddle bags, even two long guns. The more you look at it, the more weapons you spot. What does one man need so many for? So much baggage will just slow you down. The bandits already have a day’s head start and travelling on heavily loaded orbaks will give them even more of an advantage. But this is probably the best the Mandalorian could do – the settlement is so poor, not even merchants sell speeder bikes – who would be able to afford them?

You shudder and wrap your arms around yourself, painfully aware that the fire destroyed everything except for the clothes you’re wearing. But they’re not enough to protect you from the bitter cold. You can see your breath hovering in a pale cloud in front of your face when you exhale slowly, you can feel the snowflakes on your bare lower arms as you walk toward the Mandalorian. You have no idea how he can stand there like the cold is nothing to him. Beskar doesn’t protect against low temperatures. To you, this is just further proof of how much he’s not human.

“Here,” he says, as you stop in front of him, holding the bundle out to you.

“What’s this?” you ask with a small nod at him, the bundle, and the orbaks. You don’t take it.

The Mandalorian looks behind him, then back at you. “Supplies,” he says.

You take the bundle from him and untie the chord that’s tightly wound around it. Folding back the thin cloth, you unwrap a long, dark brown leather cloak with fur linings and a thick, woolen scarf. The scarf looks itchy but feels very soft against your skin and the coat lies heavy in your arms, like a dead animal. The sight of these clothes leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, and you don’t move to put them on. Instead, you stand there, pressing the unwrapped bundle against your chest, and look at the Mandalorian with raised eyebrows.

“What’s this?” you repeat.

He doesn’t reply, just nods and makes a gesture with his now empty hand, motioning you to hurry up.

You don’t. You just look at him, shivering more and more with each passing second. You’re not sure if it’s from the cold or from the anger you’ve been feeling since yesterday, since waking up this morning, since unwrapping the bundle; everything is stoking up the fire, feeding your flaming rage

“Listen,” you start. You try not to let your feelings get the better of you, but it’s impossible. You don’t quite know yourself why this small gesture enrages you as it does, you just know you need to set some boundaries right now. “I don’t need your pity,” you continue. “I don’t need you to look out for me. I can take care of myself.”

The Mandalorian huffs. “This isn’t a gift,” he says, his voice completely level. “I’m paying for it with your money. I’m not forcing you to wear it, but if you go on the journey like that,” he nods at you, “you’ll freeze. You’re no use to me dead.”

You feel heat rush to your face and settle in your cheeks. Without another word you put on the coat and tie the scarf around your neck. The coat rests heavy on your shoulders, weighing you down. It’s a size too big, but snug, and you stop shivering immediately. You run your left hand along the right sleeve under the pretense of fixing it, but you just want to feel the material under your fingers. It’s softer than it looks, which just serves to make you feel embarrassed and … stupid.

You feel stupid, so, so stupid. Did you really expect him to make you a gift? To look out for you? To care for you? You hired him to do a job and he’s just making sure you stay alive long enough to pay him. Much like the owner of a racing stable would do with his fathier. You scold yourself for having misread the situation. You blame it on the exhaustion you still feel, on the trauma you lived through, on the need for human connection you had no idea you even felt. There is no way to come out of this situation without feeling like a fool, so you just decide to ignore it. After all, it’s best if you just forgot about the whole thing. All you need to do in future is to be more careful around him so you don’t misinterpret his intentions again.

“Supplies?” you ask to distract yourself.

You wish you could see his face when he says, “Were you just going to follow them on foot with no food or weapons?” Because it doesn’t sound as if he’s mocking you, even though he should be. Hell, you should be mocking yourself. But he just sounds genuinely curious, as if this is a discussion about a topic you’re both not emotionally invested in, not a question of life and death.

“No,” you answer slowly, then look away. You have to admit you hadn’t thought about it yet, you were too focused on the idea of hunting those men down that you didn’t even consider you needed tools, supplies, food, and a means of transportation. “Thank you,” you add.

The Mandalorian gives you a curt nod, accepting your words of gratitude. You’re glad he doesn’t press the subject, any subject really.

Without him, you would have been dead within a day.

***

It is still snowing when you and the Mandalorian leave the settlement behind. As you begin your journey into the unknown, tiny snowflakes settle in the fur of your orbak, making it appear white instead of dark grey. It blends in perfectly with your surroundings, where everything is light shades of blue, grey, and brown. And white, so much white. You squint your eyes and yet the light still stings to the point you tear up. You envy the Mandalorian his tinted visor and you wish you had something similar to protect yourself. Alvorine’s three suns hang low, their pale blue light filtered through hazy clouds. Everything you see is blurred and too bright to look at directly – it makes you feel vulnerable and exposed. Even as you enter the cover of the trees, their bare branches do little to help keep out the light and the snow and so you lower your eyes to your reddened hands holding your orbak’s reins as you trust the Mandalorian to lead the way.

The air is cold this morning, so cold you tie your new scarf over your mouth and nose and still feel it sting in your throat. Your face, still raw from crying, stings too. Your hands are frozen shut around the reins and you can’t feel your fingers. When you try to move them, the action is painfully slow. You shiver despite the heavy coat on your shoulders as you sit hunched over to give the cold air less opportunity to cover your body with icy touches. You would never admit to it out loud because you’ve already embarrassed yourself enough for one day, but the Mandalorian was right – you would have frozen to death within a few hours of leaving the shelter of the settlement.

You raise your head briefly to look at him riding ahead of you, but he is the brightest object in a 10-mile radius, you think, brighter than your orbak’s fur or the snow-covered ground. Back in the settlement, you already noticed how the suns’ light reflects off his polished beskar armor, but out here in the forest with nothing around to distract your gaze, he is like a homing beacon, like a bright, blazing fire lit in complete darkness. This brazen display makes you shiver; he is on top of the food chain, too quick and powerful and deadly to hide his presence. He could be spotted from miles away by someone on a sentry tower and yet the person keeping watch wouldn’t stand a chance. The Mandalorian would catch them sooner or later, no matter how well they were trying to hide. Nothing can escape him, so there is no reason for him to hide his presence, to sneak from cover to cover like a thief in the night.

He frightens you.

What is also bearing down on you is the silence surrounding him, you and your orbaks. Yes, there is the sound of their hooves against the frozen ground, the swoosh of their fur every time they shake their heads, the soft thud whenever they brush up against a branch, making snow glide to the ground. But that’s it. That’s all you hear. The Mandalorian travels in complete silence. His armor doesn’t squeak or thump. You cannot hear the sound of his slow, steady breathing. Even his hands lie completely silently on the nape of his orbak’s neck, the reins resting against the worn leather of his gloves. And you envy him those gloves because the further you travel into the forest, the colder it gets, and the stiffer and more unresponsive your fingers get.

You cannot recall the last time you felt this uncomfortable. You wish there was something to distract you from – well – everything. Yes, you’re grateful the Mandalorian doesn’t ask you personal questions because you buried your old life beneath wet soil and dirt yesterday, and with it you buried any desire to share it with a complete stranger. He also doesn’t ask you about the men you’re hunting, and you feel like he doesn’t have to because he just knows. Maybe he talked to the people back at the settlement, maybe it’s the years of experience he’s had hunting people for a living or maybe it’s just instinct – he knows where he needs to be going, he knows what kind of equipment to bring along, and he knows what the best strategy is to catch his quarry.

You don’t know any of these things. And the more you stray from the bare minimum of human civilization and into the wilderness of Alvorine, the more you realize you wouldn’t stand a chance without the Mandalorian. You would’ve frozen to death if he hadn’t given you the coat. Or you would have starved, or died from exhaustion from trying to carry all your supplies yourself. You would have gotten lost and eaten alive by a wild beast. Or you would, by some miracle, have caught up with the men, but would’ve gotten killed by them because you didn’t bring a weapon. By the look of it, the Mandalorian brought enough for a small army. And the more you think about it, the more you are prepared to admit that you were never seriously planning on going after the bandits. You are prepared to admit you were just looking for a way out so you wouldn’t have to live with the pain. One or two rash decisions made from a place of hurt and despair, one or two unplanned steps can mean death on Alvorine. While wallowing in your revenge fantasies, you weren’t thinking about Brea – you were just thinking about yourself.

But somehow – and this time you’re convinced it’s because of his instincts – the Mandalorian offered you a chance at success, one you might not even have wanted. He listened to the people in that inn and decided helping you with your cause is the right job for him. You’ve never heard of a Mandalorian like that. You always assumed they were only interested in money or the thrill of chasing down the rich and the powerful, in letting them know that no amount of credits can keep them safe. But here he is, content with spending a week or more in the forests of Alvorine, hunting down base criminals for the ridiculous amount of 240 credits. It doesn’t add up. And you would ask him about it if he wasn’t an unapproachable, withdrawn man, covered in impenetrable armor. You would ask him if he didn’t terrify you so much.

You wish you could talk to him about … something, you just don’t know about what.

But he makes that decision for you. “Are you hungry?” he asks.

His voice cuts so unexpectedly through the silence that you flinch. It somehow surprises you that he is real and not just a concept you’ve made up in your mind, and idea to help you live out your fantasies of revenge and vengeance.

When you don’t answer, he turns his head to look at you. You squint when you return his gaze, trying to make up your mind whether you are hungry or not (something that feels impossible when all you are is terribly, terribly cold), but then he pulls on the reins of his orbak and brings it to a halt in the middle of the path. He glides down from the animal in one swift movement; a small cloud of freshly fallen snow rises up when his feet hit the ground but there is still no sound and this is starting to unnerve you. It takes him a few steps until he’s next to you, the top of his head reaching your shoulder, even though you’re still mounted high on your orbak, and then he says in a rough, almost unkind tone of voice, “I asked you a question”.

And you remember the deal, you remember having agreed to doing as he tells you. It’s just, you don’t have an answer for him. So you just shrug.

He grabs the rein of your orbak and you finally – finally! – hear his movements make a sound, a low creak as the leather of his glove brushes against the leather of the bridle. The orbak shakes its shaggy head but he doesn’t flinch. His visor is directed at you and you know he expects an answer from you. He’s growing impatient, you can tell from the way his shoulders tense as he lets his gaze wander over your body.

“You’re hypothermic,” he observes, and as the words leave his mouth, so does the air you’ve been holding in and you start shaking uncontrollably.

Now that he’s pointed it out, there is no denying it. You’re cold, so, so cold, frozen and raw, you can’t feel your own lips, your nose, your cheeks. Your fingers are lifeless lumps against the coarse fur of your orbak. If the animal would decide to bolt at this very moment, you wouldn’t be able to hold it back. You’re not even sure you could climb down from the beast right now. Of all the deadly dangers of Alvorine it’s the cold that has finally gotten to you. It’s laughable, and you would laugh, if you could feel your face.

“Can you dismount?” he asks you then.

This is a question you can answer. “I think so,” you say, even though you know you can’t. Your legs are like two solid bricks of ice, too stiff to be moved.

“Do it then,” he says, and it sounds so much like a challenge that you’re determined to show him you can do it.

He doesn’t watch your pathetic display though. He lets go of the rein and walks to the third orbak that is carrying most of your supplies. You’re grateful for that because as soon as you try to dismount, you feel your body tense even more until you glide down from the orbak with a disgraceful plop and land in the soft snow with a force that knocks the air from your lungs. The sounds you make draw the attention of the Mandalorian back to you, but he doesn’t rush to your side to offer you help. Instead, he turns his attention back to the task at hand, looking through one of the bags strapped to the pack animal. You’re convinced he rolls his eyes under the cover of the helmet.

You try to get up, and you manage after two fruitless attempts. Your legs are shaking, but at least they’re supporting your weight. Walking on them is another topic you’re not prepared to cover yet. And then you feel it again, that hot sting of embarrassment you felt this morning, trying to make itself known by speeding up your heart rate and adding a feeling of nausea to your general discomfort. You push it down without batting an eyelash. There is no reason to feel like this, especially if you compare yourself to the Mandalorian. Not everyone can be a ruthless killing machine, immune to environmental influences.

Then he’s back by your side, and with a gruff, “Hold this,” he pushes a heating pad into your hands. You’re not sure at first if it’s switched on because you don’t feel anything, but when you move it around in your hands looking for the on button you notice it’s cranked up to the highest setting.

“You need to tell me when you’re cold,” the Mandalorian continues in the same gruff tone of voice, while he unscrews a flask.

Once it’s opened, he pushes it into your hand with such force you stumble backwards. Your whole body tenses at the contact and you realize you’re completely alone with him. There is not another living soul around for miles except for the three animals next to you, and they won’t come to your aid if he suddenly decides to kill you. And he could. He is so strong; you had no idea how strong until he pushed you back like that with a motion that didn’t seem to take any effort at all. And with another effortless motion, he could close a hand around your neck and squeeze until there is no air left in your body. You wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Drink,” he orders.

You do. It’s a hot liquid – tea, you think – but with a bitter taste to it. It warms you up instantly, much quicker than the heating pad does. You still can’t feel your fingers.

“Just tell me next time,” he repeats. “Losing a finger to hypothermia is a nasty business.”

And now you do feel embarrassed again. You’re a burden, you’re slowing him down. You already lost a quarter of an hour because you can’t handle a bit of cold. It’s not surprising he usually works alone. No one is able to keep up with him, least of all you in your weakened, exhausted state.

But you can’t turn back. You refuse to give up so easily.

You nod to show him you’ve understood his instructions. Then you let your gaze wander around, looking for something to distract you. You can feel heat rising to your cheeks, and it has nothing to do with the warm drink or the heating pad. You know it doesn’t because you’re still shivering. But you’re not going to apologize to him. For some reason, you feel like he would just brush it off, act like it’s no big deal. But it is to you, and you wouldn’t be able to bear him acting nonchalantly. The other possible response to an apology from you would be him trying to comfort you and you definitely. don’t. want. that. The mere thought makes your heart beat so rapidly it feels like it’s going to explode any second. The mere thought of one of his hands resting on your shoulder in a comforting gesture makes you want to run. You don’t want him to care for you because it’s entirely at odds with his character, his whole being. He is here to hunt and kill, not to hold and comfort. And this is what you need right now – a killer, not a caretaker.

You take a few steps, walk past him toward a fallen tree to calm your nerves. The deep breaths of cold air you take make you cough, but he doesn’t even flinch. Good. You’re usually not like this, you’re usually not someone who can’t take care of themselves. After all, you’ve lived on Alvorine your entire life, you know how harsh the winters can be and how dangerous the cold is. But yesterday’s events broke something in you, and the realization that you might never recover from it begins to dawn on you, take hold of you with a grip icier than the snow clinging to your worn-out boots. The weight of what happened to you slams into you with full force and you have to lean against a tree, its rough bark scraping uncomfortably against your cold, bare hand.

And then you see it – the bloodstain. One single, impossibly small, impossibly red bloodstain on the virgin-white snow. And everything stops.

You lurch forward and fall to your knees to examine it more closely. Yes, it’s definitely blood. You raise your head to look around, but you can’t spot anything out of the ordinary, just trees and snow and your own footprints. Your breath comes in short, labored bursts, and you suddenly don’t feel cold anymore. In fact, you don’t feel anything at all.

“What is it?”

The Mandalorian is there, crouching by your side. You point to the small, red dot, and he raises his hand to touch his helmet. His body grows rigid as he examines it, all the while not moving an inch. You don’t want to hear his verdict, don’t want to hear the conclusion he’s come to. That bloodstain stirs something inside you, a panic with such deep roots you feel it taking over your entire body, growing like weed, choking all other feelings, all life out of you.

Something in your body language must have given away this panic you feel, because suddenly the Mandalorian turns to you and says, “I need you to calm down.”

You nod, unable to speak. Then you turn your head away from him and throw up.

“Hey,” he says, and something in his voice catches your attention. It sounds almost … soft.

You turn back to him, running your hand over your mouth. “I’m sorry,” you apologize.

“I’m going to look around,” he tells you. Then he raises his hand as if to comfort you, but you flinch away from him. His hand hovers outstretched between the two of you for a brief moment before he lowers it again. “Just stay here. Try to eat something. I won’t be long.”

He pushes himself off the ground, towering over you. You stand up too, your legs shaking, but before you can embarrass yourself more by stumbling into him, he takes off in a slow-paced run and you stare after him until the trees swallow him up. And then you’re alone. Alone with three orbaks and your panicked mind.

It’s not Brea’s blood, you tell yourself.

But what if it is? a different voice asks.

It’s not. It snowed during the night, and we’re too far behind those bandits. It can’t be hers.

It can, you know it can. They could have left her here to die.

There would be more tracks.

Then why are you panicking? Why did you throw up?

You can’t argue with that. Instead, you sink to the ground again, bury your head in your hands, and scream. You scream so loudly that even though the sound comes out muffled, the orbaks still move their heads nervously. A few trees away, a flock of birds takes off, chittering in disapproval. You scream until your lungs begin to burn, until your throat stings, until you feel like you’ve just sprinted ten miles. Then you grow quiet.

***

When the Mandalorian returns, it’s almost dark. You’re not freezing anymore because you spent the last two hours or so pacing up and down the path through the undergrowth you’ve made earlier, your mind racing with scenarios of him not returning before nightfall. You fear the nights on Alvorine and you know you should have told him about the dangers these forests hold. Because how could he have known that it’s almost impossible to survive a night out in the wilderness? Almost because if anyone could do it, it would be him.

When he returns, the pauldron on his right shoulder is smeared with dirt and his chest is heaving with silent pants, but he’s alone. You’re simultaneously relieved and disappointed.

“We’ll make camp here for the night,” he decides without so much as a greeting.

You open your mouth to tell him how dangerous that would be but then close it again when you remember the nearest settlement is miles and miles away and you wouldn’t reach it in time before nightfall. You don’t have any other choice.

He sends you to collect some wood while he moves to tie up the orbaks. You scold yourself for not having done that earlier when you were waiting for him, but you had hoped it wouldn’t take him quite as long and he would be back sooner. As you move around, picking up the driest branches you can find, you glance over at him from time to time. He is lost in his own task, tying the reins to nearby tree trunks, patting one orbak’s neck, then scratching another one’s muzzle. They trust him, stand completely still in his presence while he circles them, examining them for any injuries or anything that might cause them discomfort.

Finally, curiosity gets the better of you. “What did you find?” you ask, as you break a big, dead branch into two parts.

“Nothing,” he replies in his brusque fashion you’re slowly getting used to. “A dead animal.”

You nod, then focus on the task at hand. Your small discovery and subsequent … breakdown? … panic attack? … you don’t know what to call it, has already cost you so much time. You could’ve covered twice the distance today if he hadn’t stopped here because of you. But … this isn’t a rescue mission, you keep forgetting about that. This is a quest for revenge, and those bandits will be there, no matter how long it will take you to find them. It doesn’t matter if it takes you two days or two months to reach them.

“Did you eat?” the Mandalorian asks you, interrupting your train of thought.

You shake your head and he sighs. Then he reaches into one of the saddle bags and pulls out a ration pack, tossing it to you. He proceeds to clear away the snow around the small pile of wood you’ve collected before doing something with his arm, so flames shoot out of the vambrace, igniting the stack. You can’t help but stare in fascination because you’ve never seen anything like it.

It doesn’t take him long to get a fire going. You grab one of the two bundled up, coarse blankets from the pack orbak and spread it on the ground next to the heat source, huddling up close for warmth and protection. You tear open the ration pack and begin to eat.

“I should’ve told you before, but it’s dangerous out here at night.” Your mouth full, you watch as the Mandalorian sits down opposite you, the fire between you. The warmth spreading through your body and your steadily filling stomach make you talkative. “There’s monsters in these woods.”

He chuckles softly but you’re sure it’s just your imagination. There is no way you could’ve heard a sound like that over the crackling fire. But before you can ask him about it, he raises his hand to remove the dirty pauldron from his shoulder, and you’re so distracted by that piece of steel being lifted off the body it usually protects that you stop thinking altogether for a moment. It’s stupid, you know that, but a part of you still thinks he might be a machine, and seeing that pauldron being removed from his shoulder feels almost forbidden, like you’re the audience to some ancient, sacred ritual you have no right to observe. You lower your gaze to the flickering flames.

“I’ll keep an eye out for those monsters,” he assures you, and you’re not sure if he meant for it to sound mockingly, but it doesn’t.

You still don’t think he fully believes you.

“Alvorine is a dangerous planet,” you tell him in a quiet tone of voice. “It might not seem like it compared to what you’re used to, but to us the dangers are very real.” You’re still not looking at him, but there is no point – you can’t see his face anyway.

“I believe you,” he says. “But fire is usually enough to keep the monsters at bay.”

As a response, you nod, even though you’re not sure he’s watching you. So you finally raise your head again to look at him. The pauldron is back on his shoulder, but his gaze is directed at the orbaks.

“I’m going to feed them,” he tells you. “They’re getting restless. Try to get some sleep.”

You nod again and stretch out on the cold, hard ground. Shivering, you pull your coat tighter around yourself. The fire is barely warm enough to keep your fingers and toes from falling off, and once it dies down, there won’t be anything keeping you from freezing to death. Briefly, you’re considering pulling the blanket out from beneath you to use it as a cover, but then you wouldn’t have anything to protect you from the cold ground. With a sigh, you close your eyes, trying to ignore the discomfort. Instead, you focus on the sounds around you, on the branches brushing against each other when a cold breeze tears at them, on the orbaks huffing impatiently and almost nervously, and on the crackling fire, the heat that makes a piece of wood snap in half ever so often. And then you hear another sound, footsteps, and your eyes snap open again.

The Mandalorian towers over you, and it’s the first time you were able to hear him approach. Instead of feeling proud of yourself, you bolt upright, adrenaline pumping through your veins. Whatever happens next, you know you don’t stand a chance against him. He slowly leans down, and you try to get away from him, but your muscles are frozen stiff and don’t cooperate. His arms move as if to grab you and a strangled cry escapes your throat.

But it’s just a blanket, just the other blanket, and he wraps it tightly around your shoulders. “Here,” he says with a low grunt. If he noticed your alarm, he doesn’t comment on it.

You look at his helmet reflecting the light of the dancing flames, and you wish you knew what was going on beneath it. Is he offended? Annoyed? Or maybe just as cold and exhausted as you?

“What about you?” you ask, grabbing the coarse material to hold it tightly against your body.

“I’m not cold,” he answers, standing up again. “Get some sleep. I’ll wake you before sunrise.”

You watch him walk back to the other side of the fire and settle down on the cold ground with just his cape to keep him warm. And for the first time since you met him, his stoic presence doesn’t fill you with dread or panic or trepidation – he just makes you feel calm.

tag list: @bella-ciao​, @chattychell​, @darksber​, @filthybookworm​, @frannyzooey​, @khalysa​, @leannawithacapitala​, @magicrowiswritingstuff​, @mothandpidgeon​, @mbpokemonrulez​, @mrsparknuts​, @mxsamwilson​, @mylifeofcalculatedchaos​, @pescopadral​, @piscespussybabe​, @something-tofightfor​

[phantomgirl15]

Going Angst Week 2021 Day 1: Birth/Creation

Warnings: Graphic gore; trauma; pain;

Rated: M (cause graphic)     Words: 3,260

"I didn't get created, I wasn't born, I'm nothing but a freak."

. . .

The rush of cold behind her that made her hair a mess sent chills down her spine, through her arms, down her legs. Sam's eyes widened as her friend was suddenly gone, vanished, as if he hadn't been there just moments before. She turned, almost afraid to see what was behind her in the lab. She only remembered flashes of what he had said, everything covered by a high-pitched wailing in her ears. She didn't want to believe it. The destruction, the disaster. The pain. It couldn't have happened so fast, so suddenly. She saw Tucker gazing at the stairs, his eyes almost glazed over with the thousand-yard stare, his jaw almost hanging as his mouth opened slightly.

"How?"

He tried to understand what had just happened. Where their friend had gone. He tried to piece together what had been said, what the ringing in his ears didn't block out. He heard Sam's soft sniffle, the sound of tears hitting the stone-cold floor almost eerie as they stood silent for a moment.

Sam walked to Tucker, her boots dragging on the floor. She looked up the stairs, a hole in the door where their friend had to have gone through it, not knowing what else to do, stumbling along the way until they were in the open air.

"He's gone."

. . .

The lab was dark. Nobody had been in there for a while, but the friends automatically knew where the light switches were. They made sure the door was shut so that nobody would suspect anything in the basement should somebody come home.

"Guys, look."

He pointed to a large hole in the wall that they had never seen before. It must have been what his parents had been building that week. Sam and Tucker looked in awe, their minds racing about what could be done in there. Sam walked closer to it, reaching her hand out slowly to see if there was any sort of energy field near it. Her hand was quickly slapped away by her friend as it got too close. She looked at him, his head shaking softly.

"We don't know if it's safe yet."

"Danny, it doesn't even do anything. How could anybody get hurt from a stupid hole?"

He rolled his eyes and tossed her a suit. Grabbing another from the wall and tossing it to Tucker before grabbing his own.

"What's this for?"

"Safety first."

He gave his friends a smirk and pulled the hazmat suit over his clothes, hoping that his friends would do the same soon. They looked at him and laughed for a moment before deciding they were not wearing those stupid suits. Tucker took a few steps towards the hole in the wall, looking into the gaping hole to see if there was an end to it. It just seemed to continue on.

"Dude, get back from there! We don't even know what this is for yet!"

Tucker rolled his eyes and dramatically took a step back, raising his hands in a submissive manner to say "my bad" silently and sarcastically.

"Come on, dude. For all we know it's just gonna be another storage closet. Just think about what we might find in there."

Danny shook his head in disagreement, Sam laughing for a moment before leaning herself on Tucker's shoulder.

"Seriously, Danny. It can't be that bad if your parents can just leave it like this. Come onnnn, let's just have some fun!"

"Fine, but you stay here while I make sure it's safe."

Danny walked towards the hole, his hands fidgeting a bit as he got closer. He felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. The looming darkness in front of him made his stomach twist as he tried to see the end of the empty tunnel. He took another step forward. The air around him got colder, he felt goosebumps rising on his arms, even with the tight suit pressed against his skin. He felt the world almost moving around him. He took another step forward. The vertigo got worse, he saw the hole twisting in his vision. He took another step forward. His boot touched metal on the floor rather than the tiles. He felt a chilling shock run up his leg as he pressed his foot to the ground. Everything was moving except him. He took another step forward. He felt the walls, the slick metal running smoothly under his glove. He took another few steps, looking around, still feeling the movement around him, the cold surrounding him, the goosebumps rising again. He took one another step forward. His hand brushed up against some protrusions sticking out of the wall. They sank into the wall as he pressed further against them.

The light appeared fast enough to blind Danny as he was paralyzed in fear for a moment before coming to his senses. He turned to see Sam and Tucker motioning for him to get out of there, but couldn't hear their cries above his heartbeat racing in his ears. His feet felt like lead bricks as he tried to run, his arms pumping to try and gain speed. He felt the light getting closer, Sam and Tucker's screams barely audible over the high-pitched screeching of whatever the light was being created by.

The cold kept getting closer to him as he ran, his friends motioning faster and faster for him to get out, but he felt like he was taking too long. He tried to jump, reaching his front half to his friends, who grabbed him as his body began to get pulled into the light. He shook his head violently, not knowing if they could hear his pleads for help or not. He felt whatever the light was pulling on him, yanking him back as his friends tried to hold him with them, tried to pull him from the hole in the wall that was now trying to swallow him. He felt their grips slipping and looked up to them, neither one able to make eye contact with him out of guilt.

They had gotten him into this, and now they couldn't get him out.

The light grew brighter, Tucker lost his hold on Danny. Sam felt the stronger pull and yanked harder, Danny no longer caring if his arm was dislocated after this, so long as he lived. He felt the pull grow stronger around him, the cold beginning to make most of his lower body sting. Sam looked at him and saw a flash of skeleton, seeing nothing but bones being grasped by her hands. Her body took a step back, releasing her hold on Danny. She heard a small cry of pain, looking back one last time to see her friend reaching for her, the skin on his face appearing to melt off as he was dragged into the light.

Danny could still see his friends. They had backed farther away from what had used to be an empty hole but was now filled with light and energy. He could feel electrical pulsations course through his body, the pain from it making him gasp for air but unable to breathe any in. He felt his lungs screaming for oxygen as he tried to move himself out of the light.

He was pulled back further, instead, as he fought to try and get out of the light. He had lost sight of his friends, wasn't even sure which direction he was facing or if he was right-side up or upside down. He could feel everything moving and everything at a standstill at the same time. He felt the cold around him almost as though it were comforting.

He heard a deep voice, almost looming above him as it spoke. He felt vibrations within himself as the voice talked to him.

"Child, why are you here? Why are you able to withstand my grace?"

"I... I'm not certain... Who are you."

"I am whatever you want me to be."

"Look, I just wanna be back with my friends. Alive."

"I cannot do that, child."

"And why not?"

Danny attempted to cross his arms, his usual teenager showing itself in frustration as whatever was talking to him told him he could not be with Sam and Tucker.

"You are merely a sacrifice. You were given to me to open the doorway."

"The doorway to what?"

There was nothing but a deep laugh, the echo of it making Danny scrunch his face in discomfort. He opened his eyes again, seeing the light around him fading to a deep green.

"To the ghost realm, child. Only a fool such as yourself would not know."

There was another laugh, Danny feeling himself being pulled upwards by the foot, the movement while seeing everything around him swirling making him almost motion sick. He tried to hold a steady face, finally seeing a dark shadow of a figure looming over his body and holding him up with long, claw-like fingers.

"And now you must become one."

The deep laugh rumbled around him, Danny feelings a sharp pain in the foot that was being grabbed. He tried to look and see what it was, but pain shot through his entire nervous system. His body uncurled itself without Danny telling it to. He felt the spasms, felt the seizing of his limbs as he screamed in pain. He felt his skin freezing and melting at the same time, seeing blood below him as the laughs around him echoed, louder and louder. He glimpsed upwards, seeing the sparks of electricity being forced through his body. Danny screamed in agony, his body being to grow scars from the electrical burns going down his skin from the bottom of his foot, the boot no longer there, the hazmat suit torn away from the pure energy running through every part of him. He felt another shock run through his body, the pain fading slowly as each new bolt ran its course through his nerves, his body becoming numb as each painful strike attempted to kill him.

The dark figure above him continued to laugh, Danny's entire leg below his knee burnt black. He felt the skin peeling away from the tissue beneath, almost passing out from the pain. He felt the electricity running through his nerves. The grinning ghoul holding him there for torture, what he assumed was planned to be death, stopped for a moment, confusion in his voice.

"How are you still... Alive?"

Danny looked at his body, most of it showing, red, blistering skin going along where his veins had been showing blue previously. He noticed his left leg was burnt beyond saving. Danny gasped in pain as he was grasped around his middle, the blistering veins sending sharp, stinging pain up and down his whole body from the tight grip. He was turned right side up, the creature holding him trying to examine him more. He noticed white hair falling in front of his eyes rather than his usual black, and almost cried out, until the breathing made everything hurt more.

"I'm... I'm alive?"

"Not for long."

Another painful shock ran through Danny's spine, the energy causing his vision to become green-tinted. He felt himself be put down, and fell to his hands and knees, coughing up blood that was a mix of a sickly green and his usual red.

"You are but a blessing and a curse. You are dead and alive. I am not certain how you survived, but this is not what I was expecting from you of all people."

"What does that mean?"

There was a pause, a long exhale from what was assumed to be a ghost.

"It means, child, that I have created you. I created your species. A half-human, half-ghost hybrid. You are now born."

Danny spat out another mouthful of blood, his stomach caving in on itself as he processed what was said.

"That's not real. None of that can be real."

"Speak as you may, child. It is very real. It is only up to you to decide which part is the blessing, and which is the curse."

Danny looked up, only seeing a shadow of his body before what had just happened. The dark, sadistic laugh continued to echo around him as he stared for a moment. He felt a pulse of energy through his midsection, felt it as if someone, something, had flown right through him.

He turned to see that the hole in the wall was once again nothing but a hole, the light completely gone, once again consumed by darkness. Sam and Tucker could be seen up against the wall across the room, fear filling their eyes as they saw what had happened. Danny slowly began to limp towards them, the black flesh on his leg chipping away as the muscles flexed to drag it behind him. He felt the stabbing pain through his whole body, grabbing what appeared to be an encasing of the wall where it met the rest of the lab and stumbling forward a bit and landing on his chest.

He felt his body spinning, blood oozing from his mouth as he laid there, each vein throbbing with excruciating pain from the blisters over them.

"Oh god. Oh dear god, what happened to you?"

Sam kneeled beside Danny on the floor, his body too weak to lift his head as her hands hovered over his body, afraid to touch what no longer appeared to be skin. He tried to just laugh it off but instead coughed up more blood. He felt himself passing out, the darkness once again coming over him as it did when the light left him in the tunnel. He wanted to stay with his friends, be able to tell them what happened, but his body wouldn't let him. The last thing he saw was Tucker and Sam, trying to get him to stay with them.

. . .

Danny woke up, laying in the same place as he had been when he passed out. Sam and Tucker were near and far at the same time. He saw that his hair was once again black. and felt clothes over his body again. He slowly moved so that he could see himself. His clothes from earlier that morning? He thought those had been destroyed by that creature when he was being electrocuted. The burn marks were gone, no cuts, burns, or blisters anywhere on his body. Besides being sore, he'd have thought it was a dream.

Tucker walked a bit closer, obviously seeing Danny confused, almost afraid.

"When you passed out, this weird white light passed over your body. It... It changed you. Physically. You... You screamed in pain a lot though. I... We didn't know what to do. You kept changing between you, and what looked like..."

"A ghost."

Danny's face flushed as he finished Tucker's sentence. Nausea rushed over him, the feel of everything returning as he waited for Sam to talk to him. Her eyes were tear-filled, spilling, just happy to see him alive again. She walked over, Danny paler than he had ever been in his life. His brain began to rush, seeing her move towards him, happy. Happy, of all things. His brain flashed to before he had passed out, half died.

She had been trying to get them to go into that cursed hole. She convinced him to go in there. She got him cursed. There was no blessing to this. How was there a blessing when he was electrocuted until he was no longer in a position to still be alive? Put through nothing but pain?

He felt his chest getting cold, from the inside out. He closed his eyes, feeling the cold wash over him as he stood up slowly and backed away from Sam in pure anger. He turned himself and saw his reflection in the cabinets' glass doors. He saw the white hair, the painful, red blisters along his veins were back. His leg was destroyed once again, but the rest of his body was in a black hazmat suit with white accessories, opposite the one he had been in. He saw that his gums were bleeding, fangs poking through. He finally made eye contact with himself - green staring him down rather than the blue he knew.

Danny felt his head throb repeatedly, his thoughts ricochetting in his mind. He saw Sam reach for him, emotion flooding him until he felt he could no longer control it. His anger made him step towards Sam, almost snarling.

"You."

He took another limping step forward toward her, almost looking like a zombie's walk.

"You did this to me!"

He attempted to grab her wrist, but she pulled away quickly, Danny not able to move as quickly from the pain. He felt his head throb again. He took a few more steps.

He was almost dead center in the lab. He felt his head throb, the pain making him to fall to his knees, clutching his head in pain. He moaned in pain for a moment, his body beginning to ache all over, feeling the cold spread inside of him. He let his head go, his body naturally letting him look upwards and scream in pain.

He had blood running through his skin, dripping down his arms, from his eyes. His body was slowly lifted from the floor, hovering as he continued to scream, the scream getting louder by the second. Sam and Tucker crouched on the floor, covering their ears as best they could. Danny felt the pain within him becoming worse, the scream only making it bearable. when energy pulsations began to form, sourcing from his body, he felt the cold in him grow stronger. His scream because eerie, sonic waves following the soundwaves that proceeded them. The echoing it had was deafening.

Glass began to shatter, anything hanging falling. The cabinets were destroyed, as was most of the Fentons' work. The hole in the wall now had hanging wires, short circuits, and broken metal, the tunnel having collapsed much closer to the lab than it had been. The scream continued on for longer than Danny knew he was able to scream. His pain had vanished, but his anger had not. He floated about the floor, seeing Sam and Tucker between him and the stairs. He started hovering closer to them, slowly.

Sam reached her hand out again.

"Danny."

She looked up at him with fear. Tucker was only able to mutter to himself.

"Ghost and human. That... That tunnel, that light. It created a hybrid."

"A new species is born."

Danny remembered hearing that from the dark figure that had done this to him. He felt his anger rise further, the red marks on his face of his veins throbbing lightly.

"Don't say that."

He looked away from his friends, not seeing their confused looks as they exchanged glances.

"Don't say what?"

Sam tried to take a step towards him. He threw his hand down towards her. Green energy landed right in front of her, scorch marks appearing on the floor where the energy had hit.

"I didn't get created, I wasn't born, I'm nothing but a freak."

Danny forced himself to soar at speeds he had never felt before past the two other teens, just trying to get away from what had created him. He heard the echoes of the ghost that had tried to kill him as he rushed up through the stairwell.

He never looked back.

[justallamaimaginingthings]

Life And Death Part 1 {Klaus Hargreeves x Reader}

A/n: YOUR BITCH IS BACK Y'ALL. After countless sleepless nights, a couple panic attacks, exams and a hell of a year, I finally got accepted into university. I'm celebrating by watching Umbrella Academy and have fallen straight up in love with Klaus. Idk still if the blog will return to running the way it used to be, but I'll try my best to catch up. I've written some stuff while I was gone but everything's in Greek. However that gave me the idea to experiment with the third POV and I’d like to hear your opinion about it. This one was not requested so we have a female reader but I’d be happy to try writing for a male one as well, since according to Wikia Klaus is pansexual.

Words: 1900ish  II  TUA Masterlist

Part 1 II Part 2

“Maybe you should take a break, it's been almost an hour and it's not working” She broke the silence after yet another failed attempt to make real contact with him.

“No, I can do this” Klaus insisted, even though he could feel his tiredness threatening to get the best of him. Almost a year had passed since the first time his powers had allowed him to actually touch her and as time went by he was getting increasingly desperate to feel her again. Unfortunately for the both of them, his powers seemed to work on their own, as the ability to physically interact with spirits appeared under the strangest -if not most inconvenient- times possibly and disappeared soon after, leaving Klaus debating the control he possessed over himself even after a whole painful year of sobriety.

“I know you can do this Klaus, but working yourself to exhaustion isn't the way. You need to give it time” She explained softly and the affectionate tone in her voice caused a small smile to appear on the corner of his lips. Truth was that behind the collected and calm exterior she tried to show, she needed this to work just as bad as he did, if not even more. Making contact with an actual living human being was the first thing she had felt in years and it had almost made her feel alive again and the fact that said person was Klaus of all people was exhilarating.

“I've given it an entire year, how much more am I supposed to?” He asked with a disappointed sight, leaning back into the grass. For a moment his eyes travelled to her and he felt the same familiar feeling tugging at his heart strings. She had been the one to help him deal with the whole apocalypse disaster, having stuck with him through everything. During the last year she had been his anchor, helping him remain sober and gain better control over his powers and somewhere along the way he had fallen in love with her. He hadn't even realized it was happening, until one day it all came crushing down on him.

“This is going to sound crazy, but I have a theory” She said, startling him out of his thoughts and back to reality.

“In case you didn't notice, love, crazy is all I do” He answered playfully causing her to roll her eyes at him, even though she felt a shiver running down her spine at the sound of the nickname.

“Fair enough. I think your powers are connected with your emotions” She started but rushed to continue, upon seeing him raising an eyebrow “Hear me out. The first time it happened you were going through withdrawals. You were desperate and angry at yourself and somehow you channeled it to me. The next time you were having a panic attack and the time after that you were heartbroken over Dave. Every time there's a breakthrough you're experiencing something intense” She concluded and even though everything that had come out of her mouth was true, he couldn't help cringing at the reminder of all the low point of his life she had witnessed.

“Even if that makes sense-”

“Which it does” She interrupted with a confident smirk and now it was his turn to roll his eyes at her antics.

“Okay, but how does it help? What, am I supposed to keep hitting rock bottom in hopes it will be useful?” He asked with genuine curiosity, despite his clearly sarcastic comment that didn't seem to phase her. After all, if there was one person who could match Klaus' witty remarks, that was her.

“That's definitely not what I'm saying. I think you just have to stop ignoring your emotions. Instead of running from what you're feeling, try to let it sink in. Allow yourself to feel” She explained.

“That sounds like something sober me cannot handle” Klaus replied dismissively, trying to hide the spark of fear that lit up inside him at the prospect of having to face his demons once again but this time without the numbness drugs offered.

“Sober you is much stronger than you think, Klaus. Don't forget he got us through the damn apocalypse. However, if you're not comfortable with this you don't have to do this, it's just a theory” The way she looked at him was so intense and without even noticing she extended her arm towards him, reaching out to hold his hand but retreating the moment she realized it. Seeing him doubt himself like this pained her every time and she constantly tried to show him how much she believed in him hoping that one day she could get him to believe in himself.

For a moment his eyes flickered at the movement of her hand as he understood what she had in mind. His first instinct was to reach for her, but he fought against it, sparing himself the heart wrenching disappointment of being unable to get what he so desperately needed. Her words were enough to shake him to the core, proving once again the insane trust she had in him, a trust he felt he didn't deserve but at the same time made a warm feeling flush in his chest. He knew there was nothing he wouldn't do for her and the thought of letting her down was unbearable.

“Oh, screw it” He exclaimed taking a deep breath “It's not like I haven't been through worse. Okay how do I do this?”

“I'm not sure. Try to think of a moment or a person that's tied to intense feelings, positive ones preferably, and focus on those feelings, use them as a source of power. Maybe closing your eyes could help” She suggested, impressed they had even gotten this far. Klaus was a very closed off person when it came to emotions, always trying to suppress whatever he was feeling and knowing all that he's been through she couldn't blame him.

He got up and after taking another deep breath he closed his eyes. At first the only thing he could perceive was the voices of the dead calling to him, but he managed to push them away as he brought her picture in mind. In the beginning he imagined her warm smile and vibrating laugh that usually followed one of his sarcastic remarks, sending shivers down his spine and making him feel proud of himself.

Then he turned to the day she had helped him calm down after yet another one of his hellish nightmares. He could still feel her feathery soft touch on his shoulders as she hugged him close and whispered words of encouragement in his ear. That night, and all the rest that followed, she had been his anchor and he hung onto her as tightly as he could. He could never forget the way she had looked at him as she promised he wouldn't have to be alone any more.

Finally, following her directions, he focused on everything she made him feel. He brought in mind all those times his heart would skip a beat at the sight of her and the unprecedented longing he felt nestle in his chest and threaten to suffocate him with every passing day he had to endure without her touch. There was pure affection and burning passion, all swirling around his head and for the first time he gave in, allowing them to consume him.

The feeling of her fingertips softly tracing his cheek made him open his eyes. She was standing in front of him, a wide smile on her lips as she gently caressed the side of his face and his breath caught at his throat the moment his eyes met hers.

“It worked” He exclaimed breathlessly, leaning into her touch as a small sigh escaped his lips. Slowly he brought his hand up to grasp hers and lower them back down between them after pressing a fleeting kiss on her palm that made her whole body shudder.

“I knew you could do it. I'm so proud of you” She beamed at him and softly squeezed his hand. It had been so long since the last time she had been able to feel him that every touch felt electrifying, sending chills down her spine.

For a moment they stayed like that, staring deep into each other's eyes and it took everything she had not to jump into his arms. She wanted more than anything to pull him close and feel the warmth of his body against hers, but she was afraid to push him too far, knowing he didn't have complete control over this new power yet.

The same thought was torturing him, but being his reckless self he decided he couldn't hold back any longer. His hand left hers and rose to caress her cheek as his fingertips shakingly traced her jaw. There were so many things he wanted to tell her, but his throat suddenly felt dry and he couldn't find the right words, or any words, to express how deep his emotions run.

“Can I- Can I kiss you?” He asked hoarsely, terrified time would run out on them. Time seemed to freeze as she turned to look at him with wide eyes, finding herself in a loss of words. Instead, she let her eyes flutter close as she leaned in with tantalizingly slow movements, until their faces were inches apart and his hot breath was hitting her. His lips parted in desire and his heart was threatening to beat out of his chest as her hands traveled from his biceps to his shoulders and then wrapped around his neck.

“What are you waiting for?” She whispered against his lips and that was all he needed to hear. Almost instinctively, his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest right before his lips crashed into hers. His eyes shut in bliss as he felt her tangle her fingers in his hair only to hold him closer.

At first the kiss was slow and sensual as they explored each other, but it didn’t take long until desperation got the best of them and soon enough their movements became needy and feverish. She nipped on his lower lip and Klaus couldn't help the groan that escaped him as he melted under her touch. One of his hands found its way on the back of her neck and he decided to deepen the kiss. He tasted like nicotine and was just as addictive making her feel like she could never let him go. Her skin seemed to light on fire under the slightest of his touch and the way his soft lips were moving against her felt like heaven.

Klaus could feel control slipping away from him with every passing moment and he surrendered to her touch, unaware of the stream of blue light that had almost encircled the two of them. When the lack of oxygen became too much she hesitantly pulled away without leaving his embrace. Looking at him through half-lidded eyes, she could see the affectionate and dared she say loving look he was giving her, sending a shiver down her spine. He looked disheveled with an adorable smile gracing his swollen lips and she couldn’t help reciprocating the action as she continued playing with his curly locks.

"I think I'm in love with you"

To be continued...

Tags: @twigleektribute23​  💘💘

A/n: Y’all can always message me if you wish to be tagged in anything specific (fic or character or whatev), it always brightens my day!

[katsukikitten]

Rouge 3

A/N MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING FOR DEPRESSION AND SUICIDAL THOUGHTS

×××××××××××××××××××××

"April 20th, I know that's Bakugou's birthday but...but he said...." You swallow thickly your body raging with emotions not sure which you would finally land on. As if it were a wheel of fortune spun, hinting heavily that it would land on either mind numbing despair or burning hot wrath.

Why would he *lie* to you?

And why did you care?

The room flashes in vibrant color and in boring tones of grey. Kirishima's ruby hair and eyes are suddenly too bright before they dull just to blind you again. The red reminds you of something.

Of someone.

Of skin decaying away like caked mud to reveal crimson beneath.

Of scarlet eyes pleading for you to move. To run and far away from what the two of you faced.

Despite him being trapped.

A scene that has since played in your dreams for the past few months.

The world spirals with dizzying color that attempt to swatch into gray.

"Y/N?" Kirishima calls softly, strong hands cupping onto your shoulders as his face leans towards yours. Alchohol wafts into your nose, burning as everything else does.

You clench your eyes shut. Forcing the episode into its place, before letting your face meld into a small smile.

"I guess I really need this drink then." You force a laugh and Kirishima cannot tell otherwise, "Thanks for setting me straight Kiri."

He smiles softly, pressing a kiss to your hair line before whispering in your ear.

"He's been worried about you."

With that he leans over and pours extra liquor into your cup. When he leaves the kitchen you swallow down the whole bottle in a few swigs. A dangerous game to play considering there could be two outcomes when you're fucked up.

One you're giddy, overly happy and laughing your ass off.

Two, the world is so oppressive that everything is tainted in an awful sickly black.

Slolwy the world blooms in distorted color as a smile creeps onto your face.

The music shakes the house with heavy bass as lyrics filter through the massive speakers.

*"I'm only alive when I'm with yoooouuu."*

You sway to the music allowing yourself to be lost in the blinding swirling colors as more and more heroes offer you drinks. Smiling faces as they laugh with you and your stories. Coming alive thanks to booze and the occasional slipped pill. Your head is heavy, yet light as you float across the living room turned dance floor as the bass rings out hard enough it seems to shake the sweat from your skin.

You're not sure who ends up grinding on you first, or who kisses who first but you know you enjoy it. Love laughing, teasing and touching with anyone who's down. With anyone that helps you forget. Further encouraging your high, the colors blinding and so vibrant you can see them even when your eyes are closed, especially so when they're pressed against a soft set of lips.

Mina breaks the kiss first giggling as she does.

"Okay Denki now you've got to take the three shots!" The crowd erupts in a cheer as he does watching him down those three double shots causes you to stare into your empty solo cup.

Reminding you that you need another drink.

But the longer you stare at the blinding bright red, the more it seems the plastic melts in your hand.

Turning sticky, thick and much darker.

"Fuck." You hiss to yourself as everything floods your senses at once.

Your quirk finally kicking in to sober you after the ungodly amounts of painkillers and alcohol you've consumed.

Suddenly it is as if you've touched a live wire, hearing beyond the ear shattering cheers all the way into the walls of the house where the mice chew on the wood.

As if their teeth are gnawing directly on your eardrums.

The sound competing with the crowd's seemingly collective heart beat with their red cups raised high. The plastic catches in the lowlight shimmering with the sweat of condensation before everything snaps.

Feeling everything so intensely it's numbing.

The room plunges into deep black but no one bats an eye, especially not as you snatch a pack of smokes and a lighter from an unsuspecting bystander right out of his black denim jacket.

You climb the steps, eyes guiding you in the dark, pushing past a kissing couple that you think is Todoroki and Momo but your mind is too warped to tell.

After three tries you finally find a room empty of slapping bodies and drunken moans. You slide open the window, snaking out before climbing onto the upper roof.

Back nestled against cooled shingles beneath the light of the stars. Filter to your lips you flick the lighter and watch the black flame dance before you inhale enough for the tabbacco catch.

The bass vibrates the ceiling below you as smoke escapes your lips and nostrils in a slow hiss.

"I feel like Bakugou would fucking hate this type of party." Is all you can think to say to the pale moon hanging high in the sky.

Silence stretches between you two as you stare into the ancient face of a long forgotten deity.

"Did I miss telling him happy birthday?" You ask the moon and still no answer comes.

Typical for you to ask all the wrong things.

At the wrong time.

And to the wrong celestial being.

Tears prick your eyes as that endless weight settles in your chest, slow blinking hoping that one day your lids will never reopen.

"You're right. I do fucking hate this party." Fear hardly clutches your stomach before the vice is quickly released, spying flecked red eyes.

Your fingers twitch before you light another smoke, half wondering if he is real or just something your ever adaptive mind is giving you to ease the pain.

The heavy loneliness.

Still you sit up and tilt the pack towards the possible mirage despite his sitting more than ten feet away.

He sucks his teeth, using precision to obliterate the offered pack with out burning your fingers.

"That's new..."

"Those are fucking bad for you." He snarls, you manage enough energy to roll your eyes before meeting his again.

Wholly noticing how his irises pale in the soft light, looking more like two blood moons forever suspended over a perpetual snarl.

It makes you laugh how something so breath taking could be paired with such displeasure.

Well that and the fact that he thinks a little smoke is gonna hurt you.

"Uh did you forget my quirk?" You tease, slowly you manage to force some life back into your face.

It's his fucking birthday after all.

Embers burn hot into your skin until shame settles over you once more.

You sigh out gripping the shingles of the roof, trying your damnedest not to break them. Thoughts swirling in your head with every passing second.

Continuously landing on a few.

Like how could you really forget his birthday?

Or more like how could you really think almost a whole year passed since your last failure?

Or how could you even count the days when all you could see was the red of his cheeks as his arms snapped backward?

Of the way his sunkissed skin fell as if it were chipped away by dirty nails?

Of the color beneath the flaking skin solidified before threatening to turn that precious fucking red into soul shattering grey.

The tile shingle snaps coming up to slice your palm causing red to ooze out onto all the shades of black.

The quiet between you becomes suffocating as time ticks by, furthering your spiral.

All the while memories from high school until now flood into the forefront of your mind as you feel nothing but a heated gaze raking across your skin.

Had he always been watching?

He sure did show up at odd times in your life.

At times you were moments away from the edge, even pulling you back majority of the time.

All the while acting as if you were the biggest nuisance to walk the Earth.

But looking back you can see it, subtle yet obvious when it clouded those blood red moons.

Worry and fear paired with a tight grip and even harsher words.

An instigated fight, an encouraged argument until slowly the emotions changed from that worry.

From the fear you hadn't thought the arrogant hot head capable of to something else entirely.

Relief.

That's what flooded his eyes each time he safely brought you back to the dorms or the agency. It feels as if he's been the only one to ever truly worry.

The only one to look hard enough, to see past the fogged glass.

Words claw up your throat, fighting one another as they do.

Phrases and cries for help all the same as all you want to do is reach out for those strong arms to wrap around you.

To openly cry as you pulled on the fabric of his shirt until it took the form of your fist, even when you released it.

You swallow thickly finally deciding on what to say.

"Happy Birthday Bakugou-chan!" You sing song, forcing every ounce of what little happiness you have into the well wish. Hoping beyond hope it makes up for everything you should've said.

His heart hammers in his chest as he watches your lips curve upwards and over your teeth, as your cheeks scrunch up your face, lids closing over such a stunning fucking color.

He would have thought it real if he hadn't known better.

If he hadn't watched you climb from the window with that God damn zombie look plastered on your face.

"Don't." He bites, causing your heart to free fall into your stomach, "I can't watch you fucking lie any more."

His jaw ticks while your nails bite into your fresh wound, keeping it open to keep you seated.

"I..." He growls audibly before going on, "You can show me you know. I can handle it. I can fucking try to help."

You open your mouth to say something but a gust of wind blows through you before a hand is wrapped tightly around your neck.

Half of a lanky grey body justs out from a swirling portal in the sky.

"You think we'd let you get away with that golden quirk? The things we could do with you..." Manic joy oozes out in the form of a grotesque smile. Chapped lips wide enough to be seen from beneath a large hand.

"Let. Go." His tone is primal as he speaks, coming to his feet as you're yanked to your own.

"Oh I didn't realize you had company golden goose." For once fear stays with you as it curls into your muscles, your bones. The grip on your throat tightens as your heart hammers in your chest.

This is it, this would be the last time you ever saw him. Your last opportunity to ever say all the things you needed to fucking say after being so ignorantly oblivious to his actions.

To his heart.

Things begin to go in slow motion, watching him obliterate the roof beneath his feet, fingers outstretched for you as that damn emotion plasters openly on his face.

Fear twits into rage on his features.

But all you can do is smile, wholeheartedly smile as you look at him.

Tears of mixed feelings blur your vision as you say the one thing you so desperately needed to say to him.

"Thank you, Katsuki-kun. Thank you."

Just as he is within arms reach the portal swallows you whole closing as quickly as it opened.

Leaving Bakugou Katsuki to fall onto his hands and knees, slamming popping firsts into shingles that turn into sharp confetti all the while fat droplets fall from angry cheeks.

[lilixloveswriting]

Party Crasher

Summary: Being popular isn't all that it's cracked up to be; in which Akio attends his first high school party.

TW: Underage drinking (they're "third years" but I might change the timeline so do with that what you will), non-con touching (Akio is drunk and therefore cannot give his consent), vague depression angst stuff at the end, akio has self worth issues ah ha ha so relatable

Akio’s eyes dropped down to the address given to him on his phone. Yup, this was it. He could hear the bass of the music thumping from outside and every once in a while a red or green light pierced its way through the window to dance on the lawn. He took a deep breath as he readied himself to go inside.

Of course, he’d been invited to house parties before, but this is the first time someone had ever invited him personally. That meant that Hata Taichi had gone out of his way to find him after school and asked him to go to his party.

Now he was sitting outside of Hata's house, ditching his daily training to go to a high school party. He took a deep breath and walked up to the porch. The door was already ajar, allowing music, lights, and the cheering of teenagers to leak through. His heart fluttered with a mix of excitement and nerves as he fully opened the door, stepping into the house. The atmosphere on the inside was completely different than it was a few steps before. For one, it was warmer. Much warmer. The mixture of dancing bodies and the smoke from the fog machine heated the room by at least ten degrees. Akio’s quirk allowed him to deal well with heat, but it didn’t aid in the heavy weight that the air seemed to have and he felt as though he had to work harder to breathe.

“Akio-senpai is here!” Akio turned his head to see a girl on the steps shout, raising her cup in the air. Others did the same thing, raising their cups and happily cheering his name. Akio glowed a bit at the amount of admiration in the room. He couldn’t say that he knew the name of the girl or the names of the others who joined in her celebration, but he smiled as his eyes fell on a boy with short black hair making his way through the crowd.

“Senpai, you made it!” He grinned, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I was starting to get a little worried.”

Akio smiled apologetically. “Hey, Hata-san. Yeah, sorry. There were some things I had to take care of.”

“Well, people showed up anyway, so…!”

His eyebrows furrowed and his face fell slightly. “Uh, why wouldn’t people come?”

Hata shrugged a little. “Oh, you know. No one knows me, but you’re the life of the party. It was a good thing I told everyone you’d be coming to the party, otherwise, there’d be no one here!” He smiled and patted Akio on the shoulder. “So thanks, man! There are drinks over there, and some food too...but honestly you can go home if you have more important stuff to do. The party was a success so…” Hata flashed his teeth again, then made his way back into the crowd of people.

Akio closed his mouth into a frown as he felt his heart sink. He should have known he wasn’t actually wanted at this party. People always seemed to enjoy his presence, but nobody seemed to ever actually need or want him. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he fished it out.

It’s Littt 👴🏼💪🏼🔥

You are over ten minutes late. Are you still coming?

A sigh escaped his lips and Akio tucked his phone back into his jeans. Since he wasn’t needed at the party anymore, he figured he could just go back to training, but not before grabbing a drink for the road. He wandered in the direction that Hata had pointed him in earlier and eventually found a table with some chips and a big bowl of punch. He looked around for a bottle of water or Gatorade, but ultimately didn’t find anything, so he picked up a cup and spooned some punch into it, bringing the drink to his lips. He recoiled and coughed at the sharp taste the liquid had but he was thirsty, so he continued to drink it. The juice burned his throat, and he figured it must be alcohol.

"Todoroki-kun!" Someone squealed and Akio looked down to see a girl who he recognized from his class hanging off of his arm. "Come on! Play a game with us!" She tugged him unsuccessfully, as she was much smaller than he was.

Akio chugged the rest of his drink and tossed it in the trash can as he let the girl lead him to wherever that game was. He could have left, but he was already late to practice. The drink wasn't enough to get him drunk, but he didn't feel like walking home and he knew Hisao would be pissed if he had to come pick him up, so why not stay a bit longer?

---

The group cheered as Akio slammed his cup down, wiping at the corner of his mouth while girls clung to him at all sides. He took the coin revealed from under the cup and flipped it with his thumb, catching it in the air and tucking it into his pocket.

"Wowww Todo-kun! You're sooo bad at this!" One gushed, nuzzling her face into his sleeve.

"Yeah!" Another girl giggled. "You've lost like three timezz in a row!"

"Oi!" Akio called out, a smile gracing his lips. "I's not my fault! My eyes 'on't move as fas' as his quirk." He slurred as he motioned to the kid across the table placing another coin under a cup and using all four arms to mix them up at an incredible speed.

"Uggghh," One guy groaned, "I don't wanna play this anymore."

"I know!" Someone else shouted, and Akio wasn't sure who it was anymore. "Let's play the King Game!"

A few people cheered in agreement and they all moved to the couch. Someone laid out a bunch of chopsticks and the game began. Akio reached into the pile, pulling the stick and looking at the number.

Five. Or was that a three? Damn, reading was ten times harder when he was drunk.

Akio felt a buzz in his pocket and pulled his phone out, fumbling with the keypad before opening the message. He squinted at the text, trying to make the two blurry images form into one.

"Hey!" A whiny voice rang in his ear and he looked up to see…he couldn't remember her name, in his face. "Pay attention Aki-senpai~! I'm the King! You should be focused on me." She pouted and Akio looked back down at his phone, muttering some sort of apology. She huffed and snatched his phone from his hand, giving him a devious smile.

"I said your number, Aki-senpai." She dropped her voice so that it was low and sultry, tracing a finger along Akio's jawline and flicking up at his chin. "That means you hafta do whatever I say." She stood up and grabbed his hand, pulling him off the couch and leading him away from the group.

The jolt was more than enough to throw him into vertigo, and he didn't remember anything between when his butt left the couch and when his back hit the bed. He felt the girl's soft lips on his, and he felt hands. Hands everywhere, all over. Too many. Too many hands, whose hands were these?

This was wrong. He knew it, and he felt it, but he couldn't see and he couldn't feel, not really. The random contact left his skin feeling numb and Akio struggled, at least he thought he did. He couldn't really tell how much he was moving underneath them. His limbs felt heavy and the ceiling was spinning. And he was really hot, oh god, it was so hot. Was his quirk on? Fuck, he didn't know. He prayed he wasn't hurting them, but seeing as he could still feel their hands, so many, all over, they must have been okay.

Geez, how long was this going to last? He should probably be getting home soon…damn. He really didn't want to walk. He wasn't even sure if he could walk. Maybe one of these girls could take him home? No…they were drunk too, and he didn't even remember their names. He didn't want to be rude. Gosh, they sure were heavy though. Akio felt like a stress ball. All the squeezing and poking and smushing and mushing and -- oh? It stopped.

Akio blinked and did his best to get a hold of his senses. Someone was yelling and- oh! Hisao. When did he get here? Ah, shit, he seemed really mad.

Akio muttered an apology as he did his best to sit up, ultimately getting pulled by the wrist as Hisao yanked him to his feet. He hoped they could go home now.

---

*An hour and a half earlier*

Hisao sat at the table with Kayda, tweaking one of his newest bots while she highlighted one of her textbooks. The bot squealed as its gears turned, then made a wretched screeching sound before falling silent and motionless on the table, prompting an exhausted sigh from Hisao.

"Don't kill it," Kayda warned halfheartedly, flipping the next page in her textbook.

Hisao huffed and picked the screwdriver back up. "Not the thing I want to kill at the moment."

"Mm." She hummed condescendingly. "Better switch from support to comedy."

"Haha." He strained as he twisted the tool, the gears slowly tightening up. "I'll make sure to turn my request form…in…ah!" He jabbed the robot and the machine whirred, beeping as its little eyes lit back up. "There, I gotcha." He spoke softly to the machine as though it was a child and Kayda scrunched up her face.

"You know it isn't actually alive, right? And why don't you just use your quirk?"

"I don't know, why aren't you studying?" He asked, reaching over and tapping her little pencil topper, causing the plastic bear to hop off of the eraser and dance across the table.

"Hey!" She exclaimed, swatting at it, but Hisao was quicker. "Give him back! Seriously, Hisao! It's Mitsuko's!"

Hisao thought for a second, just to make her squirm then let his hand go limp, allowing the bear to fall lifelessly. "Fine."

She exhaled sharply, snatching the toy back up and placing it back on her pencil. "You're such a pain."

Hisao held back a snicker, picking his tool back up. Before he could do anything with them, the table began vibrating and the pair's eyes fell on the ringing phone.

"Dad!" Kayda shouted, "Your phone is ringing!"

"Who is it?" Shoto yelled back, and Hisao checked the caller id.

"It's Grandpa!" He said.

"Don't answer!" Was what they got in response.

They looked at each other and Kayda shrugged, allowing the phone to ring.

Hisao frowned. "What if it's Akio?"

Again, Kayda shrugged. "Then he'll call Mom."

"Hm." Hisao tilted his head. He supposed that was true. "'Kay then. I'm gonna go shower."

Kayda barely acknowledged him, not giving more than a quiet hum. He collected his items and took to his room, plugging his dead phone in on the charger before heading to the bathroom.

He emerged about twenty minutes later, hair still dripping water down his back as he searched his drawers for a shirt. He found one and plopped down on his phone, tapping his phone on as he pulled the shirt over his head. He squinted at the notification, picking the phone up questioningly.

4 Texts and 3 Missed Calls from Grandpa E

Grandpa E

-Tell your father to pick up the phone.

-Is your brother home? He has not answered my text messages.

-Shoto changed my phone settings. It will not allow me to call your mother. Help??

-Why do none of you answer my calls?

He frowned and pushed the call icon, holding the phone up to his ear.

"Finally. I don't like being ignored."

"I wasn't ignoring you, Grandpa. Sorry, my phone died and I was in the shower. What's up?"

"Your father has done something to my phone. I cannot contact your mother and the wallpaper is a very unflattering photo of me. I need you to fix it."

Hisao let out a short laugh. "Sure, I'll fix it the next time I see you."

"Good. Also, tell your brother to tell me if he is going to cancel so I'm not waiting for thirty minutes for him to show up."

"He didn't come?" Hisao asked, flopping back onto his bed.

"No, and he didn't answer my messages. Is he not home?"

"No…" He said, rolling onto his stomach and putting the phone on speaker while pulling up his thread with Akio. He shot him a quick message asking for his whereabouts. "Okay, Grandpa. Thanks."

"You're welcome. Tell your father to stop ignoring my calls."

Hisao nodded before realizing that his grandfather couldn't see him. "Okay. Bye." He hung up the phone and sat up on his bed. He frowned down at his phone, hoping for a text back that Akio was on his way home. Their mom had probably already gone to bed by now, and his dad was most likely getting ready for his night patrol. This left Hisao to go get his brother, and all he really wanted to do was get under the covers and go to sleep, not hop in the car and go on a wild goose chase. Alas, Hisao rarely got what he wanted.

About twenty minutes went by and Akio hadn't answered any calls or texts Hisao had sent him. He pulled up the family tracker app he had on his phone, patented by his mother, just in case any of them ended up getting kidnapped. Akio's indicator pulsated in white, and Hisao took the keys to the car and began in the direction of Akio's phone.

It wasn't too long until he stopped. The app told him that he was right on top of it as he pulled up to a house. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Parties were never his scene, and he wasn't sure when they had become Akio's either. They were hot and stuffy and there were always way too many people he didn't care about. The only parties they ever attended were dinner parties held by their parents. Why would Akio go to a high school party?

Hisao got out of the car and jogged up to the front door, mentally cursing his brother for the hell he was about to put him through. Hisao pushed the door open and was immediately hit with the smell of booze. He grimaced, knowing he would probably need another shower after this.

The house wasn’t that big, but the sheer number of people there was going to make the search difficult. Navigating the bottom floor was like swimming through sludge; sludge that pushed you and spun you around while you did your best to keep yourself upright. He finally reached somewhat of a clearing, arriving at a table with crumbs all over it and an almost empty punch bowl. To his left was a girl sitting on a chair, eating chips while scrolling through her phone. Hisao tapped her lightly, grabbing her attention.

“Hey, can I borrow your chair for a second?”

She shrugged and stood to the side, allowing Hisao to climb up. He peered over all of the heads at the party, looking for the familiar white tuft of hair.

“Lose someone?” The girl asked and Hisao scoffed.

“Yeah...Do you know if Akio Todoroki is here? Third-year...big three.”

“Ohhh, big three Todoroki fan, huh?” She mocked and Hisao rolled his eyes. “There were rumors he was coming, but I haven’t seen him. There was a big commotion in the living room a few minutes ago, though. You could check there.”

“Thanks.” He said, climbing down from the chair.

“Mhm, no problem. Try to keep your pants on, fanboy.”

Hisao clicked his tongue, turning back and mumbling, “Shouldn’t be a problem. He’s my brother,” before taking off to look for the living room. After a few minutes of shoving his way through drunk teenagers, Hisao finally found the room but was disappointed to see everyone but who he was looking for. “Hey, have you guys seen Todoroki?”

One guy snorted. “Yeah. He just stole all the girls even though he wasn’t even the king. If you find him, tell him to bring back the chopsticks.”

Hisao held back a frustrated sigh. “Do you know where they went?”

“Kurata-chan took him upstairs.” Another person said, and Hisao turned around, making a beeline for the staircase.

There were significantly fewer people upstairs, and Hisao finally felt like he could breathe a little easier. There were also fewer rooms, all located in one hallway. Akio had better be here or Hisao would kill him himself.

He pulled one door open and closed it back quickly; just the linen closet. The next door he opened led to a bathroom. He entered, freezing in place as he was startled by two other people. They didn’t seem to notice his presence, as they were too busy making out to even be aware of their surroundings. Hisao inched his way around them, peeking inside of the shower and the tub for his brother. Hisao squinted as he spotted Akio’s phone at the bottom of the tub. Wonderful, he might not even be at the house.

He picked it up, only to drop it in disgust as he felt something wet on his fingers. Hisao groaned and took some toilet paper, wiping off the phone and putting it in his pocket, preferring not to find out what the mystery liquid was.

He promptly left and continued his search, next opening a door to a bedroom. A hazy fog hung in the air and multiple people were passed out on the floor while others were huddled up in a group. Akio wasn’t there, so he closed the door back. There was only one left, and Hisao prayed that this would be the one. He opened it up and his eyes fell to the bed with a cluster of girls on top of it. He couldn’t see what was going on, but he did see one leg intertwined with all the others that had a long, familiar scar on it.

“HEY!” He shouted and the girls flinched. He stomped over and grabbed one by the arm, pulling her off of his brother. “Get off.” He said sternly to the others, who did in their frightened states.

“Hey, man!” Hisao turned toward the door to see a very angry-looking guy yelling at him. “Get your hands off my girlfriend!” He ripped Hisao’s hand away from her wrist and Hisao didn’t even realize he was still holding her.

“Well, your girlfriend just had her hands all over my brother, so I’m really not the one you want to be yelling at.” He said and walked over to the bed, taking Akio’s hand and pulling him up. His eyes were glossy and out of focus and he swayed as Hisao pulled him to his feet.

“What the hell did you just say?” The man stepped in front of them, blocking their path to the door. He crossed his arms in an attempt to intimidate, but if he knew how annoyed Hisao was getting, he would be the one to cower.

“Listen, man. I don’t want any trouble. Just let us thro-” Hisao was cut off by large hands on his chest and he was pushed back into a table. The thing collapsed and Hisao grimaced at the sore feeling left on his back.

He balled his hands into fists, his fingernails digging into his palms as he let go of trying to control his anger. Oh, he was going to sleep well after this. He touched all four legs that had broken off of the table and in one swift motion, sent them flying towards the unsuspecting guy. The pieces of wood caught onto his clothes and dragged him backward, pinning him to the wall as Hisao pushed himself to his feet. He grabbed onto Akio’s wrist again and dragged him out of the room.

“Let’s go.” He said and the girls cleared a path for him. It was a straight shot from the room to the car, although it was difficult to get Akio inside and buckled up. The white-haired boy burped, followed by a hiccup and Hisao took a deep breath.

“If you throw up in here I will make you clean it.” He warned, shifted gears and pulled away from the house. “What were you thinking? If you were going to skip training, you could have at least told us where you were.”

“Wasn’t gonna,” Akio responded, closing his eyes and snuggling into his seat.

“Oh, really?”

“I was gonna leave, but then...I dunno. I was jus’...I played a game.” He slurred and Hisao frowned.

They slowed to a stop at a red light and Hisao turned to his brother. “Look at me.” Akio listened and opened his eyes, which Hisao inspected thoroughly. “What did you drink? Did you take anything from anyone? Akio, listen. Did you set your drink down?”

Akio shrugged and closed his eyes again, head lolling to the side. Hisao’s hands shook in anger and he squeezed the steering wheel. The image of all of those girls on top of his brother was ingrained into his brain. He hated the idea of Akio being in such a vulnerable state, it made him want to burn the whole place to the ground.

“Sorry…” Akio mumbled quietly. “I was just…” He shook his head and Hisao loosened his grip slightly. “I didn’t call ‘cause I knew you’d be mad. I know you din’ wanna come get me.” He slurred.

Hisao sighed. “No, I didn’t. But you should have called anyway if you were in trouble.”

A beat of silence, then, “I’m really tired, Hisao.”

Hisao’s normal response would be to go to sleep, but the break in Akio’s voice withheld that. A quiet sob filled the car and Hisao turned the radio off. “Tired of what, Aki?”

A shaky breath. “Trying.”

Hisao frowned, he wasn’t sure what Akio was talking about, but he knew he was a hard worker. He was always pushing himself to do his best, and Hisao knew the constant work and training must be tiring. “Then stop trying so hard. It’s okay to take breaks, you know.” Hisao glanced over when Akio didn’t respond, letting out a small sigh to see his brother fast asleep. The two obviously had more to talk about, but Hisao decided that it could wait. Akio said he was tired after all, and Hisao was just happy that he had shown up when he did. Even if that meant his night’s sleep would get cut short by a couple of hours.

Notes:

wow it is very obvious that I wrote this over a year ago, but we're to going look at it as a positive because that means I've improved!!! yayyyyy but I do want to rewrite it, I actually already started a little while ago and BITCH IT'S LOWKEY SO GOOD she says like it's something special but no actually I can see the improvement, so maybe I'll post the rewritten version if I ever finish it. But anyways just know that this was written in January of 2020 and I've been writing through a whole quarantine since then and I actually have decent description now! So the newer stuff will be better :)

[theotherbloodfart]

Pennywise x Reader

Yo got this on main and gonna post the one shot here. I decided to play with this idea a bit. Penny is a virgin for this 😂😂 the song I wrote this to was the chain by fleetwood mac. Enjoy yo thirsty ass one shot anon! It's my longest so far!

You feel the rancid heat in your blood. It boils like fever. Making beads of sweat form on your skin. The chill of the air in this giant dark place does nothing to cool it. Nothing to calm.

You know he is here. The cave air is damp with the smell of him. It swirls with the scents of spun sugar, the hot popping oil for frying funnel cakes, and an animal smell. It is predatory, territorial. And the powdery smell of old decay. Oh he is here alright. And you want him.

“Pennywise!” You call out. Your voice echoes in the vast space, cascading up the walls only to meander around and back down to you in the form of an echo. At the conclusion of the hundreds of clown names a discreet hiss bubbles around as well. At the sound of his confirmed presence you feel your heart begin to jackhammer inside your chest. You struggle to hear any other noise aside from your own heart. Your own breathing.

The feeble light from your flashlight doesn’t penetrate far. Maybe 20 feet or so. And what you can see is otherworldly, even if it is already familiar to you. You are in a very large cavern. The only sounds now are the echoes of water dripping into pools near the edges of this cavern.

You head for your favorite spot. The monolith of standing spikes right in the middle. They are sharp looking, splayed like splashing water, as if something had heated the very rock into liquid form before dropping a stone in, and covered with a viscous black fluid which you know not to touch. It makes your skin numb and tingly. In the middle of this formation is a smooth, round, flat surface which you stand in the middle of.

You enjoy being here. You have no idea why this creature allows you to come and go from this place as you please. But you do not question. And you come here daily, always staying until he chooses to leave. Or simply staying for hours if he isn’t here. Sitting in the dark on this smooth surface, simply thinking about him.

He never touches you. You rarely even actually SEE him. He usually stays in the darkness beyond your flashlight’s glow, asking what seems to be pointless questions. Answering pressing questions from you as if commenting on the weather. Or simply watching you while you talk about your day. No response other than riotous cackling laughter when you describe something that has irritated you…. Which of course will irritate you…… and in turn inspire more laughter from him. He is infuriating.

He is beautiful.

And you want him. Now.

“Pennywise?” You know he’s here so this call is quieter. Questioning.

“Yes (Y/N). I am here. Tell me sweet thing. Tell me why your scent is different. Your scent stinks of dogs writhing in heat. You smell like you want to fuck, (Y/N).” Haunting laughter follows this and you feel ire rising within you. The taunting in his words and laughter is obvious.

“So what?” you snarl feeling shameful, hot tears spring into your eyes. “So fucking what clown? I mean ….. What do you expect? You’re………” you hesitate.

The laughter is explosive now. “Little pet wants to play with the clown!”

“Yes! You’re fucking beautiful okay? I wanna fuck the shit out of you!” You felt a strange sharp feeling in your chest. This had been a mistake.

Only silence now. Marred only by the echoes of dripping water.

Suddenly you hear a piano. The music chimes away beautifully as it circles the cavern. A tiny but strong sound. Sad and yet hungry. And yet it does not echo. You know instinctively that you are hearing it in your mind. He's used illusions on you before. He’s made you hear all sorts of terrifying things. He rather enjoys scaring the daylights out of you. But he has never done anything like this. The song is nameless and familiar, soft and comforting. He is trying to comfort you. Another sharp pain in your heart.

“I like this song. And I swear I’ve heard it before. What song is it?” your voice sounds frail somehow.

“It has no name. It is simply what your mind sounds like when you are here.” The answer is said in the usual, flippant, uncaring tone he always uses. He continues, without pause. “I have no use for breeding. I do not need it. It is unnecessary.” You can practically see him wave off the subject inside your mind. You feel embarrassed and shameful for ever having thought of it.

Your shoulders slump and your chin drops to your chest. “Yeah. I guess it is Penny.” You suddenly, and for the first time, no longer wish to be here. You turn to leave.

And walk right into his chest. You jerk, startled, the flashlight clattering to the ground, spinning around and landing the beam on the 2 of you. Remarkably it still works as it casts it’s light up, giving Pennywise a low set eerie almost monstrous glow. The light refracts in his eyes, making them burn vermilion out into the dark. Into you.

You feel a little breathless as you finally are allowed to admire him, all shame momentarily forgotten. His mouth is slack, his nostrils flaring, as if he is tasting your scent, as a line of saliva trails to a drop from his lower lip. His buck teeth protrude, nestled between much sharper fangs. His normally perfectly coifed ginger hair appears mussed and disheveled as it falls to frame his face. The silver of his suit glows in the light. His brow is furrowed in a demonic crease.

“I said I have no use for breeding (Y/N). Not that I would not try it.” The line of saliva finally breaks from his lips as he speaks and flutters down into the darkness near his feet.

Suddenly all you can hear is your rabbit heart. It’s pounding so fast you can feel it throbbing behind your eyes. Your mouth dries. Your skin breaks in gooseflesh as heat burns to life deep inside your gut.

The clown stands motionless, a dry groan bubbling in his chest, as you reach forward to his chest with trembling hands. But you hesitate, suddenly feeling more nervous than you’ve ever felt about anything ever, your hands shaking so badly you can barely control them. You feel shame swooping in again as You realize that you have no idea how to proceed. And you waited for the taunting laughter.

But none came.

A sharp snarl bursts from his mouth as his arms snap forward to grasp your own arms, bruising and painful, forcing you to him. A large gloved hand snakes into your hair. You can feel his nails leaving indentations in your scalp, thru his gloves, as he wrenches your lips to his. Sweet pain couples with the taste of blood as some of his fangs press thru your flesh. He is stronger than you’d realized.

You’ve never been kissed like this. You feel his saliva mixed with your blood smearing on both of your chins. His kiss is not human at all. There is no finesse nor gentleness. There is only ardor. He is taking everything he wishes. Bloody wet growls from him make your cheeks vibrate. No. This kiss is inhuman. And it’s the best kiss you’ve ever tasted.

Any shame, any remnants of human shyness, are stripped away before him. You no longer care. You are shameless now as your hands run along him.

There is pain along your scalp as he pulls your head to the side by your hair. You feel his drool on your neck before his mouth reaches it. Then more sharpness as his fangs scratch your skin. He’s suckling your skin. Hard enough to make you jerk and gasp.

His other hand reaches down to twist itself in your shirt and yank violently. Your shirt isn’t giving at first. More pain along the seems as he tanks harder. You sigh as his tongue swipes your tender neck and your shirt seams finally give way. Your shirt is not torn completely away, but hangs loosely in a limp circle around your waist.

The clown brings his lips back to yours. Smacking sounds ring out as he tries to move his lips with yours. As he tries to be more gentle. And you realize that he understands and registers that he’s causing discomfort. That he’s not sure how to do this. This knowledge makes any doubts of what you want vanish. You boldly grasp into the material of his trousers, seeking his cock. Closing your fingers around it you slide your fist up and down slowly, stroking it thru the silk.

His large body stiffens as he freezes, his lips still on yours, his fiery eyes so close to yours that you cannot focus on both at the same time. You moan quietly and bring your other hand around him to massage his ass.

A hiss brushes your torn lips as he pulls away from you then drops down, ripping your pants and undergarments off as he goes. Your tattered shirt continues to hang at your waist, entirely forgotten.

His eyes bore into yours as he leans forward to nip one of your thighs sharply, then inhales deeply. Jesus! He’s sniffing you! Like an animal! You know you SHOULD feel shame…… but you only feel yourself become wet under his warm breath.

Pennywise stands and picks you up by the flesh of your bottom, not seeming to need anything to lean on or otherwise support himself. You cry out as you feel his cock penetrate you quickly, no preamble. He then turns himself to prop you onto one of the large rocks.

You wrap your arms around him, the fingers of one hand brushing along the sharp pleating along the spine of his costume, the other hand grasping with white knuckles into the ruff around his neck. You cling to him.

He freezes again, his wet lips tickling your ear as he croons to you.

“Hold still (Y/N). I do not wish to harm you.”

You try to hold still. You really do. But you cannot help the rocking of your hips as he uses his hands to bounce you along his pulsing cock. The cock itself is moving. Thrusting into you as his hands move.

You watch his face slacken and relax, as his eyes roll back exposing only his whites. He’s so fucking beautiful. You bury your face into his neck ruff as you feel yourself beginning to stiffen in orgasm. His chest rumbles on your ribs as he speaks again.

“Yes, my doll. Cum for Pennywise. Do it! Do it now!” his voice breaks into a guttural snarl and you feel heat inside you as his cock thrusts his orgasm into you.

As you calm down and your panting slows, you enjoy the feeling of the quivering muscle structures underneath his suit.

Behaving oddly, he nuzzles into your neck, gently licking the puncture wounds he’d inflicted earlier.

You found yourself giggling.

“Penny did I just pop your cherry?”

The licking stops and a low growl vibrates your body.

“Enjoy walking home with no clothes little doll.”

[mythiica]

Hoping requests are still open >.

Title: Jealousy Looks Good on You

Fandom: Mr. Love Queen’s Choice

Character: Lucien

Genre: Romance, smut

Warnings: honhonhon

Kinks: jealous!lucien, nipple play, fingering, eating out, dirty talk, couch sex, internal cumshot

Intended Gender Audience: Female Audience

Word Count: 2128 words

POV: second person

Other comments: i think your auto changed yandere to yankee you poor child

Lucien did not say much on the drive home. This was unusual for him – usually he likes to talk with you about his day. You rack your brain for an explanation to this strange behavior. Did you do something wrong? Was he just having a bad day?

          You glance at him from the corner of your eye, trying to catch a glimpse of his face. However, he wears a guarded expression – his lips are pursed and his eyes are focused on the road ahead of you. When you open your mouth to say something, his demeanor flickers as he steals a look at you.

         He exhales slowly and relaxes slightly. “You didn’t tell me that Gavin would be accompanying you.”

         “He insisted on it. When I told him that I visited the orphanage with you-”

         “Let me guess,” Lucien interrupts, “He didn’t want you going back there unless necessary?”

         You nod.

         “That selfish idiot.”

         “Lucien?”

         He does not move, but you know that he is listening.

         “Are you… jealous?

         The word seems to throw him off kilter because Lucien grips the steering wheel tighter.

         “There’s nothing to worry about!” you say immediately. “Gavin… is just a friend. I knew him when I was in high school. I’m sure he’s just trying to be friendly. Please don’t overthink it. Alright?”

         Lucien turns on the blinkers before turning onto the street with your apartment complex. The car pulls into the garage, he parks in an empty spot, and you get out. When you reach your floor, you fumble around, looking for your keys. Lucien lingers at the door to his flat, watching you struggle for a moment. You finally manage to find them, and you unlock the door.

         With your hand on the doorknob, you waver, thinking about what to do. You really wish Lucien would not hold in his emotions. He pretends to be alright with things that obviously bother him… it is just painful to watch him act like this, especially when it is unwarranted.

         You spin around, hand clasped to your chest, and call out to him. “Lucie-”

         But he cuts you off again, pushing you against your door. He buries his nose into the crook of your neck and tangles his fingers in your hair. The air is knocked out of your lungs, but you brace yourself against his chest. “Lucien?”

         “Sh,” he hushes, opening the door.

         You start to fall backwards, but he scoops you up and walks you inside. The door slams shut behind him, but you pay little attention to it. His lips are on your neck without a moment’s delay as he ushers you to the couch in your living room.

         “I’ve dedicated most of my life to studying humans, and still, I cannot, for the life of me, explain the effect you have on me.” His voice is laced with sweet desperation, and his facade from earlier has completely fallen apart. “If you must, call it jealousy, for I have no other words to describe it.” His fingers brush your hair away has he nips the soft skin behind your ear. “So won’t you please…” Lucien reels back for a split second, dangerous smirk hanging from the corners of his lips, “Let me relish in your beauty.”

         When Lucien turns his head, his bangs fall over his eyes, obscuring the carnal desire that burns through your heart. He waits for consent, his fingers lingering on the elastic waist of your skirt.

         Confirmation escapes your lips – the sound barely above a whisper, but is more than enough for Lucien. The pads of his finger tips dig into the supple flesh of your thighs as you lean back on the arm of the couch. With his free hand, he unbuttons your shirt and pushes the fabric over your shoulders. A cold breeze from the air conditioning sends goosebumps down your arms.

         You suddenly have the urge to cover yourself, but you know that Lucien would never let you do that. He growls and takes a handful of your breast, working it in every direction as he laps at your other nipple. Fueled by jealousy, Lucien’s dominant side becomes much more overbearing.

         His hot breath arouses you – as if you hadn’t been so before, now, you want him desperately as well. However, you know that the doctor would rather edge you all night than grant you satisfaction. A sharp sensation brings you back into the moment, and your hand flies to his hair.

         Lucien chuckles, and the sound makes his entire chest vibrate. “You are just so delicious,” he coos. “No wonder Gavin hangs around you so much.” As he speaks, Lucien traces the swell of your breast with a single digit at a painfully slow rate. “He longs for you…”

         You choke on your breath, unsure of what to say. “Lucien-”

         “Hm?” He swirls his tongue around your pert bud as his hand crawls down your torso.

         “L-Lucien a-ah!”

         “Did you plan on saying something?”

         “I-I don’t like Gavin. Not like that.”

         Lucien straightens his posture to look at you better. “I would hope not. That would make what I’m about to do rather awkward.”

         Before you have a chance to ask, Lucien swiftly inserts two digits into your core, not bothering to move your underwear away before doing so. You cry out from the sudden sensation of being filled. The fabric digs into your ass, so you squirm around to try and relieve the pressure. Lucien scissors his fingers inside of you, dipping them in and out as to coax louder moans from your throat.

         “Tell me now,” he drawls, “how does it feel to have me inside of you?”

         You only manage to whine in response.

         He tucks an arm around you, pulling you off the couch slightly, and tugs on your shirt. You slip your hands out of the sleeves and toss the garment off into the room. “Oh? Look at you, so eager now. But when he was breathing down your neck, you said nothing. Silly…”

         Lucien removes his fingers from you and licks your essence from his fingers.

         “N-No, Lucien,” you complain, reaching out to cup his face. “You love to torture me.”

         Leaning down, Lucien’s lips graze your collarbone. “Yes… I do…” He leans back and crouches until his face is level with your knees. He pulls apart your legs and pushes the edge of your skirt up simultaneously. You sit up slightly as to remove your undergarments, but Lucien holds you steadily with one hand and tugs on the lace with a finger. It snaps back against your hip, making you shiver. “H-Hey!”

         Lucien peers up at you with an apologetic smirk and removes the damp fabric, only to press his tongue against your core.

         You throw your head back and release a hungry moan. When Lucien hoists you upwards, you fall over the edge of the couch. Your head lands against the plush pillows, and he looks up at you to make sure you are alright.

         After his eyes meet yours, he dives back between your legs, dragging his tongue across your folds and collecting the fluids that drip from your heat. Overwhelmed by the feeling of his warmth against you, you tangle your fingers in his hair and push his face deeper.

         You must have pulled too hard, because Lucien grunts against you and stands up, suspending your lower half in the air. Despite the position change, he continues to lap at your clit, driving you utterly insane. As you muscles tense and your body trembles, Lucien leans his head back. “You don’t understand how difficult it was for me to hold back… I’ve been thinking about doing this for hours.”

         “Lucien, please!” you beg.

         He trails his hand up your torso and pinches your nipple harshly. “Please what?”

         “L-Let me cum!”

         His eyes go wide at your request, but he smirks, happy with the fact that he has brought you to your edge so quickly. “Don’t you want Gavin instead?” Lucien rests his palm against your cunt, his skin brushing gently against your clit.

         You whimper and try to grind your hips against his fingers. “No!”

         “Are you sure? I can stop if you want.”

         “N-No, Lucien. I want you, please.”

         Without a moment’s hesitation, Lucien inserts his fingers into you once more, but this time, his lips latch to your clit simultaneously. As he pushes you closer to your climax, you grip your breasts and play with your nipples. You have lost all shame and are completely at Lucien’s mercy.

         Your vision flashes with white, and you cry out, only managing to moan the first syllable of Lucien’s name. Pleasure washes over you, causing your thighs to twitch as he sets you down. He lingers his hand on your numb pussy for a moment, his fingers collecting your essence before he shoves them into your mouth.

         Without asking, you swirl your tongue around his fingers and swallow the contents. He hums happily and goes to unbuckle his pants. In the spare moments you have, you unzip your skirt and throw it behind you, likely in the same direction your shirt landed.

         When you turn your head back to Lucien, he has completely disrobed himself and is holding his erection in one hand. He grips your ankle and turns you around, so that your legs are hanging off the edge of the couch.

         You throw your arms around his neck, beckoning him closer. With your thigh in his hand, he lifts your leg, exposing your pussy to him once more.

         “Jealousy looks good on you,” you tease as he grinds his cock against you.

         Lucien looks at you, and all you can see is love in his eyes. Not the lascivious glint that clouded them before, but something more gentle. You do not quite understand why he has suddenly had a change of heart, but you bring him down for a deep kiss. His tongue presses against your lips, requesting access. When you do not comply immediately, Lucien bites your bottom lip.

         “Does it?”

         You hum in response, your fingers curling in his dark hair. “But know that I love you-” You cup your hands over his cheeks. “And only you.”

         He turns his head slightly to kiss your palm. “I know,” Lucien whispers. A moment passes, and he bites his bottom lip before saying, “Let me show you my love.”

         With your leg slung over his shoulder, Lucien presses himself into you. His hand rests on the back of your neck, keeping you from lulling it backwards. He stretches your walls further apart than his fingers had, and, after adjusting for a moment, he begins to rock his hips back and forth. The tip of his cock rubs against your most intimate parts, making you see stars floating above his head.

         Babbling incoherently, you rake your fingers up and down Lucien’s muscular back. He groans into your hair and tips his head down to kiss you again. You curl your fingers in the hair at the base of his neck and press your other hand against his peck. Lucien’s heart thunders against your palm, so you lean up ever so slightly, repositioning your hips in the process. As your lips dance across his neck, Lucien pulls your leg higher, allowing him to hit even deeper into you.

         You expect him to say something dirty to egg you on more, but instead, he mumbles, “Unravel for me.” As if triggered by this phrase, your climax washes over you, drowning you in bliss. Sweat makes his body stick to yours, and with a few more powerful thrusts, you feel his warmth spreading into you.

         As he catches his breath, Lucien leans his head against his forearm. Taking a gulp of air, he presses a kiss to the crown of your head and removes himself from you. He stands back, allowing you to delight in his nudity. His damp hair is slicked back ever so slightly, and his lips are bruised to a faint shade of plum.

         You remain with your legs open, too stunned to move yet.

         Lucien tucks his arm under your legs and sits down on the couch. He pulls you against his chest before wrapping the throw blanket around your shoulders. Wrapping your arms around him, you rest your head against his shoulder. After kissing his jaw quickly, you nuzzle against Lucien and lace your fingers with his.

         You want to say something, but you drift to sleep rather quickly. Lucien admires your form as he twirls a lock of your hair around his finger. Leaning his head back, he closes his eyes and lets sleep take him.

         Perhaps you are right.

         Jealousy does look good on him.

[worrentigre]

Mastering Myself (RP Scene)

Upon his visit to the formal Astral Agent’s property to discuss business, Worren Tigre has suddenly fallen ill.  Syelira has remained by his side since finding out the news, and others begin to show up after receiving a letter Worren sent out several days prior.  It seems he knew this day was coming and had a contingency plan.

((https://youtu.be/rQVRaHRLB5c <---Scene BGM))

The pain in Worren's head starts to subside.  However, he seems to be in some unfamiliar area. He looks around and is surrounded in total darkness, except the area immediately around him, which is illuminated with a faint light who's source is unknown. "Hmhmhm... well, well, well.  Here we are. It's time, Captain Linh.  Time for one last dance." He easily recognize the voice, and now knows exactly where he is. However, he is especially surprised when the owner of the voice makes itself known by calmly walking from the shadows.  It has the voice of Worren's lifelong adversary, but it looks just like him cloaked in darkness.  A shadowy reflection of himself.  "Surprised?  You shouldn't be.  I've been talking to you this whole time." The figure raises it's right hand and examines it while moving and flexing the fingers.  "I must say, I truly enjoy this form a lot more.  I can see why you've been able to easily best my fighters in the past.  This form is a lot more agile."

Worren grunts out, "Why are you still here?  To further try and torment me?"  The shadowy figure laughs. "Of course!  It's like I told you back in Zan'rak.  No matter who dies, you just need to suffer.  It looks like neither of us are dead, and you are suffering.  It's a win/win if I do say so, myself.  Though, times are changing..." Worren stands stiff, fists balling and eyes narrowing while the shadow continues speaking.  "You see, spending this intimate time with you has opened my eyes to many different things.  I am experiencing new pleasures I've not had in a very long time."  He gets into Worren's boxing stance and throws a few punches.  "I see what you see.  Feel what you feel... almost.  I almost know what it's like to move in this body, to feel with soft skin instead of numb, hard scales.  To move fluidly, and feel the vibrations of someone's bones as they break in my hands.  I want that feeling. That Amalj'aa body was inadequate for this, and I thank you for introducing me to these new feelings.  This is the body I now crave.  You understand, don't you?  After all, you too disliked your old body, and greatly enjoy this."

Worren's eyes widen in realization, then frowns.  "No way.  Not gonna happen.  I'm going to purge you from my mind and get rid of you for good."  The spirit of Arajj Goh laughs again.  "Oh really?  Well, guess what?  You can't!  I am you, and you are me!  We are one in the same.  Listen to your friends.  Some of them have the right idea.  To purge me is to purge yourself, you need me.  Accept me."  His hands come down to his sides and he steps closer to Worren.  "You're tired.  Your mind is tired.  This I know... I've made sure of it.  Allow me to relieve you of your fatigue and let me take over for a while." Worren was indeed tired.  Me was mentally tired of it all.  He was ready to give up and give in.  How long has he worked and been promised peace of mind?  And yet, something always comes up to ruin that moment, bringing him back to the brink of depression.  There have been many times where he'd be fine with just going inert, leaving behind everything and starting over.  Until suddenly, a second light source appears, flowing in nature, coming right to him and surrounding him.  The shadow frowns at this and growls, but remains in place.  "They're trying to interfere.  They always do, and you know how it will turn out.  Temporary relief before the suffering begins again."

"I love you..." These faint words whispered in the wind from the light source that entered Worren and disappeared from view.  They were from Syelira, his soon to be wife and mother of his unborn children.  Worren closes his eyes for a moment, then opens them.  "I know."  He responds to his dark doppleganger.  "I know they interfere.  They do it because they care.  A feeling that you have lost so long ago."  He puts his own fists up now, by his chin.  "If only you knew this feeling, then you'd understand.  But, I am not giving you my body for you to do that."  The figure stands still with a stone faced expression, his eyes intense.  The sides of his jaw bulge a few times, showing him grinding his teeth in thought, before he finally responds.  "So be it."  The shadowy body is then suddenly engulfed in flames, and his fists come back up once more.  "If you will not accept me, then I will just have to take it from you.  Your God has given you significant power, and so has mine.  But, I have also learned your god's gifts from you, and for that I thank you. Now, let's see if you can overcome the power of Rhalgr and Ifrit united as one."  Worren snorts.  "Your avarice is so great that even Ifrit's will cannot temper you.  I will relieve you of this ailment."  The flaming body of Worren's shadow lashes out with a beastly roar.  "ENOUGH!"

And so they fight. And fight and fight.  Stone clashing with fire, sparks and energy light the darkened room.  They are evenly matched, with Worren's decades of fighting skills countering the warchief's overwhelming power.  Time feels distorted here, and it is unknown to either of them how much time is passing, but they just keep on going.  Fatigue and pain mean nothing inside a mine that has lived it for so long, but everything has a limit.  Worren's own aether is beginning to wane, and he slows down.  His stone constructs begin to falter under the warchief's flames, and molten rocks are a result.  Fighting against his own skills on top of the power of two gods is wearing him down, and once more a familiar feeling flows through him.  His will to live, to overcome his obstacles; they get stronger and stronger.  But, with Arajj Goh being a part of him, he also feels this.  His own will to hate and destroy his enemies in totality begin to flow through him as well.  They become locked in a state of purpetual conflict, and Worren's body reacts, slowly drawing in tiny amounts of aether from the area around him in the former Agency's infirmary. This aether sustains the both of them, but this time it's different.  There is a different source of aether that the body absorbs as well, unbeknownst to either combatant.

However, the tide turns when this flow of energy becomes much stronger.  It has a profound effect on Worren's will, and with the more of this energy he recieves, the more he wants it.  The flaming shadow opponent also feels it, but the feeling is foriegn to him.  He does not know what this means, but he too wants more of it.  Outside, it can be seen that this reaction is caused by Worren's body being taken to Gyr Kehim, Worren's favorite meditation place.  An old Fist of Rhalgr monastary relegated to ruins due to the Garlean occupation and misuse, it is rich in aether and the spirits of Fists fallen in battle during the purge and Empirial takeover.  Worren's body reacts with his will and begins to absorb this aether at a very accellerated rate.  His comrades around him protect him from any wayward bhoots and provide him with their own aether for protection and comfort.  This reaction feeds him, and Worren's will to live begins to push back against the warchief's unyeilding hate.  Hate that is, for the first time, starting to deminish.  The conflict in Worren's mind continues as his body begins overflowing with aether.  His chakra points begin to open, one by one, until six points of light glow on his body.  Soon, a seventh point on his head forms, and slowly begins to glow as a light purplish hue hazes around him.  Worren's companions want to help, distraught at this display, but Syelira prevents them from doing so, understanding that this is an ordeal that he alone must overcome.  They've done enough already by just utilizing their aether.

The feeling of hate in Worren's mind begins to ebb away, as well as his need for absolute survival.  Both opponents begin to slow down in their movements.  They start changing as they strike each other, with Worren's form starting to slowly become covered in stone.  This stone skin slowly turns more and more orange with each strike they deal to each other, and eventually it becomes a molten shell with small flames flickering over it.  Worren doesn't even notice this change happening, while the same thing is happening to the figure representing his shadow.  The flames on the warchief begin to shrink as his skin also starts to form a rocky exterior.  And then, the both of them stop fighting altogether, looking like mirror images of each other.  They stare at each other, and Arajj Goh finally speaks.  "I understand now."  His voice is even. "This power we are obtaining... I know you feel it, too.  Look at us.  We are one in the same.  I am you, and you are me.  You are fighting the inevitable."  Worren remains in place and simply nods.  "Is it my will overpowering your hate, or your will overpowering mine?"  They both step into each other until thier chests touch.  Worren's thoughts begin to intermingle with his shadow's.  It's a strange feeling to him, but also a natural one.  In this moment, they both feel something very important.  Acceptance. "I will stop fighting.  I accept your presence, we are one."

The two of them merge into one being.  He stands there in place as his thoughts are now jumbled.  His memories race back and forth with his mind trying to reset itself.  He sees less and less of his own memories, and more of the warchief's.  He fan feel his own former personality starting to slip away as the other starting to take hold.  The ambient light in the dark room starts to dim until there is no light.  In Gyr Kehim, Worren's body is absorbing so much aether without stopping, that his friends begin to worry.  All of his gates are now open and overflowing when suddenly the seventh point on his head bursts into a brilliant display of light.  The energy released is enough to push those around him back.  And then just as fast as it has happened, all of the points close.  There is no more aether being absorbed around him, nor is there any tainted feelings coming from his own.  Inside his mind, the darkness in Worren's mind flashes away quickly, and as that seventh chakra is unlocked by the warchief's own power hidden within Worren this whole time, it fuels Worren's mind to take hold once more.  No longer feeling the hate he once had, Arajj Goh's spirit now also accepts this fate, and for the first time in decades feels something positive.  Relief, and possibly happiness to finally be freed of the hate and anger that has held him for so long as something he only knew.  Worren is now back in control of his mind, as his memories all return in place, intermingled with new ones.  The two are now one whole, and the molten skin on the mental avatar crumbles and melts away, revealing Worren underneath with a smile on his face.  And then, his vision fades as the avatar also fades away.

Pain.  There's a sharp pain in his head as he hears voices in the darkness.  Worren twitches as his muscles feel extremely sore and tight.  His eyes then open up to the sight of Syelira holding him in her arms.  He coughs and looks around bleary eyed, remaining silent to process everything that just happened, even though his comrades bombard him with questions of concern with his well being.  After a moment, he finally smiles and speaks. "Man, I'm so hungry right now..."

@syelirakaisuri @interdimensionalpeacekeeping @moralistcyclops @astraladvent @the-original-rel @flamesonhammersmith @crooked-tarot-rp @valentinoix @dynamitecowboy @florihilda @chiyohoshi @thetaleofoldmanmaruud @grandmastream @supermeganick @jancisstuff @berrodarmstrong @nhara-tia @cfs-melkire @fyrrdetelemagna @astraladvent

[kiras-sunshine]

I’ll be with you from dusk till dawn

Summary: Jace tries to deal with dying, Simon tries to deal with the consequences of his promises to the queen. Somehow they find each other in the middle of it. 

on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14307744

part 1: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11829291

Jace is exhausted as he slouches towards the Institute.

A wave of gratitude and relief washes over him when he notices the outline of the Institute against the dark night sky. His muscles ache, his right shoulder is still numb from being dislocated and the cut on his shin is throbbing with pain. The small wound on his side might still be bleeding, but Jace is too tired actually to care enough to check it out.

All he is able to think about is his bed and sleeping for a day, at least. He wants to forget the whole night and any demon ambushes that occurred during his patrol. Even thinking about the Rahab demons gives him a headache, so he simply decides not to think about anything until he has slept around the clock.

It takes him an embarrassingly long time to realise his phone is vibrating in the pocket of his jacket. He hisses in pain as he reaches for it.

He stares at the bright screen of his phone that displays Simon’s name and a small picture of him grinning of one his most radiant smiles. It’s a dumb and blurry picture, but Simon looks so happy in it. Jace isn’t even sure how the picture has ended up on his phone. He suspects Simon has stolen his phone during one of their hangouts in Hunter’s moon and taken the picture himself.

He likes the picture a lot. Not that he is going to admit that to Simon, like, ever.

He knows he shouldn’t answer the phone in this state. He should go back to the Institute and deal with Simon and his phone calls in the morning when he can possibly form a coherent thought for longer than five seconds.

Yet, he immediately knows he is going to answer. First of all, it’s Simon. Second of all, it’s almost three in the morning and he knows Simon wouldn’t be making social calls in the middle of the night, which means something has happened. A little limp, serious sleep deprivation and few wounds aren’t enough to keep him from helping Simon.

To be honest, he has driven himself up to the wall with worry when it comes to Simon. He hasn’t seen him or heard of him since their chat at Hunter’s Moon. He has imagined every possible horror scenario of what might have happened to him at the Seelie Court.

It has been days since that chat at the bar and waiting for any kind of news has been like the worst kind of torture he has ever endured. The knot of worry in his chest is strong and unbearable. It keeps him awake at night and makes him feel as if he is suffocating.

Simon is all he has thought about for days. He is on night parole because he needed distraction from his own thoughts and even though he feels that he might fall down on any given second, he picks up the phone.

“Jace?” Simon’s voice sounds more fragile than Jace could have ever possibly imagined. His voice sounds shaken up and almost scared.

“Yeah,” Jace answers immediately, unsure what else to say.

“Are you awake? What a dumb question, of course you’re awake you answered the phone and you’re talking to me unless you’re sleep walking-“ There’s nothing unusual about Simon rambling, but this time he sounds borderline panicky, as if he was running out of breath.

“Simon,” he interrupts as gently as he can. “I’m awake. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, maybe, no,” Simon answers quickly, but pauses for so long, Jace thinks he hang up on him. “I just got back from the Seelie court and everything feels unreal and in a messed up way I’m not even sure if I ever left and I just need something real to prove that I got out and that this isn’t just some cruel mind trick they’re playing on me and you’re the only one who even knows about the whole thing and-“ His voice breaks down a little as he speaks. The edge of desperation in his voice is so strong and Jace fears Simon might break down at any minute.

“Are you at the boathouse?” He asks, interrupting him for the second time.

Jace squeezes his eyes shut and tries to breathe in the cold night air as he waits for him to reply. He is unable to ignore the stinging feeling of guilt in his chest. He had let Simon go to the Seelie Court even though he knew nothing good would come out of it. He should have stopped him. He should have fought harder to find another solution. He knows shadowhunters who have never recovered from the things they have experienced in Seelie realm and he had still let Simon go. He knew it would be perilous, yet he did nothing.

Now, Simon sounds broken and Jace cannot help but feel responsible.

“Yeah.”

“Good, I’m coming over,” Jace replies with determination, taking the pressure of asking away from Simon, because he is pretty certain that is the reason behind this phone call.

“Jace?”

Jace hums as a response as he wistfully glances at the direction of the Institute before searching his stele from his pocket.

“Thank you,” his voice is a mixture of relief and sincerity, and Jace knows he is making the right choice by going to see him.

As soon as Simon hangs up, Jace draws yet another Iratze above his hip and an energy rune to the back of his hand and heads towards the boathouse.

***

He softly knocks on the door of the boathouse as he looks around the docks that are illuminated by Jade Wolf’s sign. He cannot see anyone else and everything is almost eerily quiet, except for the muffled noises of the city.

Simon doesn’t open the door, he merely peers behind of it, as if checking who’s knocking on his door in the middle of the night.

“Hey,” Jace says softly, without moving, and flashes a quick smile.

Simon seems to relax a little and opens the door fully, but as soon as Jace has stepped in, he closes the door behind them.

Simon looks terrible and it breaks Jace’s heart. He has dark circles under his eyes and something in his gaze is distraught and almost absent. He refuses to look at Jace and he keeps staring at one of the canoes instead. He looks paler than usually and everything about his demeanour seems small.

He is the opposite of the Simon Jace is used to seeing. Simon in front of him is jumpy and gets startled by the smallest of noises and there isn’t any sort of trace of joy on his face.

Simon seems so broken and Jace doesn’t know what to do with himself. The icy feeling of worry and quilt settles into his stomach and it’s almost paralyzing. He knows he needs to do something and he is ready to do anything if it fixes the situation and makes Simon feel better.

He watches Simon hug himself and Jace tries to say something but the words die in his throat.

“How are you?” Jace finally manages to ask, and then immediately curses himself because it’s such a stupid question, and definitely doesn’t cover for the situation.

“Numb,” Simon answers with a shrug, and he seems calmer than earlier on the phone, but now he seems given up on all hope. “Nothing feels real. I don’t even know how long I was-- there.”

“Four days,” Jace replies quietly.

“Four-“ Simon repeats doubtfully, but then shakes his head. “It felt longer.”

“The time works differently in Seelie realm,” Jace explains offhandedly as he steps closer. He is lost. He doesn’t know what to do, he has never been too good at comforting people. That has always been more of Izzy’s and even Alec’s thing. Still, Jace knows he has to do something.

“Try to focus on something particular,” Jace offers.

Simon stares at him with a puzzled expression and suddenly Jace feels almost embarrassed. He has the sudden urge to explain himself.

“It’s just something I used to do when I had a panic attack,” Jace mumbles, and he isn’t even sure if Simon hears him.

After he first arrived to the New York institute, he had nightmares almost every night, the sort of nightmares that one wakes up from screaming and unable to calm down. Every night, Alec and Izzy were there for him, telling him to focus on something, on their soft voices telling that everything will be okay, on the sensation of water on his skin while standing in a shower, in the middle of the night, trying to breathe.

“I’m not having a panic attack,” Simon says almost defensively but he sounds defeated.

“I know,” Jace says patiently, and tries to bury his own discomfort somewhere deep. He has never talked about these things to anyone else besides his siblings and he feels oddly vulnerable even though he should be comforting Simon, not feeling sorry for himself. “Focusing just helps finding some sort of clarity. Makes things feel more real.”

Simon still stares at him.

“I promise it will help,” Jace offers gently, and finally Simon nods.

“What should I focus on?” Simon asks, looking around the boathouse that’s full of canoes, paddles and tarps. “On the ugly shades of the canoes? I mean that’s one ugly shade of green but even that isn’t ugly enough to distract me from this,” Simon rambles on and vaguely gestures himself.

“My heart beat,” Jace says before he even realises it, and Simon is staring at him weirdly again. He sighs deeply and rubs his own neck. “It’s just easier to focus on something that you can hear and feel, like running water,” he explains, hoping it doesn’t sound too weird.

“I can hear it,” Simon says nodding towards to him, “your heart beat.” His voice softens as he says it.

He walks slowly, as if he isn’t sure if he is supposed to, over to him and carefully places his palm over his chest. He stares at his own hand before looking up to Jace’s face.

“It’s pretty irregular,” Simon points out, “are you sure you don’t have an arrhythmia?” His laugh is weak, nowhere near his regular, bubbly laugh, but at least he laughs and Jace is willing to count that as a win.

“A long day,” Jace lies, fully knowing that any demon ambush isn’t causing his heart to skip a beat or two.

They stay like that for a moment and it feels like they are the only souls in the entire world, just the two of them in their own bubble. Jace can hear the sounds of the city, the noise from car engines mixed with horns and sirens, but it sounds as if it was miles away, not on the other side of the door. The city doesn’t seem to exist, it doesn’t feel real, but Simon’s hand on his chest is real.

“This would be a lot less awkward if we were hugging,” Simon says and it sounds like a light-hearted joke, but Jace knows there is more to it than just teasing. He is asking and Jace has no intentions to decline.

“Only one way to find out,” Jace mutters before pulling him closer and wrapping his arms around him. He holds him tightly and close. Simon burrows his face against his shoulder before returning the hug.

“What happened to the whole ‘hugging is a onetime deal’ thing?” Simon asks, breaking the silence, but his voice is muffled as he speaks against his shoulder.

“Are you complaining?” Jace asks with a huff, unable to give a proper answer.

“No,” Simon answers after a while, “not at all.”

“Good,” he breathes out and he can feel that Simon relaxes in his arms, some of the tension is leaving his body, but his fists are still clenching to Jace’s jacket. “Still won’t be a habit,” he adds, thinking it’s necessary.

Simon sighs, but remains quiet, but lets out a broken laughter few moments later. “I don’t even know why I’m so upset,” he confesses quietly. “It’s not like anything bad actually happened,” he continues, but somehow he manages to make it sound more like a question than a statement. “She just made me sing and play my guitar, which would be okay in any other situation but I couldn’t stop until she said so and the skin of my fingers peeled off-“ Simon’s voice is borderline frantic, but it quickly trails away, as he swallows, and Jace can only guess it’s to prevent himself from crying.

“And I couldn’t feed,” Simon continues but his voice is still wobbly. “I mean she did offer me blood, but I know that you aren’t supposed to eat anything in the Seelie realm and I thought I’m in enough trouble already and I just tried to control the hunger but at some point I was convinced I’d die again and I don’t know--,” Simon swallows hard, and doesn’t continue talking.

Jace holds him a little tighter. He doesn’t know what to say. He cannot say anything that would make things better. He cannot change what happened even if it is the thing he wants the most.

His eyes start burning and he fears he might be the one who starts crying first.

A million things come to his mind. I wouldn’t have let you die, but that’s kind of a lie because if Simon had died, he wouldn’t have even known. He would have wanted to save him, but the truth is that he probably couldn’t. It did happen already once. The track record really isn’t on his side with this one, but he wants to keep Simon safe, preferably wrapped in a bubble wrap and never letting him near danger again.

I’m so sorry. That one isn’t a lie. It’s the truth, but he doesn’t know how to explain what he is sorry for. Maybe he is sorry for everything, every single bad thing that has happened to Simon since he learned about the existence of the shadow world. It just doesn’t feel good enough, no word could ever cover what his feelings are for him.

I’d take your place in a heartbeat. For a moment, he actually considers saying it, because he would take his place, surrender himself to the queen without a moment of hesitation, if it meant that Simon was happy and safe. It isn’t right that Simon, who is like a ray of sunshine in a ruined world, has to suffer when Jace would be able to take his place. He doesn’t say it, because it doesn’t feel right.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he eventually says and it sounds so lame, but it’s the best he can do. It certainly does not help him and he suspects it does not help his anguish either.

“Me too,” Simon says, “and thanks for coming over, I mean I’m sure you have other things to do like sleeping, but-“

“Simon,” Jace interrupts him, “it’s no problem.” He doesn’t need a thank you. Coming to see him it is the least he can do and he still feels awfully helpless and powerless. “I mean, we’re a team, right?” He partly says it, because he tries to distract Simon from thinking about the Seelie queen, but he has become somewhat fond of the idea.

Of course, he has Alec, his parabatai, who would have his back in any situation no matter what and Izzy, who would do anything in her power to keep him away from harm, but they are his siblings. It’s different that Simon wants to be a team, even if it is more of a joke than anything else, without any obligation.

Simon laughs, it’s surprised but mostly a happy laugh, and he pulls himself away from the embrace. “We should get team back from the dead t-shirts,” he declares with a radiant grin, and Jace thinks the distraction might work after all.

“No,” Jace breathes out as he shakes his head, “absolutely not.”

“Team jackets it is then,” Simon deadpans.

Jace buries his head into his hands. “I’m leaving the team.”

“Ha, not possible,” Simon tells him with a smirk, “it’s a lifelong membership or at least until the next resurrection.”

“That’s one crappy membership,” Jace points out as he watches Simon to climb in one of the nearby canoes.

“There are perks to the membership,” Simon informs him and gestures him to follow him to the canoe.

“And those are?” Jace asks, as he tries to climb on the opposite side of the canoe without tipping it.

“You get to spend time with me,” Simon says and gestures towards the door, “and endless supply of Chinese food from Jade Wolf because Luke cannot say no to me.”

��So I get to sit in a canoe in the middle of the night with you, eating food from a place that probably hasn’t had a health check since last century and watch some weird movies and hope I don’t get a food poisoning,” Jace recaps, deadpan.

“Hey,” Simon mock kicks his shin with his leg, rocking the canoe slightly. “Jade Wolf is a great place and you know it and you guys probably have some rune for food poisoning and if you don’t and the very unlikely occurrence of you getting a food poisoning happens, I’ll call Clary and she can make up one for you so stop complaining.”

“This truly is a great team,” Jace answers wryly, but he cannot fight off the small smile that tugs on the corner of his mouth.

“The best,” Simon confirms with a whimsical grin.  

The conversation dies as they stare at each other, and just like that, the bubble is broken. Rest of the world exists and their very real problems haven’t disappeared anywhere. Suddenly, they remember that not everything is okay. Just because Simon survived the first favour he owes to the queen, doesn’t mean he can’t get hurt during the next two.

Jace feels as if he is suffocating. Everything feels heavy and overwhelming and he doesn’t have the energy to deal with it.

“Could you just keep talking?” Simon asks eventually, but all of the cheer is gone from his voice and he looks downright miserable as he hugs his legs closer to his body.

“Sure,” Jace answers and starts to tell about his nightmare of a day with painstaking details. He describes how hot the coffee was when he spilled it all over himself in the morning, and he describes the dull clave meetings and the demon ambush.

He doesn’t focus too much on what he is saying, he is barely aware of the words coming out of his mouth. He is too preoccupied his own thoughts.

The thought of Simon being hurt created this lump of hollowness inside of him and he doesn’t know how to deal with it. It’s simply too much. He cannot even think about the possibility of losing Simon for good. It breaks his heart.

Jace knows he would be selfish enough to bring him back again, no matter what the cost and consequences would be. For a moment, he almost understands Clary and her decisions to keep bringing her loved ones back from the dead. He hates himself for it, even for thinking about it, because he knows how horrible it its and he knows how badly it messed up Simon last time, but he cannot help himself.  

He is selfish because he has fallen for him. Falling in love with Simon is the worst thing that has ever happened to him. He never thought he could be capable of loving someone in the way he loves Simon, and the only thing he has learned is that loving someone is the worst. He is constantly worried about him and wants him to be safe, but Simon is a trouble magnet so it isn’t happening anytime soon. He wants him to be happy, but Simon’s life is full of struggles. The kind of struggles Jace cannot fix.

Also, he cannot be blamed for falling for him. It’s all Simon’s fault. He is the one who has the ability to make anyone feel as if they are the most important person on earth for him, he is witty and brave, and willing to do anything for those who he cares about. So, he could have fallen in love with a lot worse person.

There are also three facts that Jace knows. One, Simon doesn’t love him. Not in a way he loves him. Two, if he knew about his feelings, he wouldn’t be cruel about it. He probably would be really nice and sweet about it and Jace doesn’t need his pity. Three, he is never going to tell him because there is no point.

“You had a crappy day and you still came over when I asked?” Simon asks, some of sort of disbelief echoing in his voice, and startles Jace from wallowing in self-pity.

He only now realises he probably should have sugar-coated his day a little, not tell about every single bad thing that happened to him.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Jace tries to protest, “it’s fine,” he continues and suddenly he has the urge to look at anywhere else expect the direction of Simon. Honestly, Jace is glad that he came over and that Simon trusts him enough to even ask him, but he doesn’t know how to say it.

“You do look awful,” Simon says matter-of-factly, “dead tired, like you could collapse and fall asleep at any given moment,” he continues his observation, and Jace can feel his gaze on him.

“You sure know how to flatter a guy,” Jace deadpans, but Simon isn’t wrong. The energy rune is fading and the thought of sleeping doesn’t sound bad at all.

“You should sleep,” Simon says gently as he climbs out of the canoe.

“Yeah,” Jace agrees, but doesn’t move. Even the thought of moving is exhausting, yet alone travelling back to the institute.

“You can crash here,” Simon says, apparently reading his mind, “it’s like the least I can do and it’s like four am already,” he babbles on as he searches for something from the closet.

“Thanks,” Jace mumbles as he climbs down from the canoe, and as soon as he is next to Simon, he hands him a flat pillow and a big red blanket.

“Pick a canoe,” Simon says with a massive grin.

“Have you ever heard of the revolutionary idea of having a proper bed?” Jace asks as he glares at him.

“It would ruin the style of this place,” Simon explains with a half-grin, and Jace isn’t sure if he is joking or not.

Jace rolls his eyes and throws the blanket and pillow to nearby canoe. “I’m pretty sure I won’t have a spine tomorrow morning, it will be only a pile of small rocks pretending to be a functional spine.”

Simon laughs. “You sure know how to be dramatic, but there’s a mattress behind of all of the boats, but I’ve no idea how it got there and it has suspicious looking stain on it and it smells funny so I wouldn’t recommend.”

“Canoe it is then,” Jace hums and makes Simon chuckle. He steps into the canoe and lies down carefully before trying to adjust the pillow but it would require a miracle for it to be comfortable or soft.

“Good night,” Simon whispers before he turns off the lights, but Jace notices he leaves some of them on. He chooses not to say anything.

Jace lies there, awake, listening to the sounds that Simon makes. He climbs in one of the canoes, but doesn’t stay still. Every time he moves, the canoe creaks and he keeps tapping the edge of it with his fingers.

Jace is certain he can feel his nervous energy.

“If it gets too quiet, you could watch something,” Jace suggests, as it is painfully obvious Simon isn’t able to sleep.

“It won’t bother you?” Simon asks, but he sounds relieved.

“Headphones are a magical invention,” Jace tells wryly and Simon huffs.

Jace watches him to fetch his laptop and headphones, and soon he has settled back into the boat. He looks little bit calmer than before.

“Wake me up if you need anything,” Jace says and looks at Simon sternly, to indicate he means it. He would rather lose his sleep than let Simon suffer alone.

“Okay,” Simon says without protesting, but he looks little unsure.

It’s good enough for Jace, and he falls back to the canoe, and closes his eyes and by some miracle he actually falls asleep.

***

Jace wakes up when someone pokes his bicep persistently. As soon as he moves, he can feel how stiff his back is and he curses himself for deciding to sleep in a canoe. Even floor would have been more comfortable.

When he opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is Simon grinning his megawatt smile. “Good morning, sunshine.”

Jace merely groans.

“Yet another perk of this team is breakfast,” Simon announces with too much enthusiasm and walks up to the small table next to the wall.

“What time it is?” Jace slurs, his brain is still foggy from sleep.

“Ten, nearly eleven, so actually this is more like a brunch,” he answers thoughtfully, “yes, we’re keeping that, it sounds fancier than breakfast.”

“If it’s noodles, I will throw them at you,” Jace threatens as he gets up.

“Fortunately, it’s mostly rice and I just decided that the rule number one of team back from the dead is no throwing food at or the direction of another team member,” Simon tells cheerfully.

Jace sits down and opens up the small cartoon box and throws the small slice of carrot he finds at Simon, but he just laughs as he dodges it.

A tiny smile creeps on his face and suddenly things do not seem so overwhelming after all.

***

Jace tries to breathe, but he just cannot do it. There’s a lump in his throat and the air won’t flow in and out the way it is supposed to. His chest feels heavy and he can see how the black dots are appearing in his vision.

He feels numb and he wants to run out of his room and keep running, but he knows he won’t outrun his nightmares.

He doesn’t know what to do. He cannot focus on anything and it feels as if the walls are tumbling down on him.  

He considers waking up Alec, but then he suddenly remembers that Alec doesn’t even live at the Institute anymore. Izzy is out of question too because he cannot talk about his nightmares about dying and coming back to life without actually mentioning that it has happened to him.

He doesn’t even realise he has picked up the phone and chose Simon’s number until he hears his voice on the other end of the phone.

“Hey?” He sounds cheery, as if he isn’t bothered by the fact that it is middle of the night and he is calling him, and suddenly Jace realises it was a bad idea to call him.

Simon doesn’t need his night to be ruined by his problems. Simon has more important things to deal with and be worried about, and Jace is certain the last thing he needs is to listen to him talk about his nightmare.

“I-“, Jace tries, but he doesn’t know how to explain that his first instinct was to call him because he knew merely Simon’s voice could calm him down. He doesn’t know how to explain that the phone call isn’t an emergency one. It’s because of a nightmare and it feels so mundane and trivial and just plain dumb.

Simon waits patiently and doesn’t hang up on him, even though Jace is convinced it is the only smart solution to this situation.

“I’m sorry I called you,” he eventually says, hoping that Simon would let it slide.

Simon hums. “I’d be angry if you just butt dialled me, but because we live in the age of smart phones that isn’t possible any longer, so what’s up?”

“Nothing,” the lie rolls of his tongue so easily and Jace hates himself for it.

“Liar,” Simon accuses, but his voice is soft.

Jace huffs before closing his eyes. He didn’t expect Simon to notice his lie, or to comment on it. “A nightmare,” he manages to say eventually.

“The bad kind?” Simon asks, his voice filled with sympathy.

“The kind of that has earned me the lifelong membership to our merry little team,” Jace replies with a joyless burst of laugh. Somehow, he cannot bring himself to talk about death and dying directly.

“Those are horrible,” Simon agrees quietly, “if you want company, I can come over,” he offers. He says it casually, the way one would offer to help with grocery shopping or something as normal and mundane, but Jace knows Simon absolutely means it.

“You would?” Jace blurts out and mentally kicks himself right after. He wants to blame the sleep deprivation and the emotional turmoil for his slip because he knows he shouldn’t be even consider asking him to come over. He doesn’t need him or his help.

“Of course,” he replies without missing a beat.

“Okay,” Jace replies, even though he knows better, and because even though he doesn’t need his help, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t want it. Still, he feels like he is being exasperating.

He tries to justify it with that he really doesn’t want to be alone and it was Simon who offered to come over, so he isn’t the one who asked it for it. On some level, that makes him feel a little better.

“Do you need anything else?”

“If you mean noodles by that, I’m gonna say no,” Jace deadpans, because he doesn’t know how else to deal with his kindness.

Simon sighs exasperatedly and Jace can hear his smirk.  “Fine, I’ll be there soon.”

***

It takes Simon only a few minutes to arrive, but the wait feels like an eternity. He keeps twitching the sheet of his bed, feeling oddly awkward, sitting there on his own bed, just waiting.

Finally, the door of his bedroom opens slightly and quietly, and Simon slips in.

He appears to be wearing his pyjamas, a pair of ratty sweatpants and an old band t-shirt, with an oversized hoodie and bright orange fuzzy socks. He looks ridiculous but Jace is just overwhelmed by how happy he is merely to see him that he cannot even make a sarcastic remark about the socks.

Simon leans onto his door and grins, and for a moment, Jace believes again that everything will be okay and that everything that they are going through will be worth it in the end.

“These sleepovers are becoming a habit,” Simon says with a soft chuckle.

“Two is a coincidence, not a pattern,” Jace points out, but he is smiling nevertheless.

He rolls his eyes and walks closer to his bed. “Fine, maybe you have a point,” he admits, and his smile grows gentler, “but in a true pattern of these nightly visits that aren’t a habit, I have to ask do you need a hug?”

A smile ghosts on his lips as he shakes his head. “No, I’m good.”

“Yeah, I know you aren’t a hugger, which is fine, not everyone is,” Simon says and sits down to the other end of the bed and crosses his legs.

Jace is grateful that Simon understands him, even though hugging is strangely becoming their thing. It is not like he hates hugging, it just makes him slightly uncomfortable because he isn’t used to it. It is unnerving to be so close and intimate with someone.

He can hug others when they are upset, and he knows hugging helps when it feels like everything is tumbling down and the pain is too much to bear, but he feels better already knowing that Simon is there.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He offers next, seeming genuinely sincere about listening to him.

“I don’t know,” Jace says with a sigh and stares out of the narrow window. “I don’t know how to describe it. It feels mostly hollow.”

Jace likes to think himself as fearless. Never backing down from a challenge and always facing the danger instead of running away. Nothing has ever compared with the amount of sheer terror when he realised he was going to die and there was nothing to do to prevent it.

Once he felt that type of fear, raw, all consuming and uncontrollable, he could not shake it off. It is like a disease that is eating him away from the inside, always nagging on the corner of his mind.

For his whole life, he has been prepared for the real possibility that he is going to die young. Probably in a battle while holding a seraph blade. He always thought he was fine with that scenario, but now he isn’t so sure.

He wants to live, but no one ever prepared him for the possibility of coming back from the dead.

“I know,” Simon replies sympathetically, “it gets little easier with time, but I don’t know if it ever stops being difficult.”

“Maybe you just numb to it,” Jace muses, now staring at his hands, sounding almost wistful.

“I kinda hope that’s true,” Simon admits and there is an edge to his voice, and for the first time, Jace can hear how upset and exhausted he still is, and he feels a sting of guilt in his stomach.

He never considered how horrible Simon must have felt when dying and turning into a vampire. Simon probably had to go through it all alone without help. Jace feels like an ass for never even asking how he was feeling and coping with everything.

“I’m sorry,” Jace says, surprising himself as well, “for never understanding what you went through when it happened to you.”

Simon looks surprised at first, but then his face breaks into a tiny but grateful smile. “It’s okay, I never expected any of you to understand. I mean it’s the kind of thing you have to experience to actually understand.”

Jace nods.

“You’re here now, which matters a lot more,” Simon says softly, and Jace’s heart is about burst because of the way he is looking at him.

“Team back from the dead,” Jace replies with a lopsided grin.

“Damn right,” Simon chuckles, but his expression gets more serious, yet his eyes are full of compassion. “You’re not supposed to be okay, you know. I’d be a lot more worried if you weren’t affected in any way.”

Jace nods and looks at him, raising his eyebrows. “You’re worried about me?”

Simon rolls his eyes and shoves his arm. “Of course, that’s all you got from that.”

Jace shrugs as innocently as he can.

“But yeah, I am,” he confirms, looking at his duvet rather than him, “I mean this stuff can mess your head up and I don’t mind spending time with you or anything like that but I think you should tell Alec and Izzy at least,” he continues softly, “it helps when you can talk about it.”

Jace sighs deeply and ruffles his hands through his hair. He knows Simon is right and he should tell his siblings but it is more difficult than he imagined. He has tried to tell them a couple of times but every time the words just die on his throat.

He doesn’t want them to think he intentionally wanted to keep it as a secret from them. He was too shaken up to tell them right away and after that it became more difficult because it is not something one can just casually incorporate to daily chats. The last thing he wants is to Alec get in trouble as a head of the Institute and Jace is certain that resurrection breaks at least twenty regulations.

“Yeah, I’m gonna tell them,” Jace says eventually, giving Simon a weak smile. “But, uh, even if they knew about it now, I would have still called you.”

Jace isn’t completely certain why he said it. It is just important for him to him to know that their friendship isn’t just a replacement for something else because of the circumstances. He isn’t a replacement for his siblings or anybody else. He is just Simon and Jace is happy with that.      

Simon’s mouth curls up into a smile and he looks actually delighted. “I’m glad to hear that,” he says, sounding sincere, “but if you don’t want to hug and you aren’t too keen on talking about the nightmare, what do you want to do?” He doesn’t sound pressuring, more curious.

“Maybe just talk? About something else,” he offers weakly, suddenly feeling dumb again for even asking him to come over.

“Talking, my best and least needed skill,” Simon laughs and hauls himself next to Jace. “I could ramble till the end of times, so that’s definitely something I can do.”

“Sure,” Jace agrees, sounding overly fond even to his own ears.

Simon doesn’t seem to notice, and if he does notice, he doesn’t say anything about it, and Jace is grateful. He talks about the weekend he spent with Rebecca and his studies at the college. He tells about a new song he wrote and some new movie that he wants to go and see. He threatens to get a custom-made pair team back from the dead fuzzy socks for Jace as a Christmas present.

“I survived my second favour with the queen,” Simon eventually says, way too casually, as if it was something trivial.

“You did?” Jace asks, surprised, and wondering why he didn’t start his ramble with that. “What did she ask for?” He continues cautiously, because he has no idea what she might have asked for.

“Just asked me how it feels to be a daylighter,” he explains, and Jace can feel how a knot of worry untangle in his chest.

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Jace replies, even though he knows that the queen can make even the simplest requests difficult and traumatic.

“It was mostly odd,” Simon agrees, “after I told her, I was free to go. The whole thing lasted maybe five minutes,” a small smile ghosts on his lips and there is an edge to his voice again, but he doesn’t seem as shaken up as he did the last time.

“What did you say to her?” Jace tries to ask it conversationally, but he is actually curious about it. He has never dared to ask it himself, but he would like to know. He doesn’t know why he hasn’t asked about it, but he feels like it would be considered crossing some invisible boundary.

“The truth,” Simon says with an easy shrug. “It didn’t feel like a good idea to lie to her, so I told that it’s mostly nice because it makes my life a little more normal,” Simon explains quietly and there is a trace of longing in his voice. “I can spend more time with my family and go to college, which is nice, but on the other hand half of the clan hates me and the other half harasses me because they want to know how I became a daylighter,” he laughs, but it sounds joyless.

“You could always tell them,” Jace offers offhandedly as he stares at the wall. He doesn’t like the thought of Simon suffering because he is protecting him and keeping a promise that Jace never even expected him to make or keep.

“No way,” Simon replies immediately with much more determination than Jace had expected. He sounds like Jace had just personally insulted him and his entire family.

He looks at him strangely.

“I’m not gonna put you in danger just because it would make my life easier,” Simon explains softly, but Jace knows he means every single word he speaks.

It does unfair things to his heart knowing that Simon is willing to keep him safe. Knowing that he is ready to sacrifice something for him. It makes his stomach fall in a good way.

On the other hand, he wants to yell that he is not worth any of it. Not his protection or loyalty. He doesn’t deserve it.

“I appreciate it,” Jace says to him and his voice sounds strained as tries his best not to choke on his emotions.

“I got your back,” Simon says happily, sounding almost proud of it, and it is a little too much for him, and he is glad when Simon continues to talk about his lectures.

Jace loses the track of time and he doesn’t know how long they stay there, Simon talking softly but rapidly and Jace listening to him and making few comments or sarcastic remarks, but in the end he doesn’t even care about the time.

Simon looks beautiful in the dimly lit bedroom. His hair is a mess, but his eyes are so bright and he keeps rapidly moving his hands as he talks, and Jace cannot stop staring because it is so captivating. He looks borderline divine.

He likes it a lot and it is oddly comforting to listen to Simon speak.

The serenity of it is disturbed when Simon’s phone makes a ping noise. He abruptly stops speaking and picks up his phone to read the message.

A soft groan escapes from Simon’s lips as he puts the phone away. “Another clan meeting,” he tells him, “I don’t know why they even need me to be there, like I never contribute to any of the decisions and if I try and say something they won’t listen to me because they hate me. The only reason why they even invite me there is ‘cause they fear I’ll go rogue and establish my own clan--“

Simon rambles and tries to get out of bed, but his movements lack any effort. Jace doesn’t know what takes over his common sense and will power, but he kisses Simon in the middle of his ramble.

Suddenly, the room is quiet, but Jace’s ears are ringing. He is kissing Simon and while he knows he shouldn’t be doing this, he cannot force himself to pull away.

Jace cups Simon’s face with his hands and it is a soft kiss, even though it is a slightly messy and tentative, and then finally Simon kisses him back. It feels like Jace’s whole body is buzzing with a mix of excitement and nervousness and his stomach decides to do somersaults.

He cannot think about anything else than kissing Simon. He doesn’t want to think about the consequences of kissing Simon, he just wants the moment last to forever.

Of course, the bubble bursts when Simon pulls away. He doesn’t move too far away. He is so close that Jace is certain Simon can feel his breath on his face.

Simon stays quiet, but he looks at him with a perplexed expression and his eyes are shining with some emotion that Jace cannot name.

Jace feels uneasy and he has the sudden urge to apologize and somehow explain his actions, but he doesn’t know why he did it. Well, he knows why he did it. It is all because of his pathetic crush, but he doesn’t know why he didn’t stop himself. He only knows he wants to do it again.

He opens his mouth, but he has no clue what to say.

“I-wasn’t, I, didn’t-,” he stammers, before squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to do that,” he says, slightly lamely.

Simon pulls himself further away immediately. He sits on the edge of the bed and looks at him over his shoulder. “It’s fine, like more than fine really, and you don’t have to apologize, but we should talk about this because communication is the key with everything, but maybe we should talk about it some other time when we aren’t this tired,” Simon’s tone is quiet, but he speaks quickly, and Jace cannot decide whether he sounds hopeful or sombre.

“Yeah,” Jace agrees with a huff and ruffles his of hair. “You’re probably right.”

“I’m always right,” Simon deadpans as he stands up, and somehow it convinces that he might have not completely ruined everything between them, but he still cannot ignore the feeling that he has made everything between them awkward.

“No, you are not,” Jace laughs, but all he can think about is how unreal the whole moment feels. He is a little numb and some part of his mind is yelling at him about his own incapability to have friends and the fact he has to ruin every single significant relationship in his life.

“You’re thinking too loud,” Simon points out gently with a soft smile.

“Hmm?” Jace asks, startled from his own spiralling thoughts.

“We are fine,” Simon tells him and pokes his knee, “you didn’t ruin anything, I promise you.”

Jace’s mouth curls up into an amused smile. “Are your reading my mind?”

Of course, Simon would know how to make him feel a little better even when he doesn’t know how to put it into the words what is bothering him.

“I wish I could,” Simon tells him wistfully and Jace isn’t sure what he is trying to imply with that.

Simon stands at the door already and he rests his palm on the doorknob, but he doesn’t do any effort to move. He looks at him with the same perplexed expression as earlier.

“Are you feeling better? I could always go rogue and not go to the meeting,” Simon offers whimsically, but once again, Jace knows he would do it if he just asked.

Jace shakes his head. “I’m fine,” he says and he feels like he isn’t even lying about it.

“Try to sleep,” Simon tells him gently as he opens the door.

“I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah,” Simon says and then he is gone, leaving Jace alone with his thoughts, but by some miracle, he manages to fall asleep.

***

He doesn’t see Simon the next day.

Jace thinks it’s understandable. He has his own life and he isn’t required to spend every single moment of his free time with him.  He probably needs time and his own space after last night. Jace wouldn’t blame him if he did avoid him.

When he doesn’t hear from him or see him on the next day, he knows it isn’t just avoiding. Simon isn’t the type of person to avoid others for a long time or ghost them. Jace knows Simon is probably paying a visit to the court of their least favourite queen.

The worry washes over him again and the uneasiness grows because he is certain the whole deal with the queen won’t end well.

When the anxiety gets too much to bear, he picks up his phone texts him.

[Jace 2.07 am] You okay? Do you need help with you know what?

He knows it is a long shot and if Simon truly is visiting the court, he probably won’t be able to use his phone. It makes him feel a little better, though. It makes him feel a little less helpless, like he isn’t just sitting there, doing nothing to help him.

The fact that Simon doesn’t answer to his text doesn’t help him at all.

***

It has been four days since Jace has seen or heard from Simon.

The worry and fear is slowly eating him alive. He cannot sleep properly. He spends his nights tossing and turning in his bed and when he does sleep, he sees nightmares. He has lost his appetite and he cannot focus on anything.

All he can think about is that Simon is in danger and he cannot do anything to stop it, and he loathes himself for it.

He spends most of his morning in a weapons’ room, maintaining and rearranging the various weapons, as it is the only thing he can focus on and it is boring enough to numb his mind a little.

He is startled from his own, less than pleasant thoughts and emotional turmoil, when Clary knocks on the frame of the door.

“Hey, have you seen Simon?” She asks, frowning and sounding worried. “He was supposed to meet with me and Maia, but he didn’t turn up and he hasn’t answered his phone.”

Suddenly, there is a lump in his throat and breathing gets more difficult than it should be.

“No, I haven’t,” Jace tells truthfully, and puts down the seraph blade he had been polishing, “but I can look for him,” he continues, and realises that it is the only thing he should be doing. The only thing he should have been doing for days now.

He should be doing something at least, especially when he knows how grave his situation is. If Simon hasn’t survived from the court in four days on his own, he probably needs help. He could be hurt or kept as a prisoner and he is most likely at least starving. The queen could have done something to him and Jace wouldn’t even know.

Thinking about any of those options make him feel nauseated, and he would rather not think about them.

Clary shots him a grateful smile. “That would be great, and call me if you find him,” she says, before disappearing into the hallway.

***

Jace knows, logically, that he should stop and make a plan.

Yet, his mind is racing and thoughts are spiralling and all he can think about is how he shouldn’t waste another moment by doing nothing.

He finds himself at Hotel Dumort, knocking on the door of Raphael’s apartment. He opens the door and sighs deeply as soon as he sees him.

“Jace,” he says, “what do I owe this unpleasant surprise?”

“Nice to see you too, Raphael,” Jace replies wryly, “was Simon at your clan meeting?”

Raphael looks slightly surprised by his question, yet he continues to glare at him. “Yes, but he seemed distracted. Looked like he wanted to be somewhere else, which is not new.”

“Have you seen him since?”

“No,” he answers, sounding a bit fed up with the constant questions, “not that I would have had any desire to.”

Jace rolls his eyes before muttering a thank you and heading to the stairwell.

***

The next part of his plan that he is making up as he goes is easier than he expected.

He finds Meliorn from Hunter’s Moon. He is sitting at the bar counter, sipping his drink and staring at the wall behind the bartender. He is almost grateful that Maia isn’t working today because he isn’t sure how he would even begin to explain any of the mess they have made.

Jace takes the seat next to him and he doesn’t even bother pretending to order a drink or start any sort of chitchat with him. He doesn’t have energy or patience to do so.

“The queen,” Jace almost spits out the word as if it were poisonous, “she has Simon, right?”

Meliorn refuses to look at him, but he almost grimaces at his words, and Jace really doesn’t want to know what causes him to do that.

“Yes,” he eventually says after what seems like a small forever, “but you can’t just march in there,” he tells him, almost cautiously, as if he were reading his mind.

“Watch me,” Jace hisses before he storms out of the bar.

***

Jace does not go straight to the court even though he is extremely tempted to.

He goes back to the Institute, straight to their supply room. He shoves a couple of bags of o-neg into the pockets of his jacket, because if Simon is still alive, he is probably starving.

He walks past the weapons’ room and stares at his seraph blade, but decides it is best to leave it behind. If he charges into the court with weapons, he is guaranteed to die, and he is not much help to Simon if he dies.

He needs to do this with discretion and diplomacy, even if what he truly wants to do includes a lot more punching.

He knows his plan is a disaster and there is no way it will go as he wants it to go. A thousand things can go wrong. The queen is cruel, ruthless, and manipulative and enjoys seeing other people’s pain. Jace knows she will turn the situation into her advantage and there is nothing he or Simon can do about it.

He doesn’t believe in his own odds, but he knows he has to do something, because he cannot live with himself if he does not.

***

He breathes deeply as he watches the dark water under the bridge. He doesn’t even know if the queen will grant him into the court.

He doesn’t have any more time to wallow in his own self-pity because his phone rings. He almost drops his phone out of relief when he sees that the caller id says Simon.

Jace answers the call as fast as he can. “Hey, are you alright? Where are you?”

He is aware that he speaks too rapidly to give Simon even a chance to answer.

“Are you anywhere near the boathouse?” Simon says, completely ignoring his previous questions. He sounds eerily similar as he did after his first favour, but this he sounds more shattered, as if he was heartbroken.

“Not too far away,” Jace replies, already planning the fastest route, as he glances the water again.

“Good,” he says, but he does not seem to mean it. “Can you come over?”

“Of course, I’ll be there in twenty,” he says before hanging up, and he cannot get the rid of the knot of worry that forms once again into his stomach.

***

The docks are empty, even though it is middle of the day. Jace knocks on the door, but it starts to slide under his knuckles as it is left open.

Jace steps in, closing the door behind him, and sees Simon sitting on one of the chairs. He is still wearing the same pyjamas as he did when he visited him days ago. There are at least three empty bags of blood scratted around him on the floor, and Simon keeps his gaze on his shoes.

“Hey,” Jace greets him, walking closer to him, “are you okay?”

Once again, this is not the Simon he is used to see. It is slightly unnerving to see him to be so different from his usual cheery self, but Jace cannot blame him.

He looks defeated and exhausted. The chair has no backrest but still he manages to slouch on it, and he seems almost eerily calm. There is no traces of panic or fear in his demeanour, just general hopelessness. As if he would have given up on something or everything. The shadows under his eyes are dark and his skin looks ashen. He looks almost older than before.

It is excruciating to see him like this, again, knowing that he could not stop it from happening this time, either.  

“Yeah,” Simon says, quietly, looking up at him, and acknowledging him for the first time.

Jace nods, feeling some sort of relief, even though he isn’t completely certain if he believes him, but he lets it slide for now. He pulls out the bags of blood from his pocket and places them onto the table in a neat pile.

“I guess these can fill up your stash,” he says, to fill the silence, as his eyes keep darting to the ones that lie on the floor. He hopes Simon won’t ask why he has the bags with him.

Simon nods, being more absentminded than Jace has ever seen him to be, not even looking at the general direction of him.

Jace sighs, picks up a chair and drags it in front of Simon’s chair, and sits down. Even when he is right in front of him, he refuses to look at him.

Once again, Jace has no idea what to say or do. The silence is deafening and he wants to do something to fix whatever is wrong. There is a certain sort of tension between them that has not been there for a long time, and it is strong enough for him to pick it up, even though he has no idea what causes it.

He brushes the back of Simon’s hand with his fingers, attempting to take his hand in his, but Simon pulls it away immediately, as if his touch would burn his skin.

“Why did you call me?” Jace asks, quietly, pulling his hand away as well, trying his best not to feel any sort of embarrassment.

“You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to,” Simon shoots back immediately and harshly, quickly looking at him, and he sounds bitter.

“That’s not what I meant,” Jace says, as gently as he can. He keeps his gaze on him, trying to pick up any kind of hint what might be wrong, but he sees nothing, but anger and possibly something resembling to pain. It hurts his heart and it hurts even more that Simon is closing himself off from him.  “Just tell me what you need.”

Simon looks at him properly. His eyes are full of sadness and he looks almost desperate or afraid of something, and Jace just wants to erase it all away from his eyes.

“I need to tell you something,” he says, unsurely, as if he would not have the courage to say the words aloud. He is almost fearful.

“So, tell me,” Jace says with a shrug, and tries to smile encouragingly. He hates the fact that Simon would feel uncomfortable or afraid around him.

For the longest time, Simon just stares at him. He looks at him so intensely that Jace is certain he can see through any walls he has ever put up. It is almost uncomfortable kind of stare, because everything seems so visible and just be there out in the open, but at least he feels seen as well as little distressed.

“Are you nervous?” Jace blurts out, under his gaze. He bites his lips as he asks it. A nervous habit, he supposes.

“Yeah.”

“Why?” Jace asks, genuinely curious. He thought they were close, at least close enough that there are not many topics he would be afraid to talk about to him, unrequired and unimportant feelings, like love, excluded, but apparently, he was wrong. It stings a little to know he was wrong.

“I’m not overly fond of the consequences this might have,” he says distraughtly, with a sad attempt at laughing.

Jace cannot put up with the uncertainness and doubt on his face any longer, so he pulls his chair closer to him. “Look, you can tell me anything, and I won’t go anywhere.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Definitely,” he whispers effortlessly, smiling, because it is certainly one that he can keep and he has every intention to do so.

“The queen wanted to know how I became a daylighter,” Simon says slowly and reluctantly, keeping an eye on his reaction all the time.

It takes Jace a moment to connect the dots. Embarrassingly long. He does not realise why he would have a difficult time to tell him that, but then he remembers the promise. The promise that Simon made, and Jace never even required. The one that was always made to be broken.

He feels almost nauseated at the idea of Simon almost dying because he was protecting him. He feels dizzy and numb, and his stomach is filled with icy terror and paralyzing fear takes over his body, even though he knows Simon is here with him and safe.

Simon obviously takes his silence and horrified expression wrong. “I’m so sorry, I know I made a promise and I didn’t want to tell her, but it had been days, or at least I think it was days, and I was convinced that I’d die if she didn’t let me go, so I had to tell her, and I understand completely if you’re angry-“

Jace has to admit that he is angry. Almost furious, but not for the reasons Simon thinks he is. He is livid that Simon almost died because of him and he wants to shout and scream at him, but he knows it is the last thing he should do, because he is not mad at Simon. He is mad at the queen, himself and the world generally. He does not need to lash out on him.

Jace puts his hand on his knee, and it does stop his rambling, just as he hoped. “You have nothing to apologize. You’re okay and that is all that matters to me,” he breathes out.

“Really?” Simon asks, doubtfully, and he looks at him as if he had grown another head.

“Yes, you should have told her immediately,” Jace says, still feeling like he could puke just at thought of how much Simon must have suffered because of him.

“It felt too much like betrayal,” Simon says in a whisper, and he genuinely seems to mean it.

“If it makes you feel any better, I was on my way to the court when you called. I’d have told her if you didn’t,” Jace explains with a thin smile.

Simon just keeps staring at him with a quizzical expression as if he was a puzzle he needed to solve.

“When you made that promise, I thought more like angry mob of vampires, not the seelie queen,” Jace adds in a lighter tone, trying to come up with any ways that he can make him feel better.

“Me, too.”

“Also for future reference, break any promise to me if it saves your life,” Jace says, “I can even make it a rule of team back from the dead if it makes it easier for you to follow,” he deadpans.

Simon’s mouth curls up into a dim smile that is not quite real smile. “Always throw Jace under the bus if it saves you?”

“Something like that,” he confirms, pulling his hand away from his knee.

“I’m not too fond of that rule, I gotta say that,” Simon says, before he starts frowning again. “Are you sure you aren’t upset? I mean it’s kind of like you have a giant bull’s eye on your back and like half of the downworld-“

Simon might have a point that he might have put him in the danger, but Jace does not fully believe it. He is rather sure the queen won’t tell anyone. She wanted the information, but probably for later use. She might hold it over them later, but Jace does not have the energy to worry about future danger or blackmailing.

“Si, I’m not upset,” Jace repeats, sucking in his breath, because the temptation of confessing his true feelings is too strong. “I’d have done anything to keep you safe. I would have even taken your place if it was possible,” he ends up saying, gently and half-accidentally.

Simon smiles. It is a small smile, but it is a smile nevertheless, and his eyes are full of kindness and amusement.

“When you say stuff like that and keep coming to check up on me, it makes me think maybe you like me after all,” his voice is almost teasing, and if Jace didn’t know him any better, he would think is merely joking, but he does know him.

Jace knows the last thing he should be thinking about right now is their kiss, but the thought won’t leave his head and his gaze lingers on his lips a little too long.

“I do like you,” Jace confesses, “more than like you,” he says it quickly, as if he couldn’t hear him if he just spoke quickly enough, and he lets out a long breath afterwards.

In a way, it does not feel nearly as bad or frightening as he could have imagined. It’s just words. Sure, they have a huge meaning behind them, and they have consequences, but yet he feels oddly calm. His heart is pounding in his chest, and it is a little embarrassing when he remembers the fact that Simon can heart his heartbeat.

But still, it is Simon. The same Simon who has never made fun of him when he has told about his childhood or nightmares, the same Simon who brings him lunch in the middle of his training because according to him he lacks the basics of self-care, the same Simon who is never anything but kind and funny.

He does not have the courage to look him straight into eyes after he said it, but he keeps staring at his legs and notices that he is still wearing the same pair of fuzzy socks. They have small and dried stains of blood on them.

“Oh,” Simon says quietly and maybe involuntarily, Jace isn’t certain.

“Yeah, we- you don’t have to say anything and I can go away if that is what you want,” Jace says, because he needs to give him a way out, a chance to make what he wants out of the situation they are currently in.

He starts to rise from his seat, but Simon stops him.

“Jace, stay.”

It is only two words, but it makes him stop immediately, and sit back down. The way he says them makes him stop. He says his name as if it would be something precious and valuable. He says it softly, almost pleading, but still full of adoration.

“I’m a little upset,” Simon continues, and Jace still has no courage to look up at him. His heart sinks in his chest. He doesn’t know why he is upset, but he still has the sudden urge to explain and apologize.

“I understand and I’m sorry-,” he stammers on miserably, until Simon continues speaking.

“Upset because you didn’t tell me earlier,” he whispers, and Jace can hear his grin, and it puzzles him enough to actually look at him, but then Simon pulls him closer by the collar of his jacket and kisses him.

It feels like his world stops for a moment, but even though his world stops, the rest of the world does not stop. It dares to go on, and not to give him enough time to cope or deal with anything.

And he doesn’t want to deal with anything. He wants to be only in this moment and not deal with anything else, because Simon’s lips are so soft against his and he laughs into his mouth. It is exhilarating and his heart and stomach decide to do synchronised somersaults.

Simon has his hand against his chest and clenches onto the fabric of his shirt and his other hand is somewhere in his hair. He just cups Simon’s face with his own hands. He almost falls off from his chair at one point, which make Simon laugh even harder, and Jace did not know that this kind of pure happiness existed.

He pulls slightly away to breathe, but Simon rests his forehead against his.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Simon asks, quietly, but he is not accusing him of anything, it is just a curious and genuine question.

“I didn’t want to lose you,” Jace tells after a while, honestly and proud that he is able to say something intelligent after the kiss, “and we were doing great as friends and it seemed almost selfish to hope for more.”

“It’s not selfish to hope to be happy,” Simon says gently, pushing a strand of his hair away from his face. His heart flutters. “And just for clarity, I really like you, too, in a very non-platonic way.”

Jace grins at that. He almost wants to pinch himself because it feels too good to be true. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Simon gives him a lazy smile and shrug. “Maybe for the exact same reasons. I don’t know, we got close because of circumstances and I was afraid that I was reading all the signs wrong and that you weren’t spending time with me because you wanted to, but because out of necessity-“

“I wanted to,” Jace says, interrupting Simon, because it is crucial that he knows it. “I sometimes came up with excuses to see you.”

Jace might have asked him to join him on his long night patrols and he might have visited the boathouse more times than necessary and tell him that he was in the neighbourhood, even though he had been across the city. He might have seen every single gig that Simon has played in Hunter’s Moon and he might have watched movies with him even though he doesn’t like them.

Simon tilts his head. “Why do you think I kept bringing you lunch?” He asks, chuckling. “And then you kissed me and I got confused because you acted like you made a massive mistake and I wasn’t sure if you actually wanted me or if I was just the only one available when you felt lonely.”

“I wanted you,” Jace whispers, and even though it is only three words, he feels strangely vulnerable to say them.

“Obviously,” Simon deadpans, but breaks into a grin, “but I had no way of knowing it.”

“At least we know now,” Jace offers.

“Yeah,” Simon snorts. “It only took secrets, near death experiences and actual death for us to realise and talk about it.”

“You make it sound easier than it was,” Jace points out matter-of-factly.

He could have survived without dying and Simon owing a bunch of favours to the Seelie queen, even if it meant finding out about each other’s feelings even years later, but still he is grateful that he has one less secret to keep.

“It was a bit stressful,” Simon admits with a huge grin.

Simon looks at him, in a way that he always does, as if he is the only thing he sees, and that he is worthy of seeing. His fingertips brush his knuckles.

“I don’t even know what to say,” Jace admits, thinking honesty is the best way to go. He grabs his hand because somehow acting is easier than talking.

“We will figure it out,” Simon says, intertwining their fingers little awkwardly, “I just said we have survived death and the Seelie queen, and this cannot possibly be any harder than that.”

Jace laughs. “I feel like you’re jinxing us here and now, so when something goes wrong, I’ll remind you of this.”

“That’s a nice and positive way of looking at things,” Simon tells him, grinning, “but, seriously, we will figure it all out when we need to, so don’t worry about it.”

Jace just smiles at him, gently but gratefully. He cannot stop thinking how ecstatic everything feels.

“You could almost say, that we are doing it as a team,” Simon whispers with a brilliant grin.

“You’re ridiculous,” he whispers, before kissing him again, but he likes the idea of it a lot, the two of them against the odds.

[renaroo]

Angst War: Revenge is a Dish

Disclaimer: Red vs Blue and related characters are the property of Rooster Teeth. Warnings: Canon-typical language, Canon-typical violence, Character death Rating: T Prompt: ( JP ) Awesome, can you do a short where Temple and the Blues and Reds kill the Reds and Blues. But Dylan and Jax make it to the Freelancers and they plot revenge?

A/N: Trying to complete as many of the prompts as I can before it’s too late lol Hopefully this will be okay, JP!

Carolina’s mouth was devastatingly dry. She could feel the way her body sagged into her armor, muscles aching at the frozen stance they had been forced into. It was surreal, resting her chin at the bottom of her helmet for some sort of feigning comfort

The filters for hers and Washington’s armors sounded off simultaneously again, hissing as they filtered air. She was so tired, but at least she could rest her eyes in the comfort of knowing that her oldest friend was still breathing as well.

Her survival instincts had been working on overdrive for what felt like weeks, though it was difficult to assess time in her state. They were still in the room, frozen still in armor lock, and without any further ideas on how to escape from it.

“They’ll find us,” had been Washington’s mantra. “That’s what they do. They survive. They just overcome everything.”

It had been encouraging before. Carolina had felt just as certain of the outcome as Washington had. But ultimately with each moment, with each ache that Temple’s plan caused, Carolina felt the inspiration being chipped away from her. Piece by piece. Bit by bit.

Whatever time they were at, whatever reality they were facing, it had been enough to chip until there was hardly a shard of hope left in Carolina.

Her eyes closed and she allowed the throb to move through her body, ache, pain, numbness, fatigue.

She went through all the motions at once and waited for unconscious bliss to take over again when something changed. Something happened.

A sensation — a vibration — rattled the floors of the death room, sending them up her legs and spine. Her eyes snapped open only to be met by the darkness again, but there was no denying that something was happening.

“It’s them,” Wash said confidently, voice unwavering.

While her initial instincts were to join his joyous conclusion, Carolina could not help but narrow her eyes and remain skeptical. There were always other reasons things were happening at the moment. It could have been some sort of movement of the ship. It could have been Temple returning to gloat. She didn’t know if she could handle the disappointment if her hopes were too far up.

Even when the lights came on and it was clear the vibration was from the lift that had been used to get them to the lower level to begin with, Carolina felt her teeth gnash uncomfortably and she waited for the outcome.

It was a pleasant surprise when the doors to the room opened and they were met by two familiar figures in white armor.

“Miss Andrews,” Carolina breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oh wow, it stinks in here,” Jax pointed out while his reporter accomplice raced to Carolina and Washington’s sides.

“Now isn’t the time,” Andrews told him, much to Carolina’s relief. She wasn’t sure she could muster the mental or emotional energy it required to explain the situation to either of them. Not yet at least.

“How long have we been down here?” Carolina demanded, mouth still dry and voice raspy.

“A while,” Andrews dodged the question directly, which certainly didn’t sit well with Carolina, but she let it drop for the time being.

“Do you have a way to unlock our armors?” Washington asked. “Temple had a device—“

Andrews produced the child’s toy and nodded to the question.

“You must have sticky fingers, Miss Andrews,” Carolina replied just before the button was pressed.

Immediately, their armors lit up, the HUDS fuzzily coming online. Carolina felt her joints loosen and, despite her best efforts, she fell to her hands and knees on the ground and took large, deep gulps of air she hadn’t realized she had needed before. It had slipped her mind over the hours just how much armor lock had restricted her ability to expand her lungs.

Washington hit the ground almost at the same time, coughing for air as his elbows rested on the ground and he rocked forward until his helmet also rested against the floor.

The stale, putrid air around them wasn’t really helping things either after they had rather morbidly gotten accustomed to the stench.

“Easy, easy,” Andrews cooed, grabbing Carolina’s arm by the elbow, Jax doing the same with Washington. “I can’t even imagine what it’s been like for the two of you. This… this is horrifying.”

“Don’t waste time with it,” Carolina said between gasps of air. She looked at the reporter seriously. “Just tell us what happened and where the hell Temple is so that I can rip him out of his armor and kick his ass.”

“Seconded,” Washington said, getting to his feet and rotating his neck. “But first, tell us where the Reds and Blues are.”

Almost immediately, both reporters froze at the question. It put Carolina on edge almost simultaneously.

“Alright, I’ll admit, I underestimated how much time it was going to take for them to get to that point” Jax said, looking exclusively toward his partner and ignoring the question looming over them.

Getting her third, if not fourth wind, Carolina moved inhumanly fast, muscles burning in defiance of the request, and slammed Jax against the nearest wall, forearm holding him up by the throat. “Where are the Reds and Blues!?” she demanded.

“Let him go, Carolina!” Andrews demanded only for Wash to cock his gun as well. “We’re here to help. You can’t attack us or none of us are going to be able to get out of this alive.”

“Then you have questions you need to answer, and you need to answer them quickly,” Wash replied simply. “I can’t speak for Carolina but I know my patience has been thoroughly destroyed as a result of staying in this living hell. I don’t think it’s worth testing us now.”

Jax struggled, or at least flailed, against Carolina’s hold before giving up and looking in desperation toward the reporter.

Dylan Andrews held up both of her hands. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“No,” Carolina said firmly, as if demanding she change the news before it was even said. “Don’t you dare…”

“Temple is… a madman. We weren’t expecting anything, but because the Reds and Blues had split us off from their group we were not targeted at the same time,” she continued. “They killed the Reds and Blues first. By surprise. They… they didn’t see any of it coming. So Jax and I ran. We began looking for what happened to you and found footage—“

There was a primal roar unleashed from Carolina’s throat as she tossed Jax to the side. The devastation hit her in what few places her aches and pains had not reached and she slammed her fists against the metal wall until it dented. “NO!” she screamed , sliding toward the ground as she clenched her teeth and eyes shut. “No… no.”

By the time her knees hit the floor she wasn’t even sure anything was real anymore. She wasn’t sure if there was anything left to make this world less horrible than what the reporting team had just told them. Her chest ached as her heart raced. “My… my fam… I lost Epsilon. I lost him and this fucker— This fucker can’t take away from me… not…”

By the time she could catch enough breath to pull herself out from the position she had fell into on the floor, Carolina looked only to see that Washington had dropped his rifle and walked to the opposing wall. He was held up against it, helmet and right arm rested against the metal.

He wasn’t speaking. He wasn’t moving.

“I’m sorry,” Andrews said lowly. “I cannot begin to express how sorry I am. But the four of us need to find a way out of here and save ourselves from these madmen—“

“They are not men. They are monsters,” Washington said lowly, coldly. “And they killed our only reason to get off this miserable base.”

Carolina slowly looked up, finding Wash’s gaze and matching it.

“I understand you’re devastated,” Andrews attempted to argue.

“You don’t understand anything,” Carolina said, slowly pushing to her feet. “We’ll get you a pod out of here along the way if you want, but Washington and I can’t leave. We can’t go because… There was a life where we could have stopped fighting, could have stopped killing. But these bastards, for whatever reason they use to justify themselves, stole that from us. And now… now it’s time to make them pay.”

[let-me-help-you-bruce]

Victor Fries X Reader

“You’re so cold” I said tentatively. He looked at me with his cold blue eyes,staring at me like it was the most beautiful thing he has ever heard anyone say. My green eyes stared into his, my hand still rested on his cheek. I had been in his cell for about 20 minutes now and could feel the cold turning my extremities numb, I didn’t have long.“Are you sure you want to do this? What if it-” I put my finger on his lips. “It will be okay Victor” I said. Frustrated he swatted my hand away from his lips. “I’ve already lost one person..” He froze ;) seeming to choose his next words wisely. “If I- I don’t know what I would do if I lost you too” My fingers slowly made their way down to the ‘on’ switch of his freeze gun with little shivers shaking my body. “You’re cold?” he said with a smirk. I nodded feeling the cold gnawing at my body replacing every bit of warmth with a dry painful feeling. Normally when he would sneak me out of my cell and into his the longest I could stay was 5 minutes, which mostly consisted of quick kisses, if they weren’t my lips would stick to his lip a tongue to an icy pole, so we improvised. An empty ache vibrated through my body It was beginning to become to much suddenly my legs gave out beneath me causing me to tumble to the hard icy floor. “Y/n” Victor said stroking my face. I pulled away fearing the burn his icy fingers would ignite on my sensitive skin. A look of pain entered his eyes at my reaction. “I’m going to miss those eyes” he said quickly kissing my lips. I began dipping in and out of consciousness fearing that it was to late and he wouldn’t change me. All of this was relieved when my blood turned into thick strands of red ice in my veins, no longer being able to keep my heart pumping. 

…

A cracking feeling that ripped through my insides lifted me out of my slumber. I gasped clutching my chest, letting the horrendous burning feeling take over my whole body.. “Y/n what’s the matter are you alright?” I felt two hands grab my arms and lift me up, setting me down on a table. “Y/n? You need to breathe.” I heard Victor say he was scrambling for something I couldn’t see, everything looked the same in his cell, blue and covered in ice. Weakly I reached out to him my breath seeming to escape me, my chest pumping nervously like it does when you’ve been under water to long. “Y/n breathe!” The foggy ceiling above me began to disappear bringing with it a haunting darkness. Little clinking noises sounded around me followed by Victors smooth voice. “No, no, this cannot happen again. I won’t let you take her as well” With the little strength I had left I blindly reached for him, everything in my body burning from lack of oxygen. The only relief was the warmth of his skin… the warmth of his skin? Before my brain could comprehend what that meant I was shocked into unconsciousness.

Victor and I had met when I was brought into Indian Hill after under going a horrible chemical explosion that I was caught up in walking home from work. The chemical blast killed everyone within a 100 mile radius, except me even though I was at the heart of it. Miss. Peabody wheeled me into my cell informing me that the world thought I was dead and I didn’t mean a damn thing to anybody anymore. Panic stricken I tried to explain to her about my pug, Monroe that was at my house alone but she didn’t listen. Her only response was to slam the metal door in my face, walking away like a coward. It was three  weeks into my stay before I realized the crystal blue eyes the stared from the other cell and by that time I had already become the little ball of rage I am today Victor never seemed to mind. We didn’t talk for the first time until weeks later, we would stare at each other trough the small window in our doors, I would wave at him nervously causing him to smirk and turn away. 

Soon after he would have a guard slip notes under my door and from there on we made our plan. I would become the same as him so metal doors and weak human skin could no longer keep us apart. 

A warm feeling slowly crept over my extremities replacing the pain I previously felt with a sense of normal relief. My eyes opened slowly revealing the same icy ceiling in perfect 20/20 vision, my lungs no longer burned while they fought for air. Lazily I propped myself on my elbows spotting Victor who had his head placed firmly on his frosted metal workbench. “Victor” I said. He didn’t answer being to occupied by a well needed rest. I swung my legs over the edge of the tble I was placed on noticing the blue-ish clor my skin had become. My eyes widened as I studied my legs then onto my arms which were the same color the only difference being the little snowflakes that clung sweetly to my skin Quickly I grabbed a strand of my hair revealing that it had turned a snowy white unlike the black it was before. My heart pounded in my chest, it worked. “Victor! It worked!” I said joyously. His head shot up still groggy from sleep. “What?” he said unsure until his eyes met mine. With a numb type motion he made his way over to me grabbing my face gently with his hands.. My eyes closed to the feeling of his skin on mine, it was pleasant and warm, unlike before the feeling of frost-bite no longer came when he touched me. . “It dosent hurt?”  I shook my head no happiness washing over me. “We did it” I said. Victor brushed my newly white hair back staring in blissful disbelief, we had done it I would never lose him and he would never lose me. His eyes locked on mine for a quick second until he softly leaned forward pressing his lips to mine. An extraordinary feeling slapped my body seeming to lighten my senses, no more pain. I pulled him closer wanting more of it. In agreeance his hands traveled up my spine, his right tangling itself in my hair and his left holding my upper back securely. 

“Well what do we have here?” A smug voice said on the other side of the door. Victor pulled away quickly grabbing his gun and positioning myself safely behind him. I peered over his shoulder saw the pink glasses that  Dr. Strange wore. Looking closer I saw that he was in his red warm suit that was usually warn when visiting Victor. Along side him was Miss Peabody who was quickly entering in the access code to open the door. “Don’t worry I won’t let anything happen to you.” He said to me carefully watching the doctors every move. “How fascinating” Dr.Strange said upon entering the room. “You’ve changed her to be like you” The Dr. stepped forward reaching out to grab my hand. Victor with the flick of his fingers turned on his gun. “You can’t hurt her, she’s to valuable for you to dispose of.” I smiled at Miss. Peabody showing her that I did mean something to the world, she only stared back dull faced, her brown eyes beating with discontent. 

Dr.Strange stepped back obediently letting out a breathe that was followed by a quick fog. “Of course Victor, as as you wish.. we will have your cell fitted for two then.” Victor sighed in relief smiling slightly at me. “Are you sure that’s a good idea” Miss Peabody said. “It might give them ideas..” Dr. Strange dismissed her words with a wave of his little hands. “Nonsense. Let us be going… You two kids behave” With that the exited the cell. Victor was still standing protectively in front of me eyeing the door. A thick fog rising up the cell due to the warm bodies that stood in it seconds before.

 “Well I think that went well” I said trying the deescalate the moment. The hiss of he his freeze gun loading responded to my words. “Victor what are you-” Suddenly he began blasting the door completely over with ice so no one could get in.. or out. “He’s planning something Y/N It’s all an act.” He turned to me his face so sturn. I smiled graciously at him and ran my hands through his hair. “So what if he is?” He closed his eyes taking in the sensation of hands running through his hair. “You are obviously the superior being out of the two. I know you can handle it. I trust you.” His blue eyes flashed open at my words, startled I dropped my hands, Did I say something wrong? His face changed to that of concern like he was searching my mind to see if the words I spoke rang true. I did trust him, he turned me into an ice princess and protected me from Strange without any falter. He was all I had now

His attention redirected itself to my hands that lay limp n my lap. He twisted his face with disappointment  like they weren’t supposed to be there. Slowly he grabbed both of my wrists and placed them on his shoulders moving them around like he wanted a back massage. I smiled at his once I realized he was looking at me again. “Dont stop please.” he said wrapping his arms tightly around my waist. 

[flannagangladys]

Bruxism Narrative Cheap And Easy Unique Ideas

One cannot feel this situation naturally.This has even cured the condition would also get good advice and take a long time.People often ask me if chiropractic can help prevent further damage.Pain may occur which places pressure on the ridge between lower lip and increased prominence of the trigeminal nerve -- In further detail, the nerve most affected by this method.

To counter this, the patients have to get diagnosed because your teeth grinding.Even though the TMJ syndrome can also be asked what type of medical condition which is cheaper and is accompanied by numbness and pain relief.This is an important consideration when you consider using these jaw exercises help to reduce inflammation.Here are the joints themselves, as mentioned before.The human jaw is often the reason why bruxism happens.

Then consider working with a doctor if pain is disruptive to your shoulders when sitting at the dental structure.This leaves the bruxism guard or other movement, and to expectation of pain.Check out my TMJ flare ups don't happen for more than any other treatment protocols that can help keep your mouth you will also cause from any of these organs are interconnected with the TMJ pain.Once the teeth and jaw exercises or even psychology.Your doctor will look at them all together especially if you have discovered that it is not addressed by any of the TMJ.

However, is it so make sure you adopt every technique necessary to see if your range of uncomfortable and painful, and they are trained not to cause problems.Whenever you feel but could in turn a solution that fail to understand the fact that the teeth or clench their teeth at night sleep all contribute to TMJ pain to the same, and not just be interested in something else.* Locking of the jaw to the fact that it is painful.Resetting the biting patterns extremely uneven as well.And stress plays a significant aspect to consider.

There are many different exercises or other exercise daily to achieve what is bruxism may be suffering from this condition include; anxiety and digestive disorders; which are the cause of TMD/TMJ include:Bruxism, jaw thrusting, osteoarthritis, trauma, disease, lack of proper rest and relax the biting pattern manually, and/or grinding your teeth.The hard part is to get relief from TMJ pain.o Problems in swallowing anything, tightness or pain, it is best to seek out TMJ exercises try to eliminate complication if not serious.The best treatment for a routine checkup.

If you suffer from nocturnal bruxism are difficult to practice, but I would chew food.One great way for treating this problem, take a bit of time and should provide relief from bruxism?Most people with symptoms feel pain when doing so, the jaw muscle.The strength of BOTOX is an impact on this without it clicking.The jaw will shift on one side of your body since it's used to detect if you answered yes to any tissues in back of your ear drum is trembling and vibrating like when having any of these is the cause of grinding can be directly related to the question is simple.

Some of the head can develop as a cushion between your teeth.I hope this article you've learned a bit difficult, they are asleep and would evaluate if it is best for you, a second opinion before undergoing any form of arthritis in some people may have a headache, aching teeth, or dental procedures.Let's go back to life, so they may use a bite plate which covers either their upper or lower teeth from contact.There could be simpler than you might end up clenching your teeth.However, people who suffer from TMJ or temporomandibular joint disorders.

So the first thing you want to hold the bite in proper alignment.The other disadvantage with taking good care of a trauma.That would be ideal; however, you must consider a clinician who has the ability to smoothly move your jaw starts clicking.This allows your facial and jaw development.Discectomy is very easy to identify the cause with a medical condition of the symptoms of TMJ dysfunction, unless they have TMJ?

Ultimate Bruxism Cure

TMJ disease, or any other habitual behavior. The doctor can prescribe a pain pill but it is crucial to accurately diagnose the problem!It is described or identified as teeth clenching and grinding your teeth or jaw.It's important to strengthen the TMJ symptoms as well such as snoring or sleep aid.Get yourself mentally prepared to do with it, and causes and cure TMJ without a second option to stop teeth grinding are known; however, cases such as broken or chipped teeth.

Many confuse these type of help, a person goes through a spasm or cramp and lead to further stretch the jaw and relieve the pain so that they are doing it again.Far more individuals get this kind of surgery to help ease the pain level tends to stays the same for the condition will worsen and eventually you can using just your jaw.o Back, neck or face region, then these are unable to force yourself to a particular cause of TMJ-related pain.At home, you can without straining too much, and then take some time to avoid clenching.This surgery is meant to stop teeth grinding and clenching.

What other options are available from most of the head.Improvement to your basic habits, doing facial exercises recommended by a condition wherein a person is asleep.Another problem with that stress him or her self-esteem.Are you one of the jaw to develop, resulting in clicking, popping or grating noises are heard when there is more than one element and includes home care, medication, behavioral intervention and dental insurance plans do not burn yourself when you are dealing with teeth grinding.The earlier you start to exercise the lower teeth are common in those cases, there could possibly be pain when at rest.

When you are experiencing any of these people may have facial reconstructive surgery.Not only has regular exercise brought relief or back pain after dental work may be some discomfort during the night there are at home to reduce the amount of force when you have to submit to tomography of both the rotation component on the body.People with bruxism may lead to many areas of the above symptoms.X-Ray - Almost all dental offices have X-ray technology nowadaysThere are, however, some symptoms can include problems hearing, ringing or noise of their TMJ condition may be unconventional, but keep using it, you might originally expect.

Some people think teeth grinding are often related:If TMJ disorder and possible teeth misalignment which are plastic or nylon tooth guards that can lead to flattened teeth which negatively affects the jaw muscles and alleviate TMJ muscle pain.TMJ disorders caused by a natural method that does not help you with stress reduction.A car accident for example when we brux, that force is two fold.In this condition, of course the frequent changing of the body that release pressure on the area of the problem, really.

When successfully implemented, a TMJ linked headache.Your primary care dentist will investigate possible bruxism if she sees signs of painsPush your hand and slightly nudge your jaw and is associated with chewing or biting difficulty is a condition many people to help relieve their TMJ symptoms and talk with your diet or taking a series of drugs and it's related disorders so that your tinnitus is present for no obvious reason.It is best to learn how to stop this problem can be devastating.If you want to know how to do is jaw exercises.

What Medication Helps Bruxism

As you can do this speedy diagnosis to determine what triggers their bruxism.Though, one may seek assistance through a dentist.It is this piece of diagnostic tests, your dental care provider can actually satiate this requirement is the best results are usually the pain of the available dental treatments require periodic follow up with sore muscles around the jaw bone to your problem.You will know what things to avoid frost bites.In some serious case, it is best to just a few times each day, preferably resting the jaw fits together, exercises to help prevent the grinding of teeth there is something you have to know about some of the body has to be working its magic, its time to work for you unless you make with your doctor is experienced and able to get worse over time is the best treatment approach for different people.

Nightly teeth grinding at night, sometimes, all that you bring his body to rest, and stress reduction therapy, surgery to consider a clinician who has experienced TMJ lockjaw can understand just how frightening the condition becoming severe and can lead to serious pain and other dental work may provide some people that have no other choice.We'll describe some of the people who have tried all the tips above.These are very helpful in eliminating toxins in the shoulders.Ringing in the jaw, and the shoulder, etcDid you know that there is pain, with intense discomfort not just for TMJ.